Introduction
This story is the fourth (can you believe I'm still doing this!) in the Sartorius cycle. I think if you hung with me this far, I'll spare you the introductory timeline this time, gentle reader...
Predecessor stories to this fanfic are:
The Secret of Sartorius ( Set 1 year before "The Philosopher's Stone)
The Promise of Sartorius (Set during "The Order of the Phoenix")
The Legacy of Satorius (Set immediately after "The Order of the Phoenix", also contains summary of the previous 2 stories in the introductory chapter)
The Riddle of Sartorius is set a little under 3 years after "Legacy". It features more of what you loved - or what you hated - about my previous stories. The usual disclaimers are in place. And of course once again my thanks go to J.K. Rowling for the creation of the wonderful Harry Potter universe, and to Jason Isaacs for his marvellous portrayal of the sneering, the arrogant, the one and only LUCIUS MALFOY!
May he return to us in style this fall with the release of "Goblet of Fire"!
Family Matters
"Like all the best families, we have our share of eccentricities, of impetuous and wayward youngsters and of family disagreements." (Queen Elizabeth II)
The dark, mossy walls of the manor seemed to crouch down in self-defense against a sweltering, relentless July sun. For weeks now it hadn't rained; not a single breath of wind had stirred the gnarled old trees of the park, and the heat had begun to even penetrate into the cool, dusky hallways of the ancient residence of the pureblood wizarding family of the Malfoys.
The usually overzealous house elves, who were working in the garden irrigating the drooping roses, looked oddly despondent as they lugged around their huge watering cans, making their way from the deep well at the side of the house across the clipped lawns to the immaculately groomed flower beds. In the east turret of the mansion Hermes, Lucius' eagle owl, and the other six family owls blinked sleepily in the dusty light, their beaks gaping and their wings spread away from their bodies as they tried to keep themselves cool.
Eleanor Malfoy-Sartorius looked up in irritation from her scroll of parchment as a splotch of moisture dripped on the ink of her freshly written reply to the editor of the "Annual Annotations of the Magical Defense League". She replaced her griffin feather in her ink well, blotted at the smudged writing and ran her hands over her face.
"Holy Hecate," she mumbled realizing she was drenched in sweat. She wiped her slick fingers on the skirts of her thin summer robes and bent backwards, straightening the kinks out of her spine. Her eyes surveyed her lavishly furnished study and came to rest on a tall standing clock carved from walnut wood. While the central dial of the clock indicated the time similar to a muggle time piece, the top face showed her the whereabouts of the current Malfoy family members.
She ignored her own gold pointer. A slim polished silver hand adorned with elaborate scrollwork bore the name "Draco" and indicated a position on the clock face marked as "Away on Business". Another, broader dial of blackened silver with the lettering "Lucius" showed her husband's status as "Attending Ministry Meeting".
She smirked in anticipation: he would be coming home in quite a temper and require some skilful soothing to take his mind of the day's aggravations. It was one of her duties as his wife that she would never regard as a chore, despite the fact that they had been handfasted for almost three years now.
For a moment she closed her eyes as she imagined his strong, slender hands on her body, his lips claiming her mouth, and the temperature in her sun-baked study seemed to reach fever-pitch. She shook her head with a sigh. If they had any sense they would magically chill some water in their large sunken tub in the bath room and carefully avoid touching at all; otherwise in this heat they might spontaneously combust or get glued together permanently.
She looked at the clock once more and her face lit up in a smile as she regarded a small, colorfully enameled hand that spelled "Lavinia" and pointed to a scroll with the inscription "Playing". She had spent enough time on her work already.
Resolutely she turned back to her letter, picked up her wand to fix the smeared ink, signed her name to the document, addressed and rolled up the parchment and called for a house elf to take the day's correspondence to the owlery. A second flick of her wand enveloped her in a cooling breeze, and with a soft rustle of her robes she made her way out of her study and down a dim, wood-paneled hallway.
She could make out her daughter's voice before she had even come close to the nursery.
"Let Lala!"she heard, followed by a loud, exuberant giggle.
The sounds made her quicken her step and soon she had pushed open an old, heavy oak door and looked into a sun-drenched high room painted all over with dragons, hippogriffs, unicorns and other magical creatures that galloped, pranced and flew across the walls, spewing fire, flicking their manes and preening their wings in a riot of movement and color.
In the center of the room an elderly witch reclined on a settee and watched a house elf and a little girl wrestle each other over a miniature children's broom.
Eleanor leaned quietly against the door frame and took in the scene before her without announcing her presence: the witch was Maleficia Babbitt, also affectionately known as "Nana". She had been Draco's nanny when he had been a little boy, and Lucius Malfoy had taken her back into his service to help with the upbringing of his youngest child.
Eleanor had had mixed feelings about this at first, having been raised muggle-style and without any servants or even house-elves by her parents, but Lucius had not bent to her arguments, insisting that as a Malfoy she had representative duties and could not be expected to be holed up with her offspring at all times. Despite her initial resistance she had soon found that she actually trusted the older woman, who seemed happy to be back with the family and able to keep tabs on her former charge, Draco, and who had considerably more experience in bringing up children than she had.
With her own mother dead and no other female friends and relatives around to ask for advice, Nana had soon become indispensable. If she was honest with herself, Eleanor occasionally even cherished the liberty she enjoyed with the nanny taking care of so many of her chores. And if she suffered any attacks of a bad conscience, Lucius was always quick to quench them.
She was even more apt to listen to him as she found him to be a very loyal, patient and affectionate father. It had been one of her worries that his usual shortness of temper and self-centeredness might spell trouble, but perhaps due to some inherent magic in the huge green eyes of their two-year-old, the sneering, arrogant head of the Malfoys just melted in the presence of his daughter, and one of Eleanor's most delightful indulgences consisted in watching Lucius and Lavinia play.
Her thoughts now led her attention back to her daughter and she smiled as she watched the little girl finally wrest the broom from the hands of the elf.
"I can do it!" she declared with a proud Malfoy toss of her head. "Lala can fly. Like Draco! Watch!"
Eleanor looked on as she mounted the broom the way she undoubtedly had seen her half-brother do. There she stood, pale silver Malfoy hair thrown back over her shoulders, grasping the broom.
"Fly!" she commanded, frowning in concentration. "Fly now!"
The red-haired witch shook her head. She heard generations of Malfoy arrogance and self-assurance in that little voice. Lavinia, named after Lucius' mother, had inherited her own mother's deep green eyes, but the arched slant of her eyebrows, the proud, curved lips and the straight-backed posture had come directly from the Malfoy line of the family.
"No, mistress mustn't," pleaded the house elf. "It's too dangerous! What if mistress falls off!"
Maleficia stretched in her seat. "It's okay Libby, I doubt…"
At that moment the girl had spotted her mother and the broom clattered to the ground, temporarily forgotten.
"Mommy!" she shouted and ran over to the door, flinging her arms around Eleanor's skirts. The witch bent down and lifted up her child.
"Here, my little owl, I'll make you fly without a broom!" she said, twirling the two of them around in a circle. Lavinia leaned back and spread her arms like wings, giggling excitedly.
Out of the corner of her eye Eleanor saw the nanny get up and slowed down, feeling somewhat self-conscious about her playfulness. She gently shushed her daughter's demands of "More, Mommy, more!" cradled the girl to her chest and approached the older woman.
Maleficia bowed her head.
"Mistress," she said. "It is good to see you. Is anything amiss?"
Eleanor sighed inwardly. She would have preferred a less formal address, but when she had offered the witch first name basis at the very beginning of their relationship, Mrs. Babbitt had declined.
"I couldn't, mistress," she had said. "Mr. Malfoy has always been master when I served here. When I looked after Draco, the first Mrs. Malfoy was the mistress. Now you are his wife, so the title belongs to you. I know this may seem old-fashioned to you, seeing that so many modern witches and wizards have adopted a less formal style – undoubtedly corrupted by uncivilized muggle habits – but then I'm an old-fashioned witch."
Eleanor snapped out of her reminiscences, ran her hand over the silky-soft hair of the little girl in her arms and shook her head.
"Everything is fine, Maleficia," she said. "I am done with my work for today and merely wanted to see how everyone is holding up in this heat."
She smiled fondly at Lavinia.
"Seems someone here doesn't mind at all!"
Mrs. Babbitt considered this.
"Well, she is a summer child," she said. "Leos generally tolerate heat quite well. Of course I used some cooling spells, too. I wouldn't let her get into a sweat and then catch cold, mistress."
Hearing the slight tone of defensiveness that had crept into the nanny's voice, Eleanor quickly smiled.
"Don't worry. I know you take the best care of her," she said, intent on changing the subject. "So how has she been doing? I didn't realize someone gave her a broom."
"Oh, young master Draco brought it with him as a little present about a week ago. She loves it. Now that she's seen him on his Firebolt, I think her chosen career of the moment is seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. Of course it's just a play-broom."
"I can fly," Lavinia piped up proudly. "I catch a ball now, like Draco."
Eleanor smiled. They had all gone to see Draco play and win in an amateur cup game a few weeks ago. He had continued with quidditch after his graduation from Hogwarts, and how held a position as seeker for the Sussex Serpents, a team in the non-professional leagues. His little half-sister had been jumping up and down in the stands following him with her eyes and yelling with excitement. Eleanor suspected that their excursion had started a life-long obsession, and she realized that she found Draco's thoughtful gift quite touching.
Of course if faced with an ardent fan like his little half-sister, even a nineteen-year old wizard who was generally preoccupied with playing it cool had to slip up and give in to sentiment occasionally.
"Mind you, I wouldn't really let her…," began the nanny, but this time Eleanor interrupted her.
"Maleficia, sometimes I think you believe I harbor the secret suspicion that you are out to plot little Lavinia's demise. Let me assure you: if Lucius and I didn't have the utmost confidence in your abilities and your loyalty, you'd be the first to know. Of course you would never endanger her."
The older witch gave her a slightly pained smile.
"Thank you, mistress."
"Well, my little seeker, how about we have the house-elves make us some nice cool strawberry punch? And then we can decide what's going to be for dinner tonight. Daddy should be home, soon. And I bet he's quite hungry."
Eleanor watched Lavinia nod excitedly. "I want to make a picture for Daddy. A picture how I fly! Libby! Pens!"
The witch set her daughter back on the floor and crouched down so she could look into the little girl's face.
"Now, now Lavinia, what did Mommy tell you about speaking to the house elves? Do you remember?"
She fought to retain a stern look as she saw the famous Malfoy frown move into place. For a moment Lavinia avoided her eyes and pursed her lips, but eventually she answered.
"Lala says 'please'," she said quietly, then looked up and called: "Libby, bring pens, please!"
She looked back at her mother.
"Daddy doesn't say 'please'," she announced.
Eleanor sighed inwardly.
"Your Daddy never had a mommy who told him to. That's why."
Lavinia considered this.
"Why not?"
"Because she died when your Daddy was born."
"Why?"
"Because sometimes people die."
Another 'why?' was already forming on Lavinia's lips, but just then Libby showed up with a pretty carved wood box of crayons and several sheets of parchment, and the short lesson in family history was temporarily postponed.
Eleanor noticed that Mrs. Babbitt regard her curiously as she straightened up, smoothed down her robes and took her seat in a deep easy chair to watch her daughter settle in with her drawing materials.
"Far be it from me to comment on your education of your daughter, but do you really think she should be instructed to address mere house-elves in this manner? I am sure the master…"
The younger witch cut her off.
"I am aware of Lucius' attitude with regards to the servants. I do not share it. When Lavinia is old enough to decide she can make up her own mind about it. But for now in my presence she will follow my rules."
Another house elf interrupted them, bringing a tray with three glasses filled with pale pink strawberry punch, and to bridge an awkward silence Eleanor reached for the latest edition of Witch Weekly, which lay on a small coffee table next to her. A headline on the cover alerted her, and quickly she leafed through the magazine until she read the whole short article.
"I Married a Death Eater"
Narcissa Black's new, controversial autobiography is now on sale at Flourish & Blotts in Diagon Alley, The Four Elements bookstore in the Strand, and Gavin's Grimoires of Hogsmeade.
For those who are eager for an inside glimpse into the private sphere of the dark wizards who formed the core following of the late You-Know-Who, Ms. Black's book will leave few questions unanswered. The quiet and retiring home-maker and mother was suddenly dragged into the limelight of public attention over three years ago during the spectacular arrest and trial of her ex-husband as a follower of the Dark Lord.
Now she writes with unflinching candor about her betrothal and marriage to one of the most influential and wealthy pureblood wizards of our generation. Mr. Malfoy has always caused strong reactions in those who have encountered him: envy, admiration, fear and hate, to name just a few.
After the many years Ms. Black has spent at her former husband's side she is now in a unique position to reveal this enigmatic man as we have never known him before. Here is an excerpt from the chapter The Dark Secret of the Vault
"I had always been aware that he had a cruel streak in him, but coming upon this scene of carnage in the dungeons of our very home sickened me. At least four or five dead and dying muggles lay on the floor. I was too distraught to count and there was so much blood!
Despite the fact that everyone was hooded and masked the slant of his shoulders revealed him to me, and as he turned and spoke I wished I could have stopped my ears and run away. But I remembered my little son, and for his sake I kept my face expressionless..."
In the wake of the developments that have led to the demise of the Dark Lord, this courageous witch's voice adds depth and interest to one of the darkest chapters in recent history. As sister to the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange and wife to the controversial Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black is uniquely qualified to take us behind the scenes and let us in on the murderous secrets of the feared society of the Death Eaters.
"I Married a Death Eater" is a riveting must-read for anyone, who has been trembling under the dread spell of You-Know-Who's reign of horror.
"Oh dear!" breathed Eleanor and shut the magazine. "Talk about pounding the last nail into the coffin…"
Just then a muffled crash reverberated through the heated silence of the house, and a moment later Libby, the house elf, who had been crouching on the floor passing crayons to little Lavinia blanched and stiffened.
"Master's summons…" she gasped in terror and disapparated with a soft popping noise.
Eleanor got up.
"Maleficia, take care of Lavinia for a bit, if you will. I am afraid by the sound of it Lucius has not had a very pleasing day at work."
She gathered her robes and left the room.
"Wonder if he's seen Witch Weekly yet," she muttered darkly. "Of all the times for her to choose to pick a bone with him, this is the worst…"