Lucius Malfoy Sentenced to Life in Azkaban!
By Rita Skeeter
Published on August 25th, 1998
As one of so many trials after the Battle of Hogwarts draw to an end, one of the most significant ones found a conclusion just yesterday: Lucius Malfoy, head of the prestigious pure-blooded Malfoy family, is sentence to life in Azkaban for his crimes of conspiracy with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and various other offenses. This follows the other scrutinised conviction of his wife and son, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, who were only to serve a year of parole following their role in the war. As this highly participated conviction has now come to the fruition, a question many have asked has come back again: How necessary are pure-bloods in our renewed, improved society, and shall they even find a place among our community as it desperately tries to heal? Popular opinion is: they shall not. More on page 4.
Objectively, Hermione understood that it was the logical and smart thing for Malfoy to talk to Anette first. Whatever missing relative of hers he looked like, the girl was much more likely to trust him at first sight than whatever maternal symptom Hermione could entice with her inherent femininity. After all, he'd been the one to get her from her bed at the orphanage for the same reason.
Emotionally however, she felt quite kicked and scorned, crouching on the ground in the hallway, listening in on their first conversation with one of the Weasley's Extendable Ears. Like maybe, it wouldn't have been a bad thing to include her in this pivotal moment. Not have her on standby in case something went wrong. And maybe include her if it went really well.
She had helped a lot so far, after all. She was literally going to quit her entire career later this afternoon, just to help him with all of this. Any other personal reasons aside.
And yet right now, her knees scraped against the rough carpet, and she grunted, uncomfortable in her half laying, half crouching position on the floor, elbows and knees perched with her leaning forward, half of her face buried in the dusty carpet with the old Extendable Ear's string pressed tight into her ear.
"Uncle, ever since you left – bad things have been happening, and I think – I think it's my fault."
The timid words pulled her out of her misery on that grimy floor with startling clarity, and back into the reality that Malfoy lived in. And she felt iron hot shame inching up her neck.
Too focused on her juvenile feuds with trumping Malfoy in this… weird partnership, she'd forgotten what she had actually agreed to do. What he hadn't lost sight of once. They were here to cure a child of a destructive parasite living within her.
A confused, scared, lonely child.
Hermione listened to their words. Anette's hesitance, and how Malfoy managed to calm her down. And she almost caught herself thinking how sweet he was, talking to her. Reassuring her. How well he was handling the girl's confusion. Almost worth noting. Almost.
"Actually, I'm not here alone, you know – I have a friend to help us. Do you want to meet her?"
It was her unlikely cue. Hermione got to her feet quickly, dusting off her pants and straightening her shirt. They'd discussed this beforehand, an intensely uncomfortable and stilted conversation. How to introduce her? Were they friends? Hermione thought, most definitely not. Spending an entire week together was not a staple of friendship, however tolerable their time together had gotten. However much he'd changed. She was quite sure he agreed.
So, they settled with a vague moniker of "friends" to tell Anette. Because "estranged schoolmates who used to be on opposite sides of a war and now are forced to work together for very different and frustratingly mysterious reasons" was quite a mouthful, and maybe, too complex for a nine-year-old to grasp.
Hermione took a step away from the door the same moment it opened. Malfoy leaned into the gap, beckoning her in, and even though she'd heard everything so far, she still searched his eyes for anything she'd missed.
And she found herself surprised looking upon the smile on his face. It was nothing like the sneers and grins he'd thrown her way the past week; there was no malice or snark accentuated by a quip of his lip or a cocked eyebrow.
No, it was soft, relaxed, spreading his cheeks with comfort and candor. Something genuine, that smoothed the worry lines, the permanently disgruntled, unsatisfied shadow that haunted him wherever he went. Something easy, surprisingly so; for she hadn't thought him capable of having such an air of undeniable delight.
He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her in, and she let him, too dazed still by his expression, and a treacherous thought slapping her from wherever she hadn't seen coming.
Happiness suits him.
"Anette, this is my friend, Hermione. She's here to help us. She believes you too."
Anette was sat back on her knees on the bed, her unkempt morning hair spread around her head looking like a halo with the morning sun illuminating it from behind. But most striking were her light blue eyes, wide and curious, and the tentative smile curved into her round cheeks.
"Her- My- Knee?" she repeated slowly, sitting up and swaying towards where Hermione stood.
She had not heard someone mispronounce her name like that in almost a decade. It made her melt.
"Hermione," she repeated with a growing smile to reciprocate Anette's, and she stepped forwards to hold out her hand.
"I'm Hermione, your uncle's friend-" she began, but Anette interrupted her.
"And you believe me?" she insisted, and glanced towards Malfoy behind her, as if to check with him.
"Yes, of course I do. Why wouldn't I?" Hermione came to a stop at the foot of the bed, squatting down so Anette was above her, looking up. Finally, with hesitant teeth pulling at her bottom lip, Anette took her hand and small fingers wrapped around her palm, a sweet shake.
"Well – I feel like so many bad things happen around me, and they're all my fault. The Missus always says I'm imagining things, but the others say I'm bad luck."
She was playing with the hem of her sleeping shirt as she spoke, glassy eyes refusing to look anywhere but her clammy fingers. A firm stone settled behind Hermione's ribs, heavier with every word.
And a sickening twist deep in her throat at the thought that only a week ago, she would have gladly delivered Anette to the Ministry and never thought of her again. What of all the other children? The dozens of Obscurials she had tracked down and handed over in her career?
What if they had all just been confused and overwhelmed with their own condition? And what had happened to them?
"You're not bad luck, Anette. All the bad things, they're not your fault. They're out of your control. You did nothing to cause them, okay?"
Malfoy's soft words brought her back from the spiral in her gut. He had crouched down in front of Anette and reached up to hug her again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight.
Her figure was trembling. A small sound, a choked sob, squeezed out from the nape of his neck, where her face was buried.
A sob that reverberated behind Hermione's chest and left cracks and splits in every single crevice. Breaking her down and taking her apart neatly.
And then, she felt like crying, too.
The worst is over.
Hermione had thought that exact phrase at least five times over the past twelve hours, and each time in a different context. She became quite tired of it. And yet, she couldn't keep herself from thinking it again as they sat down in the kitchen, Anette sitting across from her with pulling hands as Malfoy rummaged through the cupboards for any quick kid-friendly food. With all the preparations they'd done, they hadn't quite thought of the fact that she might need something to eat. Something that wasn't coffee.
This had all worked far better than Hermione could have ever expected; not a single thing had gone wrong so far. It almost made her suspicious.
Malfoy found the bag of caramels he'd bought on their last trip and given to Hermione when she couldn't drive, still half full, and he held it out to Anette with a questioning glance.
No nine-year-old could possibly say no to sweets for breakfast, precisely because no normal adult would allow such non nutritious food, and Hermione stared daggers into his side. He glanced at her, as if he knew the tirade she would be spewing right now if it weren't for Anette present. And there was a cheeky quip to his lips, a hint of a smile, just to prove her point. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Arsehole.
Meanwhile, Anette had begun to inhale the packet. She spoke in between bites, utterly inaudible noises sucked right back in by the speed at which she was eating.
"You said you have a medicine. Can I take it now?" she finally managed, staring firmly at Malfoy, who had turned away from Hermione's poisonous stare, closing all the cupboards.
"It's not… it'll take a while, you know? It's not a tablet you can take or something. We'll start with it soon, you won't even notice it happening. But we need to go and visit someone who may be able to help us."
Hermione nodded at his words, giving Anette a smile. The last stage of the plan was Theo; truly the worst of it. Because whatever he would choose to do, was going to decide if they could stay here or not.
Which they'd very much like.
Anette licked one of the wrappers clean. "Another friend?"
"Yes, he's another friend. We'll introduce you in a bit, is that okay? It won't take long."
She nodded and dug out another wrapper from the packet. And as Hermione stared out the kitchen window onto the freezing Norwegian country street that snaked along the coast and straight through Jøvik, she remembered something.
"Did you get any clothing for her last night?" she asked. Malfoy had poured the last rest of coffee into a mug and tipped his head back to down it all in one gulp. Anette scooped up all of the empty wrappers on the table with both arms working like shovels, and walked over to the bin to drop them into. Malfoy set off the cup with a post-drink sigh, watching Anette.
"What?"
Hermione huffed. "Clothes. She needs clothes. She's just wearing pajamas right now. Did you bring any clothes home last night?"
His eyebrows shot up as if he'd never even considered the fact that Anette could get cold in the Arctic Circle. If he weren't standing more than two steps away, she'd have kicked his shin.
"I only took what was in her nightstand, shoes, some books and toys–"
Hermione groaned.
"I'll find her something. Accio purse."
She acquired her own beige petticoat rather quickly, and she shrunk it down to Anette's size. It fit her like a glove. That, and warming spells would have to do until she could get a new coat.
The trek up to Theo's hut was loud with silence. Their pockets were heavy with all of their belongings; Malfoy had a white-knuckle grip on his suitcase and on Anette with his other hand. Hermione wore a light pantsuit jacket merely so she didn't have to show up in a morning shirt; she had stopped wearing her stiff pantsuits, indulging in the few casual clothes she'd brought. Her hand was curled around her letter of resignation inside the pocket.
Telling Theo was her idea. Malfoy had pointed out dozens of ways it could, and probably would, go awry. That Theo's loss was no reason to believe he would in any way be warmer to their proposal than he'd be without. She never refuted his claims, except with the fact that if anything did go wrong, they could simply Obliviate him and move on.
His biggest contender was bringing Anette along for this. They had no idea if meeting so many new people in such a short amount of time could possibly trigger the Obscurus; introducing her to Hermione was already cause for worry. But Hermione had insisted they bring Anette along. They couldn't leave her alone anyway; this, Malfoy had to agree with. What Hermione failed to mention was a reason to believe that maybe, Anette's presence could actually be helpful.
After all, if it did go according to plan, they could stay in Jøvik, have a connection to the Ministry, and most importantly, an accomplice.
So even Malfoy had to begrudgingly admit that yes, telling Theo was worth the risk. But his doubts hung over them like a threatening thunderstorm, and she felt that he was preparing himself to watch it all go wrong. And then rub her failure in her face with glee.
She shouldn't care about his approval, not at all; but Merlin curse her if she didn't want to see the spiteful little glint wiped from his eyes and just see some kindling of respect.
She was determined to earn it. A stupid and pointless quest, because what Draco Malfoy thought of her didn't matter; but again, her emotions betrayed the logical, the rationale, the sanity. That insatiable need to finally make him admit that she was worth more than the Ministry drone she had let herself get reduced to; it was utterly crucial to the nagging in her head. He was the first one to see it, so he was going to be the first one to see her truly, and admit to it, too.
It was a perfect fallacy. It ate away at her like acid melting her brain.
It was only when they arrived at Theo's sad front door that Hermione wondered if he was even up yet. The last time they'd been here he had clearly just woken up, which was at around twelve pm. It was just nine now.
She gripped the letter tight. Right now, in an imaginary, alternative timeline, she had just arrived back in Jøvik from finding Anette supposedly deceased back at the orphanage. She had to send off the letter using Theo's direct line to the Ministry within the next 20 minutes, or their story wouldn't make sense anymore.
The house was still, swallowing up the echoes of Malfoy's knocks. Anette strayed away to the front of the porch, looking out at the mountain view, only held back by her hand still grasping Malfoy's. Hermione looked at her, and wondered if she should have brushed her hair before they'd left.
No steps. The door clicked open.
"What?"
Theo's voice was thick and heavy with sleep, and also, an edge of irritation. They could barely make out his face; he'd opened the door just a slit, just enough to peer out at them. A suspicious leer.
"Mate, I know this comes at a bad time, but can we talk?" Malfoy spoke, pulling Anette close. And Theo's eyes followed the movement, dragging over the girl's form.
He considered her. Hermione could not tell what his eyes said; if only, there was curiosity. With soft edges and feather landings.
"Who's that?" he asked, and the door edged open wider.
"Anette, this is our friend Theo. Theo, this is Anette. Can we come in?"
Anette smiled up at Malfoy as he spoke and then back at Theo, holding out a hand to shake like she'd done with Hermione earlier. Theo glanced back and forth between Malfoy and Anette, before his arm snaked out of the opening to shake her hand.
"I'm Anette!"
Theo did not offer coffee, tea, or hospitality. His house was cleaned up better than a week ago; the living room was wide and open now, books and boxes cleared from the shelves and in heaps on the floor. They sat down on a stiff couch that spit dust. Anette immediately ran to the window and stared out the grimy panes onto the same mountains, and with a light wave of her wand, Hermione lifted the permanent translation spell that followed their every word.
Theo was sat on an armchair opposite the couch with crossed arms. He looked much the same as every time they'd seen him the past week; a haunting shell of a young man reduced to a hermit existence, sunken cheeks, thin hair, and an everlasting air of suspicious glances into every corner.
"Did you two spawn a child in the past two days? Who is she?" he nodded towards Anette, undisturbed by not being able to understand them anymore, too distracted by the view. Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. One hand wandering down to grasp the handle of his suitcase.
"No, we - She's the Obscurial we're here to supervise."
And for the first time, Hermione saw something akin to surprise in the widening of Theo's eyes. They flickered towards Anette, where she was now rubbing her hands over the dusty windowsills and clapping away the dirt.
"That's an Obscurial?"
The words were cotton soft. Awe and reverence sick and heavy in his voice and Hermione thought, she saw a bit of clarity in his eyes. Clouds opening up the sky.
Hermione scooted forward, hands lain flat on her knees, palms facing upward as if to plea.
"Yes. We think we found a cure for her. And we could need your help."
Theo's eyes found them again, and their expression darkened. His tolerance was only reserved for the girl blowing dust particles at his window.
"A cure? Aren't you supposed to send her back to the Ministry?" he spoke slowly. Cautious.
"Yes, but the Ministry isn't trustworthy. They've never even tried to find a cure for them. But I have one, and we're going to heal her. And like Granger said," Malfoy glanced at her, "we could really need your help."
Philanthropy. The one thing to trump any good person's morality.
"I know this is your job, but they're lying. You're only a tool to them. We all are. But we can actually change something."
Theo glanced back and forth between them, leaned back with his arms crossed as Malfoy spoke. Listening, calculating, searching for the next of many questions.
"What's the cure?"
A deep breath, and a painful click followed. Malfoy reached into his suitcase and pulled out the file they'd prepared, with a basic summary of everything.
"It's going to take a month or two to work. You don't actually need to do anything, except – keep the Ministry from finding us. They will come looking for us soon, and it's best for us to stay here. If you'd just lie to them and tell them we took off, that's all we need from you."
Theo began reading the summary page of the file, which included the explanation of the ritual, and how it worked together with the potion. There was an awkward silence, only made easier with Anette thumping down to the ground next to the window with a book in hand.
"And maybe, just telling us what the Ministry is up to. If you hear anything from them."
Hermione yanked at a string in the seam of her pants. Malfoy was pulling at his fingers.
This was all or nothing; her wand was ready in her sleeve, tip digging into the palm of her hand. She was ready to obliviate Theo at any moment now. And Anette was so close; she was beginning to doubt if it had been worth anything to bring the girl along.
Seconds or hours passed. He leafed through the pages, scorning eyebrows moving along with his quick eyes flying across the paragraphs of Hermione's neat writing.
Malfoy's head was bowed down, eyes closed, grimacing at his lap. His hair shielded his expression from Theo, but not from Hermione. She could see his pained face clearly, lids squeezed shut tightly, jaw clicking with tension; the grief of showing his life's work to someone who might just throw it away.
And she felt an inkling of pity.
It was the part she'd fought the most to convince him. Because no sane person would just agree to this without knowing the details of what they were actually up to. It was utterly vital that there was mutual trust.
Even though she knew that Malfoy didn't even trust her yet. It was engraved into the cold silver of his eyes and the fine line of his lips when he watched her read through his research, copying notes.
At least, she thought, maybe he could trust Theo. If not her, then him. Because if she was honest with herself, she didn't really care if Malfoy trusted her. Even after she told him everything on that night of their bender.
It didn't hurt at all, to have him know so much of her, her miserable life, and yet she felt as though she was grasping at empty air every time she tried to pull away the curtains cloaking his being, his reasons, everything.
It didn't hurt at all.
"And you're sure this will work?"
Malfoy looked up from his lap, and Hermione looked up from him. Theo had closed the file, holding it on both sides, staring at the cover.
"I'm staking my life on it."
Hermione couldn't help but glance back at Malfoy, at his words, their startling honesty, and the crystal conviction in his eyes.
Theo nodded slowly. He looked back towards Anette, deeply engrossed in the book she'd found. He slowly handed back the file.
"And what did you say of the Ministry? They're lying?"
"I mean, obviously. Haven't you read the newspapers? They're –"
"No. I don't get the daily prophet here."
This shut Malfoy up. Hermione gawked at Theo. He couldn't possibly not know?
"You've at least heard of the one in France, right? The first one?" she sputtered, and Theo shrugged nonchalantly. Malfoy squirmed uncomfortably.
"I only know what the Ministry sent me about the protocol. I didn't read it, though. Seemed like a whole lot of rubbish to me."
Hermione glanced at Malfoy for help, but he was extremely interested in the busted corner of a pillow.
"Oh well, the first case – it happened three years ago, in an orphanage in France. Over two dozen people died. It was a small boy named Gérard Gage, he was the first Obscurial of modern times. You really haven't heard of this?"
Theo shrugged again, smooth and unaffected. Hermione gaped. Sure, she knew he was rather isolated here – but to not know at all? How?
Malfoy cleared his throat.
"I think we can keep history lessons for another time, Granger. Your letter?" he reminded her, still pulling at the pillow.
"Oh, yes. Actually, we've already constructed a bit of a story for you to tell the Ministry – I prepared a letter of resignation for you to send them. They will think that Anette died, and that Malfoy left yesterday. It makes sense for me to send it to them as quickly as possible, which would be through you."
Theo stared at her with an utterly blank expression. Empty eyes; light, much like Malfoy's, but a shade of blue that reminded her of sad rain days. He stared at her, as if he was expecting her to say something else. She glanced at Malfoy.
"So, will you help us?" he asked after a few more moments of silence. Theo's gaze slowly dragged over to his old housemate. An edge of calculation in his eyes, the mildew drought gone to bring out a sharp stab of sunlight.
"Just to be clear. What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked, nodding at the file in Malfoy's lap. "Who is going to be the transient?"
"Me," Malfoy shot back, no hesitation. "I'm going to be the transient. All we need from you is to… lie to the Ministry for us. Tell us when they're up to something, like finding us."
"It says you can have two transients. You're going to be the other?" he looked at Hermione. She bit her lip. Was she? She hadn't thought of that before.
She felt Malfoy's eyes on her. Waiting for the response she didn't have.
Being a transient was, judging from the diary and research, as exhausting as it was deadly. Every stage of the bonding ritual posed a danger to both the Obscurial and the transient. The merging of two such opposing magics, light and dark, two energies that repelled each other so instinctively, had a hair's width trigger.
She didn't know if she had it in her to do it with such certainty as Malfoy. He seemed delirious with how little doubt he had about performing the part. Almost suicidal.
But, a little voice, one laced with nostalgia, that whispered into her ear just the same when she stole the car – it murmured to her with confidence.
That's what it's always been about, no? Helping people? That is who you are. Hermione Granger, risen from the dead, the quiet lies, the passivity of false comfort, at last.
"It's arbitrary whether or not someone can be a transient. It might not even be possible for me," she concluded finally. Theo nodded, and his eyes swept towards Anette. She was sat cross legged, leaning forwards with her elbows perched on her knees, fists pushing into her cheeks. Most of her hair shielded her face, but glimpses through the light curtain strands revealed that she was intently reading the book.
Hermione looked back at Theo again, and suddenly the sky had cleared. Their light sapphire blinked with something she could not quite recognize and that silent, secret hope she'd had all along; that utterly nonsensical idea, it swam to the surface and bobbed up and down triumphantly.
Theo had lost his little brother and gone into utter isolation out of grief. That much she knew. Maybe, maybe, Anette's presence in his life was something he needed more than anything else.
"We also need someone to keep her company. She's going to be quite alone, and having any face beside ours," she gestured between herself and Malfoy, "might be exactly what she needs."
What you need.
Theo nodded at her words. Sunshine blue and foam waves in his irises. And then, meticulously, like it pained him, he tore his gaze from Anette and looked up at them.
"Alright. I'll help you."