Lucius Malfoy strode down the spotless corridors of Malfoy Manor, gazing upon his possessions with smug admiration. A priceless vase, a Malfoy family heirloom, immaculately clean and decorated with carvings of writhing serpents-- perfect. The six million galleon chandelier, gleaming with cold and austere beauty-- perfect. The massive marble columns that held up the manor’s proud roof, as ornate as any sculpture-- perfect. Lucius’s own reflection, visible in the untarnished antique mirror on the wall--well, naturally, perfect.
Everything perfect. Everything pure. The entire manor was exactly how Lucius liked it. It was also empty-- Narcissa was off visiting the Lestranges, Draco was at school, and the several dozen house-elves… well, they were home, but never showed their faces outside the kitchen when the Malfoys were still awake. And as Lucius had never once entered the kitchen, the elves might as well have been nonexistent.
Lucius examined his reflection more closely. His eyes rested on the smooth cascade of silver-blond hair, tied back with a silken ribbon; the cool and proud grey eyes that gleamed on either side of a strong Roman nose; the pale complexion and pointed chin that contrasted with his square jaw and prominent cheekbones; the fitted green velvet doublet that he wore over his robes. He was at the peak of prosperity, his good looks not at all faded by the years, his power increasing every day, and his fortune behaving likewise.
He would have been completely happy had a large barn owl not landed on his head at that precise moment. His first thought was that he would have to re-comb his hair; his second thought was the slightly obvious realization that owls did not normally land on people’s heads unless they had mail to deliver.
He snatched the envelope from the owl’s leg and forcefully sent it out the window without feeding it-- that should teach the miserable beast from landing on the heads of wealthy purebloods. The owl needed training.
Lucius settled down in his favourite chair, which was suspiciously similar to a throne that had once belonged to the King of France in 1727. Not that this was the French throne, of course, Lucius had told the Minister of Magic on one of his recent visits. The idea was preposterous. But if, hypothetically speaking, the throne had belonged to the King of France, than it would have been stolen under the cover of midnight by a courtier named D’Artagnan Malfoy (who, hypothetically, would have been wearing an invisibility cloak), ground into powder, snuck out of the country into England when the Malfoy family moved and became British citizens, reassembled by magic, and passed down through several generations until Lucius had inherited it. Again, this was all hypothetical, of course.
He turned over the envelope, noting from the address that it was from his mother, Aethonia. The old bat was probably writing to demand something of Lucius’s. Lucius’s father Abraxas had died the previous week and had thusly caused some minor discord by leaving several rather spectacular dark artifacts to Lucius that Aethonia had wanted. “Do not even consider trying to get your bony talons on my Peverell crest flatware, Mother,” Lucius thought to himself as he slit open his envelope.
A remarkably long parchment greeted him. This was something of a surprise-- he had expected something along the lines of, “Dearest Lucius: Give me your flatware. NOW. Love, Mummy.” He and his mother rarely saw each other, and even more rarely did they communicate. If his mother was writing him these long epistles, Lucius reasoned, then something had to be amiss. He read the letter, his eyes growing wider with each sentence.
Dear Lucius,
Your father’s death has prompted me to write this letter, which for years I knew I would one day be forced to do. There is something I must tell you, and though it is unpleasant, it is the truth, and it can be hidden from you no longer.
You are not my son.
“Fantastic,” muttered Lucius. “The bat’s threatening to disown me unless I give her the Peverell crest flatware.” He resumed reading the missive:
My son, Lucius Aelius Malfoy, was fourteen months old when Abraxas left home for a year-long mission for the Dark Lord (may his soul forever rest in pieces) when he was just beginning to gather followers and was known to very few. Before leaving, Abraxas instructed me to care for his heir. Naturally, as I was Lucius’s mother, I had every intention of complying with his wishes. But only a few months after Abraxas’s departure, Lucius crawled out of his crib and ingested deadly hellebore and belladonna used for potion-making. There was nothing that could be done, and he expired shortly after. I knew that I would be punished if Abraxas returned home to discover that his heir had died in his absence, and so I did the only thing I could do.
I went to the wizarding orphanage in Hogsmeade to look for a baby of a similar age and appearance to Lucius. We found one fourteen-month-old baby with the same blond hair and grey eyes, Alexander James MacHamish and called ‘Sawney’ for short. He looked so much like Lucius that I knew that Abraxas would never suspect a thing if I adopted him and raised him in Lucius’s place.
The attendant at the orphanage told me that Alexander MacHamish was the son of a Muggle couple in Scotland. One day, to the ignorant couple’s horror, a pair of large and highly poisonous snakes crawled into his crib. But Alexander did not cry-- in fact, he cuddled the snakes like teddy bears, and the snakes behaved as benignly as pussy cats. When Alexander’s father tried to lift his son out of the crib, the snakes attacked and killed him.
Mrs. MacHamish saw her husband’s death as a freak accident. However, over the next several weeks, poisonous snakes seemed almost magnetically drawn to her son, including snakes that were not native to Scotland like asps, adders, and tiger snakes. Snakes followed the baby’s pram when they went for a walk, crawled into his crib nightly, approached him when he was playing on the lawn, even slithered up the legs of his high chair. Frightened for her safety as well as Alexander’s, the woman put the baby up for adoption. The only orphanage that would take him after hearing his story was the wizarding orphanage in Hogsmeade-- they had heard of snakes following baby wizards before, most notably Salazar Slytherin, and recognized Alexander to be exhibiting early signs of great magical powers.
I would normally have never cared for a Muggleborn child, but I was desperate, and Alexander seemed, from his story, to be a promising Slytherin. I raised him as my own son, and indeed, snakes were attracted to him just as much as he was attracted to them. He showed other signs of precocious magical skill, such as causing a house elf to be magically hurled across a room when she tried to take away his bottle before he was finished.
When Abraxas returned, he was very pleased with his “heir.” Alexander-- now called Lucius-- grew into a strong young man who exhibited all of the traits of a pureblood, a Slytherin, and a Malfoy, and Abraxas and I were very proud of him. It was easy to almost forget that he was not my true son but a Muggleborn boy.
But the truth is that you are not and never have been Lucius Aelius Malfoy. You are Alexander James MacHamish.
I'm sorry.
Aethonia Malfoy.
Lucius sputtered incoherently, his mouth dangling open like that of a deranged catfish. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. He was Lucius Malfoy. He had been Lucius Malfoy his whole life… hadn’t he? Everyone had always told him that he was the spitting image of Abraxas. There was no way he could be this… this Alexander MacHamish.
Mudbloods were scum. Mudbloods had dirty blood and far less magical power than purebloods. Mudbloods were stupid, worthless, to be looked down upon.
He, Lucius-- he refused to think of himself as anything else-- prided himself on being a powerful magician from one of the most ancient wizarding families. He couldn’t possibly be Muggleborn himself.
Could he?
How Ironic, Mr. Malfoy by Schmerg_The_Impaler
Chapter Notes: In this story, Lucius’s full name is Lucius Aelius Malfoy. Lucius Aelius Caesar was the adopted son of Hadrian. Also, although the ‘blessing’ that Aethonia Malfoy makes regarding Voldemort sounds humorous, I imagine that she takes it very seriously and sees no humour in it. Additionally, I mention ‘poisonous’ snakes several times. I know that, scientifically speaking, the snakes that I mention are ‘venomous,’ but Aethonia is no scientist (after all, she’s a witch) and I doubt she would call them ‘venomous snakes.’
Oh, and by the way, many thanks to my beta, GreyLady, for her excellent help!
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