The Gift
In the luxurious chambers of his manor, Lucius Malfoy stood in front of a gilded mirror. The room was bathed by the morning light streaming through the windows.
Every morning, he spent thirty minutes carefully dressing and grooming himself, making sure he looked perfect, and today was no exception. He had an important meeting with a representative from the ministry in a small parlor and he needed to look even more striking than usual. It was a power play, necessary to inspire both fear and admiration, allowing him to get what he wanted. The meeting was supposed to happen in Hogsmeade, of all places, since it was more discreet than Diagon Alley and the man he was meeting was afraid of someone seeing them together. How outrageous.
He gazed at his reflection, admiring his pale, smooth skin. His piercing gray eyes peered back at him with intensity. The fine lines around his eyes hinted at a life filled by cunning and contempt. His troubled past was long behind him, but he kept the invisible scars on his soul.
Running his fingers through his long hair, Lucius reveled in its softness and the way it seemed to catch up the light. Each strand was meticulously placed, falling gracefully on his shoulders.
He turned to his bed, where he had selected different clothes and accessories for the day. He needed to look powerful but not too overly dressed for a small private parlor in Hogsmeade.
He went for a soft white satin shirt, coupled with a dark gray waistcoat adored by shiny onyx buttons and dark blue trousers. He completed the attire with a black linen coat, and he fastened a silver clasp at the collar of his robe.
He took a final look at his reflection. His appearance embodied power, wealth, and influence. In simple words, he looked good.
He made his way to the study and took a small brown package from the table before casting a Shrinking Charm on it and putting it into his pocket. The box was worth a pretty galleon, and was the key to today’s meeting. If everything went well, he would walk out of the parlor with a new associate and supporter.
Some might argue that the gift was far too extravagant for such a modest gathering, but they hadn’t been raised like Lucius.
His relationship with wealth and generosity had always been complicated. Born into the immense fortune of the Malfoy family, he had known nothing but luxury from an early age. His father had ensured that he never wanted for anything, shaping him into the perfect Malfoy heir.
To outsiders, it may have seemed as though his father spared no expense to make him happy, but in truth, money was never about happiness, it was a tool. His father often reminded him, “The one who holds the wealth controls the masses.” But for his father, there was no distinction between the masses and his own family. Money was his father’s weapon, and his gifts were never just gifts, they were instruments of control, each one a double-edged sword.
Everything Abraxas Malfoy gave him was never meant to bring him joy, it was meant to uphold the family's image. The clothes he wore were never in the colors he liked, the toys he received were never ones he cared for, and the friendships he was instructed to forge were never with those who truly interested him. He had everything, yet nothing belonged to him. His life was not his own but a meticulously curated display, carefully designed by his father.
A few weeks before his eighth birthday, he was wandering through Diagon Alley with his parents, gazing at shop displays while they purchased potion ingredients. That was when he saw it, a small figurine, a black horse with gleaming silver eyes. It was neither rare nor expensive, but something about it captivated him. He wanted it, truly wanted it. When his parents returned, he pleaded for it as a birthday gift. His father barely spared it a glance before refusing, dismissing it as cheap and unworthy of a Malfoy heir.
He spent the rest of the day feeling hollow, longing for something to be truly his. That night, he dreamed of sneaking into the shop, stealing the little horse, and carefully hiding it away where his father would never find it. But when he woke the next morning, reality sank in. The disappointment was crushing.
Over the following days, however, his father began making cryptic remarks about the toy, dropping subtle hints that it might appear as a surprise on his birthday. Hope flickered within him. For the first time, he would receive something he had chosen.
When the day finally arrived, the Malfoy estate was filled with relatives, esteemed pureblood families, and high-ranking officials from the Ministry.
The party was extravagant, and he was showered with lavish gifts. He offered polite thanks to each guest, but his mind was consumed by only one thing: his father’s gift. It was the final present on the table, a small black box, just the right size for the little horse he had longed for. Excitement bubbled inside him as he carefully unwrapped it, peeling away the paper with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment.
He lifted the lid with bated breath, expecting to see the miniature black horse staring back at him. Instead, nestled inside was a sleek black ring adorned with glittering gemstones.
His heart sank. The joy, the hope– all of it shattered in an instant. He wanted to cry, to run from the room, to scream that this wasn’t what he had asked for. But the weight of dozens of eyes pinned him in place, waiting for his reaction.
He hesitantly glanced up at his father, who watched him with quiet amusement. A faint smirk was playing on his lips. It was a test. His gaze seemed to whisper the unspoken challenge: Come on, show me you can control your emotions like a true Malfoy, or break down like a child and lose my respect. You wouldn’t want to embarrass me in front of all these people, would you?
So he swallowed his tears, forced a look of admiration onto his face, and thanked his father profusely for the ring. He had passed the test flawlessly. But in that moment, whatever little love or respect he had left for his father crumbled into nothing.
That bitter lesson stayed with him. From that day on, he vowed to carve out his own path and to become a man of power, feared and revered in his own right. With wealth of his own, he would finally be free to obtain whatever he desired, beyond his father’s reach and control.
In the end, he didn’t have to wait long, his father succumbing to Dragon Pox in his fifth year. To call it a relief would be an understatement. At last, he was free to live on his own terms.
But by then, freedom was an illusion. He had already entangled himself with the Knights of Walpurgis and the likes of Tom Riddle. He had begun delving into the darker arts, forging ties with dangerous, untrustworthy figures. In his pursuit of power, he had unwittingly shackled himself to a prison of his own making.
Still, he managed to avoid taking the dark mark for some time, and the birth of Draco made him realise the kind of person he was becoming before it was too late. He quietly defected only days before the first demise of Voldemort, allowing him to get through the witch hunt from the Ministry.
Still, he had learned from his father in the end. He, too, used wealth and gifts as tools of control, but in a far more refined way.
Abraxas had wielded gifts like a weapon of humiliation, deliberately giving people things they despised and forcing them to feign gratitude before an audience. Lucius, however, took a different approach. He preferred to give people exactly what they craved.
For potential allies, it was a calculated investment. A lavish gift made them feel indebted: How could I refuse him after receiving something so valuable? I’d look ungrateful, a grifter. The weight of obligation was far more effective than outright coercion.
For friends and lovers, it was about adoration. He relished the way they fawned over him, the way their faces flushed with delight as he draped them in luxury. Their gratitude fed his ego, their dependence cemented his influence.
And for those he despised, oh, there was no greater pleasure... Watching an enemy's face shift from joy to confusion, to outrage and humiliation as they finally surrendered and realized they now owed him, it was exquisite. The gift, something they had secretly longed for but could never obtain themselves, became tainted. Every glance at it would remind them of him, of the moment they had been bested and of the power he held over them.
There was truly nothing more satisfying than that.
Harry stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, sighing as he rummaged through his wardrobe in search of something—anything—that wasn’t stained, riddled with holes, ridiculously oversized, or just plain hideous. It was proving to be a losing battle.
He hadn’t bought new clothes in ages, still relying on Dudley’s cast-offs to avoid dipping too much into his inheritance. Which meant he now needed to find a way to not look like a wandering vagrant.
Winter was his favorite season, he could hide beneath layers and no one would notice. But with spring approaching, heavy coats were no longer an option.
He didn’t mind looking like a mess in the Muggle world, where he was just another face in the crowd. But here, where people always noticed him, the shame crept in. Still, what was the point of buying new clothes? Back home, Dudley would either steal them or destroy them out of spite, and at Hogwarts he spent most of his time in uniform anyway.
In the end, he settled for a shirt that was at the very least free of stains and holes, though it still hung off him like a tent. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He met Ron and Hermione in the common room, both practically buzzing with excitement.
“I can’t wait to check out the Quidditch shop! I heard they’ve got new gear that can make you five percent faster on a broom,” Ron said eagerly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m excited for the bookshop, as I’m sure you already guessed. I’ve finished all the books I bought over the holidays, and if I don’t restock soon, I’ll fall behind in my studies.” She sounded genuinely distressed at the thought.
Ron barely seemed to hear her. He turned to Harry with a grin. “What about you, mate? What are you planning to buy? You have to come to the Quidditch shop with me, maybe you’ll see something you like. Oh! You should get a new broom! The Nimbus 2001 just came out, and it’s incredible! If you get one, you’ll let me borrow it, right?” His eyes shone with excitement, practically pleading.
Even though Harry loved Quidditch and flying, there was no way he was going to drop 500 Galleons or more on a new broom when his Nimbus 2000 still worked perfectly fine. It would be a complete waste of money.
“I think I’m good,” Harry said. “My Nimbus 2000 is still plenty fast, and I don’t want to blow all my money on something frivolous.”
“Oh, right, but I mean, it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Ron muttered, though his expression flickered into that odd look again.
Harry could guess what was running through his mind: Why is it that I can’t afford the things I want, while Harry has plenty of gold and never even spends it?
Ron still didn’t fully grasp what it had been like growing up with the Dursleys, despite having seen the bars on his window. Or maybe, deep down, he just didn’t want to understand.
Even though Ron’s family didn’t have much, he still had a roof over his head, regular meals, clothes that actually fit, and pocket money his parents gave him. Harry, on the other hand, was constantly teetering on the edge of being kicked out for good. He went hungry more often than not, his clothes were falling apart, and any money the Dursleys could get their hands on was claimed for “buying him food” that never materialized. His life was always uncertain, and he knew he could end up on the streets at any time.
The last thing he wanted was to be forced into a job and miss out on his education if that happened, so his best bet was to spend as little as possible in order to build up a security fund. That meant sticking to the bare essentials and treating himself to the occasional small bargain when he could.
Ron was probably hoping for a repeat of their first ride on the Hogwarts Express, when he’d bought every treat from the trolley to share with him. At the time, it had seemed like a great idea, but in hindsight, it had been a terrible decision. He’d been so eager to make a real friend that he hadn’t thought twice about the money he was spending.
“Well, I think it’s very mature of Harry to be mindful of his spending,” Hermione said as they headed toward Hogsmeade. “Especially considering he’s the future Lord Potter. He’ll need to learn how to manage his assets properly.”
Ron muttered something under his breath, but Harry couldn’t make out the words.
"So, what are you going to do, then? Just wander around, sign a few autographs for your fans?" Ron said snarkily. Harry bit back the urge to roll his eyes at his friend's obvious jealousy.
"Yeah, I think I'll just take a look around for a bit. I need to grab some parchment and treats for Hedwig. After that, I’m meeting Neville and Luna at Dogweed and Deathcap to check out some plants, and then we’re heading to the Three Broomsticks for a drink."
Ron didn't bother to reply, but his expression made it clear he wasn't thrilled by the idea. He looked as if he'd just sucked on a particularly sour Sherbet Lemon. Hermione gave him a subtle nudge with her elbow.
"Sounds great!" Ron said, forcing a smile that barely masked his lack of enthusiasm.
They split up at the entrance of Hogsmead, each of them going shopping for their own things.
Harry stopped by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop to pick up a few sheets of cheap parchment and a new bottle of ink. Then, he made his way to the small Magical Menagerie to buy frozen mice for Hedwig. As he browsed, he lingered near the snake tanks, discreetly admiring the sleek creatures.
Soft hissing and murmured words reached his ears. He could understand them if he wanted to, but he forced himself to ignore it.
It was a shame Parseltongue had such a bad reputation. If he dared to speak it in public, people would brand him as a dark wizard, or worse, claim he was the next Dark Lord.
He had always loved snakes. Back at Privet Drive, they were his quiet companions while he worked in Petunia’s garden. They were beautiful, clever creatures with a surprising sense of humor. Their conversations were always absurd and oddly entertaining. But keeping one as a pet was not an option. Snakes weren’t allowed at Hogwarts, and even if they were, the Dursleys would hurt any he dared to bring home.
He stared at the snake for a moment longer, before reluctantly turning away and leaving the shop.
As he made his way toward the herbology store, his attention was suddenly drawn to a man shouting in the middle of the street.
"Witches and wizards, dark days are upon us! We’re doomed! The Dark Lord Voldemort is not dead as we’ve been led to believe. He’s been reincarnated! Wake up, sheeps!"
Harry was so caught up in the bizarre scene that he didn’t notice where he was going. Rounding a corner, he collided with another wizard.
He started to fall backward, but before he could hit the ground, a firm hand caught his arm, steadying him.
Blinking in surprise, Harry looked up, only to meet a pair of sharp gray eyes.
“Well, well, look what we have here,” drawled a familiar voice.
Lucius felt a headache coming. The meeting had been successful but utterly draining. The ministry official and his two secretaries had spent the whole hour arguing and disagreeing with him on every little point he made. It had needed some compromise from the both of them but they had managed to reach an agreement. The gift had been well received, and had certainly helped in sweetening the deal.
Now the only thing he wanted was a good whisky and a quiet place. There weren't a lot of refined and distinguished places in Hogsmeade, so he would have to wait to get home.
As he was about to reach the main road, a sudden blur of dark hair flew into his line of vision and collided with him. With quick reflex he grabbed the mysterious person by the shoulder before they could fall. He was about to give them a good scolding before he realized who was in front of him.
"Well, well, look what we have here," Lucius said with delight. What were the odds of meeting Potter at the same time he visited, and alone at that. He remembered Draco telling him about a Hogsmade weekend, but he was surprised to see the boy alone. Wasn’t he always flanked with an annoying bushy haired girl and that blood traitor of a Weasley?
“Are you alone, Potter? You should be careful, after all you never know when someone might want to cause you… harm,” Lucius added with a sinister smirk. There was no harm in putting a little fear in Potter, since it seemed he had no self-preservation. He was only helping.
The boy didn’t answer and kept looking at him with big startled eyes.
“Where are you two little friends, did they abandon you?” Lucius asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s none of your business, but I'm meeting with some other friends,” the boy said defiantly, crossing his arms and peering at him from under his glasses. How adorable.
Other friends? It seemed like the Potter boy was finally choosing a better entourage. He wondered what had caused the rift. He would have to ask Draco.
“Really? Dressed as you are, it looks more like you are getting ready to rob a store,” Lucius said mockingly, eying Potter from top to bottom with a pointed look. The boy flushed in shame, his face turning a lovely shade of red. Not that he paid it that much attention…
“Have you never heard of a cloth shop before? Surely, you have not already spent all your inheritance on useless junk and sweets? To think that Dumbledore would let his golden boy walk around in tatters…” he tutted.
Potter’s mouth opened a couple of times like a fish out of water, but no sound came out. He settled for looking at his shoes. Shoes that had a hole at the front, Lucius noticed.
He looked like a little mouse hidden under ugly whale clothes. He wondered how he had acquired those. He was pretty sure the Potter boy had never been obese, so it must have belonged to a family member. Why he didn’t buy new ones was a mystery to him. Surely Dumbledore would allow him to go to Diagon alley as an emergency? What about Sirius Black, wasn’t he supposed to be the boy’s godfather?
To dress like that in public when he was the Lord of the Potter House was a travesty. The boy really was in dire need of some new clothes. Lucius was sure that with a nice fitted linen shirt he would look handsome and more like the pureblood he was supposed to be.
Now, there was an idea. Yes, he would be the one to buy a new set of clothes for the boy to teach him a little lesson in class and sophistication.
No doubt the boy would feel totally humiliated about being given what was supposed to be the bare necessities by a supposed enemy instead of his little family. Of course he couldn’t be sure Potter wasn’t going to put it on fire as soon as he got it, but if he received it in front of an audience, he would feel obligated to keep it a bit longer. What a delightful idea.
The plan was solidifying in his mind, he just needed to have a look at different options now. Thankfully, his headache seemed to have disappeared and it was still early in the afternoon. He had time to go shopping.
“Well, I’m sure that conversation was enlightening, but I am needed somewhere else. So you will have to excuse me. Have a nice day, Potter,” he said with a polite nod, not letting the boy give an answer before walking toward the nearest floo network.
Harry looked at the retreating figure, standing uselessly in the middle of the road. His mind couldn’t wrap up around what had just happened. His hands were tingling and his heart was beating way too quickly. It was way too soon to be put in front of his new little crush.
He made his way to the Herbology shop before his friend started looking for him. He couldn’t wait for them to go to the pub, he was in need of something strong.
“There you are, Harry!” Neville said to him as he entered the shop. “We thought you might have gotten lost or something. You’re as pale as a ghost, is everything alright?” the boy asked worriedly.
“I–yes. I mean yes, I’m alright. It’s just, something happened and I don’t know how to feel about it. I’ll tell you later at the bar,” Harry explained.
“Did you run into a troll?” Luna asked.
He shuddered, “No, worse I think.”
They quickly finished their shopping, the other two sensing he needed to talk about his problem as soon as possible. It was a shame they didn’t get to hear all of Neville’s explanation about the plants, but Harry was sure they would get other opportunities.
They went to The Three Broomsticks and chose a table at the back, away from prying eyes and ears. The last thing he wanted was for one of his classmates to hear them and go repeat it to their friends at Hogwarts, or worse, to the Daily Prophet.
They ordered Butterbeers, even though he wouldn’t have minded a fire-whiskey after the whole ordeal.
“So, what happened to have you so shaken up?” Neville asks without preamble.
“You won’t believe who I ran into this afternoon.” he simply said.
“Well, don’t keep us waiting!”
“Lucius Malfoy.”
Neville opened his mouth in astonishment “No way! Really? Did we summon him by talking about him or something?”
“I wonder what he was doing in a place like Hogsmead.” Luna said pensively.
“Right? It doesn’t seem like the kind of place he usually frequents.” Neville added, “So what did he say to you?”
Harry cringed inwardly. There was no way he was going to repeat the humiliating comments of Lucius Malfoy.
“He mostly insulted me. Made vague allusions to people wanting to hurt me, and then he went away like a drama queen. I didn’t really get to say anything.”
“And how did it feel to see him for real, after…you know ?” Neville said while making a gesture with his hand.
Harry looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.
“It felt strange to be honest, I didn’t know how to respond. It was like my mind was pulled into two directions,” he explained “I knew he was insulting me, but at the same time he looked really good, it made for a weird mix.”
Lucius Malfoy had looked elegant and powerful in his expensive outfit. It probably made a sharp contrast with his own attire. How embarrassing to be seen like that. Harry probably needed to rethink his idea of not buying new clothes. There was no way he wanted to find himself in the same situation again.
“So, did it confirm to you the idea that you might like men?” Luna whispered, pulling a blond lock behind her ear.
“Yeah, I–”
“--Hey Harry! Here you are!” Harry stopped mid sentence, and turned to see Ron and Hermione coming from the door. Why did they have to make an appearance now?
“We thought it might be a good idea to meet you guys, learn to know each other too.” Hermione exclaimed while pushing a chair to sit between Harry and Luna. Ron sat on his other side, making a barrier between Harry and Neville. Harry suspected them of crashing the meeting because Ron was jealous of not being included.
“What were you guys talking about? You were whispering and stuff. Were you sharing secrets or something?” Ron joked, but Harry could see he was bothered by their secrecy.
“Oh nothing important,” Harry tried to say, but he could see Ron wasn’t convinced.
“Really?”
Luna came to the rescue. “Yes, I was actually telling them about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack I saw last summer.”
“Crumple-Horned Snorkack? I’ve never heard of it. What’s that?” Hermione asked dubiously.
“It’s a creature that lives in Sweden. It has a crumpled horn and purple ears,” Luna explained, mimicking big ears with her hands, “And I’m pretty sure I saw one with my father last summer. Sadly it ran away before I could take a photo of it.”
Hermione made a face, obviously not believing her, but to his surprise she said nothing and simply changed the conversation.
They continued talking for a bit but it was awkward, with mostly Neville and him trying to keep the conversation afloat. Ron was giving longing looks toward the door and Hermione was trying to find common grounds with Luna but failing miserably.
After two endless hours, it was finally time to go back to the castle, so they paid for their drinks and departed. Ron and Hermione were walking in the front, so Harry quietly leaned closer to Neville and Luna and whispered. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know they would tag along.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was still nice,” Luna reassured him.
“Yes, and we still managed to get the latest scoop in town,” Neville added jokingly.
A couple days later at dinner, Harry was quietly eating with Ron and Hermione when a flurry of wings signaled the arrival of the owls carrying the evening mail. Various owls of different shapes, sizes, and colors swooped down, navigating between the tables and the floating candles to drop their parcel in students’ plates.
Harry usually didn’t pay attention to the mail since he never received anything, so he was surprised when a bird flew up over his head to land in front of him. It was a kind of bird he had never seen before.
Its feathers were a golden color that seemed to shimmer with the light. Its eyes glinted like small amber and it had three pairs of wings.
“Oh my god, it's a Thunderbird!” Hermione exclaimed in shock.
“A what?” Ron said, staring dumbly at her.
“There are rare birds native to North America. They can actually create storms with their wings.”
Ron looked at the bird dubiously “What a bunch of rubbish. Seems kinda small to create storms.”
“Well, someone obviously casted a Reducio spell on it, they are normally the size of a Hippogriff. They are extremely rare! I wonder who they belong to. Do you have any idea, Harry?” Hermione inquired with excited eyes. No doubt she wanted to know who owned such a bird so she could ask them to let her study it.
The truth was, he had absolutely no idea. The bird's eyes were intense and piercing, staring at him with strange intelligence, waiting. It seemed like it could understand them. It had a flat parcel in its sharp clutch.
Harry wondered for a second if the delivery was perhaps a mistake. He didn’t know anyone outside of Hogwarts that would do something like that. Sirius didn’t send him mails, and Dumbledore used the owls from the school. The Dursley never sent him anything.
“I have no idea who it might be from,” he admitted, feeling completely lost and confused.
He looked up at the front table to see Dumbledore staring unwaveringly at him, with a frown of his face. Yes, it definitely wasn’t from him or he would have given him a small knowing smile.
“Well, what are you waiting for, take the parcel,” Ron said impatiently. He seemed to be buzzing with excitement. He was probably remembering the year when Harry had received his Nimbus 2000 and he hoped for something similar.
Harry slowly brought his hand closer to the leg of the bird, waiting to see if it would attack him but it simply dropped the package into his hand before flying away.
The parcel was flat and slack, but the exterior didn’t give him any clues as to the content or the sender. He carefully unwrapped it and looked inside to see soft white fabric. He stared at it in confusion, trying to figure out what it was. Pulling it out from the paper, he found two soft white shirts and a pair of dark trousers. They looked incredibly expensive, and there were price tags still attached to them. Harry nearly choked when he read the amount it had cost. Who would spend so much on a shirt? And wasn’t it supposed to be in bad taste to leave a tag on a gift?
Looking at the clothes, he had a niggling feeling in his stomach about the sender. But surely, he was wrong. It would be crazy.
“Clothes? How boring,” Ron said with disappointment, “Hey, look! There’s a note inside!” The boy started reaching for it but Harry snatched it before he had the time. There was no way he would let Ron or Hermione see what was written inside.
The note was a simple but elegant paper folded in half with small golden decorative embroidery on the sides. He carefully opened it.
He tried not to stiffen as his fears were confirmed.
There was a single line in the middle of the paper.
“I’m sure these will serve you well.”
The words were written in beautiful cursive and there was no signature, but Harry had a clear idea of who was behind the gift. With such a pretentious bird and expensive gift, and after the odd meeting in Hogsmeade, yes, there was only one person it could be from.
Lucius fucking Malfoy, again.