Touching Words
Touching Words
Touching Words
Set during the summer before Chamber of Secrets. 1st person PoV of Lucius Malfoy. Non-chronological. Story told mostly through memories, flashbacks, etc. Minor changes of canon material regarding the way the diary works.
Author's Note: Lucius is in a bit of a shock during this chapter, as you can probably tell.
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Chapter 1
I had been curious about the book my Lord entrusted me with all those years ago for a long time. It looked like a simple diary, Muggle in design, even.
But it was my Lord’s and thus I always knew it had to be much more than that. I might have found the Muggle appearance distasteful, but I could not—cannot—deny its usefulness in making the object seem innocent to the clouded eyes of mudbloods and blood-traitors, concealing its true goal from them.
For the innocent appearance was just meant to deceive. Knowing my Lord as I do, I was certain of it, even before.
Of course, I was correct. After all, I am Lord Malfoy, am I not? To read other people, their personality, their motivation, their actions… is it not taught to us from birth, fed to us with the milk from our mothers’ breasts? We are born Slytherins, after all.
But not even I could have guessed just how much more there was to it, how deceiving that innocent-looking, Muggle-appearing diary was. How much of my Lord’s personality could be observed even from just a trinket of His.
During the past few years, since his disappearance—not death, for has He not walked the path towards immortality further than any before Him? Had He not been so much stronger than any before Him?—I am loathe to admit that I had almost forgotten how strong He was. Almost, but never fully.
How strong He is, I remind myself, for surely He will return in full glory some day. Is He not too strong to have died from the hands of a mere toddler? No, He shall return.
As I have always known, of course, but I have become even more aware of it in recent times. Very recent times.
I opened the book He entrusted in my care in the hopes of finding... not its purpose or goal, I remind myself, not its secrets. Not His secrets. Never His secrets.
No, I did so in the hopes of finding a hint, a sign that might lead me to Him, so that I could assist Him in His noble goals, as I always have.
I found more than I had ever dared expect, more than I could have hoped for. More than I had dared to wish for.
Perhaps more than I would have wished for?
I shake my head, clearing out those traitorous thoughts. I am, have always been and always will be loyal to Him and Him alone. Have I not proven so for year upon year?
I may have claimed differently during the trials, but He will understand. After all, I am of more use to Him this way than as confirmed Death Eater.
If what I found is more than I would have wished for, it is solely because I would not have known to wish for it, for through the diary He entrusted to me, He has shown to have access to magic I could not even have dreamed of. Magic I did not realize existed in this world.
The tremors through my body are signs of relief, of having the certainty that my Lord is not gone. With my mind, I always knew, but to my regret I have to admit that my heart has not always been that certain.
My heart is beating loud and fast in my chest from joy and my breathing is irregular only because of amazement at the sheer power and knowledge my Lord must have access to, to be able to create this… miraculous object.
I do not fear His return, for to me that would be only a cause of the greatest possible joy, to bow before Him and serve Him and His great cause again. I know He will understand my lies that allowed me to escape prosecution, for is it not my reputation that will help Him in the long run? My influence? No, I need not fear His wrath.
It is not fear, let alone full-blown panic. It is relief and joy and excitement and amazement. It is happiness. Not fear. If I was caught unexpectedly, it is only because His powers are beyond what I can imagine, not because I had started to believe in the tales spread by mudbloods and blood-traitors, claiming Him to be gone forever, beaten by a toddler of not even pure blood and lineage.
I am not afraid. I am not shocked. I am not upset. I am merely in awe of my Lord’s great power and touched once-more by the trust He has shown me by giving this diary to me to keep it safe for Him.
Even more so now than before, now that I am aware of the grand magic He must have used to create this artefact.
I am not trying to get rid of it by giving it to the youngest brat of Weasley. I am not breaking my Lord’s trust in me.
For my decision has nothing to do with any kind of unease I might hypothetically feel about being near this artefact any longer. Nothing to do with the way it chose to show me its powers.
No, I am merely doing what I believe—no, what I am certain—He would want me to do. For this artefact would be able to solve our problems in one go. For with its powers, it would start a process that may well wipe out several of my—ours, HIS—enemies, reduce their political influence and standing, get rid of some of the pollution of the Wizarding World and, for a price, return Him to full glory.
Who better to pay that price than the spawn of a bloodtraitor?
To Be Continued...
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