I know it's been a long time…. But as of TODAY (01/11/02) – Kukies only has TWO HSC EXAMS LEFT!! Yay! So its time for some fan-fic-fun! (like tic-tac-toe…?). Anyhoo, EVERYTHING belongs to J.K. Rowling EXCEPT Cassius, Roxane, Nicolette, Sarissa, Ariadne AND Alexander. Lucius is hers, of course… and anyone else too. So I hope you enjoy the next fun-loving (pfft.) chapter of *drum roll*:
BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOOOOOOOOON! (hee.)
***
Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters
I still feel chills at the thought of Cassius' eyes upon me, the frozen blue snowing my skin a pale, sweating white. The loss of my grandmother hardened them; as if molten metal had seeped in without melting their icy glare… Lucius' eyes were just the same, but something in them was soft and warm. Death was not advanced there; and the incurable touch of hatred was yet to tint red the thoughts of his mind. My uncle Cassius, his insides broiling with rage was rotting himself at the core – but Lucius lived vibrantly, from colour to colour, his eyes reflecting the hope he kept safe in his deepest dreams.
I wish I'd never seen those eyes fade: black, weary – and flushed with tears.
***
September 1st, 1966, 12:06pm
"We're going to be late!" Lucius seemed like a madman as he darted out of the automobile – sent with compliments to the Malfoy Estate that morning, from one of Alexander's Ministry acquaintances – and rushed to the trunk, banging on it loudly.
Remus jolted in his seat, causing Roxane to put out one arm automatically on his chest. "Lucius!" she cried angrily, nudging her father and brother out to help him. "The train won't leave for another half-hour! Settle!" Flushed, she turned back to Remus and unbuckled him from the seatbelt.
"Mother…" he whined softly, pushing her hands away. She looked down at him with wide eyes. "I can do it myself." And, letting him alone, he deliberated with it for almost five minutes, causing Lucius so much stress he nearly imploded on the spot.
"Come onnn…!" Remus watched his young uncle jump around as he slowly undid the belt. Feeling amused, he slid from the seat leisurely, and closed the door like a tortoise teasing the proverbial hare.
"Ready," he breathed softly, which caused his grandfather, who was slightly deaf, to ask for a repetition. Before Remus could reply, Lucius grabbed his trunk and began dragging it up the stairs into the crowded station. Cassius followed him, a scowl on his face, and his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his trousers. Gazing around at the people filing into the station, Remus could barely see the difference between his family and those around him… but somewhere in his mind he felt the difference; and he knew that deep down in his soul he would always feel it when surrounded by… what did Sarissa call them? Mugglebloods?
Luckily, before he lost himself in the crowd Roxane turned to find her small son. "Remus…" she hissed, and he leapt for her entreating hand. He smiled up at his mother as she led him through the revolving doors and into the enormous room beyond. As he looked around himself in wonder, Remus noticed a small girl with blonde hair turn and poke her tongue out at him. Remembering his previous experiences with little girls, he knew better than to extend his hand politely, and tossed his head deferentially to one side instead. When he looked again, the little girl had disappeared, and his face fell.
Roxane leant down and looked at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Remus, would you like to see the train to Hogwarts?"
"Can I really?" His face brightened immediately, but he quelled his excitement and corrected himself solemnly, "may I, Mother?"
She smiled reassuringly. "Certainly, Remus." Her lips twitched a little at this, and suddenly Roxane pulled him up over her head and sat him on her shoulders. "Let's go!" And, with her skirt flailing wildly, she rushed straight into the wall, Remus stiff with fright. They were going to hit it, in five… four… three… two...! ONE!
Then, nothing. Remus saw a bright red train sitting quite calmly on a set of tracks, heard the whistle blow, and felt the warm air rushing past him in the forms of excited schoolchildren before he realised he was still alive and not wall-kill. His mother, her breathing heavy, took him from her shoulders and lowered him to the ground, and Remus found himself not reaching for her hand automatically. He had seen Lucius from his place perched atop his mother's head, but now everything around him was a flurry of pink arms and legs rushing madly about. The whistle blew again and the crowd seemed to thin, then Remus spotted the blue of his Uncle Cassius' eyes fixed on him. He felt that cold shiver often referred to as "someone walking over your grave" but, at the age of seven, Remus felt more like he and his uncle were the only two people in the world, staring at each other mindlessly, both in utter terror.
Suddenly, Cassius darted towards him and pulled Remus into the air as the cool air of a round object hurtled past and slammed into the platform. Cassius held it down with his left foot, his other balancing himself firmly on the ground. A tall, gawky red-haired boy lumbered over to retrieve it, and Remus saw his uncle scowl down at him.
"You should be more careful with your bludgers, boy. Especially with so many people about… you almost hurt my nephew here." Cassius nodded towards Remus and the boy turned scarlet. He was beginning to stammer out a reply when Cassius nudged the ball towards him. "Take it," he mumbled, and the boy grasped it in both hands, lugging it away through the crowd. Before he was more than a metre away Cassius yelled: "You, boy! What's your name, then?"
Tipping his head to the older man, the boy squeaked: "Arthur Weasley, sir," and, without waiting for a response, darted off into the train. Cassius shook his head disparagingly and placed Remus back on the ground. Kneeling before him, Remus received the first smile he'd ever experience from his uncle. Certainly, it was bitter and filled with annoyance, but Cassius felt relieved that his nephew wasn't hurt.
"Be careful, Remus," he whispered underneath his breath, "for there are some things in this world with more sense than Mudbloods, and intelligence is a far heavier weapon than any bludger." With an affectionate nod, Cassius turned to the train and looked on encouragingly as Lucius waved his arms out of the carriage window and the train gained speed. Remus merely watched the train until it disappeared into the distance, wondering exactly where such a journey might end – and what exactly a bludger was, anyway.
***
The days passed with the whipping of the wind. September, then October, to November, and December, then January, to February… and I could continue on like this until years instead were long gone, and the future gilded the horizon like a red sunbeam, full of blood – but that is not true to the nature of my story. I could proclaim to the heavens that time is but a fickle device, ticking away the never-ending spinning of the world; that human life means nothing to us now but numbers, dates and five more minutes… but, in the realm of magic, with its ways to capture time and slip through the dimensional fabric of the world, that is not true to the nature of my story. Instead, I will save my lack of life in these months, adding instead the new discoveries made by Lucius, my uncle, in his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Dearest Father,
I have been sorted into Slytherin! It is just like I have always dreamt it to be; a place full of friends, with so many new hexes to learn! (Only joking, father – Shosanna will be free from Jelly-legs these holidays) – I'm really liking Astronomy, too, father. It seems so strange to think that everything might be decided by the simple loss of a star, and that something so far away might be gone years before we ever notice. I guess that sounds a little too much like Divination, but we won't get to study that until Third Year. Evan says its something to do with reading cow entrails, is that true?
Evan's the greatest. I met him on the train, and he was sorted into Slytherin as well. I told him about Mother and the Muggle illness and he told me about how something like that happened to his grandfather – then, I found out his last name was Rosier, like Mother! Apparently he's only distantly related, third cousin or something, but that doesn't matter because he wrote to his parents and they wrote him back quite excitedly. Might I stay with Evan in the Summer Holidays, Father? And may he come to stay with us for a week or two as well? He's been helping me with my Arithmancy homework, so I can impress Professor Dumbledore in class… he's the brickiest of teachers, Father! Valerie Morton says her uncle told her that his friend, a Ministry clerk, overheard the Minister of Magical Education telling his assistant that Professor Dumbledore was in line for Headmaster. I hope so… Professor Dippet teaches only Muggle Studies, and Patty Sloane says he's a fool.
I can't wait until Christmas, 'cause all the other Slytherin's tell me that Og, the gameskeeper, brings in a HUGE Christmas tree lit with a million candles and, using magic, keeps it alive in the Great Hall for WEEKS. I can't wait! It'll be smashing!
Plus, at Christmas I'll be home, and I can see you all again! Home seems so distant now that I'm at school, Father! I can't help but wonder if you'll ever get me home at all!
Love to Uncle Cassius, Aunt Nicolette, Sarissa, Aunt Roxane, Uncle Archibald, Remus – and most of all to YOU, Father!
Lucius.
How strange it feels to read words penned so long ago, from the hand of a boy whose same hand, creased with the lines of a man, would one day point the wand to murder so many forgotten souls. How the blood burns my veins as it rushes through, scalding the edges with fiery indignation! Innocence is lost, but Lucius, with his gazing at the stars became one of those individuals who might recapture it through knowledge, through experience – and perhaps through love. For, like the great Muggle writer Oscar Wilde said:
"All of us are in the gutter, only some of us are looking at the stars."
Lucius was chosen from the beginning. In my minds-eye I can envision my grandfather remembering this letter, the words of the child he had doomed through his hatred of Muggles – of Mudbloods! – of the exact same thing his wife was once… a Muggle-born. His curse of Lucius was the curse on innocence – the curse I did not escape but one I fought with all my strength. I can see my grandfather's face, his eyes filling with tears, and the green light flooding the room with the stench of death.
Children lose their innocence daily, but Lucius had his torn away like a limb when he least expected it. This was not yet his time… but the fated day in my life had almost reached that bloody horizon.
***
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