Author's Note: Sorry about the long delay here, folks, but my writing style
seems to be something along the lines of "Write while you're bored in class".
It's been a while since I've been bored in class and had an opportunity to write
as well as an idea of what TO write. So here it is, chapter two: Lucius' turn.
The Exploding Malfoys-Chapter 2: Under the Parlor Floor.
The carriage stopped outside the gates of the castle and a haggard looking man
stepped out of it, his robes hanging in tatters around him. Reaching into his
moneybag, he pulled out a silver sickle and flung it at the front of the coach,
where the driver sat. The driver caught it, bit it (much to the passenger's
consternation), nodded, whipped the winged beasts and the carriage flew off.
Lucius Malfoy turned to face the iron gate surrounding his home, his
castle. For ten months he had been separated from it and, for those ten months,
he had been interned at Azkaban, guarded no longer by dementors but by fool
wizard guards who feared their prisoners more than they were feared. It gave the
prisoners a nice little advantage and Malfoy had used it to his full advantage.
For ten months, he had been polite, respectful and even differential to his
guards. It took all his practiced years of duplicity to sit in that grimy, dark
cell inquiring after the guard's grandchildren to break down their wariness
and fear, until the day he simply reached through the bars while talking to him
and broke his neck, took his wand and escaped.
Now he was back home and the bitterness that had grown in his heart in the
past ten months burst onto his face in a smile as he raised his wand and said
"Mort sangria!" The gates swung open and Malfoy walked through them, home at
last.
No one greeted him as he walked through the doors, so he slammed the doors
loudly behind him in irritation and in hope that someone would get the message.
He flung his cloak on a chair and glanced around him, noticing the pictures
whispering and moving excitedly at his sudden entrance. His eyes narrowed and he
approached one and rapped on it angrily, startling the old wizard who had been
on the verge of leaving his painting.
"You," he said sharply. The man in the picture jumped back in his frame.
"Oh! Master Lucius is back! How wonderful! You wouldn't believe..."
"Quiet," Lucius cut him off harshly, "There are some paintings missing
from the wall, some of them your neighbors. Where are they?" His voice was
hoarse and the picture seemed to wince as he spoke.
"Er, well, you see sir..." the picture began nervously only to be
interrupted by the clack of hurried footsteps rushing into the main hall.
"Lucius!" Narcissa burst into the hall, "About time you came back. Was it
really necessary to wait ten months before breaking out of that prison and with
ministry wizards buzzing around here like the Dark Lord Himself were-"
Lucius waved his hand at here and smiled as gently as he could. "Now,
Narcissa, you know I could not just escape whenever I desired. This sort of
thing takes time and planning, none of which happens in an eye blink. In any
case, I had to wait and see if there was any official way I could get out of
this, clear the family name." He sighed, melodramatically. "But no, the name is
sullied forever. Me! A prison escapee, can you believe it? No no, it's just as
well, I can't stay anyway."
Narcissa's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Not stay? Are you mad? You
must stay! You have no idea what these past months have been like!"
Lucius suddenly lost the careful tolerance he had had of his wife and
snapped at her. "For the last ten months I have been in Azkaban so you'll do
very well to forget what you've been through, Madame."
That got her for a moment, but Narcissa quickly shrugged it off. "Hm, yes
I know it's bad. But honestly! Those ministry wizards seem to think you have the
whole dark wizardry supply closet hidden under our parlor room floor." Her voice
was deceptively casual and Lucius knew something was up.
"Why did Ministry wizards have any reason to suspect the existence of dark
materials in our parlor, Narcissa? They've searched before."
She shrugged. " I don't know, but it was very disconcerting to have them
here." Lucius narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, then spun on his heel and
walked into the parlor, over the floorboards that were covered in concealing
spells to hide the forbidden objects within. Any of these objects would have
been enough to have both of them arrested; even without them being death eaters
and the family name would have been up in smoke. "They didn't find anything did
they?" He called to Narcissa in the main hall.
"Not that I knew of...how could I have possibly been in the parlor the
entire time they were searching? They were all over the house! I was trying to
make sure none of them tried to make off with our jewelry...lord knows that Arthur
Weasley could stand to pawn some."
Lucius felt him involuntarily stiffen at this remark. "Weasley was here?"
He snarled. "That figures, he's always wanted to get his hands on something,
anything to give that muggle-loving idiot some prestige, or at least a bit of
gold to feed his family." Narcissa didn't reply and Lucius walked over the
floorboards with care, feeling for any sort of tell-tale change in them. He
found none and immediately began casting the counter spells. Gradually, a couple
of stairs leading downwards began to form in the floor and Lucius smiled,
patting himself on the back at his creativity. "Well, everything appears to
be in good working order," he called to his wife.
"That's good, dear," she replied idly, and it didn't occur to him to ask
her what she meant with that tone in her voice. He reached the bottom of the
stars without so much of a tumble, murmured Lumos and the hidden chamber was lit
for him to take inventory. As he approached the first shelf, he noticed a
strange, acrid smell that had not been there before and wrinkled his forehead at
it. "Narcissa, do you smell that---" he started to call, when suddenly, the air
around him seemed to catch fire and exploded in a defining boom. The last thing
Lucius remembered was the floor caving in above him.
****
Narcissa stayed in the hallway until the smoke cleared and she could be
assured there was no more dust in there, then she calmly went to the fire, threw
in some powder, requested the Ministry's Auror division. Quickly, she worked
herself up into a frazzled state and began speaking frantically to the first
wizard who appeared in the fire. "Oh it was horrible! He...he...he's dead! I heard
this awful noise and went downstairs and I saw him in the parlor, all burnt and
disgusting and it's..." she burst into tears and could see the puzzled expression
the wizard's face and listened with glee as he instructed a crew to
get out to the Malfoy residence as soon as possible because something had
happened.
Five puzzled wizards arrived at her door, which she answered in a seemingly
hysterical state and waved her arms towards the parlor, not daring to go in
herself, crying "It's too horrible! I can't believe it!" Twenty minutes later,
the officials left, directing a magical gurney in front of them, where the
burnt remains of Lucius lay.
She turned away from the door, after shutting it and looked at the parlor
curiously. "Why not?" She whispered, and went in. In the middle of the floor was
a crater that would take more than your average magic to get out. It was burnt
and the remains of dark magic materials lay all around, smoldering. Surely a
clean up crew would be around after this. If not, she would call the ministry
and demand one. Though it would involve more pretending to be sad and hysterical
and the like, it would be worth it to get that mess cleaned up. She sniffed at
the burnt curtains. "Blacken the family name, indeed!" She scoffed and walked
out.
seems to be something along the lines of "Write while you're bored in class".
It's been a while since I've been bored in class and had an opportunity to write
as well as an idea of what TO write. So here it is, chapter two: Lucius' turn.
The Exploding Malfoys-Chapter 2: Under the Parlor Floor.
The carriage stopped outside the gates of the castle and a haggard looking man
stepped out of it, his robes hanging in tatters around him. Reaching into his
moneybag, he pulled out a silver sickle and flung it at the front of the coach,
where the driver sat. The driver caught it, bit it (much to the passenger's
consternation), nodded, whipped the winged beasts and the carriage flew off.
Lucius Malfoy turned to face the iron gate surrounding his home, his
castle. For ten months he had been separated from it and, for those ten months,
he had been interned at Azkaban, guarded no longer by dementors but by fool
wizard guards who feared their prisoners more than they were feared. It gave the
prisoners a nice little advantage and Malfoy had used it to his full advantage.
For ten months, he had been polite, respectful and even differential to his
guards. It took all his practiced years of duplicity to sit in that grimy, dark
cell inquiring after the guard's grandchildren to break down their wariness
and fear, until the day he simply reached through the bars while talking to him
and broke his neck, took his wand and escaped.
Now he was back home and the bitterness that had grown in his heart in the
past ten months burst onto his face in a smile as he raised his wand and said
"Mort sangria!" The gates swung open and Malfoy walked through them, home at
last.
No one greeted him as he walked through the doors, so he slammed the doors
loudly behind him in irritation and in hope that someone would get the message.
He flung his cloak on a chair and glanced around him, noticing the pictures
whispering and moving excitedly at his sudden entrance. His eyes narrowed and he
approached one and rapped on it angrily, startling the old wizard who had been
on the verge of leaving his painting.
"You," he said sharply. The man in the picture jumped back in his frame.
"Oh! Master Lucius is back! How wonderful! You wouldn't believe..."
"Quiet," Lucius cut him off harshly, "There are some paintings missing
from the wall, some of them your neighbors. Where are they?" His voice was
hoarse and the picture seemed to wince as he spoke.
"Er, well, you see sir..." the picture began nervously only to be
interrupted by the clack of hurried footsteps rushing into the main hall.
"Lucius!" Narcissa burst into the hall, "About time you came back. Was it
really necessary to wait ten months before breaking out of that prison and with
ministry wizards buzzing around here like the Dark Lord Himself were-"
Lucius waved his hand at here and smiled as gently as he could. "Now,
Narcissa, you know I could not just escape whenever I desired. This sort of
thing takes time and planning, none of which happens in an eye blink. In any
case, I had to wait and see if there was any official way I could get out of
this, clear the family name." He sighed, melodramatically. "But no, the name is
sullied forever. Me! A prison escapee, can you believe it? No no, it's just as
well, I can't stay anyway."
Narcissa's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Not stay? Are you mad? You
must stay! You have no idea what these past months have been like!"
Lucius suddenly lost the careful tolerance he had had of his wife and
snapped at her. "For the last ten months I have been in Azkaban so you'll do
very well to forget what you've been through, Madame."
That got her for a moment, but Narcissa quickly shrugged it off. "Hm, yes
I know it's bad. But honestly! Those ministry wizards seem to think you have the
whole dark wizardry supply closet hidden under our parlor room floor." Her voice
was deceptively casual and Lucius knew something was up.
"Why did Ministry wizards have any reason to suspect the existence of dark
materials in our parlor, Narcissa? They've searched before."
She shrugged. " I don't know, but it was very disconcerting to have them
here." Lucius narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, then spun on his heel and
walked into the parlor, over the floorboards that were covered in concealing
spells to hide the forbidden objects within. Any of these objects would have
been enough to have both of them arrested; even without them being death eaters
and the family name would have been up in smoke. "They didn't find anything did
they?" He called to Narcissa in the main hall.
"Not that I knew of...how could I have possibly been in the parlor the
entire time they were searching? They were all over the house! I was trying to
make sure none of them tried to make off with our jewelry...lord knows that Arthur
Weasley could stand to pawn some."
Lucius felt him involuntarily stiffen at this remark. "Weasley was here?"
He snarled. "That figures, he's always wanted to get his hands on something,
anything to give that muggle-loving idiot some prestige, or at least a bit of
gold to feed his family." Narcissa didn't reply and Lucius walked over the
floorboards with care, feeling for any sort of tell-tale change in them. He
found none and immediately began casting the counter spells. Gradually, a couple
of stairs leading downwards began to form in the floor and Lucius smiled,
patting himself on the back at his creativity. "Well, everything appears to
be in good working order," he called to his wife.
"That's good, dear," she replied idly, and it didn't occur to him to ask
her what she meant with that tone in her voice. He reached the bottom of the
stars without so much of a tumble, murmured Lumos and the hidden chamber was lit
for him to take inventory. As he approached the first shelf, he noticed a
strange, acrid smell that had not been there before and wrinkled his forehead at
it. "Narcissa, do you smell that---" he started to call, when suddenly, the air
around him seemed to catch fire and exploded in a defining boom. The last thing
Lucius remembered was the floor caving in above him.
****
Narcissa stayed in the hallway until the smoke cleared and she could be
assured there was no more dust in there, then she calmly went to the fire, threw
in some powder, requested the Ministry's Auror division. Quickly, she worked
herself up into a frazzled state and began speaking frantically to the first
wizard who appeared in the fire. "Oh it was horrible! He...he...he's dead! I heard
this awful noise and went downstairs and I saw him in the parlor, all burnt and
disgusting and it's..." she burst into tears and could see the puzzled expression
the wizard's face and listened with glee as he instructed a crew to
get out to the Malfoy residence as soon as possible because something had
happened.
Five puzzled wizards arrived at her door, which she answered in a seemingly
hysterical state and waved her arms towards the parlor, not daring to go in
herself, crying "It's too horrible! I can't believe it!" Twenty minutes later,
the officials left, directing a magical gurney in front of them, where the
burnt remains of Lucius lay.
She turned away from the door, after shutting it and looked at the parlor
curiously. "Why not?" She whispered, and went in. In the middle of the floor was
a crater that would take more than your average magic to get out. It was burnt
and the remains of dark magic materials lay all around, smoldering. Surely a
clean up crew would be around after this. If not, she would call the ministry
and demand one. Though it would involve more pretending to be sad and hysterical
and the like, it would be worth it to get that mess cleaned up. She sniffed at
the burnt curtains. "Blacken the family name, indeed!" She scoffed and walked
out.