Chapter 1332 The Most Suitable Sacrifice

Lucius looked at his son Draco, his eyes beneath the hood filled with shock, pain, and deep guilt.

After a long while, his shoulders visibly slumped down. "How could you..."

Draco's lips curled into a smileless arc. "The guests from the manor, the way you and Mother were always so tense, the Ministry of Magic's flawed reports, and the Daily Prophet's eagerness to pin all the bad things on Wayne—but thinking about it carefully, a lot of things don't add up."

His eyes were fixed on his father. "So, that man is back, isn't he? And you... or rather, we, sided with him, but messed things up."

Lucius seemed to have all his strength drained away, and this time he remained silent for an even longer time, so long that Hermione in the shadows thought he wouldn't answer.

But in the end, he admitted in an almost inaudible voice: "Yes, we failed."

"This meeting..." Draco's knuckles turned white as he gripped the invisibility cloak. "Dad, could it be that person's new mission?"

Lucius suddenly looked up, his hood slipped down, revealing his pale, haggard face with sunken eyes.

His lips trembled violently a few times, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only let out a choked sigh.

He grabbed his son's shoulders suddenly, his voice sharp with urgency:

"No, Draco, listen, forget about the mission, pack your things and leave Hogwarts right now. Go to France. Your grandfather has properties there that will provide you with a comfortable life. Never come back, and never contact me or your mother."

Draco was stunned. He had never seen his father so distraught, so... terrified.

A voice suddenly exploded in his mind:

"You are you, he is he, you are Draco Malfoy, and before you become anyone's son, heir, or servant, you are first and foremost Draco Malfoy..."

The choice, the crucial choice Porter spoke of, the choice that determines who he is—has arrived.

At this time, in this place, but this choice came too suddenly.

"What about you?" Draco tensed. "If I leave, what will happen to you and Mom?"

“You don’t need to worry about it!” Lucius realized his loss of composure and loosened his grip slightly. “Listen, there’s nothing shameful about running away. Living well is the most important thing. Your mother and I… we’ll find a way.”

But the statement "there is a way" is completely unconvincing.

Draco didn't move. He looked at the fear in his father's eyes and gently pulled his hand away. "Dad, he gave you a mission, didn't he? A... punitive mission, and that mission ended up falling on my shoulders, so you want me to run away."

Lucius seemed to have been struck in a vital spot, and staggered back half a step.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out; he could only shake his head in pain.

“What is the mission?” Draco stepped forward. “Tell me. If I’m really going to run away, at least let me know what I’m running from. I need to know what I’m really facing.”

He looked at his father's violent struggle and said, "That summer... I grew up, Dad. I know who those people who come and go in the manor are. I also know that my escape only postpones the disaster and will bring it upon you in double the way. If that's the case, I would rather know the worst outcome now."

Lucius stared blankly at his son.

Under the moonlight, Draco's face still looked somewhat immature, but his eyes no longer held the arrogance and willfulness of the past; instead, they held a cold clarity.

The spoiled young master was forced to shed all his innocence in the oppressive nightmare of Death Eaters occupying his home.

Lucius lowered his head dejectedly, shedding all his insistence and pretense, and tremblingly pulled out a roll of parchment tightly bound with a black ribbon from his bosom.

His movements were slow and heavy, as if it were not parchment but a red-hot branding iron.

"Take it." His voice was hoarse and barely audible as he handed over the parchment scroll, his hands trembling violently. "Read...after you've finished reading, burn it. Don't leave a single word behind."

Draco took the heavy parchment, but instead of opening it immediately, he glanced once more at his father's face, which seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.

He took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and untied the black ribbon.

The moonlight barely illuminated the yellowed paper as he unfolded the parchment and began to read quickly.

Hermione strained to see in the shadows, but could not make out the fine writing.

All she could see was Draco's face turning deathly pale at a visible speed in the dim light.

It wasn't just fear; from that drastically changing expression, she read intense shock, suppressed anger, and unfathomable despair.

Something of paramount importance was utterly crushed in the short two minutes he spent reading.

Lucius turned his head away, not daring to look at his son's expression.

Draco finished reading the last line, slowly raised his head, and quietly looked at his father in front of him.

“I understand.” His voice was unusually calm. “This punishment is for you to personally send me into an abyss from which I can never escape.”

Lucius shuddered, as if struck by an invisible whip.

He wanted to reach out and touch his son, but his arms were too heavy to lift, and he could only open his mouth in vain.

“Whether I succeed or fail,” Draco crumpled the parchment in his hand into a ball, “I can never stay at Hogwarts the way I used to, can I?”

He twitched the corners of his mouth, forming an arc that was more painful than crying. "The Malfoy family had to pay the price for their failure, someone had to carry out this mission to show their loyalty, and he chose me because I was the most suitable sacrifice."

Lucius closed his eyes in pain and nodded heavily.

Draco said nothing more. He released his other hand, tossed the Invisibility Cloak onto the dusty floor, and took out his wand.

With a "whoosh," the parchment was quietly ignited.

The black writing was gradually swallowed up, and the orange-red flames illuminated Draco's pale face and Lucius's pained, tightly closed eyes.

In just a few seconds, the parchment turned into black ash, silently merging into the thick dust.

“I will do it,” Draco’s voice was resolute. “Tell me, Dad, where should I begin?”

Lucius opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to detach himself from his emotions. "Two goals. I suggest you start with the simpler one. If you encounter difficulties, go to Severus. He's just like us."

As he spoke, he took out a small object wrapped in black velvet from his pocket and stuffed it into Draco's hand. "If all else fails, use this to contact Borgin in Knockturn Alley. He will arrange for you to leave England."

Draco clutched the cold package tightly in his hand and nodded.

Lucius gave his son one last deep look, his gaze indescribably complex.

Guilt, reluctance, worry, but above all, pride.

He turned abruptly, pulled up his hood, waved his wand, and disappeared into the black and white vortex.

……

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