Chapter 3
Lucius was truly committed to making an effort to connect with his children. However, it was very difficult, compounded by the fact that the man had zero clue what he was doing.
For example, Narcissa insisted that he be more liberal with physical affection, such as hugs. However, it never seemed like the right time, and he could hardly read the mood of either Draco or Hydrus. So, he decided to take the more expedient path to determining what they wanted; asking.
“Would either of you like a hug?”
Draco and Hydrus were sitting on the floor in the Malfoy Library, as usual, perusing books that should be far beyond their comprehension. Yet, their eyes scanned the page in a way that suggested they were reading and absorbing every word, and they didn’t turn pages fast enough to indicate they were just skimming. The boys had turned to watch him the moment he entered the library, which made this simultaneously easier and more difficult. Easier, because he didn’t need to feel bad about interrupting them, difficult because… He really shouldn’t be thinking this about his own children, but bloody hell, they were creepy!
Lucius dropped to one knee and spread his arms, showing that he was ready whenever they were. However, neither boy got up to take him up on his offer. Instead, Draco stared at him with narrowed eyes, while Hydrus’ face was disturbingly blank, as always. There was no emotion in his emerald eyes (Lucius had no clue where either those or Hydrus’ black hair came from. He chalked it up to Narcissa’s Black blood).
Slowly, over the course of two minutes, Lucius’ arms drooped until they were hanging at his sides. The warm smile he wore faded, and he pursed his lips awkwardly.
“Draco?” he prodded. Draco was the voice for the twins; Hydrus typically didn’t speak if Draco was in the room (or at all, really). Some sort of mental link between them, the staff at St. Mungo’s had assured them. It happened on occasion, nothing to worry about. The Weasley Twins had one, and they were deemed fine. His sons were decidedly different from the Weasley Twins, though, and it wasn’t because the redheads were from a family of blood-traitors.
“What games are you playing?” Draco asked softly, suspiciously. On one hand, it made Lucius proud that at three years old, his sons were so articulate and intelligent. On the other, the way they used that intelligence made him fear for the future.
“Games? I’m not playing any games. I just want to give my precious sons a hug.” Honestly, he was kind of hurt that they thought his intentions were so insincere. Should he punish them for that? What would be appropriate? Maybe he shouldn’t frame it as a punishment, because that might make them resent him even more. “Alright then, put the books away, boys. I think we should spend some quality time together. You can’t stay holed up in the library all day anyways, it’s hardly healthy.”
There, that worked. It conveyed his desire to be with his sons, and his concern for their development, without being commanding or authoritarian. He had to be gentle with young children, or so Narcissa said, and he was inclined to trust her in these matters.
“Where is Mother.” Hyrdrus’ flat voice startled him, as it always did.
“She is visiting with the Parkinsons. I believe she wants to arrange a playdate with their daughter, Pansy. She’s around your age.”
“When will she be back.”
Lucius tilted his head thoughtfully. “In a few hours, most likely. Lady Parkinson loves her gossip, after all, and Narcissa would never pass up the chance to learn something juicy about another family.”
A yank on his right arm had his attention snapping to his invisible wand holster- it was woven from demiguise hide- just in time to watch his wand fly out and slap into Hydrus’ chubby palm. It looked a bit ridiculous in his younger son’s tiny hands, considering the wand was 10 inches long, but Lucius was much more distracted by Hydrus’ eyes, which were no longer green. Instead, they were a frighteningly, terrifyingly familiar shade of crimson.
“Crucio!”
Draco could only watch in horror as his twin held their father under the torture curse. The seconds ticked by, until finally, half a minute of bloodcurdling screams passed. Lucius, unprepared as he was, had no chance to resist the pain. When Hydrus cut the spell, Lucius’ gasping breaths echoed through the library.
“I have suffered this indignity long enough!” Hydrus hissed, almost literally. It sounded like he was halfway to speaking Parseltongue. “I will not allow this farce to continue! You will treat me with the respect I am owed, Lucius. Do you understand?”
With agonizing slowness, Lucius gathered himself enough to lift his head off the ground, and stare fearfully at his son- at the body of his son.
“My… My Lord?” Lucius whispered, voice strained.
“Crucio!” This time, Hydrus only held the spell for a few moments. “Who else could it be, Lucius? What, did you think I was gone? Me?”
Lucius scrambled into a grovel, forehead pressed against the carpeted floor. “No, my Lord, never! I- I knew you were alive, I’ve never doubted it, but this is… Most unexpected.”
“Knew I was alive, eh?” Hydrus’ lips whispered lethally. “And yet, here you are, playing house, rather than searching for me,” he spat. He raised Lucius’ wand once more, making the man stiffen in anticipation. However, he did not cast. Instead, he seemed to be thinking deeply. “Tell me, Lucius, are you still loyal?”
“O-Of course… I have always been!” Lucius cried weakly, voice hoarse from screaming.
“Then why, pray tell, have you not searched for me? Why have you fled from under my banner?” Lucius swallowed heavily, eyes flitting about rapidly as he tried to find the words. His brain was fried, though; who could react properly in a situation like this, when his own son seemed to be housing the soul of a Dark Lord? “I’m waiting!” Hydrus barked, brandishing the stolen wand menacingly.
“I- The tides had turned in an instant, My Lord. I t-thought it more prudent to avoid Azkaban. I would be no use to you if I was locked up!” he babbled. “Instead, I focused on consolidating my power, cultivating my contacts. I knew you would return when you were ready, My Lord, an immensely powerful wizard like you would need no help. I thought my skills would be better utilised subtly sowing the seeds for your return, and I have made many preparations that you may find useful.”
Hydrus glared down at him silently for a long while, simply watching the man squirm. “Indeed? And would you say you have been successful?”
“Most successful, My Lord. My many investments have borne fruit, making the Malfoys one of the richest families in Magical Britain, if not the entire Wizarding World. Minister Fudge is weak-willed, a puppet. He seeks out my advice for any decision that is even the least bit important. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been hamstrung by numerous budget cuts. The Aurors will not put up even a fraction of the resistance they did in the past. Furthermore, I have persuaded many of the Lords and Ladies sitting on the Wizengamot to side with me in votes in a wide breadth of matters. No doubt, when the time comes, they will also support your reign. I’ve amassed much wealth and influence, all for you!”
Hydrus hummed thoughtfully. “It seems you’ve more than inherited Abraxus’ silver tongue… What of Dumbledore? I suppose it would be too much to hope for the old man to have kicked the bucket in my absence?” Hydrus chuckled humorlessly.
Lucius grimaced at the floor. “Unfortunately, My Lord, he still lives, and holds the same positions he did before your… Your absence.” The word felt strange on Lucius’ tongue, both too light and too heavy. “However, he seems more concerned with maintaining the status quo, neither advancing rights for the mudbloods-” Draco jolted, the violent rush of rage that resonated through his mental link with Hydrus making him light-headed, “-Nor pushing to punish those who support you. Many other Marked Death Eaters, aside from myself, have escaped being sentenced to Azkaban, and now hold positions of power in the Ministry.”
“Truly?” Hydrus asked, sounding genuinely pleased. Draco’s skin crawled. “And how did they accomplish that, I wonder?”
Lucius swallowed heavily. He had to be very careful with his next words, else the Dark Lord might take offence at the accusation. “We… We claimed to be under the Imperius Curse, My Lord. We claimed to have taken your Mark unwillingly, and were forced to commit the atrocities that we did.” Lucius screwed his eyes shut, tensing his muscles in preparation for the Cruciatus that was surely going to zap him. Except, it never came. Instead, he heard something much worse than an incantation.
Laughter. Delighted, gleeful laughter, from the mouth of his son who’d never spoken a sentence longer than ten words, who’d never so much as smiled at either of his parents. It was high-pitched with prepubescence, and tinged with madness that sent shivers down Lucius’ spine. Tears pricked his eyes. He’d hardly even gotten to know his child- a mere three years was hardly enough time, even a century wouldn’t be enough- and now, now he was host to the most dangerous Dark Lord Magical Britain had ever seen. It felt like his heart was going to be ripped out of his chest. Ignorant, or uncaring, of Lucius’ emotional anguish, Hydrus continued cackling.
Eventually, after far too long of being forced to listen to that horrible, chilling noise, Hydrus calmed down. “Good! That’s very good! You’re correct, Lucius, you would be of no use to me rotting in Azkaban, wasting away and becoming weak. I hope you’ve kept up with your duelling skills?”
“Y-Yes, of course, My Lord,” Lucios choked out, voice wavering as the reality of his situation truly hit home. This was no longer his son. This was now his master, his Lord.
“Excellent. You’ve done me a great service, beyond even raising your own status.”
“My… My Lord?”
“This!” Hydrus exclaimed. Lucius glanced up just in time to see him gesture down at his tiny body with his small hands. “This body is most compatible with me!” He sounded excited, and it made Lucius’ stomach churn. “In the past, when I possessed other beings, they would inevitably and invariably burn out, unable to contain my vast power! But this, this is a perfect receptacle! In my three years of inhabiting it, not only has it held together quite well- it has even adapted! What other toddler’s body would be capable of casting the Cruciatus, hm? You and Narcissa have truly created a masterpiece, Lucius. And it’s even part of a matching set!”
He meant to claim Draco as well!? “No-!”
“Crucio!” Lucius’ screams were quite loud that time. “You would dare tell me no? You would deny Lord Voldemort!?” Hydrus shrieked over his father’s agonised yells. Fifteen seconds passed before he released the curse. Lucius lay in a twitching, moaning pile, having writhed out of his previous grovel.
“My Lord, please, please-” Lucius groaned, pulling himself together with monumental effort. “Draco is but a child, it will be years before he can properly serve you adequately, please-!”
Hydrus flicked his wand, but this time, he only silenced the blabbering man. “You must truly take me for a fool, Lucius,” Hydrus said with a sigh, sounding for all the world like a parent scolding a child, a twisted parody of the current circumstances. “Of course I’m not going to Mark him now!” he snapped, tone changing in an instant. “I merely meant that young Draco has potential, and I plan on helping him fulfill it. He will be an excellent servant in due time, but that is years down the line. For now, though, both he and I will undertake a series of rituals that will strengthen us. I will be more powerful than ever, and young Draco will become my right-hand man!” Hydrus finished grandly.
Lucius stared up at him fearfully, prompting Hydrus to roll his red eyes. “Peace, Lucius, I’ve done much research. I know many rituals that can be performed on children before their magic stabilises. Individually, their benefits are meagre, but over the years they will compound, shaping the subject into something truly magnificent. Why, I guarantee that young Draco will be more than a match for you by the time he is ready to leave for Hogwarts!”
Contrary to what the Dark Lord might believe, that thought did not fill Lucius with pride. Just dread and nausea. He’d set out today to repair and improve his relationship with his children. Instead, he found that they were already lost to him, and he hadn’t even noticed.
“Leave us now, Lucius,” Hydrus commanded. “Oh, and, do be sure to keep this from Narcissa. I’d hate for anything to happen to her,” he finished with a sharp grin. Lucius shakily nodded. He fumbled to catch his hand when Hydrus tossed it at him, aching muscles leaving him burning with shame when he failed and dropped it. He had to stoop to pick up the stick, resolutely blocking out the Dark Lord’s mocking laughter at his humiliation.
“As… As My Lord commands,” Lucius intoned quietly. With a final, stiff bow, he stumbled out of the library, ready to drain an entire bottle of firewhiskey.
You thought it was a Lucius Redemption Arc, but it was me, Dio!