The Chronicles of Lucius

The Chronicles of Lucius

Author's Notes: Apologies for the delay on this chapter - I can't blame the dissertation any more, although it did actually leave me so brain-drained that I couldn't fic for a week, which was nightmarish! Bear in mind that ficcing is what I do at all times. I was left sprawled on my bed, staring at the ceiling, completely drained. Mind you, did get my re-reading of LoTR done and now, I can work on that epic series I have planned. Well, two epics now - one a HP/LoTR crossover and one a Boromir-AU fic :) Ah, the joy of having a split-personality muse :D

Anyway, to the fic!

_________________________________________

Have written very little of late, due to holiday.

Decided to take a brief trip to Bermuda Triangle with wife (wife in bikini - Hubbah! Am convinced that it was definitely one of self's better ideas to choose v. v. hot and sunny holiday destination), as it is one place in world where Purebloods such as self can be guaranteed that no filthy little muggles will pee in pool.

Have heard that Bermuda Triangle is viewed as v. bad place in muggle-circles. Am laughing because muggles are so v. stupid and do not recognise a concealing charm when they see one. V. v. stupid individuals.

Even when strange hairy blanes vanish over 'triangle', bloody dense muggles place blame on alien kidnappings rather than wizards taking potshots at stupid flying objects that stumbled into private air space (As if aliens would be desperate enough to kidnap mudbloods and muggles! Stupid, stupid creatures! If they were to kidnap anyone, they would kidnap self and wife! Or at least some kind of pureblood types, although imagine self and wife would be high quality samples in both looks (in self's case) and brains (in wife's case).

Plus wife in bikini!

While self was initially rather agitated that wife's displaying so much flesh (in v. kinky-looking, skimpy, coiled-silver-snake bikini with strategically placed emerald snake-eyes (remind me strangely of Pot-boy's eyes for... oh. Crap. Forget self said that) on certain areas) would distract from self, having gorgeous wife draped on self's arm made self look like utter sex God (How v. v. v. true).

Thought of self and wife looking drop-dead-if-you-look-at-us-no-really gorgeous did prove minor appeasement, so self was content to share limelight wit v. spiffy wife and rub fact that self's wife is more gorgeous than anyone else's.

Am so v. v. evil!

As if self was not quite edible enough, self and wife make all people seethe with envy and naughty thoughts when we approach poolside in morning.

Arm-in-arm, self and wife have become v. adept at ignoring stares, because are both so used to being objects of lust that stares are as familiar as breathing (Although, hate to be the one to inform wife that self gets more stares than her. Am so damn good!).

Have met up with a few acquaintances while here and spent v. amusing afternoon the other say, turning hairy blanes into dust. Am sure our games are confounding v. stupid little muggles on rayder-things.

Hehe.

Am so wicked.

If Ministry found out, am sure they would be v. angry, but since Bermuda Triangle is v. famous for vanishing things, self has good excuse - hairy blanes should not be able to access air space over Triangle, therefore self was preserving security of favourite holiday resort.

Not having fun at all.

No, really.

Oops. Self 'accidentally' killed muggles by poofing blanes?

Damn.

Am so v. v. upset.

Ah, reunions are v. fun. Is always fun to reminisce and spend time killing off random muggles with dear old friends, esp. with self and wife looking absolutely stunning. It will be v. difficult for things to get much better after this. Have forgotten how much fun Nott and McNair can be.

Anyway, will write more at later time - have just seen something called a 'fighter jat' and looks like it could be a challenging target! Must go and play!

~*~

Just received owl from son. Am returning home at once. Son has informed self that he is involved in deep, loving affair with green-eyed Pot-boy and wants self's blessing on them. Self's world is crumbling around self's ears.

Wife just offered self something called prozac.

If son is serious, self will kill him and Pot-boy to spare self the shame!

~*~

Note to self: teach son what qualifies as a genuinely amusing April Fool's joke.

Did not find son's attempt humorous in the least.

Additional note to self: Pummel the wretched little brat into a pulp with self's cane for giving self a bloody coronary!

And then, after trying to kill self and making self cut short holiday (All right, self was kicked out of resort for having rather minor temper tantrum over son's Owl. Did not think that blowing up the hotel would go down so badly), son demanded self's advice in choosing subject for next year in Hell.

Pah. Son expects good advice after his stunt? Not likely!

Here is basic summation of letter (All in brackets are side comments to mock son in cunning way and are not included in letter):

Hmm.

Maybe self should add in all asides into actual letter as they are v. impressive and talk of love might scare son. Son is rather dense, after all, and may not realise that self is serious. After all, wife is still young enough to beget another heir.

On second thoughts, telling son self loves him and finds him funny will make him even more paranoid, little git. Will be v. amusing. Am so good at using boy's naive little mind against him. Am so evil!

Anyway, had best stop writing and finish letter, because wife wants to send son his presents from Bermuda. Don't see why little brat should get anything, since it's his fault the nice hotel got blown up.

Will try and dissuade her and then convince her to bear another Heir.

Will write more later.

Am NOT OVERREACTING!!!!

~*~

Have been on hiatus.

Wife said something about self having a hysteria-induced nervous breakdown about two weeks ago, in wake of a 'rather amusing practical joke' played on self by son. Am not sure what she means.

Mind you, self can't really remember two weeks ago and self's writing was so v. messy that self can't read it and find out what got self so worked up.

Anyway, am feeling much calmer and more focussed than before and have had time to contemplate self's cunning plan (Discarded idea of using a plot with a turnip, as well as pumpkin plot, plot involving giant tango dancing lemur and guppies, but given a choice of staring at padded walls and thinking of proper plot, self got bored with walls v. quickly and turned to plot).

Have an appointment with board tonight.

Wife didn't know about it and didn't think to cancel it for 'preservation of self's mental health', so self will doll self up, polish cane and go and get the plan back in action, in readiness for escape of Dark Master's pet phallic symbol (Yes, other choice of passing time was a mode of torture - a book by some strange man by name of Freud. Have had nightmares of self's mother ever since. Am v. traumatised).

Also, it appears Master's 'snake' has been kept under control for some time.

Perhaps silly little girl with red hair and dodgy wardrobe turned into man-hating feminist and stopped listening to v. sweet, well-dressed, handsome, charming younger version of Dark Master (who was really v. pretty and has such good fashion sense compared... ahem. Will not read into Dark Master's love of clothing and style).

Still, have no doubts that more snake-attacks will occur v. soon. Hopefully as a lovely birthday present - would be nice to have a mudblood death as a special treat (Or a proper Porsche, although wife did offer to buy my padded room. Was so torn!).

So, when the diary-plot starts working again and snake-attacks happen again, be they petrifications or deaths (pleasepleasepleaseplease!), self will use tonight's little 'can I have your autograph?' routine to be properly prepared for things.

Will write of success of venture later.

~*~

April 16th 1993

Meeting was something of a success.

All right, didn't quite go as intended and autograph-test didn't work as planned, so self had to fall back on old, faithful techniques which have kept self's fellow members of the board on self's side.

Threatened to take cane away again.

All right, all right, yes, first self threatened to smite them all with curses that would make their children turn into polka-dot faced munchkins that would sing annoyingly happy songs in high, irritating and squeaky voices for all eternity and they would be cursed to listen to it all.

That didn't go down well. Can't quite work out why.

Anyway, that was when the cane came into play.

Self was waving it about, light glinting of its head, making all manner of dramatic gestures and become uncomfortably aware that all Board members were watching cane instead of self and self's impressive gestures.

So, cane became the symbol.

"Do you want me to leave?" No response. Put cane behind back and repeated question and got noncommittal replies. Self fingered cane for a moment, then idea struck. "I'm leaving." A few blank looks greeted statement. "And I'm taking the cane!"

Horror does not come close to describing the looks on their faces.

So, self said, "Anyone who wants the cane, sign the paper."

Do believe they actually came very close to Avadaing each other in order to be first to sign. Rather impressive for a gaggle of suit-wearing idiots from the Ministry, thinking on it, really.

Have the scroll now, though. Is all pretty and safe and locked up somewhere wife will never ever look for it: in self's cane-polish drawer. Even wife fears to look where the cane's possessions reside.

Will now go and celebrate success of meeting and reception of scroll by rampantly pouncing wife and perhaps take her for some kind of celebratory dinner. Or just shag her silly on the dining table.

Whatever happens first.

Finishing now.