What Lies Beyond The Garden Fence
Prologue:
The old house with its wildly overgrown garden was silent, secretive, and ominous. It lay in considerable ruins for the way it had looked. The lawn gave the illusion of once being neatly manicured, but the shrubbery that spiraled high into the air and in various shapes was long since abandoned to the wild nature of the English countryside. The once green lawns were a lusterless brown, and their length swayed in the light fall breeze. The tall windows were cracked and dirty, some with entire panes missing. It was a sad sight.
The elegant maple doors creaked on their hinges when Septimus II pushed them open. Leaves scattered the marble floors, water dripped through a hole in the ceiling, and broken pieces of an irreplaceable chandelier crunched under his feet. He lit his wand with a silent "lumos" and scanned the room, his eyes falling on a chest of drawers to the side of the grand staircase. He pulled one of the drawers open slowly, as the dresser was very old and falling apart. A small velvet box was situated in the very center of the drawer, and Septimus was unable to lift it. Someone had attached it with a permanent sticking charm. When he lifted the lid, however, the contents within were very easily removed. A small ring bearing serpentine creatures glistening in green, black, and silver with the words "Sanctimonia Vincet Sempur" lay on a cushion of the same velvet that the box was made of. Septimus slipped it on his finger and flexed his hand, feeling the power of his pure blood roaring back through his veins.
War had almost destroyed his family. War had almost destroyed him. And he vowed then and there that nothing would tear apart his family ever again, not as long as his heir wore that ring on his finger and called himself Malfoy.
He turned, flicking his wand, and the debris around him disappeared. The bits of chandelier under his feet flew up into the air and reattached themselves to the iron frame hanging from the ceiling. The panes of glass reformed and cleaned themselves, the dripping stopped. The spell went around the property like a shockwave. The small pond was cleared of scum and litter, the grass turned green and seemed to recede into the ground, and the shrubs shrank and formed into their former glorious shapes, and the fence surrounding the property straightened itself. A dim golden light emitted from the windows.
Septimus closed his eyes and smiled. The Malfoys were back, and stronger than before. He thought, if he strained his ears, he could make out the faint sound of his father berating a house elf for undercooking his fish, and his mother chatting away with her best friend Lucrecia Avery while they sipped tea and nibbled on scones. He could smell the savory four-course meals he was served almost every day, and he could nearly feel his father's guiding hand on his shoulder.
But then he heard a small scurrying, and the illusion was broken. He opened his eyes, the light leaving them instantly, and he remembered that his family was dead. He would never hear his mother and father laughing again. He would never taste his favourite house elf's cooking again. He would never feel an ounce of love or comfort from the rotting corpses buried on a cliff by the sea.
He needed to rebuild. He needed to restore the Malfoy name to its former glory and even more so. He needed that name to incite fear and jealousy in the ones beneath him. He needed everyone to know that he was to be revered. That he and his family could squash you in relative ease. That he was powerful, and he wasn't afraid to wield it for his personal gain and protection.
He needed all of that and more. But first things first: he needed a new family.