The plot thickens!

Dora firecalled Lucius back to the Auror Office in the Ministry of Magic the very next day. He hadn't even had time that morning to get up and read the paper—or have his tea. He was beginning to become a little annoyed with the running back and forth every time one of those bloody Aurors found a new speck of dust near a bed or under a cabinet and wanted it to be researched and accepted as a clue. He showed up, disgruntled, and sat where Brade offered him a chair. Dora leaned across the table to stare at him. "We've made a breakthrough," she said. Now this was interesting. At least something had been done. "Although we're hesitating to call it a 'breakthrough' just yet. But once we pair it with evidence already collected, we'll be extremely advanced in this case." she continued, summoning a plastic bag from one of the shelves behind them with her wand. She didn't touch anything at all; she just used her wand to unseal it, pull a book out, and set it on the table. "Were you aware that Narcissa kept a diary?" she asked. Lucius raised an eyebrow at the small red book—nothing they owned in their house was ever red. "I remember her mentioning that she enjoyed writing down her thoughts. You know, when the Dark Lord was occupying our residence. But I've never seen that specific book." he recalled. Dora watched him, using her wand to flip the pages open to an entry. There was a yellow tab placed there. "Would you like to take a look at this, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, sending it forward a bit.

Lucius looked down. "Is that your wife's handwriting?" Dora questioned next. Was it? He didn't remember ever needing to read anything she wrote. "I-It…It might be, I don't know." he murmured, more interested in reading the diary entry than answering more stupid questions. Dora watched his expression as his eyes traveled down the page.

5 March 1998

I talked to Draco today. It was a nice talk—one that we haven't had the chance to engage in for so long. The Dark Lord had called a Death Eater meeting before, and when Draco was finished, he went straight to his room. I followed him. I knew he was crying. It's been a year since he failed his horrible assigned task, and he still loathes himself for even attempting to do. He's disgusted with himself. We sat on the bed together, talking quietly because I didn't want anyone to hear us (like Bella—she's always blamed me of babying my son). He held my hand. We talked. We actually talked! For so long he's been broken and distanced from absolutely everyone; I felt like I had my little boy back. I had to leave after a while though (Bella wanted to discuss something), and so I just hugged him and rocked him for every single second I could. He doesn't get this sort of comfort from anyone else in his family. I miss him.

Lucius looked up once he finished reading. What was the big deal about that? It was just a simple diary entry. Nothing suspicious or incriminating. Were these Aurors stupid enough to think it was Bellatrix that kidnapped them? Dora calmly had the diary flip itself open to another page marked with a pink tag. "How about you take a look at this one?" she said.

24 June 1998

He's scared. My baby boy is scared. Constantly. He's been so nervous for so long that he's actually physically ill. I don't know what to do. I think he's afraid that our family is falling apart—and frankly, so am I. I don't know why this keeps flashing through my mind, but I think Lucius is ashamed of me. I think he's ashamed that I helped the Potter boy—that I lied to the Dark Lord. If we had remained loyal and continued our service to him, we would've been back in power. We were promised that. I think that Lucius secretly wanted that sort of influence again (after being the scum of the earth for so long) and I went and disobeyed—no, lied—to the Dark Lord. And it cost us everything. It made me look good, but it made Lucius look terrible. Now he'll go to Azkaban and I'll stay free and it's just killing me to know I messed everything up. When I looked down at that boy, so pained and broken, I saw a mother's baby. I saw Lily Potter (who was in my year; who was my potions partner for a little while) holding a little bundle in her arms, reveling in the fact that she'd succeeded in birthing a child—something that I'd done when Draco was born (especially since it was so hard to conceive and maintain a pregnancy). I saw Draco in Harry. If my baby was on the brink of death, he'd need a mummy to save him. So I lied. I indirectly brought down the lives of two great men—Lord Voldemort, and my husband.

This one made Lucius a little uneasy. Narcissa was blaming herself. And she was making it sound like she was afraid of what would happen if she didn't. He was immediately reminded of one of the investigative questions Dora and Brade asked him yesterday: was Narcissa or Draco ever afraid of him. Dora gave a nod, swiping her wand once more to get the pages to flick nearer towards the end. A black tab marked this entry—not a good sign.

October 2, 1998

I don't know what to do. Lucius and I had an argument (for the millionth time) and it got so bad that I actually placed protection charms around Draco's bed. He told me he was too frightened to sleep without them. Yes, there it is—he admitted he was scared of his own father. How could I let this happen? I don't know what to do anymore. Lucius is upset about the fact that he has to go for a trial to see if he'll be thrown into Azkaban again. I really hate to say this to myself, and I keep denying it because I don't want it to be true: Lucius is taking out his frustrations on us. He yelled at Draco today; told him to stop his petulant whining. Draco isn't whining, he's desperately crying out for help! Doesn't Lucius understand what this poor boy has been through? He even watched his childhood friend die! I tried to step in and tell Lucius not to say such things in front of our son, but apparently he was angry at everyone, and he threw me against a wall. All I remember is how much it hurt to have the back of my skull smack against the stone, and how he didn't even feel enough regret to help me up. He stormed out of the room as angry as can be. Draco was too stunned for tears. He felt to the ground with me, and this time, he held me in his arms and rocked me—opposite how it usually is. That is how I knew we'd hit rock bottom. I can't believe I'm actually saying this…after such a long time of being married….what is happening? I regret even writing it out on paper, in a journal nobody would even see, nobody's even aware of—that's how much it pains me…

I'm afraid that my husband is going to kill me and my son.

Lucius's eyes widened a little bit at this. What on earth? Where had this come from? He'd never given her any reason to be afraid of him! Sure, they'd have their arguments, but how could she transform it into a fear like this? Dora was sending him a different kind of look; one that was suspicious and stern. "Lucius," she said softly. "You've got a lot of explaining to do." The blonde man glanced down at that journal. Narcissa had been writing everything down? What else was in there? "Isn't it convenient," he spoke in a quiet voice. "That this is the last journal entry?" Dora looked as if she'd been slapped in the face. Brade appeared on the verge of an explosion. Lucius realized in that second that he was very bad at saying the right things; he'd meant to raise a suspicion towards a stalker or to any other indication that she'd been abducted, yet his voice made it seem like he'd timed the killing right. "It's quite convenient, Mr. Malfoy." Dora said through pursed lips. "Quite convenient indeed."

Until they could get more evidence, it wasn't justified to make an arrest yet. Lucius was sent home. Dora and Brade called in the Black family to identify Narcissa's handwriting, to read what was written in her diary, to see if she'd ever mentioned a fear of Lucius before. All that was left to do was wait. In the evening, Lucius sat by the fire in the cottage and read the late edition of The Daily Prophet; the title page shocked him. Apparently, the media had already found out about the diary just within a few hours of it being brought to even his attention. The front headline said in bold letters: "LUCIUS MALFOY—A DARK LORD OF HIS OWN" And there it was. Right there for the entire wizarding world to see. His picture beside a detailed article regarding what was in his missing wife's diary—her fears, her love for her son, the beatings, the guilt, the secrets. What was in her head? Well, she certainly clarified that. All that time he'd spent wondering, thinking, imagining about it…

And now the whole world seemed to know, and he still didn't have a clue.