After the incident in the secret room, Diana noticed a change in Draco. They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, but the venomous animosity seemed to have dimmed. When she passed him in the hallway the next day, he ignored her instead of taunting her with his usual drive-by snarky comment. During supper, he glanced at her once and scowled instead of glaring at her throughout the entire meal.
The day after that, he didn't look at her during supper at all. And when he passed her, he gave her a small, barely-perceptible nod.
And so it went that the tension continued to fade with each passing day, to the point Diana could have, perhaps, described their interactions as civil.
Maybe miracles do happen…
A couple days before the Malfoy siblings were scheduled to depart from King's Cross station, a great horned owl rammed into the window during breakfast, screeching and scratching against the glass. Upon seeing the owl, Lucius's lips curled downward in his familiar expression of haughty disgust. With a brief flick of his wand, the window swung open.
The owl swooped over the table with a gust of wind, and dropped a letter in front of Lucius. It didn't leave immediately, preferring to perch itself on the headrest of a nearby, unused chair. Its dark coloring and piercing gaze emanated an aura of menace and regality. He looks like he can be the animal sidekick of a Disney villain...
Diana glanced up at Draco and Narcissa, who were both staring attentively at Lucius while he read the letter. Narcissa's lips were slightly pursed, and Draco's fists clenched over the silver spoon in his hand.
Lucius's cool gaze shifted upward from the paper and settled on Diana. "Your grandfather asks that you visit the Westwell Estate," he announced "He wishes to speak with you."
Diana recalled the looks of horror on Lucius and Arthur's faces when she suggested living with her paternal grandfather. She began to feel queasy. "Oh." There was a beat of silence. "When?"
"Today. I want to get this over with." He stood up. "My father is afflicted with a disease called Dragon Pox. Am I wrong in assuming this is the first time you heard of it?"
What do you think? "No…"
He gave a condescending sigh which Diana felt was unwarranted, since he was the reason for her limited wizarding knowledge in the first place. "In order to familiarize yourself with its effects on human skin, Narcissa will show you pictures of a few hapless souls plagued by the disease. That way, you won't make a fool of yourself when you see your grandfather for the first time."
He glared at Draco, who scowled and stared intently at his plate, stabbing the cooked horklump forcefully.
After breakfast concluded, it was as if a cloud of gloominess descended upon the already-bleak Manor. Lucius and Draco sulked in their rooms. Narcissa quickly showed Diana the Dragon Pox pictures—which were beyond horrifying—and gave Diana an impromptu lesson on Lucius's father, Abraxas Malfoy. What worried Diana the most was how tense Narcissa seemed throughout the whole lesson. She made Diana practice the proper greetings and courtesies multiple times, instructed her on which conversation topics were off-limits, and several other do's-and-don'ts that Diana would no doubt forget by the time she saw Abraxas.
If the normally-unflappable Narcissa was unsettled by the mere mention of Abraxas, just how depraved was this man?
There was only one person in this Manor she could count on to give a blunt answer. After changing into the dress Narcissa picked out for the visit, Diana poked her head into Draco's room, silently praying his recent goodwill would last.
"Hi Draco," she began. He remained on his bed reading a Quidditch magazine and gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but didn't look up. "So…I'm leaving in thirty minutes. I was just wondering….what's he like, our granddad?"
She never had experience with a grandfather. The only one she knew—Alan White—died before Diana was born, and she was always envious of how her classmates could speak of theirs casually. Since this was the man who raised Lucius, she wasn't expecting any tales of how Abraxas baked Shepherd's Pies or fed birds in a park.
"He's an old fool, past his prime but refuses to admit otherwise. He'll despise you," Draco remarked, flipping the page. "But he despises everyone. I doubt you'd get on his good side even if you drank five Felix Felicises."
She didn't know what Felix Felicises were, but got the gist. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"Hmph."
Diana closed the door before she pushed her luck. Sighing, she trudged to her room.
What was she getting herself into?
To her irritation, Burgess Borthwick was there to greet Diana and Lucius once they arrived in the drawing room of Westwell Estate. While her father shook hands with him and made small talk about politics, the Gringotts break-in, and the Nott family, Diana's eyes roved around the Estate, soaking up every detail.
There were clear similarities in design between this building and Malfoy Manor, but while the Manor seemed polished and lived-in—despite the coldness of its inhabitants—Westwell Estate was the opposite. The carpet gave off a musky smell, and the shutters were slightly crooked. A thin line of dust covered the mantelpiece, as well as most surfaces. The color palette looked washed out and faded. Overall, the mansion appeared decrepit and aging, worn and weary. A tomb for its sole inhabitant.
Diana didn't realize her father ascended the spiraling staircase until Borthwick coughed politely. She turned to the Walrus-like man, who inquired, "Well, are you excited for Hogwarts?"
"Not really," she replied honestly. She glanced at the staircase, palms growing a bit sweaty. "Where did he go?"
"Your father wished to speak with the elder Mr. Malfoy alone. He should be back to bring you to your grandfather shortly."
"Oh." There was a thick, awkward pause. At least, it was awkward for Diana. She didn't like being alone with strange Muggle men, let alone strange wizard ones, though she knew—logically—nothing would likely happen. But she had no idea what to say either; she didn't think 'How does it feel being a toadie of this family?' would go over well. "I'm going to look around, if that's alright."
"Your father didn't say you could," he replied lightly, twirling his voluminous mustache.
"He didn't say I couldn't," she countered, trying to sound conversational instead of confrontational.
Borthwick hmphed. "Very well…"
Diana had no real aim for exploration in mind, but decided the closest hallway would be a good starting point. Biorthwick trudged behind her like a persistent snail as she peeked her head into the dining room, a library slightly smaller than that of Malfoy Manor, and a couple disused bedrooms. Tiptoeing through the grandiloquent yet abandoned estate, Diana couldn't help but feel as though she was surveying the remnants of the Titanic.
"Does Granddad even come down here?" inquired Diana, trailing her fingertips on the surface of a dusty desk.
Borthwick looked a bit taken aback by the reference to 'Granddad,' but recovered. "No. His illness limits his mobility, I'm afraid."
One of the bedrooms had a white-and-pink color palette, with various porcelain dolls and figurines adorning the shelf.
"Did I have an aunt or great-aunt?" she wondered aloud. She refused to walk further in to see if she could spot any clues; she'd seen Child's Play, after all.
"Your father had four siblings, all deceased,' he answered smoothly. "Now if you're not going to enter, I suggest we move along."
Diana pulled herself away from the doorframe and blinked, surprised. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Did he kill them, like he killed the Muggles?"
Borthewick's beady gaze held an expression Diana couldn't identify. "No. And as a reminder, your father was acting under the influence of the Imperius curse."
Diana tried to mimic Narcissa's poised, condescendingly skeptical look, but feared her single eyebrow wasn't arching right. Borthwick's mustache twitched, but he didn't say anything else, and neither did she.
As they continued wandering down the hallway, she spotted a glass door leading out to a garden. She placed her hands on the silver knob and turned.
Stepping into the wild, overgrown garden was a warm, welcome reprieve after the dark deadness of the mansion. Diana spread out her arms and basked in the sunlight for a few seconds. Ivy curled up around a navy birdbath like a snake, and two nearby swings hanging from a tree branch were rusting.
Did my father used to play here? It was unsettling, thinking of Lucius Malfoy as a child. She wondered briefly if he was born evil or became it, but found the question too disconcerting and quickly pushed it off to the side.
One irregularity that escaped Diana's view from the mansion was a tree stump. She pointed to it as Borthwick eyed the garden with distaste. "Why was that one cut down?"
He fidgeted, clearing his throat. "W-well, you see…"
The faint, familiar clatter of dragonskin boots interrupted the tranquility of the garden, causing Diana's emotions to cloud over. Sure enough, Lucius appeared, face like a thundercloud.
She felt her mouth grow dry. "I, uh, I just wanted to—"
Lucius ignored her and turned to Borthwick, snarling, "Gods above, that man's a lunatic. Completely out of his mind." Despite her father's harsh tones, Diana felt herself relax slightly, knowing the ire wasn't directed at her.
Borthwick held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Mr. Malfoy, Abraxas is—"
Now it was Lucius's turn to ignore Borthwick. He gestured for Diana to follow and didn't bother looking behind him as he stalked down the hallway.
Diana retraced her steps through the mansion and followed Lucius up the winding staircase. As she continued through the halls, she noticed—to her delight and horror—that the portraits were beginning to move.
She read about this in one of the books at Malfoy Manor, but never saw it up close until now. All paintings at Malfoy Manor were of landscapes, objects, and animals. She didn't expect to see a brown-haired youth with calculating eyes smirking at her as he walked beside the ocean. "Lucius," the youth in the painting drawled, "Is this the girl?"
"Oh my," a soft, breathy voice caused Diana's head to snap towards a blonde teenager with a shimmering necklace of silver and emerald, standing in a field of flowers. The girl put her hand up to her mouth. "She looks like Lavinia."
"Ignore them," Lucius hissed. His pace grew quicker, and Diana tried to keep up.
"I still can't believe you nutted in a Muggle!" another, older brown-haired boy cackled. He stood next to a painting that included the birdbath from earlier, only the garden was much tidier. "Are you going to fuck a goat next, like Aberforth?"
Diana bristled. "Those are rumors, Cassius. Rumors!" chided the girl with the necklace.
"I can't believe it either," the first boy chuckled. "Truly, our lineage is in shambles. You realize this will have to be recorded in our genealogy books now?"
"I can't believe it either, Gaius," the girl admitted, putting her hands on her hips. As they were walking, the paintings seemed to travel through the other portraits to keep up with them. It was quite fascinating, but also quite creepy. "Lucius, how could you? This is something Father would do!"
Diana noticed out of the corner of her eye, a portrait of a blonde boy around her age lurking on the peripheral, eyeing them warily. She stopped, but even though it was for a second, Lucius yanked her forearm tightly, causing her to cry out in surprise.
"When you're with him, remember the proper decorum Narcissa instilled in you," Lucius said in a low voice. Diana's mind momentarily fritzed as she continued to be dragged along. What proper decorum? Narcissa taught her a lot. What was she supposed to do? Help…
But before she could ask, they arrived at a wooden door at the end of the hall with a dragon carved into it. Grasping the bronze knob, Lucius swung it open.
The room was covered in shadows, and Diana had to blink a bit before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The first thing she noticed was the smell—an unholy combination of radish and plum, emanating from a small potted tree in the corner. Through the dimness she was able to make out a small man sitting hunched over in a chair by the desk. When he grasped the desk to help him stand up, Diana could see, through the faint traces of light peeking through the edges of the covered window, the gray, charred scalelike skin that marred parts of his face and neck. She was glad Narcissa showed her the Dragon Pox pictures in advance.
"So, this is the famous halfblood who's been causing my son so much woe," he purred, eyes gleaming in a way she didn't like.
And I'll be causing a lot more. But she remembered Narcissa's whispers of the importance of "appealing to his ego"—of which, she inferred, was rather large—and swallowed her pride.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she recited, dipping into a small curtsey, Curtseying was as old-fashioned in the wizarding world as it was in muggle world, and would likely elicit raised eyebrows from most modern purebloods than not. But judging by Abraxas's pleased expression, it was the right gamble.
"Ha! See, Lucius?" he chortled. "She's been in the world a month, and already has more manners than your son."
Lucius's lips tightened. "Well, now you've seen her. Is that all?"
Abraxas turned his head towards Diana and winked. "Forgive your father's lack of tact, my dear. He inherited his mother's rudeness, you see."
Diana couldn't help but feel a faint smile emerge on her lips. She knew she probably shouldn't trust this man, but his demeanor—rightly or wrongly—made her feel more relaxed. At any rate, he didn't seem to hate her the way the rest of her new family did.
Lucius glanced at Diana's expression, and his own darkened. He opened his mouth to speak, but Abraxas cut him off. "No, you're fully aware that is not all, Lucius." He turned to look at Diana again, eyes softening. "As the eldest female Malfoy by blood, there's a birthright for you, dear child." He gestured towards a stand in the corner, which held a silver box adorned with jewels. Diana inched a bit closer in order to make out the details. There was an engraving of a red-haired woman surrounded by dwarves on the lid.
"Father, this is completely inappropriate," Lucius hissed, banging Jormungandr against the floor for emphasis. "That should be given to Draco's daughter or granddaughter."
Abraxas scoffed. "You're assuming there'd be a witch foolish enough to procreate with him again after achieving a male heir. And even so, Diana would still be the rightful successor."
"What's in the box?" she cautiously questioned.
He smirked. "Open it and find out."
Diana hesitated, but did as he asked. Inside was a sparkling necklace of silver and emerald that looked as if it was worth more than the entirety of Amberton and its surrounding towns. "Is this…for me?" Is he trying to buy my affection, too?
"Didn't I already say that?" Abraxas sighed airily. "Go ahead, now. Pick it up and put it on."
Lucius shot Abraxas a look she couldn't quite identify, and his gloved fingers flexed around the head of Jormungandr. Diana reached out and picked up the smooth trinket. Once she put it around her neck, she blinked in surprise; it was heavier on her neck than it was picking it up. Much heavier—about three kilograms. When she looked up, Abraxas's eyes were dancing with mirth, and her father's expression was blank.
"It's been far too long since the Brisingamen adorned the neck of a Malfoy," Abraxas stated, a faraway look entering his eyes.
Diana ran her fingertips around the emeralds. She wasn't an idiot. "What it is? I know it's a necklace, but what else?"
"Smart girl," he chuckled. "According to the legend of yore, it once belonged to the goddess Freya. Whether it's true or not, who can say? Perhaps this necklace was the basis of the myth, or simply a trinket that was named after that which caused the gods so many problems. But it doesn't matter at this point. The Brisingamen is intrinsically linked to our bloodline and acts as a complement to Jormungandr. And now, it's yours."
"Wow." Narcissa would wince, but what was there to say to that speech? "Thank you."
Although it was very pretty and managed to be more classy than ostentatious, she already decided it would be staying in her trunk. It was extremely uncomfortable, and beyond that, no way was she drawing attention to herself beyond what's necessary.
"How does it feel?" Abraxas inquired, rubbing his chin.
"It's heavy," she admitted. Once the words were out of her mouth she regretted it, thinking they might have come across as rude. But Abraxas didn't seem to mind.
"It doesn't have to be. Its weight fluctuates based on how its wielder feels about their place in the family. Near the end of its previous bearer's—Valeria's—life, she could barely move once it was placed around her neck." Abraxas's eyes grew clouded.
Diana wanted to ask more about the previous bearer, Valeria (the girl from the picture?), but thought better of it. 'What's the point of wearing it, then?" Diana winced, it sounded a lot less rude in her head. "I didn't mean, um…that didn't come out right… sorry…"
Lucius's lips curled in disgust. Abraxas's eyes sharpened as they snapped back towards Diana. "There is a 'point,' one you'll find most beneficial." He smiled and spread out his fingers. "It's enchanted to protect the wearer's mind, you see. The Confundus, Legilimency…Obliviation….spells such as these will be powerless against you."
Diana's heart leapt and hope began to flutter. Her biggest fear was having her memory modified, and while she believed that Lucius wouldn't do anything now while he was under so much public scrutiny, what's to stop him from doing it once she fades from the public consciousness? The Brisingamen's power seemed almost too good to be true.
But if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Her smile faded, fingers brushing against the emeralds. Already she felt her neck growing sore, and the necklace was only around it for a couple minutes. If what Abraxas said was true and the necklace was connected to her mind in some way, she was surprised it didn't weigh as much as a boulder yet.
And of course, there was the psychological component of wearing a necklace advertising her paternal lineage, which she despised. Even if it wasn't heavy, would she want to wear it anyway?
She lifted the necklace off her neck and returned it to the box, feeling more at ease once the weight was removed. "Is there another catch?" she asked. "Besides the weight, I mean."
Abraxas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It's not a catch, per say, but if anyone besides a female in the bloodline touches it, they'll experience a searing pain comparable to the Cruciatus."
More proof she was a Malfoy by blood. Ugh…
Abraxas turned to Lucius, giving a dismissive hand gesture. "You can leave now."
"What?!" Lucisus' face grew red with anger.
"Has your newfound position swelled your head to the point where you can't hear someone right next to you? I said, 'You can leave now.' I want to talk to my granddaughter alone."
Diana felt goosebumps creep over her. Something flashed in Lucius's eyes, and Diana suspected he was inwardly debating whether or not to argue. Diana wasn't sure which option she would have preferred. But after a moment of deliberation, Lucius turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him without giving either of the room's inhabitants a second glance.
Abraxas's posture visibly relaxed once his son left. He hunched down into the chair again. He gestured to an open chair. "Sit."
Feeling like a dog, Diana sat down. There was a pause, and she felt a desperate need to break up the stifling awkwardness. "What type of fruit is that?" she asked, pointing to the tree in the corner.
"Dirigible plums," Abraxas replied, steepling his elbows on his knees. "They enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary. A narrow mind weakens a man, and while there are many choice words that could be said about me, 'weak' has never been one of them." He smiled wryly and gestured toward his face. "Despite my current affliction."
"How did, um,"—Diana realized belatedly how rude the question might be—"I don't know much about magical illnesses. How did you catch it?" She hurried to clarify. "Sorry if this question seems rude, I was just won—"
Abraxas held up a hand, and Diana snapped her mouth shut. "There's never a need to apologize for seeking knowledge. As it happens, this is the work of your paternal grandmother. Typically, Dragon Pox is contracted through exposure to certain breeds of dragons that aren't native to Britain. Or, in my case, contact with something or someone that contains the disease. While there is a cure, it's ineffective for someone of my age. If the Ministry had a modicum of intelligence, they'd use the Muggleborns to develop something akin to vaccines for our most pressing maladies, but alas."
Diana looked up, startled. "You know about vaccines? I thought–well, the Malfoys, the ones I'm living with, don't seem to know much of anything about human society. Er, I mean, Muggle society."
"Because they're idiots," Abraxas scoffed. "Though I am—thankfully—not a Muggle, I make sure to familiarize myself with their world. My son hasn't yet realized the value to be had in all kinds of knowledge, even that which causes us discomfort." He began to count with his fingers. Firearms. Computers. Vaccines. The atom bomb. Traveling to the goddamn moon. They may be inherently inferior, but ignoring how they overcompensate for their shortcomings is the height of hubris. All it takes is one niffler to ruin a bank."
Diana wasn't sure what a niffler was, but felt as though she understood the gist. Palms growing sweaty, she leaned forward and asked, as casually as possible, "You think Muggles could…"—she wasn't sure exactly what she was getting at, or what he was getting at, for that matter—"win, if there was a war between Muggles and wizards?"
It seemed insane. She knew what wizards were capable of. How did any normal person stand a chance if the enemy side was capable of mind controlling the Prime Minister?
Abraxas guffawed loudly, making Diana feel like an idiot. "A worldwide war between wizards and Muggles. Ridiculous. Getting over one hundred governments to work together—Muggle or wizard, let alone both—is utter fantasy. I know you're familiar with history. You read books on both World Wars back in April, yes? Any conflict between Muggles and wizards will be more…subdued. Strategic. They may be weak, but they do have the potential to disrupt our lives. Drastically, as it may be. Those who refuse to admit that are fools."
Something Abraxas said caused her heart to start beating quicker. "How did you know I read books on the World Wars? I only tol–"
Oh.
Ohhhhhh.
"Are you….A.M?" she blurted. Her mouth felt dry. "The person who was sending me letters?"
Abraxas Malfoy. A.M. When she showed Claire one of the letters, she laughed and said the writer sounded like a "pretentious arse." Olivia guessed the writer was wealthy, and Becky believed (before A.M mentioned a grandson) the writer to be elderly. All three guesses were correct, it seems.
"Indeed I am," he smiled. "I've been looking forward to meeting you face-to-face."
She felt a stab of betrayal. "How did you find out about me before my father did? We were sending letters for months."
"I was responsible for the blood tracing, so you have me to curse and thank for your current predicament."
"If you never did the blood tracing, does that mean I'd never go to Hogwarts?" she questioned, clenching her fingers on her lap.
"No, that would have happened regardless." he leaned back. "I imagine your mother and grandmother would have experienced the typical fate of reluctant Muggles as well. Your recognition as a Malfoy heir was my doing, however."
"You ruined my life," she accused, voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't want any of this!"
"These histrionics are unnecessary," declared Abraxas, waving his hand in dismissal. "I gave you an opportunity. Like Cleopatra Selene, you can use this to achieve greatness."
"She never forgot her mum," Diana reminded him, voice developing a steel edge. "When she left Octavian's family and became queen, she brought in people from her mother's court to make buildings and designs based on Egypt."
"If the memory of your mother spurns you forward, fine," he shrugged. "I don't understand it, but fine. So long as you move forward."
His apathy grated on her, and she felt the urge to throw the Brisingamen at him and see if it really could cause searing pain.
But that wouldn't do anything. She would still be known as Diana Malfoy, not Diana White. If there was a spell to go back and change the timeline, Lucius would no doubt have done it already to get rid of her.
She took a few deep breaths to center herself, then asked, "Why did you reach out to me? If my mum was a Muggle, wouldn't it be better to pretend I didn't exist?"
Abraxas l laced his fingers together. "I've made some…mistakes in the past that only become evident when nearing the end of one's life. Having another grandchild—especially one who's competent—is an appealing thought."
Putting your wants above mine is still a mistake. Granddad of the year here…"What else?"
Abraxas's lips curled upward in a manner reminiscent of Lucius. "Clever. You do think like a Malfoy, as much as you like to believe otherwise."
"I don't—"
Abraxas kept going, ignoring her. "I'll be frank: Your father, while he has his strengths—and I'm not blind to them, regardless of what he thinks—has certain…vices and vulnerabilities…that may lead this family to ruin. While I admit I'm uncertain of the specifics, your presence is one that will ultimately strengthen the Malfoy name and our position in society, ensuring that we are perceived as being on the 'right side' of history. Highly subjective, naturally, but necessary."
"I don't want to help the family," she remarked, crossing her arms. She knew it might sound childish, but she didn't care.
"I doubt it'll be intentional, but that will be the desired effect. And in the end, that's all that matters." Abraxas drummed his bony fingers on the desk next to him. "Have you heard the name Voldemort?"
Diana blinked at the sudden change of topic. "The evil bloke my father served?"
"Yes. He'll be returning soon."
"Wh-what?" stammered Diana. She grew rigid in her seat.
"I've already informed your father, but tell no one else, not even your brother."
Diana's mind began to race. From her research, Voldemort was the "You-Know-Who" Fudge mentioned. She knew little about him except he was the lunatic her father followed and he had a hatred towards Muggles and Muggle sympathizers. "Wasn't he killed by a baby?"
"Yes, and now that child is a young man ready to attend Hogwarts. You must ingratiate yourself to the boy, Harry. Draco lacks the necessary tact and social awareness to do so, but you don't."
"He might not even like me," Diana mumbled. She didn't have any friends that were boys back at her old school.
"He will."
"How do you know?" she asked, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.
He gestured towards a teacup on his desk. "I have the gift of Sight, which allows me See and interpret the future. It is my hope you'll one day have it as well."
"Can't you look into the future to see if I'm one or not?" she gibed.
Abraxas smiled wryly. "Interpretation is not as straightforward as it seems. I receive glimpses, images, but the context must be pieced together, and is often missing entirely. In my divination for your upcoming school year, for example, I See a man with two faces—which may be literal or metaphorical—and a black book." Diana felt her heart stop. "The two may be connected, though I'm uncertain."
"Is the book good or bad?" inquired Diana, trying hard to sound casual. She became keenly aware of Abraxas's piercing gaze on her and regretted putting the mind-shielding necklace back in the box.
"I abhor that infantile terminology. 'Good or bad'...bah. The book is a necessary stepping stone on this family's path to greatness. That is all you need to know."
There were two black books it could be: her mum's memory book, or the diary that belonged to T.M Riddle. Could either one help her get justice for the mistreated Muggles?
But that wouldn't bring her family to greatness, would it? Unless Abraxas misinterpreted and the family it helped was Diana's maternal, not paternal, family. Hmm…
Diana was tempted to ask what she should do if she happened to, hypothetically, encounter the book, but didn't want to raise suspicion. She also didn't fully trust her grandfather. While he seemed more affable than Lucius and she had a history of corresponding with him already, she wasn't naive enough to believe he genuinely had her best wishes at heart.
"Did you See if I'll ever see my grandma or friends from Amberton again?" Diana asked quietly.
"Those are irrelevant." Diana's eyes narrowed. "Your important allies will be the Potter boy, the Greengrass and Parkinson girls, the Longbottom child, and….as much as I am loath to admit it….the Weasley brood."
'Allies.' Like she was going off to war instead of an eleven-year old going to school. I might though, if this Voldemort bloke comes back.
"I'll be sending you letters throughout the school year, much as I have done in the past." He gestured towards the door. "You are free to leave now, Diana. It was a pleasure meeting you."
Oh," she replied, taken aback by the suddenness. Then, she thought of the expression of horror that would be on Narcissa's face if she saw her graceless bumbling. She curtsied again. "It was a pleasure meeting you."
Abraxas chuckled. "The pleasure was all mine. Don't forget to bring the box with you."
Diana stood up and walked over to the stand, picking up the box. It was lighter than the necklace was around her neck.
When she walked towards the door, Abraxas opened it with a flick of his wand so she would be able to leave while carrying the box. "Thank you." She hesitated, a thought occurring to her. "The paintings in the hallway…are they alive?"
It was on her mind since she first heard them talk. The idea of sentient paintings opened yet another ethical can or worms, much like Professor McGonagall's transfigured bird.
"Not in the traditional sense. The moving paintings in our world are created through a difficult enchantment, and the level of sentience changes depending on the artist. Most are created through the artist drawing from their memories of the subject, and are thus limited in knowledge by what the artist knows. But there are other spells, of varying degrees of legality, that draw from the subjects' personal memories. Regarding the ones in the hallway, I had a very gifted painter from Romania perform the enchantment to draw feelings and memories deep from the minds of my children." His eyes grew softer and cloudier. "Perhaps it worked too well."
"Could a painting of a Muggle move too, or just wizards?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't come across as too eager.
Abraxas seemed to understand what she was getting at, and his face grew solemn. "If the subject is drawn from the memories of the artist, it's possible. If the artist draws from the memories of the subject, then it's a different more accurate depictions are the ones taken from the memories of the subject, but even then, it's not a replacement for the dead."
Diana looked at him startled, and he gave her a knowing look. She blushed and looked down at her shoes. "I-is my father's picture in there?"
"Yes. He's the shy, skulking fellow."
"Oh." Her fingers tightened around the box. "Well, thanks for giving me the necklace. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Diana. And good luck."
Once she crossed through the door frame, she heard the door close behind her with a thud. She was about to continue walking and then head straight down the stairs, but was struck by a sudden impulse. Instead, she moved closer to the paintings.
"Oooh, you have the Brisingamen!" breathed the older blonde girl with the necklace of silver and emerald. Valeria.
"Huh. I really thought he'd kill you for diluting the blood," Cassius mused, stretching as he sprawled out on a sofa.
"He must really dislike Draco," Gaius snickered.
The older boys seemed like arses, so Diana stared imploringly at Valeria when she asked, "Does the Birsingin, um, Brising—does this necklace really protect your thoughts?" Valeria nodded gravely. Hope fluttered in Diana's heart. "How do I make it lighter?"
"You don't," Valeria whispered, eyes shining with sympathy. "...Or at least, I didn't. You need to be at peace with both yourself and your position in the family."
Then I'm screwed. If anything, the box seemed to grow heavy after hearing that.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted the young blonde boy from earlier peering at her from a painting of a dark forest. His sweet, gentle features made him seem almost angelic in contrast with the foreboding trees and shadows present within the painting.
She remembered what Abraxas said and realized, to her horror, this was a younger Lucius.
Diana bit her lip. She hated thinking of her father as anything other than something that sprung into the earth fully-grown, ready to terrorize women.
So she was surprised when she found herself walking towards it. She swallowed. "H-hi…"
In an instant, the boy's angelic appearance twisted into a demonic scowl. "I'd never breed with Muggle filth and dishonor the Malfoy name!" he hissed, voice edged with venom.
Diana felt heat rising in her cheeks; what did she think he would say?
"Too late!" cackled Cassius. "She's got the box with the Brisingamen, yeah?"
"Oh, just ignore them, Diana," Valeria chided, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at Cassius and Lucius's paintings.
Diana's eyes roamed over the rest of the hallway and counted the figures in the paintings. "Wait…I thought there were supposed to be five siblings. I only see four. Where's the fifth?"
A blanket of quiet descended on the room, and the paintings ceased their movements. The younger Lucius's eyes grew downcast, and he crept away from sight, moving into the other paintings and going further and further away.
"She was a squib," Gaius said finally. "Father took care of her."
The word sounded so silly: 'squib.' But the grave expressions on the Malfoys' faces indicated it was no laughing matter.
"Oh," she muttered, pretending to know what the word meant.
Valeria recovered first. "Don't let the fact you have some dirty blood make you think you'll never get anywhere. There needs to be a shakeup sometimes. New perspectives can allow you to view things in a different light. It could have helped us."
"Thank you," Diana said, looking up at the older girl. "Well, I better get going. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," Valeria smiled.
"And tell Lucius to talk to us!" Cassius called out as Diana headed towards the staircase. "Just because he pretends we're not here doesn't mean we aren't!"
When Diana descended the staircase, she noted with relief that Borthwick was gone, though her father was—unfortunately—still present.
"What did he say to you?" Lucius demanded, tapping his cane on the marble floor for emphasis.
She wasn't sure why, but she found the gesture aggravating and offensive. "I don't know. Stuff."
"What kind of 'stuff'?" he asked through gritted teeth.
Despite her irritation, she had enough sense of self-preservation not to push any further. "He talked about seeing the future."
She debated how much to reveal, but her concerns turned out to be unnecessary. He immediately lost interest.
"Hmph," Lucius scoffed. He dug his gloved fingers into the Floo Powder.
"He's not as bad as I thought he would be," Diana decided. Lucius's fingers stopped their motion. "He's a bit…different, but he was nice to me and—"
"You think that because you're a naive fool," Lucius sneered. "All my perceived vices and sins, anything that causes the Muggle-lovers to wring their hands, he did, and worse."
"Did he rape my mum too, or was that just you?"
The words came out of her mouth before she could think about them. Lucius's face cycled through several different shades of red. "As you're well aware, I was found innocent in a court of law," he spat venomously. "I refuse to discuss the matter further."
Diana felt too emotionally raw to verbalize anything else, but whatever expression she had on her face caused the anger in Lucius's eyes to dim. He regained his cool, aloof demeanor. "Diana, this antagonism is…unnecessary. It would benefit both of us if we were to put aside our differences. Surely there's something you'd like me to purchase for you, as a gesture of my goodwill?"
She saw seeds of this back at Diagon Alley, but the level of delusion was staggering. She swallowed and found her voice again. "You can't buy me off. I'm not the Minister."
There was a small twitch of something in Lucius's face that might have been a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Without saying a word, he tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and bellowed, "Malfoy Manor."
After he was gone, Diana considered, briefly, trying to go somewhere else, but chickened out and followed. When she materialized from the fireplace, Lucius was already in the midst of stalking down the halls, ready to do God-knows-what.
"Wait!" she blurted, a sudden thought occurring to her. He halted and coolly turned his head towards her. "What's a squib?"
This was the wrong thing to say. Lucius's face grew stormy as a thundercloud. "Did my father say anything about this?" he demanded. "Did the words 'womb taint' drip out of his mouth?"
"N-no," she stammered, inwardly wondering what the fuck compelled her to ask him. Narcissa–or even Draco—would have been the logical choice. "One of the paintings mentioned squib. He said your other sibling was, uh—"
"Don't talk to them," Lucius hissed, leaning against his cane. "Their existence is perverse. As for what a squib is"—he regarded her with a look she couldn't identify—"I'll show you."
Shit.
Lucius gestured for Diana to follow, which she did, despite the difficulty of matching the speed of his long, powerful strides with her short and frantic ones. She was surprised when they ended up at the door to her room, which Lucius swung open.
Her white kitten—which Diana had yet to name—remained curled on the bed, poking her head up to see the new visitors before dropping it back down. Lucius gestured vaguely around the room as Diana placed the box on the ground. " A squib is a pitiful thing born to wizard parents, but unlucky enough to be lacking in magical ability themselves. This bedroom used to belong to a squib many years ago. Do you know why she's not here?"
Diana had an unsettling suspicion of what would happen to a magicless daughter in a family as prideful as the Malfoys. She swallowed and—not trusting herself to speak–shrugged.
"She was deemed no longer fit to be a member of the family, and eliminated by my father." His voice took on a mocking edge. "I wonder, do you still think he's 'nice'?"
She shook her head quickly. There was a nasty smirk on his face as he continued.
"Years ago, when I was ignorant and naive, such a thought perturbed me. But I'm no longer a naive boy and understand now the importance of strength and blood purity. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and the great and noble chain that has extended through generations should not be eroded by idiotic sentiment. Those with magic are always better than those without. "
As he said the last word, he poked her shoulder with the tip of his cane. There was something so patronizing about that gesture that caused rage to roar throughout her mind. Perhaps unwisely, she stomped towards the dresser and grabbed the photo of Sarah and Julie. She shoved it against his chest, enjoying the brief, rare, gaping expression of him looking taken he raised the photo to look at it, his face immediately transformed into a carefully sculpted mask. His lack of reaction incensed Diana more.
"You people with magic think you can do whatever you want. My mum's mind was so messed up, she didn't even want to date/another boyfriend because of you."
That finally got a hint of reaction: The corners of Lucius's mouth curled upward in a barely-perceptible smirk, and a tidal wave of fury crashed through her.
"Does looking at that picture make you feel anything? Is there anything inside of you?" Diana demanded to know. In her voice was rage, but also desperation, and grief for the life she lost. Tears pooled in her eyes and her voice began to crack as she asked, "Or are you really just that evil?"
The smirk vanished, and Lucius suddenly looked tired and weary instead of smug. "It's difficult for you to understand, being raised by Muggles…they're a different breed, you see…"
She wasn't going to put up with this shit. "You don't regret anything, do you?" she asked flatly, snatching the photo from his hands.
When she was a child (well, younger—she was still one, despite how she often felt) Diana always hoped her father would have a change of heart or some kind of realization where he genuinely regretted his actions. It wouldn't erase his wrongs, but it would have made Diana feel slightly better about coming from his sperm.
Naturally, after meeting Lucius, she put those hopes to rest.
Which is why she was startled when he looked at her with open surprise. For a moment, she could see how the boy in the painting was the same man in front of her.
"Of course I do." It was as though the world stopped moving, and for a brief moment, she was irrationally hopeful. Then: "This ruined me and my family."
Despite the Brisingamen being tucked away in its box, Diana felt weighed down and heavy. She sank into her bed and turned her head away, unable to look at him. As Lucius made his way to the door, she found her voice again. "What was her name, the girl whose room I have?"
"Lavinia," he replied, after a pause. The hand that wasn't gripping Jormungandr lingered on the doorframe. "And you're lucky I'm your father and not Abraxas.. He's the one who's evil and wretched."
"Must run in the blood," she couldn't help but mutter.
Diana thought Lucius considered himself too dignified to roll his eyes, but apparently that wasn't the case. The door shut with a bit more force than was required.
Closing her eyes, she turned to lay on her side but winced. When she rolled up her sleeves to see why, she noticed faint bruises from when Lucius gripped her arm earlier.
She let out a sigh of frustration, which caused the kitten to wander over and nuzzle her head against Diana. She continued to cuddle with her pet long after her tears had dried. There was a lot to think about. Lucius, Abraxas, paintings, dark lords, squibs, Sarah, and—of course—Hogwarts.
She hated the idea of going there, but after what happened today, she was cautiously optimistic. She needed to be free from the shackles of the Manor, needed to get far from Lucius.
Yes, it was a school for magic, but so what? There's no way anyone there could be worse than Lucius.
Meanwhile, the black diary remained tucked in her suitcase, waiting and eager.