Disclaimer: I repeatedly sent J.K Rowling documents which would sign over all rights of the Harry Potter series to me, but for some reason...she hasn't answered back. I wonder why that is?
Summary: Lucius Malfoy discovers a neglected and verbally-stunted boy, thought to be a squib, with power far greater than he has ever known. In hopes of one day controlling him, he begins molding him into the Dark Lord's Heir.
Pairings: Lucius/Harry, Draco/Harry
Warnings: Slash, ExtremelyPowerful!Grey!Harry, Veela!Lucius, incest(James/Harry), Manipulative!Dumbledore, possible non-con, and chan.
Silvery-yellow wings beat fiercely against the soft wind in failing attempts to stay airborne. Lucius cursed mentally for letting himself, a Malfoy, drop his guard for even a moment and allow that filthy mongrel of an animal get its claws on him.
He searched desperately for a secluded area in which he could transform back from his Animagus, but could find none as the horrifically small street was bustling with some sort of celebration. All he needed was a small alley where he could change and Apparate back to the Manor, Merlin-forbid he be caught anywhere near these dreadful plebeians, but the bloody lot was making it difficult for him to see—let alone pass through.
He felt his form steadily falling, but his Malfoy pride would not let himself be taken down by some stray, so he forcefully pushed his body up once more. Not only was he a highly influential political figure as well as the head of the most well-known pure-blooded Wizarding family in Europe; he was a Death Eater for Merlin's sake!
Malfoys do not fall down.
And what in the world was wrong with the hindering group of blood-traitors and Mudbloods blocking his passage! Who parades around half-drunk in the middle of the street past midnight? They looked like a horde of Neanderthals with the way they jumped around and made noise like it was nobody's business. He would never understand peasants.
Lucius was starting to feel harder than ever the heavy aftermath of being nearly eaten alive. His body was beginning to feel irrepressibly weak, the edges of his vision fading away slowly. He felt himself swaying in the dark of the night as the moon shone unrelentingly upon his fragile body.
He should have never left the Manor in the first place. Never should have lost control as if under his so favored Imperius Curse and answered the first pulls of that which ended up ultimately killing the fool of a man that called himself 'Father.'
How weak was he that he could not resist the primitive temptation that cursed his bloodline? Was he to become mad while trying to fight against the Call like his father, needing over thirty-some wizards to just barely restrain him? Was he to bare his teeth and snarl like some kind of animal while his son looked at him, disgusted, as he once did?
He would have given a scoff if he could have. The notion was absolutely absurd at best.
Such as was dying by the claws of some mangy tabby!
Just as he felt, without ever willingly admitting it, himself dropping to the ground—a laughable little cottage filled his fading vision. It was completely deserted and was obscured mostly by a tree. Had it been any other situation, he would have never laid foot in some blood-traitors appalling yard. But he was a Slytherin. And as a Slytherin, he put his own well-being before anything else.
So, he let himself glide over the small gates and into the grass covered enclosure. He landed on his belly beneath the masking leaves of the large yew tree and just lay there. The Animagus could feel himself panting heavily, his wings spread out, when the most relaxing sensation draped over him. He felt his wounds closing, his crushed bones mending and connecting, while his breathing and heart-rate came back to normal.
Aside from the healing, he suddenly felt like everything was just right in the world. As if his impossibly dreary and tedious life was nothing but a passing thought. As if he was just...being—existing.
Every fiber, mineral, the entirety of everything that is him; was vibrating in some kind of relief he didn't quite understand. It felt as though a large blinder he hadn't realized he was wrapped in was suddenly yanked away.
It was such an intoxicating feeling that he let himself bask in it without thinking. Let all guards drop as the small bits of light from the full moon penetrating the leaves above him shimmered along the length of his glossy feathers.
"Oh—Pretty Birdie!" a delighted voice said softly.
At once, Lucius jumped up ready to bite anything that moved, his mercury-silver eyes coming upon a small form bathed in moonlight. He became painfully aware of his heart hammering against his chest and the blood rushing to his ears as he felt some sort of bizarre epiphany shine upon him. Lucius didn't know what the sudden feeling of absolute clarity meant, so he chose to simply ignore it. Instead, he made himself appear as threatening as he could in his current state and watched for any unwanted movement.
The bespectacled, nearly glowing-green eyes looked amused as they stared at him in his place, untamed waves of long raven hair falling over them. Lucius wondered what it meant when the thoughtful look suddenly appeared on the boy's gentle face. He didn't have to wait long to find out because soon, the pale boy clapped once abruptly and looked at him in an excited manner.
The world came to a crashing halt when the wretched child uttered a few simple words. "No Pretty Birdie. Pretty Man!"
His mind rushed with what the implications meant, and while he would never admit it to anyone, it frightened him. No grown wizard, much less some scrawny, and to his utter horror and disgust—emaciated looking child, should ever be able to see through an Animagus. It was unheard of! Not even his Lord was capable of such a thing.
What the boy said next just about ruined him. "Pretty Man like Harry!"
He can't be serious. He couldn't possibly mean–
The usually unfazed Malfoy stilled. The small boy's form shrunk and his face morphed into a snout. His ears moved to the top of his head while his arms and legs became fluffy paws of white, silken fur. No. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a trick. This just wasn't bloody happening!
But evidence of the Animagus transformation was clearly there and when all was done, a breathtaking arctic fox with glowing green eyes sat comfortably before him. Clothing that had already been far too large and billowing on his previous form pooled around the small, snow-white kit.
The little Animagus yipped several times, something akin to giggles, as it danced around Lucius'ss smaller form merrily.
And he ran—or flew, ignoring the strange tugging at the base of his skull when the disappointed yips sent his way reached him.
The head of Malfoy felt repulsed at his own cowardice, but at least he knew when to run. He was a Slytherin through and through.
Slamming another dusty book shut, Lucius sat back against his cushioned chair and ran a shaking hand over his bound hair. He stayed like that for a few moments before pushing off to pour himself a glass of Cognac. He took a sip from the alcoholic drink in hopes of alleviating the pounding headache that just wouldn't leave him alone.
If he wasn't sure before, he was absolutely certain now. The boy wasn't normal. In fact, he was such a special case, he could be rightfully called the first person his age to ever achieve a full Animagus transformation. It frightened him to think about how old exactly the child had been when he first perfected the uncommon ability.
Above that, he had been able to see through his own canary Animagus, reminding him once more of what it could possibly mean. He knew that his Lord had been a magical prodigy during his own childhood, but seeing it first-hand coming from another...made his hair stand on its ends. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling strangely excited at the implications.
On the other hand, it could be that, that is all the child could in fact do, regardless of its peculiarity. Now that he thought about it reasonably like he should have from the beginning, that was most likely the case. He was sure of it.
Another thing that had been bothering him greatly was the state the child was in. He had looked awfully malnourished and tired, dark circles that appeared like years old bruises circling under his eyes. His Muggle-styled clothes were torn as if moths had gotten to them and if Lucius's memory served correct, he hadn't even been wearing shoes. He knew that he was a cruel and cold man considering, but he certainly did not condone to the abuse of any child; including Muggles and Mudbloods.
He sighed while untying the black bow out of his hair in one quick motion, hoping that its release would ease the steadily growing pain in his skull.
But no matter, he currently had other things he was to agonize about, like preparing for his Draco's first year at Hogwarts. He still stood by his belief that his son would do well in Durmstrang, but it made his life much easier to simply appease Narcissa in her demands.
Taking one last look at the books that had been strewn about his desk during his vicious frenzy, he left his study and joined his wife in their bedchambers—his dreams being consumed by laughing, glittering-green eyes.
Nose in the air, Lucius looked around disdainfully at the appalling amount of Muggles surrounding him, both hands clutching the head of his cane. His pale lip rose in disgust when a little worm of a girl stopped to stare at the aristocrat in wonder before being pushed away by her scolding mother who dared not meet his belittling gaze.
Draco was at his side, seemingly as composed and statuesque as he was, but the Malfoy Head was well aware of his son's spontaneous nervous twitches; something that simply would not do. He rose a gloved hand to the boy's shoulder, pleased with the way his heir immediately straightened out without the need for words or arduous assurances.
That was the way of the Malfoy; cold and direct. There was no need for frivolous little poetry or useless communication to justify failure. If they were to stay at the top, they had to show all those beneath them exactly why. The unblemished Malfoy image was to remain as such at all times.
"Father, must I go to that repugnant school filled with bloody magic thieves and traitors?" Draco finally let out with an indignant huff.
Lucius found himself agreeing mentally, but chastised nonetheless. "Language, Draco." he said in a soft, peremptory tone. "I was once a student at Hogwarts as well. I have no doubt that you will continue to repute our family name by being Sorted into Slytherin House and staying at the top of your class."
"Of course, Father." Draco puffed up.
"Bear in mind, Draco, there is absolutely no room for...inadequacy in our clan." Lucius warned.
"I understand." The Malfoy Heir became serious. His silver eyes met his father's freezing gaze with a startling sharpness that could rival a Seer. It was disturbing seeing such clearness in the eyes of a child not twelve years old, but it was fit for the person who would one day take his rightful place as an accomplished leader. Lucius reveled in it.
Their tense moment scalding with inconspicuous threats was broken when obnoxious laughter filled King's Cross Station. Lucius glanced disapprovingly at the immediately distinct family of redheads before his cat-like gaze landed on an equally familiar set of messy hair.
"—run right into that wall! There's just no way, Dad!"
A flash of recognition. Was that–
"Don't worry poppet, you'll just go right through. Here. Percy honey! Would you kindly demonstrate for our dear Evan?"
Lucius rushed over to the loud group and yanked the younger Potter's arm up, forcing the boy to face him. He could feel the anxious adrenaline burning within every inch of his being, his eyes searching for what he did not know. He knew he was acting like everything he was against, but he couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment.
When questioning hazel eyes looked up at him, everything he had been feeling drained away in an instant.
He blinked several more times before promptly letting go of the stilled arm.
Lucius didn't know what had possessed him to approach Potter's spawn in such a manner. The whole situation did; however, leave him feeling like something was terribly off. While the eyes and maybe hair length were different, they generally looked the same. Did the blood-traitor have another?
While studying the one who defeated his Lord in scrutiny, he realized that they actually weren't very much alike. Not at all. This boy standing before him, this base thing looking at him with pretentious, dull eyes—was nothing more than a cheap imitation of that lonely child he met on that moon-filled night.
This boy exuded an air of reprehensible arrogance and unwarranted authority. He looked at Lucius expectantly as if he was to fall to the floor and kiss the very ground he walked on. He could now see that the illustrious Boy-Who-Lived, was nothing but slimy filth.
"Malfoy! What in bloody's name did you think you were doing to my son?" James Potter flushed to his ears while his body trembled in barely kept anger. "Decided you'd do your 'Lord' a favor and get rid of Evan for him, did you?"
"Father?" his Draco questioned softly, glaring at the younger Potter. It must have startled him to get a glimpse of his father in where he wasn't the perfect sculpture of everything that was Malfoy, but regret is for those who felt they'd made a mistake. Malfoys don't make mistakes.
Ignoring his son, Lucius revealed from his robe pocket a black handkerchief with the House of Malfoy family crest embroidered onto the corner. "Mighty accusations there, Potter." came his slow drawl, his current task of ridding himself of any impurities he may have contracted when he came into contact with Evan seemingly more important. "Ever been sued for slander?" He paused.
Maybe, he could use this...minor discontent to his advantage.
He dropped the now 'dirty' handkerchief to ground in front of him and stepped over it, coming closer to enraged pure-blood. The corner of his lips quirked up into a smirk. "How about for the negligence of a magical child?"
A look of honest confusion came over James's face, and for a moment, Lucius cursed the fact that he may have been wrong.
Lucius rose an eyebrow in question.
"My twin brother." Evan elaborated, only sparing a quick glace at Lucius.
The older Malfoy gave his son a warning glare when he looked ready to make a snide comment, immediately causing the boy clamp his mouth shut.
It would explain the resemblance, however 'vague' it may be, though he couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't ever made aware of this new piece of information. And he couldn't see this Harry anywhere. Why wasn't he present?
"Dad, is he talking about Harry?" The boy's brows were knitted together as he stared thoughtfully at his father. "What does negligence mean?"
James gave a start before looking accusingly at Lucius. "How do you know about Harry?" James paused. "And what do you mean 'magical child?' Harry is nothing but a wort–a squib. Always has been."
"It's true." Molly Weasley added hurriedly. "The child doesn't have a pint of magic in him!"
He was shaking. How dare these blood-traitors even begin to insinuate his inability to discern a wizard from a squib! It insulted him deeply not only because he took it personally, but for the child as well. He felt pity at the boy for being bred into the world by such a dim-witted cretin who obviously didn't value him at all.
The man was a complete mockery of the House of Potter, known as being one of most ancient of bloodlines. He remembered the details from reading Pure-bloods: A History, during his second year at Hogwarts—it stated that the Potter family emerged when a Black by the name of Artemis turned her allegiance towards the Light, later marrying a nameless wizard who went by 'Potter.'
While the Potters were considered to be a mostly 'Light' bloodline, they still held tightly onto the belief of blood purity. It goes without saying that Charlus and Dorea Potter were enraged by the news of their only son's secret bonding with a Muggleborn, effectively getting himself disinherited and blasted off the family tree tapestry.
The never-ending pressure against his skull grew once more, but he ignored it.
The House of Potter was infamous for their unmatched intelligence—often siring intellectual prodigies; something, this clod, apparently lacked.
"I have my sources." He lied. "They were quite appalled by his rather...unbecoming disposition."
James snarled, coming up close enough that their noses were nearly touching. "Why is it any of your business, Malfoy? When has the well-being of others but yourself ever interested you, much less some nameless squib?"
"Funny. My sources were wholly under the impression that the child was magical." He smirked, remembering his shock at the discovery of the boy's unconventional talent. "My regards to you. It would appear there is another Animagus in the family."
His smirk grew when shock made home on nearly all but the young-ones faces. Obviously the Potter boy and the Weasley children were not yet old enough to understand, but the look on James and Molly's face more than made up for it. His Draco could only stare incredulously at him, in which he simply inclined his head in response. Choking sounds escaped the boy when he realized his father wasn't lying.
His eyes returned to the stunned Potter. Something snapped in the man's eyes who in turn began cackling cruelly. The pure-blood stopped abruptly and glared hatefully at Lucius. "What rubbish are you spewing now, Lucius? Even if Harry were able to perform magic, an Animagus transformation just isn't within the realm of possibility for even the strongest of wizards, much less an eleven-year old child who barely knows the meaning of magic. I'm beginning to think you've gone senile early, old boy."
James was put off by the Cheshire-like smirk that spread across Lucius'ss pale face but quickly pulled himself together and glared hard at the Malfoy. "Harry is a squib." he repeated in determination.
Lucius only sidestepped him and made his way towards the portal leading to Hogwarts Express, Draco following behind without a word. "We shall see."