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“Uncle Rabastan, when are they coming back?” the almost-four-year-old curiously asked, looking excitedly out the bay windows.“After dinner, Lysa, and they’ve got a surprise for you.” Rabastan Lestrange, a young and handsome wizard with dark features, teased.“It’s not a surprise! I know they went to the healer. I’m gonna be a big sister!”“I’m going to be, not gonna.”“Fine, going to be, then.” She wriggled in her seat, watching the afternoon rain pitter-patter across the expansive estate yard and splash up against the cold class window. “I don’t want to wait that long. I want them here now. I want to see my baby brother!”“I know you do,” Rabastan picked the child up and flung her over his shoulder, “let’s get you dressed. You want to make a good first impression, don’t you?”Lysagora giggled and squealed when her uncle started tickling her, “Okay, okay! Stop it! Dobby! Make him stop!” A pop from the hallway indicated the presence of the house-elf, a sorry looking thing with long ears and bulging eyes. It held the study’s door open as Rabastan carried his niece upstairs.The wizard curled his lip at the sight of Dobby’s filthy pillow-case uniform, “Get that thing washed, nasty creature, light the fires and start dinner, your Master will be home in mere hours.”“Yes, Master Lestrange, sir,” the house-elf simpered miserably, “right away, sir.”Rabastan carried his little niece up winding staircases and through long, dark hallways lined with family portraits. His heels clicked on the marble floor. In the east wing, he set the girl down. “Pick out a dress for dinner and I’ll read you a story.”Lysagora’s steel-blue eyes lit up with joy, “The one about Daenerys and the dragons?”“Is that your favourite? You always ask for it.”“Mhmm, Father says I’m going to grow up and be just like her. The numerligist said so.”“Numerologist.”“Numerologist.”“So you’re going to conquer the world with an army of dragons, little Lysa?”“Yes. It’ll all be mine! The whole world!” She bounced on her feet excitedly, throwing her arms out wide, and at this moment Rabastan went in for the attack. He scooped her up and tickled her tummy while she squealed and laughed.“All right then, my little dragon queen, go pick a dress.”“You have to put me down first!” As quickly as her uncle let her down, she tore off through the doors of her bedroom and straight to her wardrobe, flinging the doors wide. She pushed blouses, trousers, and skirts aside and pulled down an armload of frilly dresses, then another, and a third still. She piled the dresses on top of one another and carried as many as her tiny arms hold, and she was proud to say she didn’t drop a single dress. One by one, she went through them all: velvet, silk, wool, black, red, yellow, lace, ribbon, button, zip…. Rabastan sat patiently through it all, waiting on the settee for her decision. “Do you think he’d like this one?” Lysagora held up a light blue dress with white owl feathers printed all over it.“Who?”Lysagora pouted, “My baby brother!”“I’m sure he’ll like whatever you decide, Lysa; you’re his big sister after all.” Rabastan tucked a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, “Now get changed. I’ll wait for you in the library.”“Okay.”Within minutes Lysagora had changed into her dinner dress, though she struggled with the bow in the back. Uncle Rabastan had chuckled at her before pulling out his wand and fixing it up proper. In the Malfoy family library, the two sat in a deep black leather armchair before a low, crackling fire. It was summer, but the manor had always been draughty and the afternoon rain certainly hadn’t made anything warmer.Lysagora sat squirming in her uncle’s lap, and Rabastan held a colourful hard-back book in front of her. “Long ago, in the age of ancient magick, there was a mighty king named Aegon of Valyria. His home was called Dragonstone, and all of his blood had one very special talent. They spoke Valyrian, the dragon-tongue.” As he spoke, he ran his fingers over the words on the pages, letting Lysagora follow along and take in the pictures - shimmering sea and landscapes, ancient castles, and soaring dragons. He let her turn the pages, and she did so with all the reverence an almost-four-year-old could manage. For more than an hour Rabastan’s low timbre filled the space around them until a house-elf appeared to announce dinner.“But this is the best part!”“Dinner time is dinner time, Lysa. It’s very important to keep schedule.” The dark-haired wizard nudged the girl off his lap, stood, and stretched. He placed a bookmark with the Malfoy crest inside the book and set it down on the chair. “We can continue another time.” He took the child’s hand and walked with her through the lofty halls to a dining room. It was the smaller of the two, as the large dining room was reserved for parties and important company, but in true Malfoy fashion, it did not lack in finery, and one would be hard-pressed to find a more perfectly set table.“What’s for dinner tonight?”“Pot-au-feu de cheval, Master Lestrange, sir.” A quivering house-elf replied in it’s squeaky, high-pitched voice.“Lysa?”“Horse stew!”“Very good, you’ve been practising.”An hour passed. Then two. It was bedtime and Lysagora’s parents had still not returned. They were late, and this did not make her happy. Rabastan Lestrange had tried everything he could think of to get the child to cooperate. He’d bribed her with promises of stories and songs and treats in the morning; he’d threatened to set a burning hex upon her bottom, then an stinging hex, then both together; he’d begged her to please just stay in bed, and even promised to wake her up as soon as her parents arrived.In turn, the child had yelled, screamed, kicked, cried, and behaved as any typical young child not wanting to be put to bed.Rabastan, exasperated, ran a hand through his dark hair and called, “Elf!” A pop in the hallway followed. The small creature approached cautiously, after all, an irate wizard was a dangerous wizard. “Do something about her.” Rabastan snapped.The house-elf looked at its little mistress. It levitated the girl onto her bed while she wailed, “Don’t wanna!” repeatedly.“Young miss is not behaving like a Malfoy. What would Master Malfoy say?” Almost immediately, Lysagora stopped her tantrum. She pouted instead, sticking out her bottom lip and sniffling pathetically. The elf used its magic to pull up the covers around Lysagora.“They’re late.”“Mopsy will wake little miss when Master and Mistress return.”“You better, or you’ll be in trouble.” The young girl teased. Mopsy the house-elf shook where it stood and quickly popped away.“Good night, Lysa.” Rabastan whispered, kissing her forehead.“Night, Uncle Rabastan.” She stifled a yawn while Rabastan smirked.It was nearly ten o’clock and nearly all the fires were extinguished save the candelabras in the hallways when the Lord and Lady of the house finally arrived. Rabastan had been reading when he heard the door open and rushed to greet Lucius, Narcissa, and his new baby nephew. Narcissa was cradling a bundle of smoke-grey velvet, while her husband led her into the manor.“Sorry we’re late, Rabastan. Draco decided to make a fashionably late entrance.”“Lysa’s not happy.”“Is she sleeping?” Narcissa asked.“Yes, I put her to bed a while a ago.” Rabastan took the witch by her arm, “The fire’s still going in the living room; let’s have you sit. You must be exhausted.”Lucius tapped his cane against the marble floor. Pop. “Bring my daughter to me.” Pop. The adults sat, safe and warm on the leather sofa by the fire, waiting for Lysagora, and despite the immense size of the manor, it took the little girl a record two minutes to run, flying down the stairs, from her bedroom to her parents.She positively bounced with energy, “Mother! Father!” She jumped into Lucius’ open arms, “Is that him? Is that Draco?” She questioned, looking pointedly at the small figure on her mother’s lap.“Yes, darling, say hello to your baby brother.”Lysagora peered at the pale pink face nestled in the velvet cloth. “He’s so tiny!”“He’s perfect,” Her mother said gently, “just like you.” Lysagora smiled brightly.“Can I hold him?”“Of course, darling, sit up here.” Narcissa patted the space between herself and Lucius, who helped his little girl settle. Narcissa carefully passed the blonde baby boy, with Lucius helping to support his head.“It’s late, Lysa, but we wanted you to see him tonight, and talk to you about a few things.”“Like what, Father?”“You’re a big sister now. You have to set an example for your little brother.” Narcissa answered. Lysagora nodded solemnly. “Draco is just a baby, and he will need a lot of attention and care.”“You have a big responsibility, Lysa. You’re going to help us show him what it means to be a Malfoy.”
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“Must you go, Lucius?”“I’ve been summoned.”“It’s Samhain.”“I know,” he cupped Narcissa’s cheek in his hand and bent to kiss her softly, “I promise I’ll return as soon as I can.”Narcissa sighed, “Lysa will be so disappointed.”“I can’t ignore Him, love.”“Be safe.”Lucius donned his black robes and mask as he briskly strode to the apparition point on his property - a small clearing in the middle of the enchanted hedge maze. The autumn wind whipped around him. At the clearing, he drew his snake-headed wand and was gone. In less than an instant, he reappeared, but no longer did he stand on Malfoy grounds. Around him now was a graven stone manor which had once belonged to the Avery family; it had been gifted to their lord years ago.Inside, Lucius met with three other loyal followers, and together they entered the great hall, bowing deeply to the handsome older man waiting for them.“Rosier,” the man commanded, “come, tell them what you’ve learned.”“We’ve found the Potters. Their little friend couldn’t hold his tongue.” Rosier’s gruff laugh sounded in the hall.“Lucius and Rodolphus will accompany me to their home. Crouch, Rosier, you will create a distraction for that retched Order, ready your brethren for an ambush. Tonight, the last of our opposition dies.” Lord Voldemort smiled, and when he stood, his followers did the same, bowing as he walked past them. Lucius and Rodolphus followed quickly at their lord’s heels.Crouch and Rosier were given a quarter hour to draw the Order’s attention. The other two Death Eaters were told of the Potter’s hiding place and they, along with their leader, swiftly took their leave.Night had settled over Godric’s Hollow - peaceful and silent. Inside the whitewashed house, a red-haired woman sat in the nursery, singing lullabies to her child. Downstairs, her husband leafed through a photo album. He smiled, looking down at friends from school, his wedding, his best friend meeting the little boy who would be his godson. On the table beside him were other pictures, new ones he hadn’t added to the album yet. As James set the book down, leaving it open for later, his saw his beloved Lily coming down the stairs. “Is he asleep already?”The red-headed woman smiled, “Yes. What are you working on?” She glanced at the table as she approached, “The album again?”“Just in case…”“James, you’ve gotten so morbid recently. Nothing is going harm us here.”“We’re at war, Lils. I would do anything to keep you safe.”“You already have.” She kissed his cheek, “No one can find us.”
BANG!
The front door crashed in, splinters flying.“Find them!” A voice hissed in the darkness.Lily gasped, frozen in place.“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him!” James pushed the woman towards the stairs, “Go! Run! I’ll hold him off -”Another BANG! The glass French doors shattered.Lily ran, up the stairs, as fast as her legs could carry her. A high pitched laugh followed from below.She tore open the nursery door, reaching for her infant son -Silence.Crrreeaaak….She turned, breath caught, tears spilling.“Please, please, not Harry.”“Stand aside you silly girl.” Voldemort commanded, brandishing his wand at her.“NO!” She screamed, throwing a lamp at the dark wizard’s head. Why did she leave her wand in the bedroom? What happened to James; was he still alive downstairs?Voldemort snarled, “Stand aside, now!”“No! Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -”“Crucio!” The man yelled; red light like lightning coursed from his wand and hit its target. The woman screamed, fell to the floor, writhed, still screaming. Screaming. Screaming! He broke the spell.Lily trembled, tears pouring from her face. She braced herself against the crib, “P-please, not Harry, not my baby.” The man laughed; the shrill sound piercing her heart. She stood on shaking legs, holding the crib between white knuckles, “Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…”“Avada Kedavra!” A green flash filled the room, and Lily was no more. Voldemort sneered at her lifeless corpse as he trod over it to the babe. The dark haired child, not even two, was not crying, only watching, too young to understand what had just happened, or that he was in grave danger.Downstairs, Lucius and Rodolphus had kept James busy long enough for the Dark Lord to reach the stairs. He was an accomplished auror, but Lucius had cast the final blow, and now James Potter’s body lay prone across the living room carpet in Godric’s Hollow. Lucius ascended the stairs, anxious to see his lord succeed in destroying this prophesied threat, defeating fate itself. Rodolphus stood guard at the entry-way, watchful for enemies.As the aristocrat reached the staircase landing, he heard the mudblood woman begging. Morgana, what a sound. Such terror was positively delightful. He walked quietly to the door, listening to her whimper and scream in turn. His steely grey-blue eyes landed on his lord, a regal figure offering to spare the unworthy witch, and oh how she refused.He watched in mild fascination at the way his lord disposed of her and practically glided to the crib.The Dark Lord picked up the baby. “You,” he heard the older man whisper, “will never beat me, Harry Potter.” Setting the baby back down in the crib, Voldemort lifted his wand. Lucius took a breath. “Avada Kedavra.”Green light.Black smoke.Crying.Wailing.Something was wrong.Lucius rushed into the room, clearing away the smoke. He searched frantically, eyes darting around the room.His lord had vanished.He looked at the child, mouth drawn into a thin line. Blood. A thin, bloody wound on the child’s forehead. The infant continued to wail, drawing stuttering gasps of air into its tiny lungs, sobbing, screaming.The Dark Lord was gone.His lord was gone.Lucius barrelled down the stairs grabbing Rodolphus roughly by the arm and out the smashed front door. “Go, now!”“What’s happened?” Rodolphus asked, speeding after the blond.“He’s gone.”“Well, yes, that was the idea, get rid of the baby.”“Not the baby. The Dark Lord.”Rodolphus stopped in his tracks. “Are you certain?”“Yes….I will see you at your home tomorrow.” Lucius apparated away. Rodolphus quickly followed suit.In Godric’s Hollow, another not-so-faithful Death Eater was stepping cautiously across the threshold. He gave Jame’s body hardly a cursory glance. He swept through the downstairs rooms, but found nothing. The stairs were undamaged. At the top was an open door. “Please, be safe, be alive.” He thought. The Dark Lord had promised to spare her. Dumbledore had promised to protect her.He heard crying, not the sobs of a mourning mother, but the pitching of a very young child. So the baby was still alive, maybe, his heart soared with renewed hope.And plummeted.Severus Snape fell to his knees, fighting back his own tears, “Please, Lily, no, you can’t be gone.” He pulled her into his arms. Frantically, he checked her pulse and breathing; he shook her, slapped her face to wake her up. “No, no.” He cried. He held her, as he hadn’t in many years, rocked her, and cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. Lily. I’m sorry. Please, you weren’t supposed to get hurt, please. I’m sorry.”The tell-tale pop of apparition echoed outside, and Severus knew he could not be found here, no matter how much he may want to die at this moment. He gently lay Lily’s body on the floor where he’d found her. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again, this time kissing her forehead, and immediately, though reluctantly, popping away when the voice of Sirius Black came crashing through the house.Lucius arrived back at Malfoy Manner quickly. He apparated repeatedly across several areas, making sure to lose any one that could have been following. He had shed the Death Eater robes half way through his travel. Determined not the disturb his wife or children, Lucius set his jaw and steeled his nerves. It wasn’t quite midnight yet, and being Samhain his daughter would still be awake. The moment the library door opened, the four year old hurdled into his arms, “Father!” He swiftly picked her up, swinging her up into the air. “Where did you go!?”“I had some business -”“It’s Samhain! No business! Mother said so!” Narcissa looked up from her book and smirked, sitting perched perfectly on the couch, with Draco next to her, sleeping.“Yes, well this was a rather important emergency.” His little girl pouted, “It won’t happen again; I promise. I’m here now, and … I have a surprise for you.”Lysagora’s eyes lit up, “What is it?”“Close your eyes.” When Lysagora did as she was told, Lucius took his wand an summoned a small black box from his study. He set it to hover before her. “Open your eyes.” His daughter’s eyes immediately latched on to the floating box; she grasped it in her tiny hands, and looked to her father, asking if she could open it now. Lucius nodded.Inside the box, Lysagora found a small string of four pearls on a silver chain. “They look like Mother’s.”“Yes, and every year,” Lucius said, removing the jewelry from the box, “we’ll add another pearl until you’re all grown up.” He clasped the necklace around her, smiling. Lysagora smiled back, then ran over to her mother.“Mother, look! They’re just like yours! We match!”“They’re lovely, Lysa,” Narcissa leaned down and whispered, “did you remember to thank your father?”Lysagora blushed, “Thank you, Father.” She said, happily.“You’re quite welcome, my little dragon queen.”“Narcissa, love, are you ready? It’s nearly midnight.”“Yes,” the lady of the manor picked up her youngest child and a basket of supplies from the floor, then came closer to Lucius, “Lysa?”“Yes!”“Let’s go then, into the garden.”In the garden, the family braided a circle of wheat around them, lit black candles, and slowly chanted spells for prosperity, so Lysa could follow along and learn the words, with Father and Mother anointing their children with a mixture of lemon oil and their own blood, cut fresh from their palms.After the ceremony, and a warm bath for each, Lucius and Narcissa put their children to bed, and retired to their own rooms.“Something happened.”“How could you tell?”“I’m your wife, how could I not?”Lucius sighed wearily, “The Dark Lord is gone.” He paused, giving his wife and lover the opportunity to absorb the information. “We’ll have to be careful. The ministry will be looking for every supporter.”Narcissa nodded, “Who else knows?”“Crouch, Rosier, Rodolphus, and your sister, without a doubt, but by morning I’m sure all of them will realize what’s happened.”“How many of them would sell you out?” Narcissa twisted the ring on her finger nervously.“Between death, the Dementor’s Kiss, and Azkaban? Perhaps a dozen.”
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Autumn gave way to winter; on the morning before Winter Solstice, the Malfoy family was sitting at their breakfast table. The Daily Prophet lay folded beside Lucius’ plate. He glanced at the headlines, worry knitting his brow. News of Death Eater arrests were becoming more frequent. It had started with one, caught while torturing a muggle family; he gave names in exchange for a reduced sentence. The ministry sent aurors post haste to find them. Many Death Eaters fought and died, and no one was allowed to mourn them lest they be suspected of supporting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Every day, the paper was littered with more and more photographs from holding cells and court rooms.“Lucius, love?”“It’s nothing, Cissa,” he shook his head to clear away darker thoughts, and smiled at his wife, “pass the cream, please.”“Of course.” She handed the tiny pot to him, grazing his fingers as it passed from her hands to his. “It will be fine, whatever happens, we’ll be fine.” Lucius nodded.“Lysa,” he turned his attention to his children, “what are you eating?”“A cheese omelette.”“In French?” Her mother asked.“Une omelette au fromage?”“Very good.” Narcissa smiled, then turned to the baby boy in her lap, who had just started fussing for his bottle.A fluttering at the window caught Lysagora’s eye, “Mother, Father, look! It’s Archimedes!”“Bella?” With a snap of Narcissa’s fingers the window flew up and Archimedes flew in, and a cold gust of snowy wind with him. The dark feathered owl perched itself regally on Narcissa’s arm rest. She took hold of the parchment roll on the owl’s leg, untied the blue ribbon, then scanned the letter.“Has something happened? Cissa?”Narcissa’s shoulders dropped in relief, “Nothing; Bella’s just asked us to move the Winter Solstice celebration to her home; we can go tonight. Lysa, want to see your aunt Bella?”“Mhmm! Will Uncle Roddy and Rabastan be there too?”“Yes, darling.”“And Uncle Severus?”“I don’t think so, dear.” Narcissa replied. Severus had turned down the invitation to Malfoy Manor, and it was common knowledge that Bellatrix and Rodolphus had no warm feelings for the half-blood.“We’ll need to pack.”“Lysa, are you finished with breakfast?”“Yes, Mother.”“Go to your room, then, and have an elf help you, make sure you get everything you need.”“Okay!” Lysa hopped down from her chair and made for the hallway.“Don’t run!” Lucius called after her. With Lysa safely out of earshot, and Draco nodding off to sleep, Lucius addressed his wife, “It’s not like Bella to change plans at the last minute.”“If it were an emergency, she would have used a cypher.”Lucius set down his morning tea and came to stand behind his wife. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “You’re right. I’m sure everything is fine.” He planted a gentle kiss on her head.Late that afternoon an elf took their things to the Lestrange home. Narcissa, with a squirming Draco held tightly in her arms, floo’d first. “Are you ready, Lysa?” Lucius asked his daughter. Lysa squeezed his hand and nodded. She’d used the floo network several times with her parents, especially to visit family, but that didn’t mean she liked it. In fact, it often made her dizzy and she much preferred the carriage or flying. Lucius threw a pinch of floo powder into the flames, then picked Lysa up and walked into them. “Raven’s Roost.” The flames flared again, and the father-daughter pair were off, spinning through the flames.When they stopped, Lucius set his daughter down, and the two stepped gracefully into the living room of the Lestrange home where Narcissa, Draco, and Bellatrix Lestrange were waiting. While Lucius went to sit with his wife on the sofa, Bella rushed to pick up her niece. “Lysa, darling, you’re growing up so fast!” The dark-haired witch excitedly spun around the room, niece in arms.“It’s good to see you so happy, Bella.” Narcissa said.“Oh I’ve got the most wonderful news!” Bella replied, setting the little girl down.“What might that be?” Lucius asked.“You’ll have to wait and see. It’s a surprise! We’re just waiting for a few others.”Lysagora sat quietly while the adults talked. She watched the door and the fireplace, searching for her favourite uncle. She bounced her leg absentmindedly, until her father bade her stop. Eventually, she got bored and wondered off to mingle with a few distant cousins, but always she came back to the living room to wait. By eight, all the guests had finally arrived: a small familial coven of grown wizards and witches, and few children.The din of polite evening conversation floated through the Lestrange manor over the soft adagio scores of the enchanted instruments in the ballroom. Lysa thought the harp sounded a little sharp, but whether that was true or not hardly mattered. No, at this moment, what mattered was that Uncle Rodolphus had just announced dinner and everyone was being ushered to the dinning hall.The dining table was set with fine china and crisp white linens. Crystal goblets sparkled before bright silver candelabras. Everyone waited for Rodolphus and Bellatrix to sit before taking their own seats; Lysa happily between her father and uncle, Rabastan, near the head of the table. Narcissa took her rightful place at Lucius’ side, and held a quiet Draco in her lap. The first course was served with all the expected and usual pomp of a solstice feast, but then something unusual happened.Rodolphus Lestrange tapped his crystal champagne flute.The room fell silent, all eyes at the head of the long table.In his calm, smoky voice, he thanked everyone for attending, then, “My wife and I have some fortuitous news to share with you all, our most cherished blood.” He took Bellatrix, who was smiling brightly, by the hand, helping her stand.“I’m pregnant.”The guests cheered, raised their glasses, toasted and drank to the couple.“Oh, Lysa, isn’t it wonderful?” Narcissa gushed, clearly ecstatic about the news, and it was wonderful news. Another baby, another pureblood baby, to pass on the old ways and continue the ancient bloodlines.Lysa was truly happy. She imagined, as she often did with Draco, taking this new cousin (she overheard Aunt Bella say it was a boy, she was sure) shopping in Rome, horseback riding in France, through all the shops in Diagon Alley, and at Hogwarts in the Slyherin common room. She could hardly sit still long enough to finish the soup. She’d much rather run up and hug her Aunt Bella.It was during dinner, over roast pheasant and asparagus, sipping champagne and toasting the happy couple, amidst side-conversations of having “no luck finding him” (whatever that meant, Lysa certainly thought everyone she knew or cared about was here), that the incident began.Pounding at the door.Guests went silent.Hands went for wands.“Mother? What -”“Hush.”The walls shook.“Get upstairs. Now!”The door CRASHED down, throwing dust and splinters everywhere. In the haze, Lysa was lifted into someone’s arms, though she couldn’t tell whose - cloaks and the light of spells were all she noticed. She was pushed up the stairs, while smoke filled the air, and she couldn’t stop coughing. She heard screams below, saw a pillar fall, watched the carpet near feet catch fire. “Mother! Mother! Father!” She cried, over and over, panicked.The woman (Aunt Lucretia) who had grabbed her earlier flung her into a bedroom at the top of the stairs. Two of Lysa’s cousins and Grandfather Corvus were in the room as well. The elderly man stood, with the children behind him, wand drawn, shoulders tense, eyeing the door wearily. The sound of battle and struggle below continued.Someone was at the door.The handle turned.Winded and exhausted, Narcissa Malfoy tumbled into the room, slamming the door shut. Draco was safely in her arms. “Lysa!” She grabbed her daughter and turned to Corvus and Lucretia, “Bring the children to our manor.” Narcissa jerked Lysa to her side, gripping her arm tight enough to bruise and the three popped away.At home, Narcissa commanded her family into the safe-room, a hidden space below the drawing room. “Mother?”“It’s okay, darling, everything will be okay.” Narcissa smoothed her daughter’s hair. She addressed the two other adults in the room, “We’ll assess the damage in the morning, for now, make yourselves comfortable.” In the room, the elves had set up six small, but very plush beds, one for each of the adults and children who had escaped the raid, not including Draco, who would share his mother’s bed.Sleep did not come easily for anyone. For several hours, the room was filled by the sound of children stifling their cries. Where were their parents? What had happened? What were they supposed to do now?Lysa woke early the next morning (or perhaps it was still night), and upon seeing her father, burst into tears. She climbed into the bed with her parents and Draco, and stayed awake long after sunrise. Her two cousins (eight-year-old Helena, and one-year-old Even) were escorted to Rosier Estate by Druella Rosier, Evan’s mother. The entire ordeal was done in sombre silence. It wasn’t until lunch that the Malfoy’s returned above ground and began talking. Lysagora refused to be moved from her father’s side, going so far as to sit in his lap during the meal.“Who did they take?” Narcissa tersely asked her husband, taking a bite of her quiche.“Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rodolphus are in custody. Evan Rosier is no longer with us.”“Druella didn’t mention that.”“She likely wants to tell her son at home herself.”“Anyone else?”“Not from the party, but the Daily Prophet is reporting at least ten were arrested last night, including Severus.”Narcissa drew in a sharp breath. “Will they come here?”“If they do -” a knock at the front door, “stay calm.” He rapped his cane against the floor, sending a house-elf to answer the knocking. They didn’t need to wait long. Three men in aurors’ robes strode forcefully into the dining room.“Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for suspicion of being a Death Eater.” The youngest’s wand was drawn and held steadily, pointed straight at Lucius’ head. “Will you come quietly or do you intend to resist?” Lucius considered them for a moment. He shoo’d Lysa from his lap, telling her to go sit with her mother, and then he stood up. His face was drawn, but he made no move for his wand. The aurors quickly bound his wrists behind him.The moment they started to leave, Lysa screamed, “NO! YOU CAN’T TAKE MY FATHER!” She ran forward.“Lysa!” Narcissa exclaimed, reaching for the girl.“NO! NO! NO! YOU CAN’T!” She kicked one of the aurors, who cursed loudly.“I would appreciate it if you didn’t use such language in front of my children.” Lucius said coldly to him. “Could I have a moment with her?” He asked the other two aurors. They shared a look, shrugged, and unbound his hands. Lucius knelt on the floor, eye-level with his oldest child. “Lysa, I won’t be gone long. I promise.” The aurors scoffed. “I will come back for you, but you have to be strong while I’m away.” He put a hand on her cheek, wiping away a tear. “Can you do that for me?”Lysa’s lip trembled, “You will come back, right?”“Of course I will.”She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded, “Okay.”Lysa managed to hold back more tears until her father had been taken from the manor. She watched from the front doors as the aurors lead him at wand point off the property. When they had disappeared from sight, Narcissa attempted to comfort her daughter, but Lysa would have none of it. She ran up to her bedroom and not a moment later the echo of broken glass and torn fabric reverberated through the halls. Narcissa put the baby in his crib, and despite his wailing, she ran to Lysa’s room.Inside, she found the child in a frenzied rage, ripping sheets and curtains, throwing toys - she’d even managed to topple the full-length mirror; the frame laying in a puddle of glass shards.“Lysagora Astraeus Malfoy!”Lysa stopped, but her tears did not, “It’s not fair!”“I know, baby, I know,” Narcissa pulled Lysa into her lap as she sat on the ruined bed. She kissed Lysa’s forehead, “We’ll get through this. I promise.”“It’s not fair, it’s not, I want my father.” Lysa mumbled into her mother’s dress, leaving wet splotches across the fabric.“Come on, he needs you to be strong, remember?”Lysa sobbed again.“Let’s go get Draco and I’ll read you both a story, all right darling?”
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More than a month passed. It was a grim time for Lysa; while news of celebrations across the nation spilled across the pages of the Daily Prophit, she sat and stared. She sat in Draco’s nursery. She sat in the library, in her father’s armchair. She sat in his study. And while she sat, her mind turned. Her father, her loving, doting father, who gave the best hugs and knew the best stories, was sitting, just as grimly as she, in a cell. In Azkaban.Some days, her mother would disappear. Narcissa left the house-elves and the manor itself to protect her children, hidden in secret rooms, behind spelled walls. On these days, Lysa held her baby brother and read to him the family story. She’d start with Aegon and Daenerys, and the war; she’d explain how so much of the history was lost, but that the dragon-tongue was theirs still. It had not been lost. Her father was not lost to her either. He would come back. He promised.When the moon and stars where high, Narcissa would pull Draco’s cradle close to her bed, and clutch Lysa to her chest under the heavy comforters, and then she would sing to them long into the night.On the morning of the 8th, Narcissa took extra care to dress her children in somber colors. She brushed Lysa’s hair until it shone, watching her daughter in the vanity mirror. Lysa’s blue-grey eyes stared back at her, still full with the fire of her childish rage, the same rage she’d channeled to destroy her room the night Lucius had been taken away.“You have to be perfect today, Lysagora. Don’t let the enemy see your anger.” She tied Lysa’s long hair back. “You’re still a child, and we’re going to use that to win.”“I know, Mother. I’m a sad little girl. I want my daddy.”“Good girl.” She kissed the Lysa’s crown and stood up, “Now come along.” Narcissa took her daughter’s hand and Draco from the bed. Together they headed to the waiting carriage at the manor front that would take them to the ministry. Lucius’ trial awaited.The drive to London was long. Narcissa used the time to quiz her daughter: what questions she might be asked, what she should say, how she should act. They had been perfecting this little charade for weeks.At the ministry entrance, Narcissa handed over her wand and received three visitors badges (yes, even one for little baby Draco, which she thought was a bit ridiculous, but now was hardly the time for argument), then the three of them passed through the cavernous halls. Those halls that bustled with activity: aurors and statesmen rushing to and fro, inter-office memos flying about overhead, lower-level employees carrying stacks of papers and supplies from every which way. The enemy was everywhere and everyone. The enemy did not care about her family. They would pay dearly for that.But, for the moment, the only thing that mattered to Lysagora was the lift at the end of a long, darkened corridor. This would take them to the trial chamber, where her father would be waiting, in chains like a criminal. Everyone here was an enemy. Everyone here wanted him locked away, away from her, away from Mother, away from Draco.Lysa squared her tiny shoulders, grabbed her mother’s hand, and marched determinedly to the lift. She wasn’t afraid, no matter how dark the hall was, or how far down the lift went, she wouldn’t be afraid.The next several hours would be forever seared into Lysagora’s mind.She sat poised in trepidation beside her mother and baby brother.The room, crowded with reporters and officials tittering about, felt claustrophobic; the air was thick and stuffy, with no windows to let in fresh air or light. A single iron chair sat in the middle of the room, facing the Minister’s seat. Lysa decided she did not like that chair.A door off to one side rattled and clanged open. A cold gush of air descended into the room, silencing all. Held firmly in the grip of two aurors, and with a dementor at his back, stood Lysa’s father, in chains. His hair and face were dirtied from the long months passed in Azkaban. He looked thinner, and somehow less than, like some foul force had stayed by him too long. Perhaps it had.Lucius was shoved unceremoniously forward and into the chair, where the chains round his arms slithered and tightened to bind him to it. He struggled to hold back a grimace. The aurors stayed, wands drawn, just slightly behind and to either side of their prisoner. The dementor was not allowed in the room, but rather, it stayed a hair’s breadth behind the door, waiting; it’s cold presence, even masked behind the iron door, still pervaded the crowded chamber.The Minister entered from another door, almost immediately behind his own seat. Everyone in the chamber stood, and sat, when he did. The room fell silent. “Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, you are charged with criminal conspiracy to undermine the Ministry of Magic, of supporting a known terrorist and mass-murder, of torturing and murdering muggles and muggle-borns, of engaging in unlawful Muggle-baiting, of providing resources and shelter to Death Eaters, and of casting the Unforgivables. How do you plead?”The next several hours were hell. Ministry officials questioned him unrelentingly, but Lucius Malfoy held to his story of Imperius. He spoke of his love for his children and asked how any man who could love so much could ever, of his volition, do such unspeakable acts. Narcissa testified, provided alibis for nights when Death Eaters had attacked. Lysa cried as she’d practiced, to gain sympathy, and talked through her tears of how much she needed her father.At the end of it all, the court adjourned to deliberate. Narcissa sat almost completely still as she held Draco and Lysa close; only a hand moved, to pet her daughter’s silver-blonde hair.