The Malfoy Project

𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚞𝚜 #𝟸 - 𝙰 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝙱𝚢 𝙰𝚗𝚢 𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎

     ✼¹

     It was a strange time for Bas and I, our Third Year.

     The Minister for Magic at the time was one Nobby Leach, a Mudblood - Muggle-born - who caused ripples amongst the more... respectable members of wizarding society. Perhaps 'ripples' was too delicate a word. There was an uproar - it was an absolute travesty, a Mudblood telling us what to do!

     Barely five years into his term as Minister, Leach suddenly abdicated his position. It had come out of the blue. The Daily Prophet published a press release: health complications, Eugenia Jenkins would replace him - not ideal, for she was a woman and of neutral political stance, but at least she of a relatively acceptable lineage.

     They were upon Father like hound dogs before we could celebrate. Poisoned, they asserted. It was Abraxas Malfoy.

     Proceeding that was a whirlwind of Auror inquiries and important-looking people coming to our house. Doughy faces bobbing in black cloaks and tipped with fedora hats strode up the walkway, flashed their identification, and were led inside straight to Father's study with no tea and no biscuits.

     Bas and I were called home in the middle of the school term to participate. One by one, like the dial of a rotary telephone, they took turns sitting down with us. Their questions were all about Father. Does he have breakfast at home? Lunch? Dinner? Where does he go, and with whom, do you know? Be honest, now. Does he have visitors? Can you name them? Yes, all of them. What time do they come and what time do they leave? Think carefully.

     The stress of it all reduced Mother to a whimpering mess. She shuddered at the visitors and moaned and sighed for the elves to fetch her calming draughts or herbs or this or that, and locked herself away in the master bedroom for hours on end.

     "I told you," Bas nudged me one time and gestured to the closed study door, behind which we could hear the hushed, urgent murmurings of the Aurors when we pressed our ears up against it. "Bad things."

     I still didn't believe him. And in moments of weakness when I felt inclined to do so, I told myself whatever insidious plot Father had participated in - if he had at all - must've been for good reason. Nobby Leach was a Mudblood. We were pure-bloods, real magic flowed through our veins like ambrosia of the gods. Should it not have been one of us who was Minister instead? It just didn't seem very proper to me. With Nobby Leach gone, things were set back in balance. Everything was as it should be.

     I kept these thoughts to myself, however, because every time I tried to argue with Bas, he'd pinch me and hit me back with an argument I was never able to counter. He made me feel stupid and small. I was tired of feeling stupid and small.

     Fortunately for us, the inquiries never amounted to anything. Father was exonerated from any claims or accusations. The dough-faced men stopped coming and Mother went back to lounging in her green silk gowns and expensive perfumes.

     Bas and I went back to school, and Bas carried on doing what he did best, and that was everything. He made the Slytherin Quidditch team while simultaneously managing to stump all the professors with his aptitude in every class. It was like his mind had put on magic running shoes and couldn't stop. The girls giggled at his witty jokes and the boys loved striking up banter with him. He was almost never seen without friends by his side.

     Amidst the thrilling rush of success, Bas remembered himself by trying not to leave me behind. When he saw that I was floundering in homework, he skipped Quidditch practices to tutor me. He made sure I was included in all the conversations, despite me never showing interest, and walked with me to and from classes.