There'll be killin's next!
This vignette isn't part of the seven part series that starts with "Why Snape never eats here" – it's just an opportunity to give Lucius Malfoy the dubious benefit of my attentions. However, if you read the series you will get a better feel for the particular version of the Potterverse in which this story is set.
Chapter 1: Severus Snape
Although it was spring, it was still cold at nights and he'd sneezed once or twice - he'd thought, this is bloody marvellous, on top of everything else I'm coming down with a cold, I'll have to take a goblet of Pomfrey's Pepper-Up Potion when I come off duty.
But he won't be going to bed himself until all of the students, including prefects, are tucked up for the night and their common room doors have been warded by their Head of House - until then he's prowling the first floor corridors with the Bloody Baron, because the Headmaster wants the castle guarded, wants a watch kept for any and all signs of unusual activity. So he's standing, silent and wary, his wand in his hand, simultaneously tense and alert – and bored out of his brain.
To tell the truth, it reminds him more than a little of the old days, not the Muggle-killing raids - too easy, it was like shooting fish in a barrel - but the times when they'd hunted bigger game, when they'd ambushed Aurors or members of the Order of the Phoenix. And on those kinds of missions, Lucius had always been his preferred partner, because while Lucius might act the part of the spoiled aristocratic playboy - drawling and sneering, complaining about a broken finger-nail or a scuff-mark on his dragon-hide boots - the change in him when they put on their Death Eater robes and masks was astonishing, it was like watching the change in a pampered pet kneazle, lounging on a cushion, when it sees a bird on the window sill.
Lucius Malfoy ... he can still remember the first time he saw Lucius on the Hogwarts Express, he'd known what the Malfoy name meant – wizarding royalty – and he'd been amazed that the handsome teenager with the green and silver Slytherin prefect's badge pinned to his beautifully-cut robes and the gorgeous girl hanging off his arm could be bothered to talk to a shabby little first year. Lucius hadn't pried into his background, just eyed the old copy of Advanced Potions he'd been flicking through, and asked him what House he thought he'd be Sorted into. When he'd said Slytherin, Lucius had grinned and said, don't let the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw, clever kid like you ... and by the time the train reached Hogwarts he'd been ready to do anything to win Lucius' approval. To his surprise, the Hat had offered him a choice of Gryffindor or Slytherin, and of course he'd chosen Slytherin – and when he walked up to the Slytherin table Lucius had shaken his hand and insisted that he sit next to him.
And Lucius is still his best friend, probably his only friend; a member of the Board of Governors since he took over the position from his father Abraxas; and the implacable enemy of, as Lucius puts it, that Muggle-loving old fool, Albus Dumbledore – he's surprised that he hasn't got an owl from Lucius already, gloating over this afternoon's attacks on two Muggle-borns. And Dumbledore seems to be really rattled by the attacks on Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger, and he can understand that – the last time that the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Muggle-born girl died ... Dumbledore says that it was the Dark Lord's work, when he was a student at Hogwarts.
And that's something he finds hard to get his head around – the Dark Lord as a student, as a boy … it's impossible to imagine the Dark Lord as a child when he's only ever known him as a wizard of terrifying power. He'd been mesmerized by the Dark Lord's palpable aura of power when he first met him – and the Dark Lord had promised him the things that he'd really wanted, the things that Lucius took so much for granted. The Dark Lord had offered him what Lucius had - power, position, and wealth - and no one needed to know about his filthy Muggle father, no one needed to know that he was a half-blood, the Dark Lord had told him, that will be our little secret.
And there'd been other inducements, too - not many witches became Death Eaters, he only knows of two, Bellatrix Lestrange and Alecto Carrow - but there'd been plenty of girls who liked to live dangerously, who thought it was exciting to get into bed with a wizard who had the Dark Mark burnt into his arm. Death Eater groupies, he thinks sourly - nutters, trophy hunters, the kind of girls who'd think it was a thrill to be able to say they'd slept with a werewolf the night before full moon. Girls who were nothing like Lily Evans ...
Lily Evans - he still refuses to think of her as Lily Potter – had never looked at, never dated any boy other than James Potter ... not that he cared if she threw herself away on that arsehole, he'd never been in love with her, hell, he'd never been in love with any girl, and if it was love his wretched mother felt for the stinking Muggle who'd fathered him, he was damn glad that he'd never fallen in love. He wasn't in love with Lily Evans, but she was always civil to him – she hadn't held the Mudblood insult against him when Slughorn teamed them together for the NEWTs, even before he'd muttered an apology – and he'd liked her. Lily was really something, she was smart, funny and tough, and he was convinced that if she hadn't been Muggle-born she would have been Sorted into Slytherin ... and Slughorn thought so, too, he was always teasing her about it.
No, he'd never been in love with Lily Evans, but they'd been friends, for what that was worth - and she was gorgeous. He'd wanted her as much as a hormone-raddled teenage boy could want the most beautiful girl in the school, and he hadn't been the only one, all the Slytherin boys in his year had noticed her – and talked dirty about her in the dormitory at night, and of course he'd joined in, he couldn't let anyone think he had feelings for a Mudblood Gryffindor, for James Potter's girlfriend.
But when the Dark Lord had called them together to tell them that it was the Potters that he was going after, that it was the Potter child that the prophecy pointed to, he hadn't been able to hide his thoughts - and the Dark Lord had been generous. The Dark Lord had been minded to give Lily to him as a plaything, as a reward, he'd said, "I can see you're … attracted … to the Mudblood witch. You can have her when I've killed Potter and the boy."
The others had sniggered – they'd known what this meant – a Memory Charm strong enough to obliterate Lily's memories of James and the baby, leaving her an empty shell, it would be worse than killing her, nearly as bad as a Dementor's Kiss, she'd be just a body to use. And he couldn't let that happen to her, and he couldn't let the brat die, either - for her sake he couldn't let it die, not when he knew how much she loved the wretched mewling little lump he'd seen in her arms that day he'd bumped into her in the Leaky Cauldron by carefully orchestrated chance – so he'd gone to Dumbledore, to the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared. He'd gone to Dumbledore, and somehow the whole story had come out ... he'd thought it would be Azkaban, but Dumbledore had different ideas, and somehow it had come to this, and although he's kept out of Azkaban it sometimes feels as if he's in a prison of another sort, the Prisoner of Hogwarts.
He thinks, it's been twelve years, twelve years of teaching snotty brats, the pay is pathetic, and Lucius has offered any number of times to find something else for me – so why didn't I get out, why didn't I get out before Harry Potter came to Hogwarts? Harry Potter ... he clenches his fingers around his wand at the thought of the boy with James Potter's face and Lily Evan's eyes, and feels almost dizzy with hatred. He thinks, I was prepared to treat him as just another boy, just another ickle firstie, but he's the living image of his loathsome father, and just as arrogant, what did he say in his first Potions lesson? I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her? - and some of the class had laughed, they'd actually laughed. Harry bloody Potter, the Boy Who Lived, he's like some god-damn Muggle celebrity, famous for being famous - and he's Dumbledore's favourite, just like his filthy father ...
And then he hears the crack of the house-elf Apparating - you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts or its grounds, but that rule doesn't apply to house-elves, to creatures that are forbidden to touch a wand - and he's been so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly jumps out of his skin. The elf is squeaking with excitement, one of the school governors is waiting for him in his office, it's Mr Malfoy, Professor sir, please come at once ...
His first reaction is pleasure, because it will be good to see Lucius again, he doesn't see enough of him, hell, he sees more of Narcissa than he sees of his best friend – and then annoyance, because it's bloody irritating the way that Lucius lets himself into his office as if he owns the place, but if he put more powerful wards on the door someone might get hurt, he only wants to keep students out of his office, not put them into St Mungo's - and finally apprehension, because Lucius is up to something, he can feel it in his bones. And he knows that Lucius has played a part in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets - Draco boasts in the common room that his father knows all about the last time that the Chamber was opened ...
He hesitates only for a moment, he doesn't like the idea of leaving his post, but he really needs to see Lucius, and he can risk slipping away for a few minutes. The Bloody Baron is reliable, and Filius and Lockhart aren't far away, they're only up the stairs on the next floor, and while Lockhart is a fuckwit of the highest order - as he demonstrated so satisfactorily on the one and only evening that the Duelling Club met - Filius is a powerful wizard and an ex-duelling champion.
When he walks through the door, Lucius is lounging in a chair by the fire, boots up on another chair, a goblet of wine in one hand and a long roll of parchment in the other, a triumphant sneer on his face – and he can't help thinking how strongly Draco is stamped with his paternity. Draco has the same white-blond hair, grey eyes and pale, patrician face, the same born-to-rule attitude ... and Lucius is proud of the resemblance, proud of his only son and heir, and maybe a little over-protective of him, because there won't be any more sons, Lucius has told him that Narcissa went through hell when she was pregnant with Draco and there will be no more children, Lucius won't risk her health.
And something is definitely up, Lucius is as pleased as Punch about something, he looks like the cat that swallowed the canary – but while Lucius isn't a master of Occlumency, he's not entirely ignorant of the art, and he can't see Lucius' thoughts without using his wand.
Lucius offers him a goblet of wine - it's an excellent vintage, usually kept for those occasions when the Minister for Magic dines at Hogwarts, but the house-elves would know better than to serve inferior stuff to a Malfoy – pity he isn't the one pouring the wine or he might have been able to slip a few drops of Veritaserum into Lucius' drink and find out what's really going on. He inquires politely after Narcissa, tells Lucius that Draco is doing well, and waits to see what has really brought Lucius to Hogwarts.
Lucius doesn't waste time getting down to business, he wants to know what Dumbledore is doing about the attacks, so he tells him - six o'clock curfew, no evening activities, students escorted to each lesson by a teacher, no student to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher, and evening patrols of the castle by teachers, prefects and ghosts. Lucius raises an eyebrow - and then tells him that the Minister for Magic will be arriving shortly to take Hagrid to Azkaban, just as a precaution ...
Fudge is taking Hagrid to Azkaban! The Headmaster will be furious ... and what a moron Fudge must be, Hagrid may have some very weird ideas about what makes a good pet – he hasn't forgotten when that blasted dog mangled his leg, he'd felt a complete idiot, and of course Harry-bloody-Potter had to come bursting into the staff-room and see his humiliation, see Filch bandaging his leg - but the idea that Hagrid is connected with the Chamber of Secrets is ludicrous. Bloody hell, Harry Potter is a Parselmouth, he's more likely to be the Heir of Slytherin than Rubeus Hagrid!
Lucius smirks at the expression on his face, then tosses the long roll of parchment to him. He glances through it ... an Order of Suspension, signed by all twelve governors! He's stunned, numb – Lucius has moved fast, very fast, the attacks took place less than eight hours ago - and this document means that Dumbledore is out of Hogwarts, if Fudge doesn't over-ride the Order, and that's why Lucius is here, to stand over Fudge and make sure that doesn't happen.
He realises that Lucius is looking at him a little oddly, that he's crumpled the parchment ... he tosses the parchment back to him, and says nothing.
Lucius is leaning forward in his chair, refilling their goblets, saying something about Mudbloods and pure-bloods in his drawling, confident voice – but he's not really listening to Lucius. He's thinking about Hogwarts without Dumbledore, thinking about what it will be like to walk into the Great Hall every evening for dinner if Dumbledore isn't there ... and when he realises that Minerva will be taking Albus' place, Minerva will be Acting Headmistress, it feels oddly painful, as if there's something missing, as if there's a hole, a gaping wound ...
Lucius is saying something about Minerva, and then there's a tap at the door – speak of the devil, it's Minerva herself – giving them a disapproving look. And suddenly he's furiously angry with Minerva, he's thinking, fuck off, McGonagall, just fuck off, you're not Headmistress yet! I can take five minutes off to catch up with an old friend if I want to, and you needn't look at me like that, my friends are my business, not yours, and Dumbledore trusts me, he trusts me ...
Minerva tells Lucius that the Minister for Magic has arrived and the Headmaster has accompanied him to Hagrid's hut, and Lucius excuses himself, leaves with Minerva ... but there's still a couple of inches of wine in the bottle, he might as well finish it off before he goes back upstairs, so he slumps back in his chair, brooding and resentful, thinking, why don't you piss off, Minerva, and do something useful, like bed checks on your Gryffindors, make sure that your precious Harry Potter hasn't gone wandering off to catch the Heir of Slytherin single-handed!
He drains his goblet, and then he thinks, bugger it, what's the point? With Dumbledore gone, there'll be an attack a day ... and I don't care any more, I just don't care, I'm going to order up another couple of bottles of wine and get smashed ...