Chapter 106: Lucius is furious
"Thank you," said Lucius Malfoy, staring at the ground.
In front of him was Arthur Weasley, who had brought Draco back. Lucius stood at the entrance of his beautifully decorated striped silk tent, a rare blush on his pale, stiff, and unruly face.
"You're welcome." Mr. Weasley also looked at the ground. He was made uncomfortable by Lucius' brief but rare words of thanks.
Lucius coughed awkwardly, raised his head and glanced at Arthur.
Thanking a mortal enemy in every sense of the word, a pure-blood traitor with completely different ideas from him, was not something Lucius Malfoy was good at or enjoyed; if anyone in the pure-blood wizarding circle knew what he was doing at this moment, they would probably ridicule him for several years.
"Then I'll be leaving first." Arthur Weasley said to him with an inexplicable smile, and even glanced at his son obscurely.
For some reason, Lucius sensed a sense of schadenfreude in his expression, although he didn't understand where this emotion came from.
Arthur Weasley, he's not—is he up to something? He pursed his lips and thought, glancing at him warily.
However, the tall, thin, red-haired wizard did not stay for long or say anything. He turned around and walked away briskly.
"Oh, yes, see you later," Lucius said loudly. He rested his hands on his snake-head cane and stared at Mr. Weasley's departing back for a moment in confusion, still not sure what the other party was up to.
After a while, Lucius suddenly woke up. He turned his head and looked sternly at his son who had been missing in the middle of the night.
Very good, no arms or legs missing...but his hair was messy, his face was pale, his clothes were wrinkled, and his shoes were a little muddy, as if he had rolled in the grass in the Forbidden Forest.
"Come back to the tent with me, now!" Lucius said coldly, and took the lead in stepping into the door with striped silk draped over it.
Narcissa had been waiting for them in the living room. As soon as Draco stepped into the tent, she rushed over and hugged her long-lost son tightly. "Little dragon! Finally...thank Merlin!"
There was no trace of blood on her face, a few strands of hair were scattered from her elegant bun, and the exquisite dress she wore to the banquet had some wrinkles on it.
Narcissa didn't care to maintain her graceful demeanor. She kissed her son's forehead fiercely, tears welling in her blue eyes as she frantically searched for his hands, arms, and legs. "Oh, little dragon, are you all right?"
"No, I'm fine, Mom." Draco obediently let his mother check him up and down and smiled at her.
"I'm glad you're okay, I'm glad you're okay!" After checking, Narcissa saw that he was fine, just a little dirty, and the worry on her face finally subsided a little.
"Explain!" Lucius, who was already sitting in the armchair in the living room, said to Draco with a cold face.
"Oh, Lucius, don't be so mean to him!" Narcissa glared at Lucius, then pulled Draco to sit on the sofa next to her and slowed down her tone. "Little Dragon, tell Mom, where have you been? Do you know how anxious we were when we rushed back to look for you and found you weren't in the tent? Mom didn't dare go anywhere... Your father ran around all night looking for you..."
Lucius snorted coldly, and Draco realized that his father's long, flowing hair, which he was so proud of, had a few tangles and his face looked a little haggard.
"I'm sorry, Mom..." Draco looked down at the tip of his shoe, trying his best to look pitiful. "I heard something was wrong outside, and I got scared, so I ran into the woods with everyone else..."
"Hmph!" Lucius sank into a comfortable armchair and said disdainfully, "You've been spoiled by your mother! You're scared of such a small thing. You don't have any courage at all..."
"He's still just a child! Of course he's scared!" Narcissa stroked Draco's hair lovingly. "He must have suffered a lot tonight..."
His mother's hand was warm and gentle. This made his eyes, which had been calm and indifferent, suddenly moisten. He had been running around all night, frightened, and even being accused of contempt by Barty Crouch in front of everyone, but he had been holding on all the time.
If Hermione's protection tonight made the icy shell wrapped around his heart begin to loosen; now, his father's clumsy concerns and his mother's gentle words finally made his hard shell collapse completely.
"Don't be so useless! Explain why you were sent back by that pure-blood traitor Arthur Weasley?" Lucius saw his listless look, his eyes flashed, and he said in an indifferent tone.
"Something happened... I ran into some Hogwarts classmates..." Draco wisely didn't say which classmates they were. He sniffed and said to his father, "Later, someone released the Dark Mark nearby... Officials from the Ministry of Magic arrived one after another - he was one of them. After the incident was over, he sent me back."
"Draco, did you see someone place the Dark Mark?" Lucius's face showed confusion and fear at the same time. "Did you see who it was?"
"No, it was too dark and he escaped," Draco said simply.
"Tell me more about the Ministry officials. Did anyone give you any trouble?" Lucius rubbed his forehead distractedly.
"There's only one person—Barty Crouch—who thinks I placed the Dark Mark," Draco deadpanned.
Narcissa's hand suddenly stopped, and she held her son's hand worriedly - and found that his hand was a little cold.
"Ina," she summoned an older house-elf, "make the young master a cup of hot cocoa, immediately." Upon hearing this, the elf immediately bowed and withdrew to prepare a hot drink for his mistress's poor, devastated son.
On the other side, hearing that Crouch dared to embarrass his son, Lucius suddenly sat up straight and shouted, "He dares!"
"He certainly dared. He even pointed the tip of his wand at my face." Draco's face remained calm. "Don't worry, Mum, I didn't suffer any harm. Mr. Weasley spoke for me, as did a lady in a woolen dressing gown from the Ministry."
"Who is that?" Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief and continued to ask.
"She had a square jaw, wore a monocle, and had thick eyebrows. She seemed to be quite familiar with Crouch, as she called him 'Barty' instead of his surname." Draco recalled, "She said she had a niece in the same grade as me."
"That must be Amelia Bones," Narcissa said thoughtfully. "The Bones family is a famous family, but unfortunately there are only a few left, and only she and her niece are left to depend on each other. I must thank -"
"Okay, Cissy, don't forget how the Bones family died. They won't welcome you." Lucius wrinkled his nose and continued to ask his son, "What else happened?"
"Later, my classmates also testified on my behalf..." Draco roughly told them some of the circumstances at the scene: the house-elf Winky holding the wand, and the conclusions reached by the Ministry of Magic officials.
After hearing this, Narcissa's face showed disgust. "Crouch is such a vindictive villain! He's using public power to settle personal grudges... He's got a lot of problems of his own, and yet he dares to doubt Draco!"
She was very angry about the fact that her beloved son was falsely accused in public.
Lucius also gritted his teeth for a moment, his eyes flashing with malice.
"Barty Crouch - isn't he the one who cares most about his reputation? Humph... house-elves are running around with other people's wands in their hands, violating wizarding laws. Crouch's lax management is a scandal for the Ministry of Magic... This sounds like good news!" he said grimly.
Narcissa had regained some of her composure by now, and she glanced at her furious husband with a carefree air. "Yes, that's what we'll do. I know a reporter—Rita Skeeter—something like that." She handed the hot cocoa to her little dragon and watched him drink it.
Lucius looked at his wife and nodded.
He suddenly raised his head again, looking at Draco with cold eyes, and asked suspiciously, "Who are your classmates? They are not Gryffindor classmates, are they?"
"Harry Potter," Draco said calmly.
If Harry were mentioned, Lucius would probably lose his temper. He always had a mysterious fear of Harry, believing that Harry was gifted and could be the next Dark Lord.
Unexpectedly, Lucius didn't give up, but snorted. "Is there a Weasley child? Otherwise, why would Arthur Weasley come all the way to see you off?"
"I don't get to decide who I meet tonight, Father." Draco continued sipping his hot cocoa without raising his eyelids. "I don't get to decide who Harry Potter chooses as his friend."
Lucius frowned, as if pondering something. He stroked his snake-head cane and spoke slowly, "Tonight, in the grandstand box, I've been observing him. The famous Harry Potter... He seems mediocre, no different from the blood traitor Weasley child—and that child isn't even the best in the Weasley family."
Draco was slightly surprised and looked at Lucius calmly.
Unexpectedly, his father actually took the opportunity to observe Harry - he originally thought that his father had put all his energy into making friends with the Ministry of Magic officials in the top box.
At that time, his mind was on Hermione and he didn't pay much attention to where his parents' eyes were directed.
What had Harry and Ron done tonight? The only thing they'd done out of the ordinary was probably losing their composure in front of the Veela. Wasn't that normal? Almost all the officials in the top box behaved poorly the moment the Veela appeared.
"What is the basis for your judgment that he is mediocre?" Draco couldn't help but ask.
"What is the basis for your judgment that he is worthy of making friends?" Lucius asked him with a hint of contempt on his face.
"I told you about the Chamber of Secrets incident. This has proved that he is no ordinary person. Whether it is destroying the basilisk or damaging the diary, it is not something an ordinary boy can do easily." Draco said.
"Basilisk, wasn't it Dumbledore's phoenix that helped him? As for the diary, it's just a dark magic item left over from the Dark Lord's time. It's not the Dark Lord himself, so what can it mean..." Lucius said disapprovingly.
No. A trace of guilt crossed Draco's face.
Even though the diary didn't contain the Dark Lord himself, it was no less dangerous—a small piece of the Dark Lord's soul was in it.
Draco had been hiding the matter of the Horcrux from his parents.
For now, the less they knew about Horcruxes, the better—until their inclinations were fully determined.
In his previous life, one of the main reasons why Lucius jumped to the Dark Lord's camp so resolutely was that when he felt the call of the Dark Mark on his wrist, the Dark Lord had already been resurrected.
This is an established fact and no one can resist it.
If Lucius refused the Dark Lord's summons, he would probably be used as a warning to others and die in his bed at Malfoy Manor the next morning.
But if the Dark Lord's resurrection plan was delayed and not realized, what would be Lucius' attitude?
You know, in the decade or so since the Dark Lord's fall, Lucius hadn't once attempted to find his former master. Instead, he'd immediately claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse, cleared himself, and returned to his position as head of the Malfoy family. Now, he'd gotten along well with officials at the Ministry of Magic, no one could cause him any trouble, and he was living a carefree life.
Would his father, who lived such a perfectly comfortable life, be willing to give up his stable life and gamble his life for a 50-50 future? Draco was a little skeptical.
"What? Nothing to say?" Lucius didn't know what Draco was thinking. Seeing that he didn't say anything for a long time, he asked unhappily.
"Harry Potter... after all, he defeated the Dark Lord at such a young age." Draco guessed his father's thoughts and said pointedly, "From what I know, Dumbledore has always paid considerable attention to him and shown favoritism since he enrolled. If he didn't have any outstanding qualities, how could the busy Hogwarts headmaster go to so much trouble and devote so much effort to him?"
"That makes sense." Narcissa supported her beloved son. "Dumbledore is no fool. This move must have a deeper meaning. Lucius, Xiaolong has done a great job. He can make friends with the boy from the Potter family, which may open up another path for our family in the future. What's wrong with that? It's not worth your fussing and nitpicking..."
"Cissy, it's not that simple. You know, it's easy to get on Albus Dumbledore's ship, but it's hard to get off. Otherwise, why have I kept my distance from him all these years? Moreover, he is a wizard from an ancient pure-blood family, but he has fallen into depravity and deals with all kinds of people - pure-blood traitors, Muggle-borns, Squibs, half-werewolves, and maybe even half-giants..." Facing Narcissa, Lucius' attitude softened a lot, and he expressed his concerns in a stable manner.
Narcissa's expression wavered when she heard the names of these people listed by Lucius. She felt that her husband had some truth in what he said.
Lucius won over the weak support from his sister, Cissy, and turned his face to his son again: "I think you need to be punished - as punishment for running around; and you made me have to thank Arthur Weasley, the pure blood traitor, which is really embarrassing..."
"Lucius!" Narcissa protested. "We shouldn't have left him alone in the tent!"
"Our tent is fine, there is no danger at all! No one dares to touch the Malfoy family!" Lucius said impatiently.
"That being said—" Narcissa murmured.
No one dared to touch the Malfoy family... What did that mean? Could it be that his father was really involved in the Death Eaters' activities tonight? Draco frowned slightly.
He took another sip of his hot cocoa, thinking he might have gotten some courage from Hermione tonight. He raised his head and looked at Lucius's expression. "Father, are you really going to meet the Bulgarian Minister of Magic tonight?"
"What do you mean? What do you think your mother and I did tonight? Are you doubting your father?" Lucius's face became even uglier, and there was a fierce light in his eyes. He looked as if he had been terribly offended.
"Of course not. But I bet you can guess who set the fire." Draco did not answer his question directly, but cleverly changed the angle.
"Do I need to guess? It's too obvious! That bunch of good-for-nothings who make trouble when they're drunk! They don't even consider what kind of occasion this is and actually created the Dark Mark! This will have a very bad international impact on the wizarding world. We've only had peace for a few days? The Ministry of Magic will definitely not let this go..." Lucius said with a bad face.
Apparently, my father didn't participate in the parade tonight. He still had his banquet clothes on.
Draco finally felt relieved. The fact that his father had not participated in the Death Eater march had opened Draco's eyes to a certain possibility - he might be a complete supporter of pure-blood supremacy, but that didn't mean he wanted to live a risky and turbulent life because of his bloodline.
He secretly looked at his father, calculating how much Lucius was wavering between the black and white camps at the moment, and whether he might be more inclined to the white side.
"Okay, Lucius, don't make things difficult for my poor little dragon." Narcissa interrupted her husband's complaints and looked at her beloved son sadly. "He needs a good bath and more importantly, he needs rest. Let's go home as soon as possible. I'm tired of the chaos here..."
"All right, all right, Cissy, don't be upset." Lucius raised his hands in surrender, rising from his armchair. "I know someone who can get me a Portkey right away, without having to wait until morning. Let's go now."
The people Lucius and Narcissa "knew" were always very efficient. Not only the wizard in the Portkey Office, but also some wizards who were good with the pen - Rita Skeeter.
The next morning, as Draco was cutting into a tender Angus steak on the dining table at Malfoy Manor, Lucius slammed a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table in front of Draco.
"See!" His face was cold, but there was a hint of pride in his tone.
Draco glanced at the front page. "Ministry of Magic in panic... criminals eluding capture... lax law and order... Dark wizards at large... a national disgrace..."
Draco looked up at his father - he was already sitting opposite him, skillfully cutting a steak for his daughter, Cissy.
"Read it out." Feeling his gaze, Lucius smiled arrogantly and ordered his son.
"A senior official of the Ministry of Magic may be involved. According to insiders, the Dark Mark that appeared above the woods may be closely related to the official's house-elf. Although the official has been tough in his stance against the Dark Lord in the past, we cannot ignore the fact that his family was once a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord... How to calm the storm, conduct internal investigations, and appease the panicked wizards are issues that the Ministry of Magic urgently needs to solve." Draco read the article word for word.
"Tell me what you think." Lucius asked his son across from him.
He shouldn't have asked that question. He had redeemed his son, restored his dignity, and punished the fool who had dared to be rude to a Malfoy.
But Draco seemed calm—too calm. His face was impassive, not even a trace of joy. This was not something any 14-year-old boy could achieve, especially one who had avenged his humiliation.
This made Lucius feel a subtle sense of loss of control. For a moment, he couldn't quite understand his son's thoughts.
Son... Is he satisfied or dissatisfied? Lucius was slightly puzzled.
Across the table, Draco folded up his newspaper and said calmly, "I think Mr. Crouch won't be able to sleep."
"He deserves it," Lucius confirmed, hearing a hint of amusement in his son's words.
So, he felt relieved, a hint of determination flashed in his gray eyes, "Draco, remember, no one can falsely accuse a Malfoy without bearing the consequences."
Draco smiled at his father and was finally able to pick up his knife and fork again and deal with the steak.
Yes, Father Lucius has always implemented the rules of the Malfoy family: I will not offend others unless they offend me; if someone offends me, I will repay them a hundredfold.