With Good Intentions

With quiet moves to assist muggle and magical families throughout the war-created ghettos, Lucius Malfoy pumped galleons and pounds sterling at a dizzying rate (into his first constituency) through a labyrinth of magical and muggle enterprises and establishments that housed, clothed and treated children impacted by the war. 

In the war-torn muggle world, Lucius’ “investments” meant governments could now move like a maelstrom to correct collapsed infrastructures and collapsed lives resulting from an otherworldly apocalypse yet to be explained to its citizen survivors. In the war-weary wizarding world, “villages” went up in near record time, providing housing, local employment (with subsidiaries of Malfoy Enterprises), primary and elementary schools and, most importantly, clinics.

In so doing, Lucius Malfoy became a beacon and an icon of how to make amends to those Molly Weasley preferred to overlook, isolate or deport.

“What’s brings you to my office today, Lady Malfoy? You know I can’t interfere with the Wizengamot in your husband’s behalf.”

Dressed like an aristocrat, Britain’s brightest witch executed her part of the plan to perfection.

“I could use your assistance. The lottery for homes in Restoration Village is this Friday and I’m concerned for the safety of the participants; over 250 homes are at stake.”

“Can’t spare any aurors to protect galleon transfer—”

Her smile stopped his carefully worded retreat.

“The lottery will transfer homes, for 1 to 5 sickles each, to families who can prove they need them due to the war. Lack of housing is still a huge issue in our community — the ghettos could breed a revolution.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt recognized that, in spades. Only this time he’d be the target of their wrath.

“I can see…” he considered, “where it might become heated for those who lose a chance at ‘low-cost’ housing” he finished, using a term he’d learned from the muggle Prime Minister.

“— or for those who don’t want anyone to have that housing because my husband is building them.”

Neither mentioned Molly Weasley by name.

“Is this a one-off?”

Both understood what this kind of effort could mean for war-ravaged Britain.

“No, we have three more under construction and plan to build another five villages on land Malfoy Enterprises owns if these are successful. Our goal is ten villages, hopefully 5000 homes, before the election — if I can keep Lucius out of jail.  Our marriage contract prevents me from directing company initiatives like this one; only blood Malfoys can, according to the trust magic. And he’s the last living Malfoy.”

Both understood what this kind of effort could mean for a still politically ambitious Minister.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you; we’d hate to have to delay or cancel due to public safety concerns. People need this. They need to heal.”

“It’s good to see you, Hermione. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t…” and she departed, her version of Lucius’ smug smile spreading across her face.

It never paid to cross the smartest witch of that time.