Phineas' Narration – The Inbetween Years

Truditur dies die novaeque pergunt interire lunae.

HORAZ – Carmina*

So this is how young Severus here came to be a permanent staff member. Two years later, Horace Slughorn retired, and he became both the new Potions Master, and Head of Slytherin House – a noble position – I’ve had it for more than thirty years myself –

– Yes, Phineas, we know. Could you please continue now with the aftermath of Lord Voldemort’s disappearance? –

Indeed. My great-grandson Sirius Black, generally believed to have been the Potter’s Secret Keeper, was suspected to have betrayed them, persecuted, captured, charged and sentenced to life-long imprisonment in Azkaban. He was the first – and most publicised – convict after Lord Voldemort’s downfall; Bartemius Crouch didn’t even bother for something like a real trial, and at the time, nobody found that any odd at all. In fact, there were only four people who had slight doubts in the case, though none of them voiced them either, for various reasons.

Andromeda Tonks was very shocked – and incredulous – that her favourite cousin should have betrayed his best friends, leading to James and Lily Potter’s death and personally killing Peter Pettigrew even. But like every other witch and wizard in England, she had no whatsoever doubt in Albus Dumbledore’s testimony –

– Oh, now it’s all my fault again, is it? –

~ You didn’t hear me complaining, do you! ~

Oh, be quiet! Albus Dumbledore’s testimony, according to which Sirius Black had been the Potters’ Secret Keeper. Andromeda hadn’t seen much of her cousin in the previous years anyway, so she simply assumed that he must have changed very much for the worse, and left it at that.

My dear child Narcissa was likewise surprised. Unlike Andromeda, she had the most unfavourable opinion of her cousin, still – if there was one thing she had not thought him capable of, it was betrayal of his closest friends. Indeed, she had believed that loyalty was her cousin’s only virtue, and the fact that The Idiot and her impossible sister Bellatrix were perfectly ignorant of Sirius’ unexpected allegiances only heightened her doubtfulness. In the end though, she, too, saw no reason to mistrust Dumbledore, and thought that once in her life, her aunt Walburga might have been right after all. The wretched boy had had no qualms to leave his family behind – why should he be more fussy about people he wasn’t even related to? The good girl was a family person herself – so Sirius’ running away at the age of sixteen was absolutely unacceptable from her point of view, no matter how insufferable her aunt and uncle might ever be. After this, she thought him capable of betraying anything.

This went along with her wretched husband’s, and that disastrous girl Bellatrix’ perception of the case. Both had never heard of Sirius Black being a Death Eater – and both of them ought to have known, technically. But Lucius did not really care; like everybody else, he was satisfied with Dumbledore’s explanation; from Severus Snape and my sweet great-granddaughter, he had heard enough of Sirius Black to deem him capable of every crime under the sun, and what was most – he had indeed known that the Dark Lord had a spy close to the Potters, but had never disclosed this one’s identity. So Lucius simply assumed that Sirius Black was the man.

And Bellatrix? Oh well. She had other things on her mind afflicting her; she truly couldn’t bother for her unloved cousin Sirius, even though she knew that Peter Pettigrew, Sirius’ supposed victim, had served her master. The only reason why she hadn’t gone to prison directly after Lord Voldemort’s downfall was that she hadn’t been herself; her younger sister had controlled her with an Imperius Curse. Bellatrix herself was out of herself with grief and despondency. She truly worshipped her master, she would have gone to the end of the world for him, and that he should be no more was just too gruesome – unthinkable – for her to deal with. When Narcissa undid the Imperius Curse that got her through the Ministry’s interrogations, Bellatrix found herself free, but inconsolable – she didn’t need close relatives like Sirius to ponder on.

For my little girl, everything turned out well. The investigations against The Idiot were called off before they had truly begun, and the same was true for most of his closer friends. Graham Goyle, Marlon Crabbe, her sister and this one’s husband and brother-in-law – they all went free. Most former Death Eaters did, only twenty-one were captured and sentenced to life-long imprisonment, alongside some minor members of the Dark Order. Both Narcissa and The Idiot carefully observed the proceedings, still anxious that one of the felons would try to make a deal with the Ministry, bargaining their own freedom by snitching.

Nothing of the kind happened. Instead, disaster struck in a very different quarter. Yes, they had been aware that Bellatrix appeared to be the only one still genuinely dismayed when the last investigations were ceased. She refused to believe that the Dark Lord was truly dead, and had actually tried to talk The Idiot – for once not acting like an idiot – into a quest to find the master again – utterly unsuccessfully, of course, and to her youngest sister’s incredulous outrage. In the end though, not even Narcissa had believed her sister to be that mad. Fact was that Bellatrix, together with her husband, her brother-in-law Rabastan and some boy fairly fresh to the Dark Order, had assaulted the family of the Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, Cruciating both of them into insanity. Neither my little girl nor her useless husband could believe it. That she could be so imprudent – foolish – suicidal really – no, they hadn’t reckoned with that.

My good great-granddaughter couldn’t forgive her sister. Not a week after the trial, resulting in four life-long sentences – Barty Crouch had not even spared his own son, the forth culprit – my grandson Cygnus succumbed to a stroke and died. His wife was inconsolable and so was her good daughter, but at least they found some solace in the idea that he had led a very happy life for eighty long years.

Life went back to perfect normality rather soon. My dear girl was happy, happier than ever before. She no longer had to fear for her husband, that he might be injured, captured or – she still hardly dared to think of it – killed. Her little family was safe, and she could concentrate on life’s pleasantries, only shortly interrupted by her mother’s unexpected death some years later.

She saw her little son grow up; she was devotedly solicitous to his education, teaching him basic spells, reading, writing, playing the piano, of course. She taught him French and German, Latin and Gaelic, Arithmancy and Arithmetic, Herbology and Zoology. She introduced him to art and literature, everything in life that was beautiful and elegant. The only matter swiftly unsettling her was when little Draco got his first broom for Christmas. Otherwise, she enjoyed the comfortable homeliness that Malfoy Manor offered to her and never left it if she could help it. She only ever went out to do her silly husband a favour, either to impress some business partners of his, or to get him some amusement. She was aware that the idiotic fool –

~ I think it might be better if I continue, hm? ~

It’s my family after all, Snape!

~ And my friends, and I’m not going to replace Lucius’ name with constant cusses. ~

– He’s got a point there, Phineas! –

~ Yes, I have. Lucius was slightly bored with the routine of his daytime work; for his thirtieth birthday in 1984, Abraxas had fully committed the family fortunes and enterprises to his son’s hands. This one wasn’t half as grateful as his father thought he ought to be, but alas! It was too late for him to become a Quidditch pro, and that was the only profession that he had ever seriously contemplated. The times in the Dark Order put on the patina of nostalgia in the course of time. Now that it was over, he forgot the risks and fears by and by, only remembering the thrills and kicks. Narcissa let him, she could see no harm in it.

Draco grew up to be his parents’ sheer delight. Unsurprisingly, being his parents’ son, he was very clever and resourceful. His wit sometimes bordered on cheek, but neither of his parents had it in them to find any fault with that, and in any case, Draco knew when and how he had to behave after all. He was capable of great enthusiasm and persistence, he knew how to get what he wanted, and above all, he was an easy-going, cheerful, charming child. Lucius was the sort of father that he had always wanted to be, and if possible, Narcissa loved him even more for it. Yes, they were spoiling their baby, but so what? Whenever Narcissa would raise that question – not meaning it quite earnest – Lucius would answer with a fond smile that she had been spoilt by her own parents, too, ‘and just look what a marvellous person you’ve become!’ ~

That’s true! My dear great-granddaughter was a marvellous girl!

~ Indeed. In hindsight, I would venture to say that the greatest blunder in little Draco’s upbringing was his parents’ self-declared aim to be the world’s best parents. They meant nothing but well, but Lucius in particular had only a very diffuse idea what constituted the perfect father. Taking his own as a daunting example, he chose to do everything oppositely of what Abraxas would have done, and as a result, treated the boy less like a son and rather like a friend. It’s an admirable concept in theory, but it doesn’t work. However, these shortcomings didn’t show in these early years yet, and if anyone had wanted to write a book about thorough felicity, or the happiest family that could possibly exist – he should have written that book about the Malfoys then. Lucius’ worship for his wife couldn’t have been greater; Narcissa loved him just as much. And Draco? Draco grew up believing that his parents were The Best, The Coolest, The Most Powerful, Elegant, Intelligent and Overall-Flawless people in the whole wide world. This is a direct quote, you know! He always professed that he’d be like his dad once, oh yes, and he’d marry a witch exactly like his mum, and he’d be a fabulous Quidditch player like his dad, a proficient pianist like his mum, an irresistibly mighty wizard like his dad, fluent in twenty-two languages like his mum, a business-genius like his dad, an universal genius like his mum – and so on, and so on. His parents encouraged him in whatever ambition he boasted that day with a benign smile, patting his shoulders and telling him that he was perfect just the way he was. ~

– I believe this was one of Narcissa Malfoy’s most prominent flaws. She indulged her son far too much. She taught him everything but compassion, and Lucius gave him everything but good principles. –

~ That’s not true, Dumbledore. Yes, she did spoil the boy to the bone, but otherwise she raised him with all the love she grew up with herself. ~

– But that love never included anyone outside of their family, that is the crux! –

~ Oh, could you stop pretending, at least in death?! Show me how many people truly love all mankind. You didn’t, either! ~

Could you two stop quibbling?! Anyway – this is how young Snape here became a permanent member of the Hogwarts staff. Disgruntled, reluctant, decidedly unsympathetic to his students – who can blame him, kids are a meddlesome business. So noisy. And untidy. And disobedient. Downright filthy, some of them. And so wilful and self-important –

– Yes, thank you, Phineas. I believe we all know that you’re not very fond of children, either. Let us get back to the narration now, please! –

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* Truditur... One day supersedes the other and incessantly new moons sink.

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