The Dark Arts
Drama Angst
Multiple Eras
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Published: 02/08/2004
Updated: 02/08/2004
Words: 3,250
Chapters: 1
Hits: 418



Story Summary:
Lucius Malfoy did not always hate Muggles. Once, he was curious about them. The hate didn't come until one Vernon Dursley came along, and only one thing has driven Lucius through life: Revenge.

Author's Note:
Thank you so much to my beta, Charybdis. ::glomp:: All right, everyone, this one's dark. Er... I suppose you don't expect me, insane AmethystPhoenix, to actually write drama. Ah, well. I'm capable of being totally depressing too. :D


Revenge is bitter, yet at the same time, sweet. But the sweetness always disappears quickly no matter who you are. The consequences of your actions always rise like smoke from a burning home... and you are the Dark Mark flying above it. You can never escape, even if you get away physically. No. Because every human can feel guilt after having their revenge. The Dark Lord is not human. The rest of us are.


Vespasian Malfoy looked down at his young son. "You want to go to a Muggle school?" he repeated, a note of surprise in his voice. "With the filthy little Muggles?" His eyes narrowed. "Is your Governess not capable of teaching you? If so... we can have her removed..."

"No, Father!" eight-year-old Lucius said. "I... I just wanted to go..." He trailed off.

"You just wanted to go," Vespasian said, raising an eyebrow. "You are a Malfoy, not a Weasley," he hissed venomously. "And Malfoys do not associate with Muggles. It would be a disgrace for anyone to see you in the presence of a Muggle willingly."

Lucius may have been eight years old, but he was already rather cunning. It was a skill he would have to use often in the future, although he did not know that yet. "Father," he said cautiously. "You have always told me to... to get to know the enemy. And if I were to go to school with them until I go to Hogwarts, I would get to know them, wouldn't I?" He sat up straight in his chair.

Vespasian looked pensive. "Yes, Lucius... you have a point there. Very well. I shall send you there until you are to go to Hogwarts. But you will be like one of them while you are there, and I expect you to learn a lesson, whether it is the one you proposed or a different one." He smirked at this last comment, as if he knew something Lucius didn't. "You are sure, Lucius? You want to be exposed to the Muggles?"

Lucius nodded. "Father, I am sure."


My father was right. And it wasn't later until I found out all he had said about Muggles was true. They are liars. All of them. They are horrible... things... not even fit to be labelled with the name of 'human'. Because fathers are always right.


Lucius Malfoy walked to the local primary school, practically jumping for joy. He had always thought Muggles were fascinating. And here he was, starting the first of many days he was to spend with them. He was proud of himself, having tricked his father into letting him attend school with the Muggles. Know the enemy... hah! As if Lucius Malfoy cared a whit about that. Muggles were just like wizards without magic.

He was to tell everyone that he was new to the area. Obviously, the headmaster of the school had already been told the story, as well as his teachers. Whistling a tune he had heard a Muggle whistle while passing the manor, Lucius walked into the school and found his classroom quickly. He sat down, excited.

The lessons could have been about the significance of blackboards, or something as equally boring, and Lucius would never have been bored. He listened to the teacher intently as he explained multiplication to the class. The work was fun... everything was absolutely wonderful.

The rest of the day went just as well... until Lucius started his walk home, grinning in a un-Malfoyish way and very nearly skipping. "Hey, you!" called a voice.

"Oh! Hello!" Lucius said happily, turning to face a group of boys from his class. Their leader was a tall, yet pudgy boy with piggy eyes. His friends all wore smirks. Lucius' grin wavered. "Y-you're in m-my class, r-right?" he said, faltering even more as the boy in the front cracked his knuckles.

"Yep," the boy said nonchalantly. Lucius let a out breath of relief. They didn't mean any harm. "Name's Vernon Dursley. You're the new boy, right? Lucky McFoy, or something like that, eh?"

"Lucius Malfoy," Lucius said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Ooh, look, he's putting on airs," said a boy near the back.

Lucius was really getting annoyed. What did they want? "You have dirt on your face," he said coolly, scowling dangerously.

Vernon laughed. "Well, look who thinks he's our Mummy," he said. A squarish girl with a resemblance to Vernon laughed the loudest of the group. "Hey, Marge... he's not our Mum, is he? And what do we do with people who pretend to be our Mum?"

"We show them that they're not our Mum," Marge replied, a sneer spreading across her bulldog-like face. Lucius gulped as the gang moved in on him, forcing him to stumble backwards until he hit a rock. He tripped and fell onto the ground, hitting his head rather painfully. Vernon didn't seem to care though, because he lifted Lucius, who was lithe and light, up by his collar and pushed him against the brick wall of the school.

"S-stop... p-please..." Lucius begged.

Vernon just sneered and dragged Lucius by the collar to the outhouse. The school was old, and had not modernised yet. "This is what we do to people like you! People who think that they're better than everyone else," Vernon hissed, before opening the door to the putrid room. The smell almost made Lucius vomit, but before he could do so, Vernon had stuck his head into the toilet, straight into the muck. Lucius felt his collar loosen as Vernon let go and walked out of the outhouse, slamming the door behind him and laughing loudly with his friends.

Lucius lifted his head out of the hole, not feeling anything but numbness. What Vernon had said echoed in his head. "This is what we do to people like you."


Muggles are as prejudiced as wizards are. That was the lesson I learnt. And that would become my mantra during the Muggle torture we inflicted as Death Eaters. It would be in my thoughts as I met those Muggle-lovers at Hogwarts.


Lucius sat in the chair in front of his father. The dirt on his face and in his hair was now beginning to mix with Lucius' tears. "Please Father, take me out of the school..." he pleaded.

But all Vespasian Malfoy did was snort. "You are a Malfoy, Lucius. Malfoys never fail. Besides, what would we tell your headmaster?"

"I-I... you could tell them we... we were moving..." Lucius said.

"Moving? After one day?" There was amusement in Vespasian's voice. Then, his posture went rigid, and his expression became icy. "Lucius, you will stay at that school until it is time for Hogwarts, as you promised. I did warn you, Lucius, before you started there, but you would not heed my warnings."

"But Father, there's a boy named Vernon Dursley..."

"Lucius." The last word was nearly barked out. Lucius was silenced at once. "He is a Muggle," Vespasian hissed. "And we are far more superior than a lowly little Muggle. Surely, Lucius, as both a Malfoy and a pure-blood wizard, you would be able to hold off a gnat such as this Vernon Dursley?" The question was a statement. Lucius nodded. Vespasian smiled. "Good. You will go back to school tomorrow, and the day after, and so on... no matter what this Dursley or anyone else does."


He spent three years in that hell they called a school. As soon as everyone heard about the 'loo incident', he was known as 'Muckhead'. After a while, though, that got old, since Dursley inflicted pain and other humiliations upon him every afternoon. He was soon called 'Lucky McFoy', Dursley's first name for him. It became so used that one of his teachers slipped up and called him 'Mr. McFoy' one day. And so it was a relief for Lucius when the last day of primary school finally came.


"So, Lucky, how is it going?" said a very unwelcome voice behind Lucius. "Heard you're going to St. Brutus', that borstal up north."

"I am not going to a borstal," Lucius said, prickling as he turned to face Dursley. He had hoped fervently that he wouldn't have to see Dursley after their last lesson. "Where are you going, Dursley? St. Catherine's Institute? Or how about Bedlam?"

Dursley's piggy eyes narrowed. "I am not mentally subnormal, unlike you. And I am not insane, unlike you."

"Who got the lowest marks in the entire class, Dursley?" Lucius drawled, trying to appear unaffected by Dursley's presence.

Dursley didn't say anything. He lifted Lucius up by the collar of his shirt, as always, and slammed him against a fence. This time, however, Lucius didn't squeal and plead. Instead, he gathered his resolve and punched Dursley hard in the face. Dursley fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. "Mark my words, Dursley, I will have my revenge," Lucius hissed, before running away as fast as he could.

Revenge. It would dwell in the mind of Lucius Malfoy for decades.


Hating all Muggles and Mudbloods.

Joining the Dark Lord's cause.

Pointing my own child towards my views. The greatest act I ever performed to ensure my revenge on my tormentor and all Muggles. My child was an innocent child, like all, until corrupted by my views of vengeance. I explained what Muggles truly are. Monsters... all of them.


The final night had come. The night when Lucius Malfoy would finally get final revenge against the one Muggle who had created a personal hell for him for three whole years. The Dark Lord had discovered where Harry Potter lived during the summer holidays. He had found out he himself could never find the house physically, so he sent his top servants in his stead. He had wished to kill Potter himself, but as long as he was dead...

So it was Lucius, his son Draco, who was being tested for initiation, and a back-up group of Death Eaters who stood in front of number four, Privet Drive on the night of a full moon. Lucius had no idea what sort of Muggle freaks lived in the place... only that Potter and his family were inside the place.

Smirking, Lucius made a signal with his hand. A larger group of Death Eaters came out of the bushes and from behind other houses. Back-up. It would instil fear. And then he brought his hand up to the polished wooden door, knocking as if a normal visitor to Little Whinging.

The door was opened by a very fat boy with multiple chins and blond hair slathered over his round, pig-like head. His jaw dropped in surprise when he saw that the late-night visitors were dressed in black cloaks and hoods. "G-go away!" he stuttered. "W-we're perfectly n-normal and have n-nothing to d-do with y-you lot!" Lucius rolled his eyes. How stupid could this boy get?

Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but Draco beat him to it. "Look, you idiot, where is Potter?"

The boy's face still betrayed his fright, but he looked smug as well now. "You mean Potter is in trouble with you fr- people too?"

"Just move!" Draco said rashly. Lucius mentally berated Draco for being so incompetent and not aloof. "Move, you fat lump!" Draco moved forward, as to push the fat boy aside, but Lucius clamped his hand onto his shoulder.

Draco turned his hooded face towards his father. "Yes?" he spat.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "You'd do well to watch your tongue while speaking to me."

Draco inclined his head. "Yes, Father."

The fat boy let out a snort of derision. "Yes, Father?" he mimicked. "Who says that anymore?"

Lucius knew that Draco was scowling underneath his hood by now. "I do," the younger Malfoy hissed. "Got a problem with that, you pig in a wig?"

The fat boy's jaw dropped. "You're Po- Harry, aren't you? That's your trademark name from when we were little!" He scowled. "You'll pay for that one, Potter!"

"What?" said a voice from behind the fat boy. Harry came into the hallway. "Pay for..." He trailed off as he saw the group at the door. He swore under his breath. "Dudley, you're an idiot!" He pulled his wand out, and pointed it directly at the Death Eaters.

"Wait, you're over there... and here?" Dudley said in a confused voice. If this hadn't been so important, Lucius would have rolled his eyes. "You're not supposed to have your thing out!" he gasped, looking wide-eyed at Harry's wand. "I'll tell... give me that!" He began to yank at the wand. "And your thing!" he added, pulling on Draco's wand.

"Father, help!" Draco cried.

A few Death Eaters came forward, but Lucius stopped them. "This is your test, Draco," he said. He turned to the others. "There must be no one left alive. Kill them all! Now find the bearer of his blood." The Death Eaters moved silently into the house, the doorway unblocked as Dudley struggled with Harry and Draco.

And then it happened. "Malfoy?" Harry said incredulously as Draco's hood fell off. If they didn't kill Potter that night, the Ministry would find out which Death Eaters were at the house. And then their names would be on high alert.

"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius shouted, shooting a jet of green light at Potter. Potter dodged it narrowly. The spell hit a wall, creating an enormous hole in it. Dudley began to shake. Harry pried his wand from Dudley's hand, and aimed it at Lucius.

"Expelliarmus!" he said. Lucius held on tightly to his wand, and sent the jinx back, causing Potter's wand to fly into Lucius' gloved hand.

He advanced towards Potter, who was standing apart from the struggling Draco and Dudley. "I watched your parents die," he said, sneering under his hood. Slowly, he pointed his wand at Harry, who was cornered.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON UP THERE?" shouted a loud, annoying voice. A blocky man with a bushy moustache stomped up the stairs from the cellar, breathing hard like a rhinoceros. There was a loud, piercing scream from upstairs, and a flash of bright green light. "What... what have you done, you freaks?" He saw Lucius and Potter, and smirked evilly. "They're here to kill you, right, boy?" he said. "I'll end this now, and kill you for them!"

He grabbed an ornamental sword from the wall, and charged towards Potter. And Lucius saw a face he never wanted to see in his life again. He wanted his revenge. "Dursley," he said in an almost happy voice. Dursley stopped, and stared incredulously at Lucius. "We meet again, Dursley. Remember me? Lucky McFoy?"

An expression of recognition flickered across Dursley's beet red face, but his countenance soon became the colour of porridge. "You... always knew you were weird..."

Lucius laughed, turning away from Potter, but still keeping his wand trained on the boy. "Yes, it's me, Dursley." He began to chant, "Muckhead... Lucky, Lucky, stuck his head in a loo, Lucky, Lucky, hair filled with poo..."

"Father, what...?" Draco said confused, as he regained his wand and pointed it at Potter, who sent him a hate-laden glare.

Lucius was staring at Dursley. "This is what we do to people like you," he said coldly. He pointed his wand at the shuddering man. "Avada Kedavra."

Dursley grabbed an unsuspecting human shield and stood behind him, grinning broadly. Unfortunately for him, the Killing Curse could penetrate a person, killing the person behind as well. Unfortunately for the Malfoys, the human shield was Draco.

Before Lucius could react, the blinding green light had enveloped the two. It seemed like years, though it was barely a second, for the light to disperse. Vernon Dursley was dead. And next to him, Draco looked at his father unblinkingly, as if accusing him for the last time.

It was those eyes... they mirrored his own. The face was his... it was he, lying dead on the floor. And Lucius lost it. He knelt down, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. Draco's stare was funny. The Killing Curse was funny. The boy-who-lived still lived. That was one of the funniest things Lucius had heard. Even the Dark Lord was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

He had had his revenge on Vernon Dursley. And it was hilarious, for some strange, morbid reason, to see his own face lifeless on the floor, next to his childhood nemesis.


I had a colleague once. You could call him my friend, but people like us don't have what others call 'friends'. His name was Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy went mad after he killed his own son. Even after the Aurors came and carted all the Death Eaters away, he wouldn't stop laughing. And so he is entombed in St. Mungo's Secure Ward for the rest of his senseless years, doomed to cackle about who-knows-what.

Really... did you truly think it was Lucius telling his story? No, I am not Lucius. But as Death Eaters, our lives are all similar. In fact, they are one and the same. I too am guilty of pointing my child in the direction Draco went. Pansy was once an innocent, lively young girl. I once was curious about Muggles. And I had a tormentor who turned me against them, caused me to join forces with the Dark Lord.

All for revenge. And I got it. I killed the insolent Muggle, but was plagued by guilty nightmares forever afterwards. And I watched innocence turn sour... angered by my arrest and Draco's death, Pansy followed in my footsteps and joined the Death Eaters in my place. She rejected her mother's pleas to end the violence. I listened helplessly to the reports of my wife dying from grief at the loss of both her husband and only child.


Christopher Parkinson sat against the wall of his cell at Azkaban, screaming as the memories of the night he was caught flashed through his head. Lucius' laughter screeched through his conscious mind. The Dementor causing his screams stood back, and Christopher was able to stop screaming.

The door to his cell opened, and Christopher barely noticed as Pansy slipped in hurriedly, as if afraid the Dementors would take her away before she had a chance to speak to her father.

"Father," she said softly.

Christopher could barely nod. He was able to do so with great effort, to show his daughter that he was listening.

Pansy continued. "Father, I will avenge you." She sniffed, and left as the dementors came in to take her away once more, to the outside world. "And... Draco," she whispered. Christopher knew he wasn't meant to have heard that, but he heard it all the same. He knew that at least a dreg of her innocence remained, that it was not too late. And so he cried out with advice, never knowing whether she heeded his advice or not. He never saw her again.


I begged Pansy not to seek revenge... that it would only give momentary happiness, and then it would be washed away by guilt and sorrow. The Dark Lord does not feel the consequences of revenge. He is not human. The rest of us are. Even we Death Eaters, condemned to guilt until our miserable lives end. We are the Dark Mark, flying above, and revenge is the poisonous, rising smoke below us.

Author notes: Didya like the twist?

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