Author's Note: Sorry for the slow updates. I think I have things planned out in detail now, and they should be coming faster. Thanks to Arsinoe de Blassenville for her upcoming ideas about the Dark Lord and the Mirror of Erised.

This chapter was inspired by my sister. She was a little like Mirabel when she was little. When we lived in California we'd go to the beach, andthere was a huge ceramic whale with a glass eye. She thought it was a real whale, and every trip she'd cry until she got to touch its eye. Kids really can be weird :-)


Chapter Twenty-Nine

"How fascinating." My uncle gazed at me in wonder, his fingers touching my cheek. "My dear, I've been waiting years for this. I'm sure we have much to discuss. Why don't we talk in my office?"

I glanced at Draco, but he appeared to have been expecting this.

"I wanna go, too, Mama," Mirabel whispered excitedly, tickling my ear with her breath. "I want to see the bad house-elf, Dobby."

"Dobby?" I asked. "What do you mean, Sweetie?"

"He's in Papa Lucius' office. Gaius says so."

Surely the children must be making up stories. I began to follow my uncle down the hall. The last time we had 'talked' in his office, he had terrified me with his temper tantrum against Professor Dumbledore. It was not a good memory. I couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. I hoped he wouldn't try to convince me to change the past in some way. Mirabel must have sensed my anxiety, because she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" I kissed the tiny witch, nuzzling her fluffy, silky hair. "You even smell sweet, like…some kind of fruit?"

"Your worthless 'business partner' sends gift packages to the children every Christmas," Uncle Lucius told me with a roll of his eyes. He turned to Mirabel. "What ridiculous food item are you supposed to smell like this year?"

"Lemon drops!" She said. "That's Muggle candy."

A scowl settled on my uncle's face. Evidently, he still held grudges, even after all these years.

"I like Mr. Lockhart," she said, wrinkling her nose in a cute way. "He's funny." She looked down the hallway towards the office door. "Can I see Dobby, Papa? Please? I'm old enough."

"You already know the answer to that," my uncle said. "The younger children are never allowed anywhere near my office," he explained to me, stopping near the door. "I wish to speak to your mother alone," he told Mirabel. He attempted to pry her loose from me, but was unable to do so. It took me a moment to realize that she must be using magic, because she stuck to me like Velcro. She giggled.

"You will stop this immediately," he commanded her sternly.

Mirabel's little face puckered into a pout, but she slid reluctantly to the floor, holding her hands behind her as if hiding something. Uncle Lucius gave her a gentle shove towards the way we came, before we entered his office.

To my surprise, there had been additions to his office décor since the last time I had seen it. The place was filled with mirrors. They filled the place with light and made it look much bigger than it was. A large, oval mirror hung on the wall and there were many smaller ones as well. Among the mirrors was a…

"Ugh," I said. "What is that thing?" It looked like a shrunken head. A closer look showed me that the head belonged to a house-elf. Its glassy eyes bulged, and its lips curled back in terror.

"Don't you like it?" He asked, with an amused lift of his brow. "I had the little bastard hunted down, soon after the attack on our home. I'm sure he regretted betraying my family before the end." My uncle sat at his desk, and pulled out what looked to be a richly carved wooden box. He placed the box before him, and unlocked it with a spell.

"It was terrible," I said, "seeing the Dark Mark over the Manor. I thought I had lost you."

"You must have been quite upset, to attempt to curse that Weasley boy." He sighed. "I did appreciate that sentiment, my dear. It was probably just as well your attempt was foiled, however, since…" Here, my uncle hesitated.

"Since what?" I asked, hoping he would tell me something important.

"It won't do to discuss what happened during the war." My uncle then changed the subject. "I have often been disappointed over the years, my dear, with your consistent refusal to be trained in the Dark Arts. But luckily, your son has inherited your great power, and he is not as reluctant."

"Gaius?" I asked.

He nodded. "In a way, you could say that I have found my brother again. Would you like to see what he made for me? He made several of those mirrors on the wall, but that one is my favorite." He motioned me to move closer to it, and I saw that the mirror had an ugly, gargoyle-like face carved into its frame. Its glass was black. An uneasy feeling squirmed in my stomach. I suddenly remembered how my mother had served the Dark Lord.

I didn't know what to say to this, so I just said, "Are you happy, Uncle Lucius? Are you, um, still mad at Professor Dumbledore and my mother?"

He gazed at me with those silvery eyes, and I once again had the impression that he was searching my thoughts. "What you really want to know is if I desire to become another Dark Lord. Or if I have already been moving in that direction..."

We were interrupted by a sharp tapping sound.

"Alohomora! Alohomora!" Mirabel's muffled voice could be heard on the other side of the door. "Open up, you stupid door!"

A look of exasperation crossed my uncle's face.

I heard a click, and the door swung open a crack. I opened it completely to find Mirabel hitting it with…

"My wand!" I said. "How did you get that?" My hands patted my empty pocket, before I took the wand from her. "You little kleptomaniac." Thank goodness Adamant was unbreakable. The door, unfortunately, had been scratched up a bit.

"I did it, Mama, I made a spell. It's just like 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks!" She squealed. Her eyes grew large as she gazed around the room at all the mirrors, books and magical instruments. A wicked little smile spread across her face, as if she was already planning on what mischief to get into. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Dobby's head on the wall. "Can I touch his eyeball?" she asked.

"Get that child out of here!" My uncle snarled. "Immediately."

Her little face puckered up again, but this time she wailed as if we were murdering her.

The black mirror on the wall shattered.

My uncle whipped his wand out. "Silentium!"

Nothing came out of Mirabel's mouth. She gaped for a moment like a fish out of water.

"That is why none of your brood is allowed in here," my uncle said. "Your children are a pack of manipulative, sneaky little savages." He glared at me as if it was my fault.

"Don't look at me," I told him. "I just got here."

He turned to Mirabel. "You are being very naughty." His eyes turned to gray ice. "What happens to naughty…little…witches?"

"You can't stick me in the dungeons," I heard her whisper. "I'm only three years old!" She held up two fingers.

I gasped and looked at my uncle in horror. "Don't you dare touch her! I can't believe you. I thought that maybe you had changed." All the memories of how he had treated Draco flooded into my mind.

"That is a story from the past that the children heard," Uncle Lucius told me, "and I merely use it to my advantage." He stood, and with a spell and a wave of his wand, he repaired the shattered mirror.

"Believe it or not," he continued. "I do regret some…actions that I took in the past. My service to the Dark Lord did not bring out the best in me as a father. Or as a husband, evidently."

I thought of Narcissa and her apparent alcoholism. "Well, I suppose it was stressful, for both of you."

He scooped Mirabel up and tucked her under his arm like a football. "Let me deal with this…distraction. Wait here."

"Save me, Mama!" The little witch whispered dramatically as my uncle carried her down the hallway. I watched them until I realized with relief that they were merely headed down to the family room where all the other children were.

"Hey, you," a voice said. "Over here."

Startled, I looked around the office, wondering where the voice came from. There, in the large oval mirror, was an older reflection of myself.

"Having fun with my husband?" she asked with a smirk.

Did my voice really sound like that? I blushed. "Well you should know!" I told her, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "I mean, hasn't all this happened to you before?"

"Yes, and it's very strange to see you, being where I was before," she said. "I'm at Silverthorn castle. Mama and Severus don't know that I'm using this mirror. I've been torturing myself about whether or not to talk to you."

"You mean, you didn't do this before?" All of this was too eerie, to see a reflection of myself in a mirror that moved and talked of its own accord. "I thought you could only do what has already been done. Isn't that the way it is in a time loop?"

The older version of myself shook her head. "I've been studying time a lot. I've even read a lot of research that Grandfather did. Time isn't set in stone. As a matter of fact, Grandfather believed that time is more of a web. He believed that with each choice a person makes, the current of time breaks off and creates another reality. He believed that there are millions of parallel realities, with different outcomes."

The thought was quite overwhelming.

"I only have a moment before Uncle Lucius gets back," she told me.

"Is he going to try and get me to change the past?" I asked.

"He's sending a letter back in time with you to Professor Dumbledore. The headmaster would never have been able to rescue Severus without his instructions." A strange look crossed her face, one that I couldn't identify. "Everything's going to be okay. You know that, don't you? You will survive everything, even if it is scary."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"That box on Uncle Lucius' desk- open it."

I lifted the heavily carved lid, to find rows of brilliantly colored potions in crystal vials. The liquids shimmered and swirled in jeweled tones, even emitting a kind of radiance. Leaning over them, Ithought I hearda faint humming.

"They're beautiful," I said. "It's like they're alive."

"The ones on the leftare the healing potions that Mother and Severus have developed, made with unicorn blood. Find the blue one, with PTSD on the label."

"Blue one…" I muttered, searching the labels. "I found it." Amazingly enough, when I plucked out the vial from the box, another one instantly replaced it. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"It's for Harry Potter," the older version of myself said. "I don't have the nerve to change things too much. I wish I could save everybody. But I can help Harry, at leasta little. I can't bear the thought of him in-" here she faltered. "You, know, I suspect that Draco obliviated me, er, you when you arrived at New Orleans."

"What?" My mouth fell open. "That jerk!"

"I think I discovered something that I wasn't supposed to know. I can guess now what it was. Post traumatic stress disorder means that the person has suffered trauma but for some reason wasn't able to process the emotions. The trauma was too deep and overwhelming. This is a potion that can help heal years of deep and severe trauma. It hasn't worked on Harry in the present, and the mediwitches believe that he needed the potion right after the major trauma. Don't tell anybody about the potion. For heaven's sake, don't tell Professor Dumbledore about it. Keep it until Harry needs it."

"But how will I know when he needs it?" I asked.

"Believe me, you'll know," she said grimly.

"But-" I started, but then the door opened and my uncle walked in. I glanced back at the mirror but the reflection had vanished. I shoved the vial of potion into one of my pockets.

"Now where was I?" My uncle sat once again at his desk. "Ah, yes. To your question as to whether or not I am 'happy.' I admit that it was very difficult to let go of power. Even as I saw the Dark Lord fell, part of me was grief-stricken. I saw so many of my old dreams go up in smoke. My dreams of glory, of perhaps sharing in the Dark Lord's immortality…were gone. But now, I am not without consolations."

"You wanted to be immortal?" I asked, surprised. For some reason, that had never occurred to me.

"Immortality is such an alluring concept don't you think? Ultimate power, and never ending life to use it in. You don't have to look at me like that, my dear. The magical transformations that the Dark Lord endured to attain immortality made him quite insane in the end. I have no desire to follow in those particular footsteps. As you become older, you realize that your immortality lies in your descendants."

He looked down at a small picture frame on his desk, and I saw that it was a Wizarding photograph of all the children.

"The Dark Lord had no family, you know," my uncle continued. "He was raised in an orphanage during the Muggle war. The children used to fight each other for food rations every day. Dreadful place. He never had a concept of family, never gave a thought to his lineage continuing. He certainly never respected my duty towards my family."

"I saw my father in the mirror," I told him. "He was looking into the Mirror of Erised, and saw me looking at him through the Mirror of Emit."

"I know," he said. "You told me that years ago. At the time your father allowed Miranda to escape the Dark Lord, I didn't understand how he could be so foolish. I've come to believe that my brother made a very wise decision, trading his life for one so precious. And I do not mean your mother."

It took me a long moment to realize what he had just said. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

My uncle smiled, and taking out a piece of parchment and a quill, he began writing.

"Is that my letter for Professor Dumbledore?" I asked him, without thinking. When my uncle stopped writing to look at me, I added, "I mean, I'm assuming it's for him. Who else would you be writing to?"

"What an astute observation," My uncle told me dryly. He glanced at the large oval mirror on the wall.

"What are you telling him?"

"I am telling the esteemed Headmaster, in essence, that I have won. The Malfoy line has been strengthened and purified, and will continue. My grandchildren are very powerful witches and wizards. I have gained the public's approval and have become a well respected author. There has even been a rumor that I may be nominated for the Minister of Magic. Succinctly put, I have not only survived the war, but I've flourished. And that old fool has not."

"I'm not going to give him that letter!" I said, gasping with indignation. "That's horrible."

"Oh yes, you will, because I am also informing him how he is to get Severus released from Bellatrix's gentle hands. As well as how he will ultimately win the war." Uncle Lucius finished his letter, and sealed it with an enchantment. "Do not open this letter," he warned, "and do not allow anyone else but Dumbledore to open it. It would not be a pretty sight." He made a motion with his hand to indicate Dobby's head on the wall.

I nodded with a grimace. Honestly, dark wizards could be so suspicious.

"The Department of American Magic built a Wizarding prison off the shore of San Francisco. Much like Azkaban. It has since been declared inhumane, and was abandoned quite some time ago."

"You mean Alcatraz?" I asked. "But Muggles go there all the time. They have tours and stuff."

"That is merely the prop that was used to distract the Muggles from the real Alcatraz. Severus was there, and was heavily guarded by Dementors."

"How horrible," I said. "How will Professor Dumbledore rescue him?"

"Technically, he won't, my dear," my uncle said. "He will send you to convince the Dark Lord to release him."

"What?" I shrieked. "No way! Are you out of your mind?"

My uncle only smirked. "Dumbledore will tell you all the details. No worries, Miriel. You know you are safe and sound here in the present. You know you will succeed." He reached into his box and pulled out a swirling, violet potion. "There have been many advancements in potions since the war," he said. "This is one of Severus' amazing inventions. It is an occlumency potion. Once you drink this, you will be able to lie to the Dark Lord. You won't even need occlumency lessons. You can shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

"I can't do this," I muttered. I had the horrible sensation that my insides were melting. I'd had quite a few nightmares after witnessing the Dark Lord torturing Karl. "What if I mess up? What if the potion doesn't work?" My heart pounded as I realized what could happen to me.

"This potion is quite well known in the Wizarding world," he reassured me. "And it has not failed. This will seal the mind against magical intrusion and influence. How do you think you've kept so many secrets from me these long years?" He handed me the vial. "Drink up, my dear. Cheers!"

I glared at him for a moment. I downed the potion, trying not to gag. It tasted like dirty socks. And sour gummi-worms. Or at least, what I would've imagined dirty socks and gummi-worms to taste like. "I don't feel any different," I told him after a few moments.

He stood. With his fingers under my chin, he tilted my head back a bit, and looked deeply into my eyes. I forced my mind to go entirely blank.

"You really do have beautiful eyes," he drawled. "And that is all I see. Excellent."


Many thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. Thanks so much for hanging in there in spite of my slow updates.

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Yes, Lucius would be kind of a strange grandfather, I couldn't imagine that he'd be ALL mushy. Poor Narcissa became addicted to alcohol and prescription potions as a reaction to all the stress of serving the Dark Lord. She's been in and out of PA (Potions Anonymous) and Lucius is really tired of the whole thing. HA! Thanks for all your reviews.

Alexa: Thanks!

Dragonfires: I would kill to go to school in New Orleans, but I'm afraid that grad school is rather difficult to get into at Tulane. Thanks for your review.

Sophie: Thanks for being so nice and reviewing my story. I have started reading "Dumbledore's Secret," and I like it a lot. I will review, but I'm just a slacker :-)

IcePrincess 42: I love the Snoopy dance. Thanks!

Cyrna: Thanks for going to all the trouble to look me up! I don't know what happened to Escaped. I hope she's still around and doing okay. Thanks for your review!