Chapter 1 Scars
Within the richly decorated study of mahogany, dark leathers, old books and opulent magical antiquities, a wizard in his late thirties with sandy blond hair and stocky build thrust his crackling wand into the stomach of a tall, lean, teenaged boy of fourteen with long silver hair and vibrant blue eyes. After seven shots of pain the boy collapsed so the wizard stabbed his crackling wand into the boy's back.
I wonder if that tiny scuff could be from a secret passage. The boy's face rested on the cold hardwood floor of the wizard's study.
"How many times have I told you to cut that hair?" Grabbing the boy's hair and a knife, he viciously hacked it off.
Somberly, the boy swallowed the blood in his mouth. Don't make a mess on the Oriental rug. With only eight shots of pain to his stomach and chest, this time things were far better than before. The pain pulsated through him as if someone tore his insides. Keep control of your emotions or it will only be worse. Suddenly, the back of his shirt ripped open. Crack! Unexpectedly, a riding crop ripped through his flesh like a knife. To his horror, a scream erupted from his lips on the third strike.
"One of the eight was a Mudblood," his torturer screamed. "How could you let one of those surpass you?"
Hide your pain. "Because the professor feels sorry for them and shows them favoritism because of their filthy heritage," he replied.
A bellowing laugh followed. "Get up," he demanded. Dutifully, he rose to his feet. Standing proudly, the boy squared his jaw and stared stoically forward, chin up. "Why do I do this?"
"So that I may be a resourceful wizard and no longer a disappointment to the Malfoy name," he answered. "Once that happens, I will no longer deserve to be punished." Emotionlessly, Lucius stood tall despite the pain in his chest and stomach accompanied by a stinging sensation and the dampness of the blood trickling down his back.
"Very good," the wizard answered.
"Why did your mother die?"
"She suffered complications during birth because of me." When his bottom lip trembled, he heard the crackling of the wizard's wand. "I killed my mother." Quickly, he soullessly stared forward. "Also, women are very weak."
"You may go to your room now."
"Thank you sir," he replied.
On his way upstairs, he bumped into his Uncle Knaven, a younger, longhaired version of his father. "Your father is still trying to correct the mess he made. You're a cancer on this family and always will be. When you were born, your mother was so happy for a few days. Afterwards, she suffered from a terrible infection that you caused and died a horrible death. For every ounce of happiness you bring to someone, they suffer twice as much misery. That is your curse." Then he slapped his back but Lucius refused to acknowledge the pain. "After you killed your mother, your father should have put you in a sack with some rocks and thrown you in the lake." Thankfully, Knaven went to his study where he and the wizard started arguing.
Quietly, Lucius went to his room. On his bathroom countertop sat three shot glasses filled with potions: one for internal injuries, one for bruises and one antiseptic. As emotionless blue eyes stared back at him, he discovered that he longer felt the need to cry. Physical pain reminded him to block his emotions: a survival technique he learned from childhood. Nowadays, he only felt numbness or hatred. Once he made his choice, he smiled. One of these days old wizard, you will feel my wrath and so will your brother.
To avoid spending the day with and most of his summer with the most hated wizard ever, Lucius traveled to Knockturn Alley to Borgin and Burkes, a small shop filled with various dark magical items from around the world. The dark haired clerk, slightly younger than his father, came towards the counterfront. "Good Morning, Lucius," Tom exclaimed.
"Good morning, Lord Voldemort," he whispered.
"Planning to help me catalog and study more of our magical antiquities," he asked.
"Of course," he remarked.
"Lucius you are one of the most talented young wizards I know. Your knowledge of magical artifacts is astounding. I don't know what I would do without you." He handed him a box of various items, a ledger and a quill. "I really wish they would hire you but they said they couldn't due to their budget."
"As if I need the money, I enjoy cataloging the antiquities."
"I glad you do and I enjoy your company." Afterwards, he made a few notations. "Considering your talents, you should spend a couple of years at Durmstrang. My instincts tell me you have a talent for the dark arts. Learning them is your best defense against them. With your knack for languages, you shouldn't have any trouble at all. After all, you've excelled at the other foreign schools you've attended."
"You've taken an interest in my education?" As he studied a griffon's claw, he grinned slightly.
"Of course I have," Tom replied. "I'm proud of your accomplishments."
At the end of that summer, Tom presented him with a long thin box. "This is a thank you for helping me. You did an excellent job this summer."
Lucius openned the box to reveal a Falsus Plume, a dark wizard's scribe that could imitate any handwriting. "Thank you very much," he replied. Once he returned home, he kept it in the treasure chest where he kept all the gifts his father didn't know about.
Upon completion of his fifth year of studies, this time as an exchange student at Durmstrang, Lucius laid in bed miserable, missing the traditional farewell dinner. After a couple of days with a high fever, he awoke just in time to begin his summer break. The nurse looked at him sympathetically. "Many sixteen year olds would have an issue with Dragon Pox since it is a young children's disease but you have an unusually high resilience. It is quite deadly for adults. While it is highly contagious, it is only contagious through bodily fluids: saliva or blood. Your family should be fine as long as they don't drink after you and no blood contact. You'll only be contagious for a week." She handed him a piece of paper. "Here are the instructions."
"Thank you."
Lucius arrived home well before the wizard. Calmly, he strolled into the kitchen, cutting his palm so that the blood poured into the tomato soup he ordered Dobby to make for dinner before he moved to the flask of dinner wine. Prominently, he placed his class standings in the center of the wizard's desk. Artistically, he poured the ink from the wizard's inkwell into the shape of the sun with waves of light beaming forth, his namesake. Casually, he propped his feet on the wizard's desk while pretending to smoke his pipe and sip cognac from his snifter. Methodically, he arranged the potions that he would need on his bathroom countertop while he burned the instructions the nurse gave him. Then he combed his hair that he had grown quite long.
"Lucius Malfoy, get down here this instant." With a smile, Lucius bounded down the stairs. A potent stun spell slammed him into wall before he even entered. "Get in my study now." Enfuriated, the wizard kicked him in the chest. Grabbing him by his hair, he dragged Lucius into his study. As he did, Lucius bit his hand, spitting blood into the wound just before he spat blood onto the precious Oriental rug. Instantly, the wizard held his crackling wand to his son's chest before kicking him in the abdomen repeatedly followed by a sound lashing from the riding crop. By this point, Lucius wondered if he would live long enough to savor his victory. "Go to your room! No dinner for you!" Though he puked bile, Lucius smiled as he crawled up the stairs.
At breakfast, the wizard tried to eat bread as he sweated and trembled. Lucius sat next to him and ate crepe suzettes, his favorite breakfast dish. "I could have done better in school but I had more of a workload than you realize. You see I also studied business and finance, including our own. In the event of your untimely demise, I could easily take over. From your symptoms, I think you might have Dragon Pox. If you do, as a grown man, it will kill you within forty-eight hours."
"Within our many Malfoy traditions, Father is a term showing recognition and veneration for the paternal protector and provider of the family. Can you think of one time that I ever called you Father?" When the wizard got up to go back to bed, he collapsed. Lucius bent over him. "You beat me in order to break me but you only succeeded in making me angry and hateful. When I'm not numb, those are the only emotions I feel."
"I've disabled the Floos so you can have a little peace and quiet. In addition, your wand looked dull and needed a little polishing. As a dutiful son, I'm taking care of that for you." Before him, a Malfoy sword hovered at his neck. "I've studied Malfoy magic behind your back since you were so afraid to teach me. Only one sword, it must be hard to concentrate with that fever." Knowing the sword could not spill Malfoy blood, Lucius walked through it and into the hall where he picked up a suitcase. "I'll be travelling for a bit and I've sent Dobby ahead to ensure all preparations are made; see you in a week."
"Get a nurse," the wizard begged.
"I'm sorry I didn't hear you." Lucius shut the door behind him. "Too bad Uncle Knaven has disappeared. Maybe on my travels, I'll find him."
On a fine spring day, at the age of eighteen, Lucius graduated with honors, from Hogwarts. At his graduation party amongst several of his peers, Lord Voldemort congratulated him. "Because of your talent societal status, and most of all because you are my most trusted friend, I would like you to join an association I've formed: The Knights of Walpurgis. This society promotes the interests of pure-bloods and their families."
"I am honored."
Over the next several months, Lucius and his pure blood breathren met monthly to discuss the history of their family's and the threats of impure bloodlines. Their mission was to keep the lines pure by continuing the traditions of encouraged marriages and ensuring governmental positions were held by members of pureblood families. Extensive research by Lord Voldemort proved impure lines resulted in weaker wizards and witches. Further, his research also concluded that Mugbloods and their sympathizers aimed to decimate many pureblood traditions. However, not once did he outwardly promote violence against them but merely the establishment of pureblood supremacy and the need of the old families to form a coalition so they could protect their interests.
After several months, Lord Voldemort requested a special audience at Malfoy Manor. "Lucius, you were an exchange student at both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang among others." He nodded. "You were in the company of many of the best families throughout Europe."
"Yes, I was," he acknowledged.
"I have a very special mission that I think you and only you are perfect for. Because of your past and your qualifications, you would be the perfect ambassador for the Knights. We need the support of the families throughout Europe and I think you could gain it." He sipped some wine. "As your friend, I also think you need some time away."
"I would be honored." Lucius smiled and raised his hand in a toast. "To the expansion of the Knights of Walpurgis," he said.
Over the years, Lucius recruited throughout Europe starting in Russia and working his way towards home. First, he would research each of the families. Using that knowledge, he knew just how to approach them. Once he charmed them, he would explain the benefits of the organization. Unification ensured that legally and socially the families retained their status against the Mudblood threat. By using his family name, contacts and as his lord put it, natural charisma, Lucius achieved phenominal results which pleased Lord Voldemort and in turn himself. Unfortunately, he never found anything regarding his uncle. In his third year, Lucius began his recruitment efforts in France.
At a ball in Paris that summer, he diligently recruited the Burdois family by charming the lovely Gizelle Burdois. A passel of bachelors competed for the raven haired, green eyed, pale but beautiful young widow. Luckily, for Lucius, she granted him an audience. "Dear Lucius, this is the fourth time you've asked me to join your society and this will be the fourth time I refuse." Flirtateously, she ran her finger down his cheek. "Such a handsome charmer, no wonder Lord Voldermort chose you."
"I appreciate the compliment." He kissed the back of her hand. "Please tell me why you won't join."
"Your lord supports the absolute purity of the lines. For now, that purity means no Mudbloods or Muggles in the lines. Once they are purged, who's next?" With a piercing intensity that unnerved him, she stared him straight in the eyes. "You may want to think about that."
"Maybe I should talk to your younger brother," he countered. "Isn't he the head of the family now? Soon he'll be old enough to act upon it."
"Leave Pierre alone," she demanded. Quickly, he strolled into the ballroom. However, the thought of Pierre completely escaped him when he saw her younger brother's stunning dance partner. Politely, he sought Gizelle once more. "Who is Pierre dancing with?"
"That is Narcissa Black." She laughed. "Rumor has it; she has a weakness for the French language. Trust Pierre to try his best." Lightly, she rested her hand on his arm. "She's engaged to a wizard named Edwin Mesmer."
"Not any more," he muttered as he approached the ballroom floor. Years ago, she was a gangly teenager that he barely acknowledged, coupled with a four-year age difference made her nonexistent in his world until now. Now, he found himself completely transfixed.