The Illustrated Death of Lucius Malfoy

ONE

"Good Merlin, Malfoy, you're worse than some of the girls." Severus Snape called out from the doorway of the hotel room. "You're late. Enough primping in front of that mirror."

Draco Malfoy muttered and threw down his comb. He glanced one final time at his reflection, then picked up a badge that sat near a can of Grinning Gus's hair gel. He placed the badge upon his chest, and it stuck to his robes. Reaching into his robes, he produced his wand, which he tapped upon the blank badge. Black letters appeared upon its face: 'Draco Malfoy - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"

Snape muttered to himself. "I have tea and a scone. You have no time for breakfast now. Hermione Granger was up at dawn preparing for the competition, Malfoy."

"Bugger her," snapped Draco, turning to his house head.

"Mind your language." Snape handed the young man a steaming cup, then began to adjust Draco's robes, brushing them off, picking off hairs from the nubby silk fabric. "At least tell me that you have your presentation ready."

"I do. Bloody well - er, I nearly stayed up all night." Draco drank his tea, allowing Snape to do as he did.

"Good. Here's your scone." Snape shoved something wrapped in a piece of tissue paper at him. "You'll have to eat on the way. Where's your things?"

"Down at the booth. Really, sir, there's nothing to worry about." Draco snapped, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Excellent. Let's go." Snape led the way out into the hallway. "We're late. Come."

Draco muttered as he pocketed his wand. He stepped out into the hall and locked the hotel room, then followed his house head down the hall.

"You're not competing against Miss Granger," Snape continued as they headed down a flight of stairs. "You are both representing the school."

"I know, sir," Draco said through a mouthful of scone.

"You still can place in the individual competition. I want first prize for Slytherin, Draco." Snape turned down a hallway, and Draco caught up with him.

"I want first prize for myself." Draco finished the scone and tossed the paper on the floor. A witch standing in the hallway frowned at him.

"Good boy," Snape purred lightly, and Draco caught notice.

Sometimes, I could swear that he believes that he's my father, Draco mused. It's frightening. Well, he is a cousin, albeit a distance cousin of mine...

They entered a large room, and for a moment Draco paused, catching his bearings. At one end of the room stood a large stage draped in blue, the chairs before it empty. Small booths filled the balance of the chamber, some quite brightly decorated. Large paths and brightly-coloured ropes divided the booths into five areas, each area indicated with a large sign marking the continent from which the participants were from.

He went quickly to the European section, passing the North American booth on the way (where two girls at the booth of one of the American schools began to whisper and giggle at him, their cheeks flushing red.) At Durmstrang's booth, two hulking boys chattered excitedly in German as they displayed a set of glowing weapons. At Beauxbatons, two elvish girls petted a pair of snakelike creatures, who hissed contentedly upon gossamer pillows.

"You're late," Hermione Granger snapped as Draco approached the Hogwarts booth. "Lucky for you, you had the foresight to set up last night."

"Sod off, Granger," Draco replied grumpily.

"Please - the two of you." Professor McGonagall glanced over her shoulder as she extended her wand toward a length of fabric. The fabric slowly turned from pink to matte gold. "Good morning, Professor Snape."

"Good morning, Minerva," the Potions Master replied.

Draco slipped into the booth and began to arrange the potions tools that stood already there. He pulled out his wand, muttered, "Inflamare contantium", and a small fire appeared in the tin below his pewter cauldron. He opened a piece of parchment, read again the complex recipe for his potion, and began to mix the pre-crushed ingredients in the cauldron. He added water.

"Nonoverus root?" Snape inquired, glancing over his shoulder as Draco worked. "You changed your recipe since we last spoke."

"I discovered that it gave me better results," Draco replied as he began to stir the cauldron.

"That's a hallucinogen!" Hermione exclaimed. "And it's addictive -"

"Mind your own experiment!" Draco snapped back.

"Draco, where did you get nonoverus? Did your father buy some for you?" Snape pulled up a stool and sat next to his student.

"I have a permit in my pocket," Draco replied. "Dad got it for me."

"Then you'd better display it, and fast. Give it to me." The Potions Master stretched his hand out. "I'm not sure that I approve of this, Draco, even coming from you. Your father bought you this, or did you buy it illegally?"

Draco produced a certificate from his robes, and handed it to Snape, not looking up from his work. He waved his wand, and a pocket watch appeared in midair, the hands ticking off the minutes. "At three minutes, twenty seconds the potion will thicken rapidly. I have to catch it at exactly three."

"Of course. The nonoverus, when heated, would turn your potion into pudding." Snape glanced at the certificate, then smoothed it out, placing it in plain view. "You never answered my question, Draco."

"He had some in his personal stores. He obtained a research permit for me the other day." Draco continued to add more water, then stirred the cauldron vigorously.

Snape nodded. "Of course. How long has he had it?"

"I don't know." Draco shot a look at Snape.

"Ah." Snape nodded. "Perhaps from his days as a potions researcher at the Ministry. He did a great deal of- " Snape cleared his throat, before continuing, " -research on the effects of nonoverus on the brain. You had some of this last night?" Draco gave an affirmative glance. "You'll have a rather nasty headache tomorrow. I'll make a potion to counteract its effects when we get back to Hogwarts."

Hermione muttered something under her breath. McGonagall shook her head and patted her affectionately. "No, dear, that's certainly not worth the trouble." As the Transfiguration teacher spoke, she opened a large trunk and pulled out a smaller transparent box. Within, a golden snitch hovered and jerked about, wings beating. She placed this on the table, and next to it a box that held several cooing white doves.

The hovering pocket watch let out a small yell and then vanished. Draco quickly drained the water into a metal bucket, and then added another ingredient. He poured what remained into a flask, and held it up to the light.

"The judges are on the move," Snape hissed.

"I'm finished," Draco replied. He tilted the potion, looked into the flask, and set it before him.

"So am I." Hermione pulled a dove from its case and began to stroke it. The dove trembled and began to coo softly.

"You'll do well, dear." Professor McGonagall beamed and took a seat. "Your experiment is most unusual, at least. The transfiguration experiment at the Durmstrang table, I daresay, can be found in any book on magical weaponry."

Draco glanced sideways at the Gryffindor prefect. She wore light blue robes in a rather becoming cut, and her hair was pulled away from her face with two sticks that held it in a twist. When she's in robes, he caught himself thinking, she actually begins to look somewhat attractive. Then he promptly mentally reprimanded himself for the thought. Mudblood. Mudblood. That's disgusting.

"Hello, Draco," a voice nearby greeted him. A girl in short yellow robes, cut to reveal brown slacks and a white shirt beneath, stood before the booth. She wore a yellow and brown tie, which matched the crest emblazoned upon her school uniform: a depiction of a kangaroo in full battle stance. Her skin was very pale beneath black hair that was divided into two braids.

"Wynde." Draco smiled a bit. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Hello, Uncle Severus." Very pale lips turned up in a smile that sat beneath a rather large nose. "Dad told me that you two were going to be here."

Snape stood up. "Wynde, I haven't seen you in years. Participating in the First Year exhibition, are you?"

Her very pale face lit up. "Just a defensive duel."

"Well, that's how it starts, doesn't it?" I might as well speak to her. She is, after all, to be my wife. Someday. Draco made his way from the booth to Wynde, and found that the eleven year old girl hardly rose to his shoulder. She'd better get taller, he added silently. "When is your exhibition? I'd like to see it."

"At two o' clock. I'm...helping the seventh years with their History of Magic diorama." She beamed as she spoke, obviously quite proud of herself. "It's quite neat, Draco. Will you come see it?"

"Sure." What should I say to her? He pondered. She may be my wife someday, but she's still twelve. "Come have lunch with me before your exhibition."

"Okay." If it were possible, she beamed even further. "I'll see you then." She glanced back at the Australia area. "My house head's calling me. I have to dash." She giggled, then ran away.

"Hm. She's a tall one, Wynde," Snape said. "You might find that she'll tower over you someday." He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "It's a good match."

"Yes," Draco replied. "A good match."

Snape ducked his head slightly, putting it at Draco's ear. "Touch her before she turns eighteen and I will kill you myself."

"I know my place," Draco said in a low voice.

"Here come the judges." Snape stood up, straightening his own robes. "We will discuss this further, Draco." He went back to the booth.

Draco followed him, sitting upon a stool. Looking up, he found that Hermione looked at him with great curiosity.

"It's none of your business," Draco said.

"Oh, I know who she is. She's pretty, Draco, your future bride." Hermione smirked.

Draco opened his mouth just as two ancient wizards rounded the corner. Sheets of parchment accompanied by quills followed them, levitating in midair. He closed his mouth and jumped to his feet.

"Ah, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall," one wizard said, offering a handshake to each. "We're glad that you could make it to the Education of Magic exhibition." He spoke with a soft American accent.

"It has been too many years, Senator Grey." McGonagall looked to the two students who now stood erect behind their projects. "Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy - this is Senator Grey of the American Congress of Magic."

"How do you do?" Hermione said with a smile.

Draco offered Senator Grey a handshake. "Draco Malfoy, sir, at your service."

"Let us hope so," Grey said with a chuckle. "Now - Miss Granger - is it? A transfiguration experiment?"

"Yes." Hermione took a deep breath. "My study was on the flight patterns of a British-manufactured Golden Snitch." She raised her wand, and tapped the clear box. The top dissipated into thin air, and the Snitch flew upwards, but hovered before her, rather than flying away. "I theorized that by transfiguring a dove into a Snitch, using the same flight specifications, the wing gyrations could be compared and replicated, and a magical syllable could therefore be deducted." She placed the dove that she held before her, and tapped it with her wand. The dove turned into a Snitch. However, it merely lay there, the wings flapping helplessly. "We all know that the Snitch is charmed with a series of spells, rather than just one. A single spell would not cover the necessary behaviour to make a Quidditch game a challenge." The Snitch-dove began to flap its wings, and joined the real Snitch in midair. "The false Snitch has a mind of its own, but still is not a Snitch. There is a difference between transfigured objects and real ones. However, isolate the magical syllable that the two have in common, and movement will be replicated." She made a quick click of a tongue, and the false Snitch began to flap at the same rate as the true one. "Finite Incantatem," she said, and a dove floated to the table, stunned. The true Snitch, unaffected by the spell due to the strength of its own charms, started to dart away, but McGonagall needed only reach out a hand and snatch it.

The judges burst into applause. "Well done, well done," Senator Grey said, and he made a gesture at one of the parchments. A quill began to make a few notes upon the parchment. "I'm already quite impressed at the original nature of this project. So, Mr. Malfoy, tell me of your potions project."

Draco rested both hands upon the table. He had prepared well. "The problem with truth serum is that it can only bring to light that which is in the conscious mind. What if a wizard had the ability to see what lay in the unconscious, as well?"

The two elderly wizards looked at one another and nodded. McGonagall and Snape exchanged worried glances. Hermione looked petrified.

"There has been great debate among potions theorists about potions that expand the inherent mental capacity of the wizard. In the early 1970s, magical neurologist Dr. Tom Protalgia discovered that though it cannot be said that wizards are telepathic, some, especially pureblooded ones, have higher abilities in concentration, awareness of the magical world, and awareness of the forces that cannot be seen, yet all are aware of its existence." Draco glanced at Hermione as he spoke. Her cheeks flushed. "I have created a potion that manipulates these abilities. When consumed by, say, a Ministry Investigator, one can see the unconscious within another person for a short time. While not perfect in its ability to view symbolic imagery, it can allow a glimpse, though small, into the mind of another."

Senator Grey said, "This strikes me as a rather dangerous experiment, Mr. Malfoy, though insightful. I'm afraid that I cannot award credit without proof, however."

"I can give you proof," Draco continued, uncorking the potion bottle.

"And do you have an anecdote should your experiment fail?" Senator Grey cast a worried glance at Snape.

"I have the ability of correcting any negative side-effects, Senator," Snape replied. "I assure you that Mr. Malfoy has had my supervision in this experiment."

"I'm not sure I'm fond of experiments such as this," the Senator continued. "But I will give you leeway, Mr. Malfoy, as you are in the presence of two great potions masters, my colleague here included."

Draco looked from face to face, then put the potion to his lips. He tipped his head back, and swallowed the entire potion. He found it almost tasteless, as if he drunk water. In Dad's day, he thought, they'd mix the nonoverus with a clear drink and take it all.

"In a few seconds, as soon as my body absorbs the fluid -" Draco paused in his speech, then wavered. His vision began to twist, and the wizards and witches began to vanish, one by one. "Ah, there we go."

Then it was as if gravity had doubled, and Draco fell to the floor. He heard Hermione gasp, and the shuffling of boots against the stone floor.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you alright?" The form of Senator Grey appeared before him, just instead of robes, he wore a women's girdle and a pink lacy bra.

Draco began to laugh. "It works. I can see your unconscious - all of you."

A young man leaned against the wall, drinking a large bottle of rum straight from the bottle. "Senator Grey, should we call for help?"

Then, Dumbledore knelt down beside Draco. The young wizard frowned in confusion. Where did he come from? He thought.

"Malfoy, tell us what you see." Dumbledore spoke with the voice of Severus Snape.

"You'd likely be insulted," Draco said, turning his head away from the Dumbledore-figure. "Perhaps I'd best not, though McGonagall makes a lovely ballerina."

The tall, tutu-clad woman that stood near his legs blushed. "How did you know that I..."

And then, black robes swept around him, and Lucius Malfoy knelt by Draco's side.

"It would likely be best to just get him some water. He didn't use enough to cause an effect of more than ten minutes or so." The Lucius-figure spoke with Hermione's voice.

Draco stared at Lucius/Hermione. "I don't understand."

"Well, though it seems that you both worked very hard on your projects, it is rather hard to see the results..." Senator Grey began.

"Does anyone have a pensieve?" Lucius/Hermione inquired, head snapping up. "We'd be able to see what he sees."

"I might." Senator Grey's colleague stood up, wavered, then took a long drink from his bottle. "My office is down the street. Let me check." He closed his eyes, Apparating away with a popping noise.

"I don't understand," Draco repeated. He reached out for Hermione.

"Draco," he/she said calmly. "What do you see?"

"Something that I don't understand." He touched the robes of the figure, and felt cotton under his fingertips, not the nubby silk that his father wore in the fall.

"I dreamt of being a ballerina when I was a small girl." Professor McGonagall sat upon an empty bed, her eyes far away as she spoke. "My Mum sent me to lessons with Muggles as a way of teaching me about their world. I never fit in with the other girls, and quit the classes in tears." She looked down at the trophy that she held in both hands. "I haven't thought of it in decades."

Draco stared at the infirmary ceiling. "I am alright," he muttered.

"Yes, but I'm keeping you overnight for observation." Madame Pomfrey glared down at him as she handed him a glass of water. "Keep drinking water. Nonoverus root. Really. I thought I was done treating nonoverus root reactions in the seventies."

Draco looked to Hermione. She stared at her own trophy before raising her face. Her eyes met Draco's, and then both looked away.

The doors to the infirmary flew open. "Where is he? I'm going to kill him!" A proper voice shouted.

Draco turned, and saw his father striding across the room. "Dad?" He asked uncertainly. "Is that you?"

Lucius Malfoy seized both of his son's shoulders and pinned him against the bed. "Are you mad?" He roared.

"Yes, it's you," Draco said in a small voice.

"You told me that your experiment involved your owl...You told me that you were using your owl - ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, boy? Please tell me that you at least WON!" Lucius shouted.

"Oh, he won." Severus Snape rose from a chair. "And insulted the American magical community in the process, but that wasn't his fault, really."

Lucius rose changing the focus of his glare to the Potions Master. "You allowed him to ingest an illegal hallucinogen. You, of all wizards - "

"I know the anecdote." Snape's voice remained calm. "He was never in any danger. And his invention won our school several prizes, despite his very stupid execution of the experiment."

Lucius turned back to Draco. "I want to speak to you alone." He looked to McGonagall, then to Snape.

"No, sir, that's not possible. He needs his rest," Madame Pomfrey said, appearing at the door to her office.

"I just wish to speak to my son." Lucius smoothed out his voice, appearing suddenly quite calmer. "How about I pull the curtain?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "The curtain will give you privacy. Alright, then - Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Miss Granger - out you go. You've had a long, tiresome day. Go, go, go."

Draco saw that Hermione had stood, but not moved otherwise. She stared at Lucius calmly, her face unreadable.

"Miss Granger, do you mind?" Lucius's voice shifted, and became cold.

She kept her eyes trained on the elder Malfoy as she slowly walked out of the room. Madame Pomfrey disappeared into her office, and Lucius pulled the curtain around the bed.

"If you were at home, you would be restricted to the grounds of the manor," Lucius hissed, pulling a chair to the side of the bed.

"I was never in any danger, Dad," Draco replied. "You used it all the time when you were my age, and not for a potions experiment, either."

"That doesn't excuse it," Lucius said. "Damn you, Draco."

"We won, didn't we?" Draco smiled. "I'm a credit to Slytherin house."

"You would have been without having a modified nonoverus trip," Lucius muttered. Then he paused, his visage changing. "You saw the unconscious of those around you?" He tilted his head. "What did you see?

How much should I tell him? That I saw Snape as Dumbledore, or Hermione as him? It makes no sense. None at all. He licked his lips. "Nothing important. A lot of people hiding their worst secrets."

"Of course." Lucius's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "That's what you invented. Tell me what you saw."

Draco turned to look at his father. "I saw you. I saw Hermione Granger as you."

The room grew quiet. Slowly, all colour drained from Lucius's face.

"If you are lying for some sick sort of vengeance," he said in a very dead voice, "I will forgive you."

"Why did Hermione turn into you?" Draco inquired.

"Tell me that you're lying." Lucius grabbed Draco's arm.

Draco looked at his father. "What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure." Lucius's grip released, and he seemed to be searching for words. "Tell no one else what you have seen." He rose from the chair. "I must go. Don't do any further experiments with the potion until we speak again." He parted the curtains and strode from the room.

Draco stepped into the Headmaster's office from the spinning staircase. "Yes, sir?"

"Ah. Come." Dumbledore stood near Fawkes' perch, and was feeding the bird what appeared to be an orange. "Sit. We should talk." He petted the phoenix, who made a soft cooing noise.

Draco took a seat next to the Headmaster's desk, yet did not speak until he was spoken to.

Dumbledore took his own seat, wiping his hands upon a cloth. "I thought that you, as Slytherin prefect, should know the news first, so that you may call your house together and speak to them. Professor Snape has resigned from the school, effective immediately. He left early this morning."

If the ancient wizard had stood and tap-danced upon his desk, Draco would have been less surprised. "What? Why?"

"He received a very large offer from the Parliament of Magic in Russia. To be honest, had I received the same offer, I would not have refused." Dumbledore chuckled to himself. "He will have a chance to study dangerous magics - something that has been a hobby of his since he was a boy."

"But he belongs here," Draco insisted. "He belongs here."

Dumbledore blinked, then smiled. "Ah, but Draco, you know that he has never been happy here. He is a researcher - an excellent one, and a good teacher, but he'd prefer the research. We were almost wasting his talents. You do realize that he was better at charms and wandwork than potions?" Draco shook his head. "If anything, your father excelled at potions far more than Professor Snape - which reminds me." He folded his hands. "Your father has asked if he might be interim House Head for Slytherin. I believe that it would be a splendid idea."

But my father was the one who tried to have you sacked. Draco's mood shifted drastically from upset to surprise. "He never mentioned it."

"This has all transpired in the past few hours," Dumbledore replied. "Your father has no desire to be a teacher - and certainly the Ministry pays far better. We can cancel potions classes until we find a replacement for Professor Snape, but we cannot leave Slytherin House unattended, even in your own capable hands, I'm afraid. Your father will take over Professor Snape's quarters tonight before dinner, then join me at the faculty table. I'm sure that you find this arrangement less unpleasant with the change of circumstance?"

"Yes." Draco nodded. "It's - better."

"Good," Dumbledore said. "And another thing - your research on the nonovarus potion." The ancient wizard sighed, then continued. "I commend your zeal for scholarship and experimentation, which is why I did not punish you for doing an experiment that could have threatened your life. However, I am concerned about the nature of the study. I'd like to ask for your discretion, as I know that you won't listen to me when I ask that you do not continue the experiments. Any secrets that you discover through your work must be kept just that - secrets. To become a Rita Skeeter will lose you all respect in the magical community, and no one will offer you a single position after your graduation, despite your family name. I do hope you realize that I am being serious."

Draco said nothing, but dropped his gaze.

"You may go." Dumbledore waved at the door, then rose, returning to Fawkes' perch.

There's something not right here, Draco thought as he rose, going to the revolving staircase. What is Dumbledore up to?