Part 1 - The Burden of Solitude
Fleur had left only the day before, taking her family to the French countryside, where they would spend the New Year's festivities with her paternal grandmother. Madame Delacour—a woman of proud spirit and firm opinions — had suffered a minor stroke after reading the sensational news that exposed her granddaughter's involvement with Lucius Malfoy, once a feared Death Eater, in a perilous scheme that had left the wizarding community in shock.
Fleur's presence, alongside her family, was essential to comfort the matriarch and steer her mind away from the troubling headlines. Ever concerned, Fleur had insisted that Lucius accompany them. She believed it was time for her family to accept his presence in her life, and she also dreaded leaving him alone on such a meaningful date. Nevertheless, Lucius refused. Not out of unwillingness — he longed for precisely that sort of familial bond — but rather out of a deeper fear: he worried that his presence would worsen the frail health of Madame Delacour.
Thus, he was assigned the disagreeable task of remaining behind, immersed in silence and solitude, waiting for Fleur's return and the end of the festivities with a patience that did not come naturally to him. Yet, motivated by the spirit of renewal that the start of a new year brings, and determined to show Fleur's family that he was indeed a changed man, Lucius resolved to act. Rather than dwell on empty conjectures, he committed to doing something tangible for wizarding society — a gesture, perhaps, to expiate the shadows of his past.
Now, standing in the middle of the loft where he had decided to stay while Malfoy Manor underwent renovations, he pondered whether his idea had truly been a good one. The vast, rustic space, with its exposed brick walls and large windows, was certainly a pleasant place to live, but it was also strikingly modest by Malfoy standards. Just then, the door opened, and Leopoldo — the loyal butler of Malfoy Manor — entered, carrying two suitcases. He placed them on the floor with calculated precision and cast a slight look of disdain at the new space.
— Sir, it is indeed admirable that you decided to gift Malfoy Manor to young Master Draco as a wedding present — began Leopoldo, in his characteristically polished tone. — Yet, with all due respect, I believe there are other family properties that would suit you in a way more... befitting of your standards. The Malfoy country estate, for instance, appears no smaller in size or comfort.
Lucius calmly opened the suitcases, casting an amused glance at the butler before replying:
— Leopoldo, this area is close to Fleur's sister's house. With her niece's birth approaching, I believe she will appreciate the change of residence. Moreover — he continued, rising with a determined expression — I am not merely giving Draco the manor. After many discussions with Fleur, I have decided to turn part of it into a museum of memories. Not the entire place, of course, but the wing that once served as Voldemort's headquarters.
Leopoldo maintained his impeccable posture, yet he allowed a subtle tilt of his head in approval.
— A commendable decision, sir. I am certain it shall become a significant symbol of caution against the dangers of extremism and intolerance.
Lucius, pausing in the midst of opening the second suitcase, glanced at the butler in mild surprise.
— You really are Leopoldo, aren't you? — he asked with a soft laugh. — I've never heard you share a political opinion before.
— Miss Delacour has inspired me to broaden my horizons, sir — responded Leopoldo, in as dignified a manner as possible. — And, since she will likely become the new Mrs. Malfoy, I deemed it wise to adapt to what might be expected of a proper staff member.
Lucius smiled, disconcerted by the answer.
— Very well, Leopoldo. Thank you for your honesty. But the fact remains that I need to prove to the wizarding community and to Fleur's family that I am committed to atoning for what I've done. I've grown used to being constantly judged, but I cannot allow her to continue bearing the brunt of her family's displeasure just for choosing me.
Leopoldo, however, maintained his respectful yet firm tone.
— Forgive me, sir, but I must insist that perhaps it was unwise to make this decision without consulting Miss Delacour. What if she prefers to live at the manor once you are wed? This loft hardly seems large enough for even a training room, let alone an expanding family.
Lucius offered a faint smile, appreciating the butler's concern.
— Leopoldo, I believe your worries may be somewhat premature. Besides, I am pushing everything forward as swiftly as possible precisely so that Fleur will have a pleasant surprise upon her return. As of now, two teams are already at work casting protective spells, ensuring all furniture and artworks remain properly preserved during renovations.
— And what of the household staff, sir? — asked Leopoldo, casting an appraising look about the loft's large, yet disorganized space. — Surely they won't fit here.
Lucius took a deep breath before answering:
— Everyone will keep working for Draco. I've yet to decide how I shall organize myself here, especially since the decorator will not arrive until after the holidays.
— Will you be here indefinitely, sir? — Leopoldo persisted.
— Probably not. I am considering heading to the Rosier residence, but for now I believe Fleur will be pleased with this apartment's location.
Leopoldo, ever helpful, gave a slight nod.
— If you wish, sir, I can inspect the Rosier residence to ensure it is all set to receive you.
Lucius offered a discreet smile, shifting his gaze to the large glass window overlooking the busy street below.
— I appreciate your dedication, Leopoldo. But the Rosier residence has been managed by Gloria for many years. I see no reason to interfere with what is already under control.
He stepped up to the window and opened it, allowing the cool night air to flow inside. Despite its impressive dimensions, the top-floor loft contrasted sharply with the traditional grandeur of the Malfoy family's usual accommodations.
— I know what worries you, Leopoldo — said Lucius, turning toward the butler with a sympathetic look. — You think an apartment this size leaves no room for a butler of your experience; and admittedly, you are correct.
Leopoldo stood in silence, displaying the impeccable posture that defined him, while Lucius went on:
— However, I would like to present you with a proposal. After the incident with the Eltons, I learned I can no longer entrust my properties to strangers without proper oversight. Therefore, I intend to hire a new company to manage the family's holdings, but I want them to work directly with someone of my utmost confidence.
Lucius paused, studying Leopoldo's reaction before continuing:
— Someone who knows every detail of the properties, the artifacts that carry our history, and the people who are part of this family. I am prepared to entrust this task to you, if you accept the challenge, of course.
— Sir, I am honored by the offer and I accept the challenge. With your permission, I can start immediately by drafting a thorough plan for the transition and coordinating with the new company you intend to hire.
Lucius tilted his head in approval, a faintly satisfied smile forming on his lips.
— Excellent, Leopoldo. Naturally, your salary will be adjusted to reflect these new responsibilities. You will receive the equivalent of what Mr. Elton was paid, which amounts to three times your current wage.
Maintaining his impeccable composure, Leopoldo permitted himself a slight bow of gratitude, his voice steady yet tinged with humility.
— Thank you, sir. It is an honor to know you trust me with a position of such responsibility. If you will allow it, I would like to begin at once, preparing a detailed plan for the transition and working with the new company.
Lucius glanced at the boxes still scattered around the loft, then exhaled deeply. Although he had hoped Leopoldo might help organize his new living space, he could not deny the importance of the task he had just assigned.
— Very well, Leopoldo. You may go. And happy holidays.
— Sir, before I leave, I have placed in your suitcase the book you requested to be sent for repair.
Leopoldo was referring to the tome "Ritual Thaumaturgy", which had fallen from a secret compartment on the shelves while Lucius was choosing the books to take to his new residence. The impact had broken a small vial of unicorn blood, concealed with the book for ritual use, spilling the silvery fluid onto its open pages.
When Lucius bent down to gather the volume, something unusual drew his attention: the unicorn blood that had stained the pages activated a hidden magic in the book, revealing details he had never before seen in the chapter entitled "De Domestica Elfi Fabricatione" — "On the Fabrication of House-Elves". Though he had leafed through this book countless times over the years, he had never encountered those passages.
Aware that the tome was a rare and controversial artifact, whose possession might arouse suspicion if not properly registered, Lucius acted swiftly. He instructed Leopoldo to take it to the family's trusted restorer to repair the damage caused by the unicorn blood. At the same time, he sent an official letter to the Aurors, declaring possession of the tome. Ever since the destruction of magical books had been declared a crime against knowledge, even obscure works could be kept as long as their existence was reported to the local authorities.
Now, holding the restored volume once again, Lucius allowed himself to be consumed by grim thoughts of Dobby — his loyal house-elf, whose tragic end still hovered over his conscience like a painful reminder of his poor choices. The guilt he had stifled for years reawakened with renewed force, demanding recognition. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed when Leopoldo bowed and exited the apartment.
An unexpected sound drew his attention, causing him to look up sharply. A noise coming from the balcony was accompanied by a rhythmic tapping on the glass window. Lucius frowned and rose, advancing with caution. Upon reaching the balcony, he narrowed his eyes to make sense of the sight before him: a sled, apparently floating, had precariously landed on his veranda, with reindeer lined up at its front. Beside the sled stood a stocky man dressed as Santa Claus, tapping on the window with a broad, enthusiastic grin.
For a moment, Lucius stood motionless, incredulous. He was accustomed to magical absurdities, but this was something he could never have predicted even in his years of bizarre experiences. He took a steadying breath, automatically brushing his hair back, and opened the window with deliberate firmness.
— Yes? — he asked, maintaining a controlled tone, though clearly intrigued.
The man in the Santa suit, cheeks rosy and sporting a beard that looked impeccably false, gave him a courteous bow, speaking with contagious energy:
— Ho, ho, ho! Hello, Mr. Malfoy! Welcome to our neighborhood!
Lucius blinked, bewildered, feeling as though he had been dropped into a children's play. Several seconds passed before he replied, not hiding the caution in his voice:
— Thank you... Santa Claus?
The man let out a hearty laugh.
— You can call me Jimmy!
Lucius tilted his head slightly, evaluating the stranger.
— Hello, Jimmy. But hasn't Christmas already passed?
Jimmy laughed again, jovially.
— Oh, it's tradition! I own the restaurant just across from your building. Every year, I dress up as Santa to bring cheer to the children of the area until the Three Kings Day. I heard you're planning to open an art gallery. Is that true?
Lucius looked down and noticed a small group of children waiting eagerly for Jimmy. He answered in the calm, exacting tone that was second nature to him:
— Yes. The space will be dedicated to promoting contemporary artists whose work delves into the traumas and hopes stirred by the recent wizarding wars.
Jimmy's face lit up with genuine excitement.
— That's fantastic! The Fourth District has everything to gain from this. For years, this area has been deemed low-prestige, but gradually it has transformed into a haven for the wizarding arts. Yours will be the third gallery here. My wife runs one of them, and if you need any help, I'm sure she'd be an excellent manager!
Lucius smiled faintly, noting how ready the local artists seemed to be in granting him a second chance. The enthusiastic reception he had received since announcing his plans for the art gallery and the memorial museum only confirmed this impression of renewal.
— That sounds perfect, Jimmy. It would be wonderful to have someone on board who knows the local artists and understands the pulse of the neighborhood.
Jimmy's grin grew even wider.
— Brilliant, Mr. Malfoy! May I call you Lucius?
Lucius hesitated briefly before answering with a genuine smile, though he had always loathed people addressing him by his first name. Still, he was determined to rebuild his image, and that involved small concessions.
— Certainly, Jimmy.
— Wonderful, Lucius! Feel free to stop by the restaurant anytime, and I'll show you my wife Mary's gallery. Thank you so much for trusting my suggestion! I'll have someone send a proper dinner up to you this evening.
— That won't be necessary, Jimmy — said Lucius, reverting to his usual formality.
— I insist! — Jimmy exclaimed, winking conspiratorially. — Well, I'm off to the market before these kids grow impatient. Ho, ho, ho!
Back in the disorganized loft, Lucius gave up any immediate attempts to bring order to the chaos and sank into a large armchair in the midst of it all. His gaze wandered through the space as he mulled over his decision to stay here rather than seek the comfort of a hotel. He could easily have chosen someplace tidier until his move was complete and Malfoy Manor had been refurbished, yet the idea of subjecting himself to the eternal judgmental glances that followed him everywhere felt unbearable.
In the wizarding artists' district, on the other hand, the reception had been surprisingly tolerant. Thus far, the oddest things he had encountered were two wildly eccentric invitations to pose nude for artworks exploring the horrors of war — propositions he had, of course, declined with customary elegance.
Still, as he surveyed the disorder around him that evening, he could not help thinking he ought to have asked Leopoldo to stay and help tidy up. Perhaps, he reflected with a weary sigh, this, too, was a lesson on his path toward self-reinvention.
Putting aside such thoughts, something more pressing seized his attention. Overcome by sudden curiosity, he raised his hand and conjured:
— Accio Ritual Thaumaturgy!
From one of the suitcases Leopoldo had brought, a red volume with gold lettering emerged, floating toward him. Dedicated to the intricacies of blood magic, the tome contained secrets most wizards preferred not to delve into. Though Lucius had once been familiar with such practices, he had never openly admitted to any involvement.
Since his near brush with death, Lucius had found himself revisiting the mistakes of his past with alarming clarity. Among these misdeeds, thoughts of Dobby surfaced repeatedly, like a persistent ghost. He reflected on all that the small elf had endured under his command, the subjugation he had imposed without remorse. In a gesture toward atonement, he had recently made a generous donation to S.P.E.W. (the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare), though he knew no amount of gold could ever erase the scars of the past.
Hurriedly packing the library for the magical sealers, he had not taken the time to scrutinize the tome's disturbing content. Now, however, with hours to spare, he pored over the details for the very first time.
The first illustration immediately caught his eye: at the center was a woman lying on an altar, contorted by agony, surrounded by elaborate runes and magical circles. Her skin bore ritual inscriptions, and her face, contorted with pain, conveyed an almost tangible torment. Above her stood a cloaked female figure wearing a mask that concealed her features entirely, holding a newborn baby aloft in what appeared to be an act of consecration. The scene, laden with symbolism and detail, exuded a jarring sense of unease, as though the very paper bristled at the eyes of anyone daring to decipher it.
Below, on the cold stone floor, a kneeling man toiled meticulously, drawing a complex pentagram with what looked like birthing blood. In one hand, he clutched a small rat, which, though alive, remained paralyzed, its eyes glowing with a supernatural green flicker. In his other hand, he brandished a dagger adorned with arcane inscriptions that seemed to hum with latent power. Underneath the illustration, a Latin text described the ritual steps with near-surgical precision, and Lucius translated each word with difficulty, absorbing the unsettling details against his own will.
First, the text explained that the rat should be removed from its mother's womb, still attached to the placenta. The mother, however, would not survive the process, and her death was described as "a necessary sacrifice for the purity of the connection." The offspring would then be connected to the discarded placenta of a witch who had recently given birth through a complex spell that required the use of a blood jewel to bind the forming being to the placenta discarded by the witch.
The wizard father was designated as the primary figure in the ritual, responsible for chanting an uninterrupted loyalty spell for twenty-four hours. The text emphasized that the father's magical strength would be transferred to the offspring during this period, sealing an absolute magical subordination bond. The words of the enchantment — written in Latin in a darker footer — seemed to vibrate almost menacingly on the page, as if resisting being read.
In the following months, the newborn rat was to remain connected to the witch's discarded placenta, fed not merely by nutrients but by raw magic. After nine months, it would emerge transformed into a house-elf, eternally bound by blood and magic to that wizarding family. The text stressed that the elf's loyalty would be so intense that any attempt at disobedience would cause it physical pain — a direct reflection of the magical tie that tethered it to its wizard master.
Toward the end of the chapter, a faded marginal note revealed the ultimate purpose of the ritual: "House-elves are not merely servants; they are a piece of the wizard to whom they belong, shaped to become extensions of his will." Lucius felt the weight of that revelation like a blow. The bond was not simply one of loyalty, but a forced symbiosis, in which the elf's entire existence was inextricably linked to that of the wizard.
The final image at the foot of the page was equally disturbing. It depicted the ritual's outcome: a childlike house-elf, kneeling before a wizard, its large, sorrowful eyes holding an intensely radiant jewel in its tiny hand. Around the creature, shadows seemed to writhe, as though they held remnants of the lives sacrificed for its creation.
Lucius shut the book decisively, unable to stifle the tempest of thoughts swirling within him. Visions of Dobby rushed over his mind, provoking a wave of guilt. He had long known that the "forging" of house-elves was outlawed and deemed Dark Magic; he had therefore never bothered to learn precisely how an elf was brought into being. He had always assumed Dobby's loyalty was the result of years of training and servitude, but now he understood their connection ran deeper — magical, literal, visceral.
Dobby, he now realized, had not been just a servant. He was literally a magical extension of Lucius's own bloodline. Considering the elf's likely age, Lucius deduced he had probably been formed from his mother Druella Malfoy's placenta.
Striving to collect his thoughts, Lucius sat back down and reopened the book, scrutinizing each detail until a particular passage snagged his attention: according to the text, house-elves are intrinsically tied to the "wizard sibling", the wizard with whom he shared the placenta, which prevents them from fully dying so long as that wizard lives. Through a spell named "The Summons", the wizard could bring them back, provided he offered "flesh and bone" as sacrifice. In other words, as long as Lucius lived, he might be able to resurrect Dobby through that ritual.
To bring Dobby back? The mere thought was simultaneously absurd and irresistible. Lucius froze, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, heart pounding with each new wave of speculation. "Offering flesh and bone" hinted at a monstrous price to pay, yet if he found some way to perform the ritual without involving Draco, he would not hesitate to sacrifice himself.
His memories of Dobby still weighed heavily on his conscience. Since the elf's death, Lucius had never allowed himself to fully face his guilt. Now, confronted with this improbable chance at reparation, relief and dread warred in his chest, turning his stomach in knots. The idea of reciprocating, of at last giving something back for all the suffering he had inflicted — even through a spell skirting the edges of darkness — arose as an unexpected solace. If he could bring Dobby back, no matter how frightening the path, perhaps he could finally confront at least some of his past sins. It was as though magic itself were beckoning him toward one final opportunity for redemption, and Lucius was no longer certain he could resist that call, hazardous though it might be.