Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Lucius
Notes: This was inspired by a comment by that rather yummy Isaacs bloke who is playing Lucius Malfoy in Harry Potter & The Chamber of Secrets. He claimed this is the title of the sneak preview of book five that JKR showed him and it's all about Lucius' love life and the like. So, gosh darnit, he's getting it! Only, after talking to my Harry-loving flatmate, we decided it would be amusing to do in a slightly... er... Bridget Jones style. And do it about CoS. So...be warned. It's a little...silly.
June 28th 1992
Hair in top condition. Evil glare suitably terrifying (made Draco whimper at breakfast - good start to day). Robes dashing. Arse in very good shape.
Started writing these, my chronicles (not diary - diaries are girly. Am an evil bastard, therefore ungirly). Shut Narcissa up about never using her Christmas presents. Must drop subtler hints about wanting a Porsche instead of another journal. Preferably silver with snake painted on front.
Snakes rather nifty. Must remember to get one for Draco. Big one. With teeth. Will be amused if he screams like girl. Then furious, as it is not fitting for an evil heir to scream like a girl.
Unless an evil girly scream.
Must look into existence of such a thing.
Plans for day - nothing exciting. Will go hunting. Perhaps find some muggles. Find it amusing to chase them around grounds and poke them with sticks, but will not admit so to my Dark Master.
Must sell some of Dark Lord's favourite toys to Borgin soon. Hall, dining room and living room cluttered. Dark magic objects frightfully passe. Smell bad as well. Would rather have nice Porsche. Silver. May have mentioned it before. Would look very good in front of house. Especially with me in it. Arse and hair would compliment Porsche very well.
Will get one for Christmas.
If receive another diary, will kill wife and make it look like accident.
Possibly suffocate her with avalanche of diaries. Would be amusing, although look rather homicidal.
Will consider better options.
Sidenote: son looks far too innocent. Certain I saw halo floating over his head. Must make certain he has run in with Playwizard (or Playwitch, if thus inclined. If so inclined, will kill (make it look like accident - must work on modes of accidental-looking deaths) and get another Heir) before too late to corrupt.
Work on malicious gitness as well. Must bond with son and make certain to train him in ways of Dark Side. Bitching-like-an-evil-bastard a specialist father-son bonding activity. Have been putting it off far too long. Will make appointment with son to train in snide wit.
However, on positive note, have heard son called 'arrogant little snot' and 'malicious little pillock' by family friend. Was rather proud in evil fashion. Placed cruciatus on friend for being impolite about son. Laughed at his pain in evil way.
Evil is fun. Evil is wearing black in summer. Seems stupid, looks bloody awesome.
Back to son issues.
Is shaping up well. Rather scrawny and sulky. Face too pointed. Looks too much like mother. Hope he will become butcher before Dark Lord returns. Very embarrassing to have son look like little sissy girl with pretty hair.
Must also find some way to make son less cute. Possibly add more hideous gel to floppy hair. Resembling a Ken doll is acceptable. Does not befit the son of an evil bastard to look cute.
Will write later.
July 3rd 1992
Hair - no comment. Evil glare spectacular (checked in mirror and almost pissed pants with terror). Robes dusty. Arse bruised and...sore.
Wish I was single. Wife is nothing but trouble.
Gives me book, then decides I don't need it, just when I decide to use it.
Must remember to send house elves into attic to clean up corpses before they turn to slime and dust next time. Unpleasant gooey residue on shoes. Knots in hair. Robes... no longer worth as much as they cost.
That settles it.
Will kill wife. Accidentally or not. Will kill her.
Cane also in dire need of polish.
'But Luci,' she simpered (A death worthy crime as bad as buying bloody diaries every bloody year. Simpering and that name. Grr. Will kill her hard.) when I told her my fall (out of attic, onto very hard stone floor of hall, broken by house elf) was her fault. 'You weren't using it.'
Of course. Silly me. Should have realised. Ink, marked on sheets of parchment in book by quill, in strange patterns commonly known as words would never suggest that book is in fact being used.
Bloody stupid bloody woman.
'You put it in the attic,' I tell her, trying very hard not to throw something - perhaps the chair beside me - at her head.
'I thought it was for storage.'
With the fifteen other diaries that you bought, bloody stupid woman.
Pointless arguing. Wife's single brain cell clearly out for repairs.
Decide to sulk in study, out of way of stupid bloody wife. Will save time and energy of hurling chair at wife's head. Will also allow time to regain poise after landing on house elf in most undignified position.
Never noticed house elf's nose was so hard or long.
Now understand why wife always has annoying cheesy grin on face after house elf cleans bedroom.
Will kill wife and house elf (filthy, perverse little thing) soon.
And possibly son.
After Porsche arrives.
With snake emblem.
May have mentioned previously. Rather attached to muggle vehicle.
Aha! Will mow down wife, house elf and son in front of garden of house and claim not to understand muggle controls of wheel and driving. Ha! Have solved mystery problem of accidental death.
Although, Ministry know of driving licence.
Will find another solution.
Will write later. Must sulk and apply lotion to arse now.
July 18th 1992
Hair - found split end. (Will call Carlos to come and see to it. Very traumatising.) Evil glare barely satisfactory. (Must up anger-margin. Glare has been waning in evil potential of late. Disappointing.) Robes - new, pretty & expensive. (Also make wife look fat. Ha! Feel smug!) Arse back to normal suppleness.
Son improving in standing.
Was reading paper at breakfast with wife and son. Commented on son's lack of personal hygiene (a shower, a sauna and two baths a day is never enough). Son gave wicked and very evil glare.
Believe him to still be sore about additional hair gel.
Look, while not terrifying, was great improvement on sulky scowl.
Was suitably impressed.
However, unfortunately, impressed and proud paternal smile that was intended emerged as black glaring look, which suggested death and evil (always when you least want it to happen).
Son cowered instantly. (Go me! I still have the gift!)
However, cowering was minimal.
Still impressed by improving glare of son. Is learning well. Will soon step up lessons to subtle threat.
Sneering well done, but son lacks in subtle threat and cunning. Subtle threat and cunning, the Death Eaters friend. Son as subtle as a brick through a window. Must change this as soon as possible.
V. exciting progress.
Will update with future developments.
July 26th 1992
Hair decent. Evil glare less than adequate (pleasant mood to blame. Bloody thing). Robes nice. Arse v. nice (hence good mood - bugger. Must look for rule that evil gits must not be happy. Grr. Am Evil. Will try and act so.)
V. good day. Came up with evil scheme while tidying up boss' evil toys. Thought of plot. Arranged plot. Felt suitably evil. Cackled inappropriately. Felt embarrassed and tortured house elf, which witnessed said cackle. Nobby or some such name. Believe it will not talk. If does talk, will kill it (no need to make look accidental – still working on modes of accidental. More difficult than expected).
Back to plot. Did it all. Arranged it all. Will put into motion in next week or two. Felt rather spiffy and clever. Without wife sticking nose in. Go me. Disembodied boss should be proud.
Hope it works.
Will feel rather stupid if not.
Will blame wife.
Will kill and make look like accident, if necessary. Will do for fun, otherwise.
(Left subtle note for 'Santa' on top of Porsche catalogue on wife's bed. Circled silver Porche in red ink and drew big snake on bonnet. V. subtle. Hope she takes hint. Will wait until after Christmas to kill. Must find out if Porsche is coming. V. excited about it. If another diary, will make death messy. Screw accidental.)
Anyway, back to plot.
Have book of Dark Lord. Initially believed it to be possessed. Spilled ink on it by accident (yet can not plan death to look like accident – must try harder). It swore in writing. Thought book very rude. Then realised something about book. Book is evil and writing to me. Book must be Dark Lord's secret plan for resurrection. Believe him to have mentioned it several times before death.
Was meant to trigger it immediately after death. Forgot. Was having hair done. (Am blond. Remember that.)
Realised had potential evil artefact in hands and felt rather smug. In evil way, of course, before recalling Dark Lord's orders. Oops.
Well, better late than never.
Will trigger immediately and rub hands with glee as Dark Master comes and claps me on back for wisdom and smartness, then watch him kill wife for being a silly blonde tart. Will also laugh maniacally at this.
Hope Dark Lord doesn't mind twelve-year delay. Will blame wife. Wife is v. v. v. stupid. Wife tidied it away because wife is really stupid. Will kill wife for stupidity (possibly push off fitting cliff...)
Found book in attic after years of searching. Was very emotional. Overjoyed. Had party to celebrate return of book to my hands. Would have triggered it immediately if wife had not been so stupid.
Hope Dark Lord believes it.
Dark Lord looked like a snake with problem with contact lenses, yet believed when told he was handsome.
He will believe excuse. Stupid git.
Must find suitable silly nit to take book off hands.
Considered giving to son (son stupid, like wife) but would rather avoid shagging wife, to make another Heir. Find it hard to concentrate on shagging when her arse is smaller than mine. Would like a big-arsed girl. Wife resembles mop.
Will resist temptation to use wife's head to wash floor.
Will also resist temptation to ram cane up house elf's arse and use him to wash floor.
Would hate to sully cane.
Must ponder and plot. Require a suitable fool, but not of family. Narrows the field a great deal.
Perhaps, a schoolmate of son.
Someone small and stupid.
Someone who will find a book that writes rude things at them amusing - must remind Dark Lord that his vocabulary will not be appreciated by children of son's age, no matter how orphaned they are.
Same excuse, different day.
'But my mother died,' said he, sniffing with his little snakey nose, when he asked me to join him. Aimed for pity and persuasion. Found it very amusing, but not as amusing as his face.
'I killed mine. You point?' said I.
Was first time Dark Lord had no answer.
Was bitch-slapped for being cheeky.
Also earned nickname of smartest Death Eater by being smart arse. Decided that job wasn't half bad.
Can't help wondering about intelligence of being called Death Eaters. Eating Death defeats general purpose of death. Death Meters more appropriate in circumstances. Or Death Regurgitators.
Will bring up subject at next meeting.
Now, must continue to plot.
Both with Boss' book and 'accidental' deaths of wife, son and treacherous, long-nosed house-elf.
Will update soon.