Ordeal by Fire

"Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamped upon it."
(William Shakespeare. Measure for Measure I, i)

Lucius Malfoy angrily shoved the silver tip of his cane into the gravel that covered the driveway in front of the manor. It was almost lunch time and they had just reapparated from a most vexing morning spent in two separate interrogation rooms at the Ministry of Magic. Both of them had been interviewed by a mix of aurors and muggle detectives, and eventually a very sour-faced Mr. Jones had given orders for their release.

The wizard had been able to prove that he had sold the dagger with several other objects that had belonged to his father to Mr. Borgin of Borgin & Burke's about two years ago, and that he had absolutely no idea what Mr. Burke had done with the weapon after that. Mundungus' warning had allowed him to be prepared and organized in his answers. Fortunately the aurors had not insisted on getting a full list of what else Lucius had included in that transaction. That information would have proved rather embarrassing and landed them in all sorts of other troubles.

Eleanor had had the presence of mind to tell that Brannock woman about the obliviated copy of Narcissa's book they had got from Sedgewick and had actually found out from her that the dagger had been charmed in a similar manner. She now turned to him and smiled as she laced her arm through his and gently pulled him towards the house.

"You know this morning was not a complete waste of time. It's really got me thinking about our little murder mystery," she said.

"How? We are about as wise as we were before. I just don't know what is more annoying – the general lack of progress or the fact that our aurors are proving to be as clueless as those stupid muggle detectives. I had really thought that magical investigations would be more efficient than the useless bungling of those fools in suits, but apparently that is not the case."

She walked up the steps with him.

"Ah, the superiority of wizarding folk over muggles, yes," she teased him. "But herein lies the interest: our suspect or suspects know how to play both sides. The aurors discovered the dagger had been obliviated. The muggles found out that the murderer was just as careful to leave no fingerprints. Aurors wouldn't even think to check for that sort of thing."

Lucius shrugged his shoulders and turned in the entrance hall to help her out of her cloak. "Yes, Jones explained it to me. But it's no big magical feat, really, and I don't think it shows much muggle cunning in the suspect. I always used to wear gloves during Death Eater raids. You know how disgusting it is to get some filthy muggle blood out from underneath your fingernails…"

Eleanor shuddered briefly.

"No, not really, Lucius, but you have a point. The murderer could be so obsessed with purity of blood he or she wore gloves not to cover their traces, but to protect themselves. I must talk to Marigold about that."

The wizard handed both their cloaks to a house elf and faced his wife with an expression of exasperation.

"Then why don't they reveal themselves to me? They must know from my past that I am in full sympathy with their ideas. I don't want this muggle scum around any more than they do. Why do they go out of their way to frame me? What are they playing at?"

His stomach gave an insistent growl. They hadn't even had breakfast yet, thanks to the annoying rudeness of their interrogators.

"You know what?" said Eleanor. "Why don't you tell the elves to set out a nice breakfast arrangement for us on the patio, and I talk to Eckles in the kitchens to cook us up something good and get Lavinia to sit with us for a bit. I'm sure she missed us this morning. I'll bet you anything after a spot of food and some time with her things will look much brighter."

Lucius found himself smile at the thought of his daughter and nodded.

"I will see you both soon," he said and made his way further into the house. He gave instructions about a late breakfast to Nibbs and had just re-emerged from a bathroom on the ground floor to walk to the gardens when a child's scream alerted him.

'Lavinia!' he thought and sped off in the direction of the sound. As he approached he heard the angry shouts of a female voice that he recognized as his wife's. He had nearly reached the kitchen when he caught some of her words.

"… are you mad? What do you think you were doing? Answer me! Explain yourself!"

He rounded a bend in the corridor and stood in the doorway of the brightly lit kitchen seeing before him in a frozen tableau his wife, wand at the ready, threatening the black-clad figure of the nanny who was inexplicably holding a glowing poker from one of the cooking fires in her right and had apparently just let go of Lavinia's wrist. His small daughter crouched at her feet crying and pressing her left hand against her arm. He didn't even wait for an explanation as he ripped out his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" he roared with such force that Maleficia was blasted off her feet, the poker flying from her grip, and she got catapulted halfway across the room making a resounding impact with a rack full of copper pots. Two house elves dashed out of the path of destruction squeaking in alarm and Lucius strode forward until he towered over the half-dazed body of his daughter's nanny that lay sprawling on the floor.

"Speak," he bellowed at the older witch. "Speak or I will crucio you until you do! What are you doing to my child?"

He felt Eleanor step up to his side. She was now holding the still crying Lavinia in her arms and through the haze of his fury he heard her perform an empathicura spell on the little girl. It sufficed as proof for him that Maleficia had indeed hurt his daughter. He leveled his wand at the woman.

"This is your last chance, you bitch! I trusted you," he threatened her. "Very well, cru-…"

He saw the eyes of the witch widen in panic and come to rest on his wife.

"Please," she said, her voice reedy with shock and pain. "Please mistress. I will tell you. I will tell you everything, I swear! But I can't tell him. For her sake. Please!"

"What! What's that supposed to mean? Around here I am your master, I demand to know!"

"Mistress, please, listen to me!" pleaded the nanny again, but when Lucius heard his wife answer her voice was cold.

"You burned her, Maleficia. I just healed a burn wound on her that would have had even a grown-up screaming with pain. I have no secrets before my husband, and I suggest you tell us now what you are playing at, or I swear I will walk out of here with our daughter and leave you to his mercy. You've known him and his family long enough to understand what's in store for you."

The witch tried to sit up. Her jaw worked for a moment as if she was desperately trying to think of a reply, then her face grew slack in surrender.

"I tried to test her," she said.

"Test her!" challenged Lucius her angrily. "What kind of test?"

Again it seemed for a moment as if the nanny was trying to resist. The wizard lifted his wand in a renewed threat.

"The two year mark: the time for magical children to first show their abilities," Maleficia eventually volunteered with a sigh. "I watched her as carefully as I could, and I detected nothing. She has a strong will, believe me, but she cannot translate it into magic. Over the last few weeks as I grew desperate I tried to evoke the most basic of responses: magical self-protection. All wizarding children have that, as you know, the instinctive response to threats. I was going to make one last attempt this morning while you were gone. I was again unsuccessful.

I never intended to hurt her, but I was trying desperately to prove to myself that Lavinia isn't a squib. I couldn't."

She sagged back to where she lay on the floor.

"No!" declared Lucius his eyes wide with shock and lowered his wand. "I refuse to believe that. She has Malfoy blood. She has Sartorius blood. Both families have bred true for many generations. She can't be! It's impossible!"

He turned towards his wife and child running a trembling hand across his face, then stretched out his arm towards his daughter, but as Lavinia lifted her tear-streaked face towards her father and let go of her mother's neck to touch him back, he suddenly turned aside and sat down heavily on a wooden cask that stood near him and buried his head in his hands.

"It can't be," he mumbled. "We'll go to St. Mungo's, we'll have the best healers check her. There must be a mistake. It just can't be."

"Is Daddy sad?" asked Lavinia's frightened voice, and Lucius heard a rustle of robes as his wife turned. His head swam.

"No sweetie, Daddy just doesn't like to see anyone hurting you. He'll be all right," Eleanor answered and then addressed the nanny: "Maleficia, I suggest you pack your things and leave here immediately. As far as I am concerned you abused our trust and you endangered the life of our daughter. I do not wish to see you ever again. If you try and come near Lavinia again, I swear to you I will curse you myself."

Lucius still didn't look up as he heard the older witch try to get up in a clatter of pots and pans.

"I would have told you eventually," she said quietly to his wife. "When I was truly sure. You seem to want to care for her no matter what. I love her, and I know what he will do. You mark my words."

Eleanor's response was barely more than a vicious hiss.

"Get out! Before I forget myself!"

Lavinia started to cry again, picking up on her mother's fury, as the heavy limping footsteps of Maleficia Babbit slowly receded and grew quiet.

"Lavinia, can you be a good girl for me and play over there with the other children and the nurse? I need to talk to your Mummy and Daddy for a bit."

The healer stood up and the little girl looked up at her mother. Eleanor ran a gentle hand over her daughter's pale blond hair.

"It's okay my little owl. Go on. You can ask the nurse for some pens and you can draw a picture if you want.Your fatherand I will take you home, soon"

Obediently Lavinia trundled over to a small play-area where a young nurse in lime-green robes was looking up from supervising two other children and smiled invitingly at her.

The healer asked the Malfoys to sit and looked deeply into the pale and stern face of the father. Somehow his instincts told him that Mr. Malfoy would be more shaken by his preliminary diagnosis than his wife. He hated having this particular conversation with magical parents. It was almost always nearly as bad as having to tell people that a particular spell could not be reversed or a particular poison possessed no antidote. He sighed.

"Well, we've run all the tests we would typically do, plus the detection spells you recommended because of your suspicions."

Lucius Malfoy leant forward, tapping the tip of his cane on the floor between them.

"And? – What have you found?"

"I'm very sorry to say that we currently cannot confirm any magical abilities in your child…"

The blond wizard threw himself back in his chair with a snort of disbelief.

"That's just not possible!" he exclaimed. "There must be a mistake!"

The healer sighed. Denial, always the first reaction of wizards and witches dealing with unwelcome news.

"We did find traces of quite a few obliviation spells…"

This time it was the woman who interrupted him. She sounded angry.

"That's Maleficia, covering up the memories of the pain and fear she put Lavinia through for her crazy tests. Oh, I wish I'd cursed her! I can't believe I trusted her."

The healer swallowed and forged ahead. He really wanted to get this over with. The evil reputation of the Malfoys preceded them, and he felt more than uncomfortable in the presence of the notorious couple.

"We could not establish any other magical interference like suppression spells. Let me confirm again, your suspicions are unfounded: no one is influencing your daughter, cursing her or preventing her from developing magical abilities. She is exhibiting her natural aptitude and abilities that she possesses at this age…"

"Which make her nothing but a squib," said the blond wizard gruffly.

The healer squirmed.

"I would not necessarily call her that," he backtracked. "Remember, all children develop at different rates. You have some walking their first steps while others still crawl and barely manage to pull themselves upright. Some may be talking in full sentences while siblings in the same family at the same age will produce merely meaningless gibberish. We only truly diagnose a squib after age four. She may very well be a late developer."

He saw the witch bite her lips and look over anxiously towards the playpen, where the little girl was playing quite amicably with the other two children. Despite his professional detachment and the reputation of the family he felt sorry for her.

"You see," he tried to explain. "Magic is the expression of will, and your daughter seems otherwise very advanced for her age. She walks well, manipulates objects with her hands successfully and has no problem with expressing herself. She probably does not feel the need to exercise magic, because she can get her environment respond to her in a satisfying manner using non-magical means. It's often the children that are less developed that exhibit the stronger magical traits. If you bring her back in maybe six months we'll have a much better way to determine…"

He flinched when the girl's father suddenly stood up.

"We will not find out anything more here," Lucius Malfoy announced and threw a handful of galleons onto the table at his side. For a moment he leaned in on the healer. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone you will get to find out what the house of Malfoy is truly capable of," he hissed under his breath.

He straightened, pulled his cloak around him, grasped his cane and turned to his wife. "Take her!" He indicated his daughter with a curt jerk of his head. "We're leaving."