Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

ANGELCAKE	By : tatyanahill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 1613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Angelcake is a derivative based on some of the characters of Harry Potter. I do not make any money from writing it, or the rest of the series it belongs to. I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters from the HP series.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
∞ 4 ∞
THE SHAKES
Lucius went upstairs to his bedroom. He couldn’t be bothered with having dinner in the dining room with the others and instead called his little House-elf Bibsey, to bring him some nettle soup and toast. He didn’t show it as much as he could have, but Bibsey was his favourite Elf ever. She and her brother Bobsey and their forebearers had been in his family for millennia. When Lucius got married, he chose the two Elves as a present from his parents to go with him and Narcissa in starting their new family. Then when his father died and his mother came to live with them, she also brought their four and then there were two that belonged to his childhood nurse, who owned the house they house had all decamped to. (Narcissa had also brought two House-elves with her from her family –one of whom he lost during an unfortunate incident in the years between the two wars– but that still made nine, which was an extraordinary number for any household, even by old blood standards.)
   House-elves were exceptionally rare magical beings, who were bound to live with and serve the few families they belonged to forever and were something like a mix between willing slave, confident, parent, child, exterior subconscious, and pet. They were fantastical looking beings: about three feet tall with gangly little arms and legs, bulbous heads, enormous eyes and bat like ears. Small and make-believe looking as they were, House-elves had their own potent magic which didn’t require the use of wands as Wizards generally used. Possibly (like Lucius) they had simply evolved into not using wands out of necessity. Unlike Lucius, they and all the other non-Homo sapiens Magical species of their world, had been forbidden as long as anyone could remember from having the magical instruments (forbidden by Witches and Wizards, who somehow thought themselves superior to all other species and had somehow gotten away with it). This was probably because elves were the only species to have magical power equal –although different– to that of Wizards. While most other Magical species viewed Magical Homo sapiens with tinges of spite and distrust, incredibly, House-elves welcomed being reigned over. And this was due to the to their dependencey on Wizard kind, for as a species, House-elves could not emotionally and mentally flourish without being permanently bound in service to a Wizard family. Even within a family, each Elf usually had one particular Wizard they loved above all others, and would happily serve and cleave to until death. It was an Elf’s foremost desire that their “master” should be well looked after and happy. If their Wizard half was unhappy or ill, then they would become unhappy and ill – because to an Elf, their Wizard’s consciousness was an integral part of their own consciousness. Even though it was completely ordinary that Elves needed, doted on, were unwaveringly loyal to and slavishly supportive of, their Wizard masters in order to live, little Bibsey’s expression of devotion toward Lucius was on a rather exceptional level.
   When he was sent to Azkaban prison a few years earlier for his unfortunate involvement with the Death Eaters, the family thought she might die from pining for him; even Lucius’s lifelong animal familiar, Socrates –a Castlefinch who was born on the same day and destined die on the same day as he– was not as upset. The situation became so dire, the Committee for the Preservation of Rare Magical Species got involved and the Ministry of Magic finally had to make a special dispensation to allow Bibsey to go and stay with Lucius in prison. Considering the seriousness of what Lucius had been sent to prison for and the fact that House-elf magic could break a person out of even a high security jail, that Bibsey was still allowed to go to Lucius, was a testament to how grave a state she was in without him… Now, little Bibsey was such a wreck over Lucius’s current lack of wellbeing, he found himself assuring her at least once daily that he was quite well (not true of course) and he found himself trying to think of positive thoughts in order to boost himself up just for her sake. On this night, he had to promise her that he was: “entirely happy and it is only that I cannot bear the terrible aunts at dinner,” (which was true) and that: “I am actually looking forward to an early night to catch up on reading,” (which was somewhat true). In any case, his mind was too weary to concentrate on scientific work, or to worry about his impending bi-monthly Faith Agreement Progress Review and he had nothing better to do.
   The soup came and Lucius quickly grabbed up some newspapers from London, to appear as if he was absorbed in reading. He patted Bibsey on her little head and gave her a cheerful looking smile to feign how contented he was and Bibsey left, happily assured that he wasn’t hiding in his room, depressed (which he was). He needed to read the papers anyway. Another prominent Death Eater was about to receive final sentencing and the papers leading up to it were not only full of images and stories of the wizard in question, but of other figures in the organisation as well – mostly him. Ordinarily he avoided the news like the plague, but he needed to know what popular opinion was. That was important. Many of the current headlines seemed to poke fun at him and were more interested in his personal life and that of his son’s, than the matter at hand. This was a good thing, as it meant he was being seen by some as less of a threat. The Wizarding world had been divided. He had had the lovely and very unexpected outpouring of support from many right after his chaotic first trial and then many more during the forced internship, but recently had had a spat of really, really, terrible experiences... Only a few days previous, Lucius was on his way to his car in London and an old hag somehow managed to pop out of nowhere and get close enough to him that she almost touched him before Sander’s second in command, Roboris (known as Ro), got hold of her. If demons existed, the Witch looked and sounded like she was possessed with one. She was shrieking in an inhuman voice:
   “You killed my son you filfy bastard!! I hope the Demen’ors suck your ‘art out, YOU FILFY!! FUCKIN’! WANDLESS! PERRI! CUNT!!” She spat at him and bit one of the other guards who had taken hold of her, while kicking and screaming bloody murder in that demonic voice that was “frankly frightening”. Then she threw up. She was only tiny and probably couldn’t stun a chair with the old, cracked wand she was carrying and it was true Lucius had been through much, much worse, but the incident had deeply shaken him none the less.
   People saw Lucius as an immovable glacier, but it wasn’t true. His nerves were killing him. It was the worst in England where everyone knew him and that made daily life difficult. Finally, it was suggested he move the household to France until the last trial, for the sake of the remaining family’s safety and his own deteriorating mental and emotional state. It was awkward having to travel back to Britain for work every other week and elsewhere for all the various meetings he had to attend, most especially since the Ministry had so severely controlled his travel rights. There was a total block on his Apparition (a magical person’s internal ability to appear at will, almost instantly at a chosen place, breaking the barriers of distance that Muggles face). Even travel by registered portkey was being strictly controlled (a similar convention using external objects to ‘carry’ a Magical person or group to a specific place and having the benefit of travelling much farther than most Magicals’ maximum Apparating distance). This forced him to travel by muggle means such as automobiles and airplanes, to the delight of his adversaries.
   The unbearably slow travel was horrendous, but in the end Lucius had to get out of England. He couldn’t stay at home: the concealment enchantments that made his home unplottable and invisible to outsiders had been given up and they had published his address in the alternative press, resulting in all manner of Witches and Wizards to be permanently encamped outside of Malfoy Manner. He couldn’t go out on the streets: he had had blood thrown at him, roses thrown at him, rubbish thrown at him and even knickers thrown at him. Even if he stayed indoors, death wishes and well wishes, articles imbued with poison and nettle wine laced with love potions arrived at the gate on a daily basis. The whole country had become a madhouse… This confusing, divided sentiment felt by the public was echoed in the papers over the months, through a constant flow of trite, contrasting headlines about “the disgraced ex Lord Malfoy”: “Saviour or Sinner?”, “Hero or Hater?”, “Darling or Death Dealer?”, “Is This The Face Of Evil?” and his favourite headline: “Lucius Malfoy: A Lamb in Wolf’s Clothing?”
   He was still recognised in France, but it was infinitely calmer. Safer. He couldn’t bring himself to live at Malfoy Manor any longer anyway – regardless of the campers. The ‘Dark Lord,’ the psychotic leader of the organization (or “the Psycho” as Lucius referred to him) who was the reason for all the terror, had taken the Malfoys’ ancestral home over as his headquarters and too many horrible, unspeakable things had happened there. It was a shame really; his ancestors had lived in the home for centuries and centuries and now it was polluted by murder and torture.
   His final sentencing wouldn’t be for another year and a half. Too many had been undecided in the primary verdict (even with the sudden strongly positive testimonies in his favour). Under the bizarre circumstances they had given him time to prove himself beyond doubt – or to hang himself once and for all. Some of them like Arthur Weasley hated him so much, they didn’t care weather he had any virtuosity in him or not and hoped that if he didn’t trip himself up during his conditional freedom, they would in the time, be able to find something re-incriminating.
   Although they hardly ever spoke due to their strong differences of opinion, the Minister for Magic, his second cousin Kingsley seemed uncertain whether he believed that Lucius was an essentially a good man, or an evil man. If only life could be that simple, Lucius thought to himself. To date, Kingsley who had been a hugely respected Auror on “the good side” (and clearly wanted to stay that way in the eyes of the world) had neither publically condemned nor openly supported him. It was something Lucius was unsurprisingly bitter over: He was still his bloody cousin! But perhaps with him being touted as “The Most Dangerous Wizard Alive!” and in view of all the other constant damning headlines, Kingsley was justified in keeping a low profile, Lucius conceded. The new, “uncorrupted” Ministry had to be seen to be doing something on serious matters and this was as serious as it could get. The First and Second Wizarding Wars (they had perhaps been only 15 years apart) had caused unsurpassed devastation in their world, leaving thousands dead, shaking their already dangerously small Magical population and Lucius had been on the side that caused that devastation. Of the living, not a single soul was left unaffected. Anyone in alliance with the ex-Lord Malfoy had to be careful. That he, who had been one of the lead members of the Death Eaters, wasn’t rotting in Azkaban prison awaiting his final trial (or pushed through a speedy show trial and already sentenced for life in the first place, as pretty much all of the rest of them who were still alive were) was a testament that someone had faith in him from the beginning.
   Perhaps Kingsley had pulled some strings after all, Lucius thought…
   In the end, it was the testimonies that had saved him. He owed them his freedom (especially HER, the girl). He felt like a cretin that he hadn’t spoken to her about it—hadn’t thanked her. He meant to, he was still so overwhelmed and he didn’t know what to say. How do you thank someone for something like that? He didn’t even know why she had helped him—she could have so easily, let him rot. She of all Magical people should have hated him. Countless lives had been ruined and his hand (or the lack of it) had a large part in all that suffering. Even though he had come through in the end when it mattered most and the people who mattered most truly knew it, there were still masses within the Wizarding world who believed categorically that he did have the malicious intent they always thought he had had.
   Frankly, they had every reason not to have faith in him... Loathe him. He loathed himself. The very gene pool he was working to protect was dealt a terrible –likely irreparable– blow. Their world would never be the same again. Innocent Magical human beings and all sorts of Magical creatures had died! People had been tortured… in his own house! There were Witches and Wizards who would never see their ch--ch children again. Because of the part he played!!
A shudder…
…and then another…
…and ANOTHER.
   The shakes started off one at a time, as they often did when the memories and fetid, poisonous, cold panic of inalterable regret started to flood his body. He lied back on the couch to try and calm his breathing and wait for it to pass.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN:
In early childhood he and his peers had learned from their parents and later in history class about Muggles’ oppression of Wizards – oppression of their own. Each one of them and indeed everyone in their world spent everyday in exile, as they saw it, hiding like rats from the Muggle world around them. In their youth, they talked about advancing their culture and unapologetically grumbled about ‘putting the dirty Muggles in their place’. It was a bitter pill for much of Wizardkind –regardless of their blood purity of financial status– to accept that while they still ruled over Muggles in many aspects, their tiny Magical minority was at the same time forced into hiding from the vast majority because of their secrecy laws (because of fear of the bloody savage Muggles). None of them ever considered, on balance, that their family fortunes were mostly made and continued to be made, off the backs of Muggles. They were inexperienced in the ways of the world and saw things through romantic eyes.
   Clearly he was never a bleeding heart Tent-pitcher, but he never wanted all Muggles dead either! He just found it bitterly ironic, that while his people were stronger and nobler, they had to live virtually underground like cockroaches, while the Muggles flounced around wherever they pleased—in their own society AND in his! The Tent-pitchers (perhaps because so many of them had a majority of Muggle blood themselves) wanted to make it look as though those who wanted to preserve Wizard culture were blood-racists and those like him trying to preserve Magical genetics were eugenicists! Certainly, those crazy types existed—his own home had been infested with them– but equally, he didn’t see the Muggles as being harmless innocents as so many liberals wanted to paint them as.
   On a whole, Muggles weren’t exactly lovers of Wizardkind themselves and were frankly very hateful to their own kind! They had made more devastating wars (brought about for stupid, greedy reasons) had killed more of their own people and were more brutal than any species that he could think of. Like all bullies, they were themselves rather weak and yet savaged the weak… the elderly… the infirm. For goodness sake, anything they didn’t understand, anything that didn’t agree with their own limited ideology, or that they feared was ‘different’ from themselves… more powerful than themselves, they destroyed.    Throughout the Muggles’ history, those of different skin colours and religious beliefs, or those from foreign lands, the enlightened, the intelligent, mighty beasts, women and supposed witches (not that they ever caught a real Witch) were for: burning… gouging… dissecting… ripping apart – all usually while the poor souls were still alive. And it was happening still! They were littering the Earth with their filth and were so arrogant (and small minded) that they had no respect for the First Rules. It was more than a bit rich to condemn anyone as a blood supremacist who wasn’t a fan of this ‘culture’—if one could consider it as such.
   Apart from the one Magical psychopath, that had indeed made a life of doing evil for his own sick, personal agenda and a few stupid lemmings who had truly followed him, where were all of the Witches and Wizards who tortured and maimed and murdered on the scale that the Muggles had done throughout history?
   And so, he was of the mind-set that he couldn’t –wouldn’t– apologise for not feeling camaraderie with the Muggle nation… But he didn’t hate them all to death either. In truth, he was intensely ashamed of “Lucius The Death Eater” (“Lucius The Muggle Hater”, “Lucius The Blood Supremacist”); the character he was forced to play for so many years in order to survive. He never meant to be that person Lucius Malfoy had become: a coward and a cold-hearted bully. He did not even know that Wizard and really did not like him at all. He did not like the rest of the Death Eaters either (there was an understatement) but he had been forced to deal with them, or die… or worse watch his wife and son die mugglish deaths.
   Yes. There was no denying that he WAS one of them, but he saw no way out of it, other than through the cowardly, drug-induced stupor he had put himself into… or through death. They had already killed one of the few souls that ever mattered to him at the very time when he might have done more to undermine the evil and it caused him to go to pieces. The guilt and shame and pain of not being there to stop them, along with everything else that had happened, were so bad, many times he resolved that he WOULD kill himself and finally end the pain. But then he realised he could not because as long as he was alive, it meant his wife and his son would stay alive… If they could just hang on, perhaps there would be a miracle…
BECOMING A DEATH EATER:
It all started when several of them had formed their own club at school in their fourth year. It was called something inane like: “Guardians of the Welfare of Wizardkind of the World.” Or perhaps it was: “Warriors of the Welfare of Witches and Wizards of the World”. They didn’t have the benefits of all the distractions his son’s generation had had growing up. They were just young ones sounding off about making the world a better place. Not all of their ideas were so valiant in hindsight, but they were young and full of idealism, energy, pride and anger. He wanted to help his people—to protect his culture. And he dearly wanted to please his father; that was always at the front of his mind… The full truth was, somewhere inside of him he wanted to be a hero... He had no idea that all of what they stood for would eventually be so distorted and so many evil things would develop and get out of hand so quickly, without there being enough force for good to stop it all.
…When he was fifteen the leader of a real Wizards club (a special cause that seemed to have exactly the same ideals as the ‘Guardians’ –or ‘Warriors’ as the case may have been– only that it was important and grown-up) gave a speech in the village of Hogsmeade near his boarding school, Hogwarts. The much older, charismatic Wizard was recruiting, looking for “a select few” to join the cause. This was the beginning of Lucius’s involvement with the Death Eaters. It was the moment that he set his foot on the abysmal path going down the worst direction possible; it was an eager teenage boy’s misjudgement that would mark his life forever. He had only joined the club to look cool. They hadn’t even been called Death Eaters at the time, as they were infamously known now. The older leader had sought him out especially. He had even chosen him to be Vice Chairman, not only above all the boys in school, but as well as longer standing members who were out of school and therefore quite a bit older than he. The older leader (who would in time become known as “the Dark Lord” and “the Psycho,” among other names) had seemed normal at the time (glorious actually).
   Perhaps he had felt especially honoured, because not all of them from their little club had been invited; his cousin Apollonius and closest friend Rajanaissance, who were always the most popular Wizards at school, hadn’t even been considered. Deep down he always felt second and third best (except in the one area where gold was concerned, for the fact that his family had more of it than most) but for once, he had outshone them. For once, he was the favourite! At the time at least, he had been convinced that he had been asked to join on his own merit – for his own valour and strength of character. And he so wanted to be valiant. To be looked up to. Don’t most boys at that age? They would build a better future for their people...
   In the early days they didn’t do very much, apart from act as lackeys to the Psycho: running errands for him and listening to his long, booming speeches. The first signs that something wasn’t quite right started to show even back then, but he had shrugged it off, they all did. What did they know? They were young ones—a bunch of sheltered, snivelly little Metal-ends mainly.
   By the end of the school year, Lucius had started to became disinterested because (apart from being expected to make substantially larger financial contributions than the rest – gold which he didn’t have access to) his entire role as Vice Chairman simply seemed to entail sticking close to the Psycho who had an uncomfortable fixation with keeping him near at all times; so much so, that for a time, it earned Lucius the infuriating nicknames of “Lapdog” and later “Rabbit,” which stuck. The latter coming from “rabbit’s foot”, on account of the rumour that had surfaced that the Psycho had had a prophecy, which pointed toward Lucius being of some great use, or protection to him, in the future.
   In his later teens his disinterest grew into disenchantment. Lucius had begun to win high accolades in duelling and before he was eighteen, had even become the youngest Captain ever of the England Duelling Team, so he found less free time for the club (more so with the addition of his exams). He found it less and less exciting being stuck next to the intense, often times tyrannical older man, who frankly had gotten a bit creepy – most especially since they weren’t achieving any of the goals they originally set out. With this maturity, he became disillusioned from, the Psycho’s increasingly incoherent rants and spewing out of outlandish judgements, which seemed less about helping the Magical world and more about self-aggrandisement. With those few extra years of life experience, the cause had started sounding like a private agenda for getting back at the maniacal Wizard’s dead father (something Lucius himself astutely recognised because of the agonies in his own personal life). The Psycho was becoming worryingly stranger, darker and creepier and he was tired of being called Rabbit by the other members… They soon graduated from Hogwarts and the group dissolved however, so the problem seemed to be solved.
   As expected, Lucius went into the family business of making gold more or less straight after graduating Hogwarts – even before he finished schooling. To everyone’s amazement (including his own) he was astonishingly skilled at making gold. After being told for the first 18 years of his life that he was “soft” by his father – even though he could bring down a Mountain troll without a wand, could knock a hole through the centre of an apple at 100 metres and had beaten every wand that had ever challenged him. It took Lucius to bring in a fortune to finally gain the approval of Abraxas Malfoy. At the same time, he went to Academy as most pure blood Wizards did and continued his private studies in biology with Abraxas’s agreement to tolerate his “useless” interest in science – as long as it didn’t get in the way of his duties to the family vaults. With his other responsibilities (and not having any pressure to take it seriously) he did uncharacteristically poorly at Academy. After Academy, he started biological research in his own time, forming a small lab with some of the gold he had squirreled away from side deals that Abraxas wasn’t aware of.
   Lucius had ambitious goals. He hoped to:
1) isolate the Human Magical Gene in an effort to decrease the occurrences of magical individuals being born without, or with deficient Magic (an increasing problem in the magical world)
2) find carriers of healthy magical genes within the Muggle population with a view to bringing them into the Wizard population
3) and lastly to vastly extend the already relatively long life span of magical humans. (They were enduring goals, which he still had as a Wizard of 46.)
   Lucius was in his early twenties. He had pleased his father with his business acumen, he had a cabinet full of duelling trophies that members of the Wizarding community and heaps of pretty young Witches, admired him for. He was set up to achieve his goals in magical biology. He had a girlfriend he loved… Finally, he was useful and successful in his own right! All seemed well in his world. He was a champion!
   Then suddenly after a few years of silence, he was contacted again. The club was back in business! They still wanted him as Vice Chairman, but there was great interest in the scientific work he was doing, particularly on Wizard DNA. He could actually do something meaningful this time around. There was real financial investment now and more members than ever. It had become a bona fide organization. It even seemed as if the Psycho had calmed his unchecked narcissism and gotten over much of his weird fixation with Lucius.
   The club started to gain enormous popularity and Lucius regained much of his initial enthusiasm – although perhaps for different reasons. There were deals to be made and huge financial benefits to being second in line to the throne. Lucius had found his footing as a Wizard and as a businessman. It was at that time that they donned the sexier sounding “Death Eaters” label (ironically it was Lucius who had come up with the name, because of his scientific interest in vastly extending magical lifespan). They restyled themselves as the club for the elegant elite; every Witch and Wizard who was anybody aspired to be part of it. The organization had become a social club in all but mission statement.
   Becoming captain of the England Duelling Team had helped him to shed a lot of his feelings of inadequacy and from that time, he no longer struggled at impressing people, but he still felt decidedly nervous in the presence of females. It was useful then that being second in command with the Death Eaters gave his ego and social life a giant boost. He also no longer needed to worry that he felt awkward in strange company, or didn’t know what to say in social situations. In fact, because his public persona as the “Ice Man” had flourished, no one expected him to speak. He just needed to turn up. This suited Lucius very well, because just as his celebrity status started taking off, he was putting the painful break-up with his girlfriend behind him: The Witch, who was a few years older than him, was the first girl he had loved and hoped to marry, before his parents put an abrupt end to it, due to her “extreme unsuitability”… Bizarrely she ended up in a terribly embarrassing (and terribly public) affair with his father only a few weeks later, which although short-lived, was long enough to utterly humiliate Lucius and rip his heart out so completely, that it probably still affected him in trusting others.
   Looking back, he had absolutely no idea of what he ever saw in the quite plain and plainspoken, rather sturdily built flesh-faced Witch. She was really rather ordinary when compared to many of the other Witches he had ever known and nothing like any of the other ones he was henceforth attracted to, but at the time he had been so wildly in love with the Witch, he was utterly devastated.
   To get over the hurt, he started spending time with a great many Witches. The pretty Black sisters who had also went to Hogwarts were among them: the prettier, yet startlingly crazy Bellatrix, who was older than he was and whom he already knew quite well from the club and her sane and imperious, yet delicate looking younger sister Narcissa, whom he would later marry.
   It was a booming time. Lucius was young, talented, famous and unspeakably rich. There were endless parties. Opulence was the order of the day. Business deals were easy. Best of all, his father trusted him… Lucius had learned well from experiencing Abraxas’s shrewdness first hand. Where he lacked in the senior Malfoy’s charisma, he made up for in capitalizing on his own reputation – both the good and the bad. People were afraid of him because of his lethal duelling skills and because of his place in the Death Eaters; but he was also known to do and deliver what he promised, so business associates, both magical and non-magical, had no reason to complain. Lucius had vaults filled to the ceilings of his own gold for the first time in his life… In stark contrast to his birth status as a son of one of the richest families in the world, Lucius had up until this time never known the excesses of a life of splendour. Although he had been provided with the best of everything that was necessary to live by and had been protected and cossetted (at least in his physical being) and grown up in castles, he had rarely experienced luxuries of pleasure or abundance, and had never had any of his own money to speak of. Both Rajanaissance and Apollonius had three, or four times the pocket money he had when they were at school. He was given a small amount each month that he was sometimes able to increase by doing certain jobs such as cursing all the aphids off of the rose bushes and cleaning his fathers Muggle golf shoes, but in the end, it never amounted to much more than much poorer children at school got. He used to have to beg his nurse for extra, or borrow from Raj to keep up with the others and avoid embarrassment on school outings and dates when he got older.
   The honeymoon period with the Death Eaters lasted about two years and then Lucius once again started getting the feeling he wanted to distance himself. Questionable things had started occurring – nothing major, but… questionable. By then he was so deeply entwined in the organization, he felt it was better not to ruffle feathers, especially since he received quite a lot of benefits and really didn’t need to do much of anything to maintain his status, other than give a couple scientific talks to investors and turn up to a dinner now and again... But soon after, everything started changing and before he knew it, he was a high-ranking official in something that wasn’t at all what it was meant to be (in the worst way) and more than ever, not something he wanted part of.
   But it was too late… It was little after the Malfoys and Blacks had agreed on Lucius and Narcissa’s engagement, that things started to get out of control. The Psycho had formed an army. Lucius was being asked to do more and more questionable things. Some of the stuff was so crazy, he thought for sure no one would take him seriously and the whole thing with the Psycho taking over the world, as he had decided he needed to do, would burn itself out and he would be recognised for the lunatic he was. He assumed The Psycho would either kill himself, or be killed by the Ministry, but he had underestimated the so-called “Dark Lord’s” powers and the unbelievable momentum that the war would gain – they all had.
   It happened so quickly…
   Once he and Narcissa had married, the Black’s expectations for him to stay active in the Death Eaters also became startlingly apparent. Narcissa’s parents couldn’t have been happier with their youngest daughter’s husband and made it very clear of their approval, doting on and commending the young Wizard at every opportunity. He had pride of place in the Black family home and was even served first at the table, with Narcissa’s father Cygnus leading the adoration committee. Never having had warmth and strong acceptance from his own parents, the Black’s loving reception meant a great deal to Lucius. So, he had a dilemma when it came to his in-laws’ views on the world, which were conflicting to his own. The Blacks were enthusiastic supporters of the Death Eaters and the Psycho Dark Lord from the inception. Educated arguments and facts didn’t stand a chance with them. Many old Pure-Blood families, including Lucius’s mother’s family were quite staunch blood supremacists; some of the aged radicals even went as far as not classing Muggles as human. So, it wasn’t at all a surprise to learn that the Black Family had prejudices. It was just the way much of the older generation thought… However, because he had been in some of the same classes as Narcissa’s middle sister Andromeda, who had a bad reputation at school for going around almost exclusively with crude Muggle boys (and he had also known of –and disliked– the sisters’ cocksure little cousin Sirius, who was a bit of a Tent-packing Mippie in all honesty) it was a big surprise to Lucius to find that the Blacks were among the most severe blood supremacists and Muggle haters he had ever known. It was something he learned (along with how much madness ran in the family) only after he and Narcissa took their unbreakable marriage vows.
   Then the first killings started.
   Lucius wanted to get out, but it was easier said than done. The pressure from his in-laws was the least of his worries: The rabbit’s foot theory seemed to be proving true. The lunatic’s creepy dependence on him had returned with vengeance. It was so bad, it got to the point that the Psycho hardly wanted to set foot out of doors without Lucius being present. There would be calls at two, three, four in the morning. Lucius would have to go. Often times it would be just to sit there and watch him be dressed, because the madman had gotten a sudden fright that his clothing didn’t fit properly for some appearance he planned on making the following week, and he needed Lucius there while anyone was in the house – or other pot-cracked nonsense.
   When the full extent of the Psycho’s suddenly altered agenda of domination as World Emperor and plan to exterminate Muggle-borns and enslave the Muggles became public knowledge, the vast majority of members who were sane, or even remotely intelligent quickly backed out (most of them had only been in it for the financial and social gains in the first place). A couple thousand went into exile. The early ones who had prescience enough got out safely, but toward the end of the exodus, many were found and murdered for defecting. Lucius knew then that leaving alive was not an option, least of all for him or his family.
   He just kept thinking –hoping– someone would take the Psycho ‘Dark Lord’ down. How was it that no one had stopped the madman yet?! Some blamed HIM for not being the one to do it, because he was the closest. What was HE supposed to do? He was one Wizard. The Psychopath had grown too powerful –too evil– for any of them to handle on their own. He had a baby coming. He was being watched 24 hours a day; he had to be careful even with his own extended family. His sister in-law Bellatrix in particular, who was obsessed with the Psycho and just as deranged as he was, was jealous of the attention he received –regardless of it being unwanted– and watched every breath he took, waiting in anticipation for the slightest transgression.
   He tried playing incompetent. If he just proved useless enough, the Psycho would grow tired of him and find someone to replace him as the ‘rabbit’s foot’. Bellatrix for one, was champing at the bit for a chance to get closer. However, no matter how inadequately he performed, Psycho clung to him. It was understandable though; most of the remaining followers were a bunch of idiots, weaklings and crazies. Faking his worst incompetence, or even when truly drugged out of his mind on potions, he was probably still cleverer than the best of them put together… That was, with the exception of Bellatrix and Severus Snape, Psycho’s number two. Snape actually happened to be incredibly intelligent (and wasn’t congenitally insane like the sister-in-law as far as he could see) and like himself, hadn’t had the forethought to leave when he might have gotten out alive.
   It was at that time that he first started taking the mind-altering potions. He remembered the first night: The newly formed Voldguard (a special police guard who answered directly to the Psycho) had hunted down two high-ranking Death Eaters who had defected with their families to the Netherlands. Three Muggles had also been targets for reneging on an agreement for the forming of Nazi style detention camps on their lands. The Voldguard killed them all. The Psycho wanted all their hearts, corneas and tongues taken out and presented to him for some reason. Lucius was a biologist. He wasn’t a surgeon! (and for good reason) but he had to do it, “or else”. They were pretty badly mangled and had been dead for some days, when the guard brought them in. He had known the two Magical beings; he’d gone to school with one of them. He had to do it. The message was clear: “Do what you are told –whatever you are told– or you and your family will be next”. The potions got him through it and many other hideous incidents, but they devoured his real self and along with it, any strength he had left to make a stand for what was right.
   Almost overnight the Psycho had become immensely powerful and almost overnight the social club, which was meant to be a charity concerned with ‘the cultural advancement and betterment of their people,’ had turned into a military party with an agenda of genocide and enslavement against most of the population on Earth – including most of their own.
   And for what? The folly of one self-obsessed, sexually tormented, psychopathic lunatic who had unresolved issues with his parents? He wasn’t the only one who had issues with his parents, but he was the only one crazy enough to start a genocidal war over it… Before he knew it, the first war had begun. Without any real plan, the Psycho had started random killings of Muggles, Muggle-borns and Half-bloods (and anyone Pure-blood who got in their way). There was talk of getting rid of all of them. Some of them were even talking about getting rid of the Middle-bloods! At the time, at best, that plan left 0.000057% of the world population alive – and that was only if they counted every single Pure-blood on the planet (including the Dilutes)... Magical blood was dying out (rising sterility among Pure-bloods a problem no one wanted to talk about) and they still hadn’t found any trace of the Magical Gene. It was a preposterous stratagem! Even if one was sick and evil enough to agree they ought to exterminate all the ‘inferiors’ on Earth from Muggles up to Middle-bloods, who the hell was going to be left?! Who would they trade with? Who would do the work? (And where on earth were they going to Magic all the bodies to?)
   The ‘funniest’ thing was (if one could find funniness in such disturbingly sick and evil agenda – perhaps irony was a better word)… the ‘irony’ was: the Psycho was himself a Half-Blood! No one seemed to question this peculiar truth.
   Lucius couldn’t have been more relieved when the war ended and the Psychopath disappeared without a trace and was thought to be dead. He managed to get out of going to prison by the skin of his teeth with the help of his solicitor, by claiming he had been controlled by the Imperius curse and other curses, to remain in his role. Technically it was a lie. He didn’t need to be cursed to comply – the daily threat of death and torture of his family, the relentless unbreakable attachment the Psycho had to him and the constant mental assault were more than enough to keep him in line. Only someone who had been through it would truly be able to understand why he hadn’t been strong enough. But no one else had been in that place. No one else had to endure being the ‘rabbit’s foot,’ had seen what he had seen, or had any idea of truly how evil the Psycho they respectfully called “The Dark Lord” was.
Then about fourteen years later the Psycho returned and all hell broke loose. The second war devastated their world.
   Now the Psycho, his maniacal sister-in-law Bellatrix and sadly even the courageous Snape (who they would eventually learn had been working all along to bring the evil down from the inside—as he himself should have been) along with so many others both wicked and virtuous, were dead. His people had paid the price of staying silent when Evil came for their neighbours... He would pay the price for the rest of his life. He didn’t expect everyone to forgive him, because he would never forgive himself, but he hoped people believed that he was not evil. Although it was a technical lie, he HAD been Imperiused in effect. He only hoped that they understood that, in a way, a truly malignant and supremely powerful curse (indeed more powerful even than the Imperius) HAD been put on him.
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ANGELCAKE