Prologue - Present Day
Draco Malfoy stared around the Great Hall at Hogwarts with carefully hidden revulsion. From the outside, looking in, the room was filled with life and beauty. Draco looked through the thin veneer, seeing only death and ugliness. Most of his pureblood peers felt that as long as a witch were to drape herself in enough emeralds set into Goblin-forged metal, or if the silk in a wizard’s waistcoat came from Acromantulas, rather than common spiders, then the world was exactly as it should be. He had long ago divested himself of such absurd notions. The world would never be right again.
As he watched witches pose for the photographers mingling about, working to commemorate the occasion, he wondered, possibly for the five hundredth time, how these people could bring themselves to celebrate the darkness the world had fallen into? Was there anyone left in Wizarding England with a semblance of a conscience besides him? Did all of these people around him in their glittering dresses and finely woven robes really think the death of Harry Potter was the best thing to happen to the Wizarding World?
After twenty years, the stories of Harry Potter’s defeat were now more legend than fact. After all, history is written by the victors. And brainwashing never went out of style.
He suspected there might be a handful, like him, who had perfected their Occlumency to such a degree they could fool the Dark Lord. Protecting one’s mind was becoming a lost art, as their Lord did not care for it.
Draco, for more reasons than one, had only taught his own children rudimentary skills in kicking out sloppy Legilimens. To anyone with a modicum of skill, his children were open books.
Many years ago, there has been quite a few more practiced Occlumens. One of whom had fooled Draco so fully, it had nearly cost him everything.