Harry Potter Short Stories

That time Lucius Malfoy went back to fix it and dragged Harry along 1-3

Lucius closed the battered leather journal with a huff. An 18th-century Unspeakable, Portia Malfoy was the only one to use the family time-turner almost two centuries ago and live to tell the tale, or at least leave any notes. She dedicated decades to rigorous studies of temporal magic, modified the ancient artefact extensively and created an accompanying ritual for it, all for a purpose she refused to share. But did she absolutely have to write her instructions in verse?

He locked the journal in his drawer, resisting the urge to hurl it into the fireplace, lit despite the sunny August morning. Lucius had never quite managed to exorcise the chill of Azkaban from his bones, no matter how warm the summer weather outside was. It seeped through the thick wool of his robes, especially when he ventured to the dungeons, and he doubted that being underground was the only reason. He felt the same way entering the dining room and the East Wing, all the places that had once been occupied by his late master.

No, Lucius refused to call him that anymore. The Dark Lord had the right ideas, but in the end, he had been just a mad half-blood upstart who had not known his place. They had had a good run in the first war when clandestine meetings and fights with the Aurors had spiced up the life of a young Malfoy heir, but as a husband and a father a decade and a half later, he felt it was high time to leave youthful indiscretions behind. After all, he had enough money to buy the Ministry twice over, securing the means to teach Mudbloods and blood traitors their place without doing the dirty work and placing himself and his family in danger. If only the Dark Lord had stayed dead as any self-respecting wizard would. But if Potter's post-war interviews to the Prophet were to be believed, he had been brought up in a muggle orphanage; what else could one expect from such an upbringing?

A knock at the door brought Lucius out of his musings.

"You're working too hard, darling," his wife said, coming into his office with a soft smile playing on her lips. Lucius hadn't seen it directed at him in years.

His breath hitched. Narcissa was wearing a gown of flowing blue silk, and her golden hair cascaded down her back in flawless curls.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Lucius. I'm going to take Draco to Diagon Alley today."

"Is that wise?" he asked carefully. The hoi polloi loved to spit on those who had fallen from grace. Narcissa was too fragile to deal with stares and rudeness right now. He would have to caution Draco, even though his son was disinclined to talk to him these days.

"Why wouldn't it be? We'll be buying Draco his wand and school robes today, or have you forgotten?"

Lucius felt his stomach turn to lead. Still, he kept his face blank as he got up from his desk. "No, of course, I haven't."

He gently steered Narcissa towards their rooms, knowing that she would forget all about her plans soon enough. These episodes had started soon after the war, becoming more and more frequent with each passing year. Even after all the fines, bribes and reparations, Lucius had enough gold to throw at the best healers, but none of them could do much against the damage done by the Dark Lord's Cruciatus sessions. The only one who managed to make a little bit of difference was a Squib practising some Muggle mumbo-jumbo. His blood traitor sister-in-law found him, and Lucius was desperate enough to try. He even let them take Narcissa to a Muggle hospital to place her in a metal contraption and 'scan' her brain, whatever in Merlin's name it meant. Not that he could have stopped them, being still confined to the Manor and forbidden to use all but the most basic spells. Or had any right to, being the cause of his wife's conditions, as his son had screamed at him that day. As if Lucius needed any more reminders.

"Why am I wearing this robe?" Narcissa stopped abruptly as they reached the bedroom and looked down at herself with a confused expression before closing her eyes for a long moment. "It happened again. I hoped I had some more time after yesterday."