HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 106: Lucius Is Furious

"Thank you," Lucius Malfoy said, staring at the ground.

Before him stood Arthur Weasley, who'd brought Draco back. Lucius stood at the entrance of his ornately decorated striped silk tent, a rare blush rising on his pale, stiff, and defiant face.

"You're welcome," Mr. Weasley said, also looking down at the ground, feeling quite uncomfortable with Lucius's brief but unusual words of thanks.

Lucius coughed awkwardly, looked up, and glanced at Arthur.

Giving thanks to a mortal enemy in every sense—a blood traitor with completely different ideologies—was neither something Lucius Malfoy was good at nor enjoyed; if anyone in the pure-blood wizarding circles knew what he was doing at this moment, they'd probably ridicule him for years to come.

"Well then, I'll be going now," Arthur Weasley said to him with a strange smile, and even glanced at his son.

For some reason, Lucius sensed schadenfreude in his expression, though he didn't understand the source of that emotion.

Arthur Weasley—could he be plotting something? He pursed his lips, glancing at him warily.

However, the tall, thin, red-haired wizard didn't linger or utter another word. He'd already turned and walked away decisively.

"Oh, yes—see you later," Lucius called out. He rested his hands on his snake-headed cane, staring at Mr. Weasley's departing figure with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty, still wondering what the man was up to.

After a while, Lucius suddenly came to his senses. He turned his head and gave his son, who'd been missing for half the night, a stern look.

Good, no missing arms or legs... but his hair was disheveled, his face was pale, his robes were wrinkled, and his shoes were covered in mud, as if he'd rolled around in the grass of the Forbidden Forest.

"Come into the tent with me, now!" Lucius said coldly, stepping first through the doorway draped with striped silk.

Narcissa had been waiting for them in the drawing room. As soon as Draco stepped into the tent, she rushed over and embraced her long-lost son tightly: "Draco! Finally... thank Merlin!"

Her face was completely bloodless, and a few strands of hair had fallen from her elegant chignon. The exquisite robes she'd worn to the match were already rather wrinkled.

Narcissa paid no heed to maintaining her elegant demeanor. She kissed her son's forehead hard, her blue eyes brimming with tears, and frantically searched his hands, arms, and legs. "Oh, Draco, are you all right?"

"No, I'm fine, Mother," Draco said, obediently letting his mother check him over, and smiled at her.

"Thank Merlin you're all right!" After checking him, Narcissa saw he was fine—just rather dirty—and the worry on her face finally subsided.

"Explain!" Lucius said to Draco with an icy expression. He was already seated in an armchair in the drawing room.

"Oh, Lucius, don't be so harsh with him!" Narcissa said, glaring at Lucius, then pulled Draco to sit on the sofa beside her, softening her tone. "Draco, tell Mother where you went? Do you know how worried we were when we rushed back to look for you and found you weren't in the tent... Mother didn't dare go anywhere... Your father searched all night, looking for you everywhere..."

Lucius snorted coldly. Draco then noticed his father's once-proud, flowing hair was now matted in a few strands, and he looked somewhat haggard.

"I'm sorry, Mother..." Draco said, looking down at the tips of his shoes, trying his best to look pitiful. "I heard something was wrong outside, and I got frightened, so I ran into the forest with everyone..."

"Hmph!" Lucius said, sinking into the comfortable armchair dismissively. "You're just spoiled by your mother! You're scared of such a small thing—you have no backbone at all..."

"He's still a child! Of course he'll be scared!" Narcissa said, stroking Draco's hair affectionately. "He must have suffered considerably tonight..."

His mother's hands were warm and gentle. This suddenly brought a genuine glisten to his eyes, which had been calm and indifferent. He'd been running around all night, living in fear and anxiety, and had even been criticized by Barty Crouch before everyone with a contemptuous tone, all while stubbornly holding on.

If Hermione's protection tonight had made the icy shell covering his heart begin to loosen, now his father's clumsy worries and his mother's gentle words had finally caused his hard shell to collapse completely.

"Don't be so pathetic! Explain why you were sent back by that blood traitor Arthur Weasley?" Lucius said, looking at his dejected appearance, his eyes flashing, his tone nonchalant.

"Something happened... I ran into some of my Hogwarts classmates..." Draco wisely didn't say which classmates, sniffed, and told his father, "Later, someone nearby released the Dark Mark... Ministry officials arrived one after another—he was one of them. After it was over, he brought me back."

"Draco, did you see someone cast the Dark Mark?" Lucius said, his face showing both doubt and fear. "Did you see who it was?"

"No, it was too dark—they escaped," Draco said succinctly.

"Tell me more about the Ministry officials. Has someone been giving you a hard time?" Lucius said, rubbing his temples, clearly annoyed.

"There's only one—Barty Crouch—who believes I cast the Dark Mark," Draco said expressionlessly.

Narcissa suddenly stopped, and she took her son's hand with concern—she found it was rather cold.

"Ina," she said, summoning an elderly house-elf, "make your young master a cup of hot chocolate, immediately." Upon hearing this, the elf immediately bowed and withdrew to prepare a hot drink for her mistress's poor, tormented son.

On the other end, upon hearing Crouch had dared make things difficult for his son, Lucius suddenly sat upright and said sternly, "He dared!"

"He certainly dared. He even pointed his wand tip at my face," Draco said calmly. "Mother, don't worry—I'm fine. Mr. Weasley spoke up for me, as did a lady from the Ministry in a woolen dressing gown."

"Who was that?" Narcissa said, breathing a sigh of relief and continuing to ask.

"She had a square jaw, wore a monocle, and had thick eyebrows. She seemed to know Crouch fairly well; she called him 'Barty' instead of his surname," Draco said, recalling. "She said she had a niece in the same year as me."

"That must be Amelia Bones," Narcissa said thoughtfully. "The Bones family was once prominent, but unfortunately, they've dwindled in number, leaving only her and her niece to rely on each other. I must thank—"

"All right, Cissy, don't forget how the Boneses died. They won't welcome you," Lucius said, wrinkling his nose and continuing to question his son. "Anything else? What else happened?"

"Later, my classmates also testified on my behalf..." Draco said, roughly recounting the events at the scene to them: the house-elf Winky holding a wand, and the conclusions reached by the Ministry officials.

After hearing this, Narcissa's face showed disgust. "That petty, vindictive Crouch! He's using his position for personal revenge... He himself has a mess to clean up, yet he dares doubt Draco!"

She was furious her "precious son had been falsely accused in public."

Lucius gritted his teeth for a moment, his eyes flashing with malice.

"Barty Crouch—isn't he the most protective of his reputation? Humph... House-elves running around everywhere, carrying other people's wands, violating wizarding law—Crouch's lax control is a scandal for the Ministry... Sounds like excellent news!" he said ominously.

By now, Narcissa had regained some composure. She glanced lightly at her furious husband. "Yes, let's do it that way. I know a journalist—Rita Skeeter—or something like that." She handed the hot chocolate to Draco and watched him drink it.

Lucius looked at his wife and nodded.

He suddenly looked up again, his cold gaze fixed on Draco, and asked suspiciously, "Who are your classmates? They're not Gryffindor classmates, are they?"

"Harry Potter," Draco said calmly.

Bring Harry into the conversation, and Lucius would likely lose his temper. He always had a strange sense of apprehension toward Harry, believing him to be exceptionally gifted and the next Dark Lord.

Unexpectedly, Lucius didn't give up so easily, but instead snorted. "I'm afraid there were also Weasley children involved, correct? Otherwise, why would Arthur Weasley have come all the way to see you home?"

"I can't decide who I'll meet tonight, Father," Draco said without lifting his eyelids, continuing to sip his hot chocolate, "nor can I decide who Harry Potter will befriend."

Lucius frowned, seemingly deep in thought. He stroked his snake-headed cane and said slowly, "Tonight, in the Top Box, I've been observing him. The famous Harry Potter... He seems mediocre, no different from that blood traitor Weasley boy—and that boy isn't even the best in the Weasley family."

Draco was slightly surprised but glanced at Lucius without showing any emotion.

Unexpectedly, his father had taken the opportunity to observe Harry—he'd thought his father was spending all his energy befriending the Ministry officials in the Top Box.

At that time, his mind had been entirely on Hermione, and he hadn't paid much attention to where his parents' eyes were directed.

What had Harry and Ron done tonight? The only thing they'd gone too far with was probably losing their composure before the Veela, correct? Wasn't that normal? Almost all the officials in the Top Box had behaved rather poorly the moment the Veela appeared.

"What is the basis for your judgment that he's mediocre?" Draco couldn't help asking.

"And what's your basis for judging him as someone worth befriending?" Lucius retorted, a hint of disdain on his face.

"I told you about the Chamber of Secrets, which proves he's no ordinary person. Destroying the Basilisk and damaging the diary aren't things an ordinary boy could easily do," Draco said.

"Basilisk—wasn't it Dumbledore's phoenix that helped him? As for the diary, it's just a Dark artifact left over from the Dark Lord's time. It's not the Dark Lord himself, so what can it do?" Lucius said dismissively.

No. A hint of guilt flashed across Draco's face.

Although the diary wasn't actually the Dark Lord himself, it was no less dangerous—it contained a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul.

Draco had kept the Horcruxes secret from his parents.

For now, the less they knew about Horcruxes, the better—until their inclinations were fully determined.

In his previous life, a major reason Lucius had so resolutely sided with the Dark Lord was that when he'd felt the Dark Mark on his wrist calling him, the Dark Lord had already been resurrected.

This was an established fact no one could resist.

By refusing the Dark Lord's summons, Lucius would likely be used as an example to frighten others, and would probably die a violent death in his bed at Malfoy Manor the very next morning.

But what if the Dark Lord's resurrection plan was thwarted and failed to materialize? What would Lucius's attitude be then?

It was worth noting that in the decade or so since the Dark Lord's downfall, Lucius had never once tried seeking out his former master. Instead, he'd immediately claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse, cleared his name, and returned to his position as head of the Malfoy family. Now he was on good terms with officials of all ranks in the Ministry, and no one could cause him any trouble; he was living a comfortable life.

Would a father living such a comfortable life be willing to give up his stable existence and risk his life for a future with only a fifty-fifty chance? Draco had some doubts about this.

"What? You have nothing to say?" Lucius asked impatiently when he remained silent for ages, unaware of Draco's inner thoughts.

"Harry Potter... after all, he defeated the Dark Lord at such a young age," Draco said, pondering his father's thoughts and speaking incisively. "As far as I know, since he enrolled, Dumbledore has always valued and favored him. If he didn't have any extraordinary abilities, how could he have made the busy Headmaster of Hogwarts go to such lengths and devote so much effort to him?"

"That makes sense," Narcissa said, supporting her beloved son. "Dumbledore isn't stupid. There must be deeper meaning to this. Lucius, Draco has already done brilliantly. His friendship with that Potter boy might open up more avenues for our family's future. What's wrong with that? Is it worth all this fuss and nitpicking?"

"Cissy, things aren't that simple. You know, it's easy to board Albus Dumbledore's ship but hard to disembark. Otherwise, why would I have kept my distance from him all these years? Moreover, as a wizard from an ancient pure-blood family, he has willingly fallen into degeneracy, dealing with all sorts of people—blood traitors, Muggles, Squibs, half-blood werewolves, and perhaps even half-giants..." Lucius said, his attitude softening considerably when facing Narcissa, expressing his concerns with composure.

Upon hearing the list of people Lucius had given, Narcissa's expression wavered. She felt her husband had a point.

Having secured the meager support from his Cissy, Lucius once again hardened his expression toward his son: "I think you need to be punished—for running off, and for making me thank that blood traitor Arthur Weasley. It was utterly humiliating..."

"Lucius!" Narcissa disagreed. "We shouldn't have left him alone in the tent in the first place!"

"Our tent is perfectly secure—there's no danger at all! Nobody dares touch the Malfoys!" Lucius said impatiently.

"That is true—" Narcissa murmured.

Nobody dares touch the Malfoys... What did that mean? Could it be Father really participated in tonight's Death Eater activities? Draco frowned slightly.

He took another sip of hot chocolate, feeling he might have borrowed some courage from Hermione tonight. He looked up, observing Lucius's expression. "Father, did you really go to see the Bulgarian Minister for Magic tonight?"

"What do you mean? What do you think your mother and I did tonight? Are you doubting your own father?" Lucius said, his face darkening further, his eyes flashing with fierce light, as if he'd been terribly offended.

"Of course not. But I'll wager you can guess who set the fires," Draco said. He didn't answer his question directly but cleverly changed the angle.

"Do I even need to guess? It's too obvious! Those drunken idiots! Don't they know what sort of occasion this is? They actually used the Dark Mark! This will have very bad international repercussions on the wizarding world. We've only had a few days of peace, and the Ministry certainly won't let this go..." Lucius said with an unfriendly expression.

It seemed Father hadn't participated in tonight's march. He hadn't even changed from his match robes yet.

Draco was finally relieved. The fact his father hadn't participated in the Death Eater march made Draco see a possibility—he might be a staunch advocate of pure-blood supremacy, but that didn't mean he'd want to live a risky and turbulent life because of his bloodline beliefs.

He secretly observed his father, calculating how much Lucius was wavering between the dark and light camps, and whether he might lean more toward the light side.

"All right, Lucius, stop tormenting my poor Draco," Narcissa said, interrupting her husband's complaints and looking worriedly at her precious son. "He needs a good bath and, more importantly, rest. Let's go home as soon as possible; I'm fed up with this chaos here..."

"All right, all right, Cissy, don't be upset," Lucius said, raising his hands in surrender and standing from the armchair. "I know someone. He can get me a Portkey right away, without having to wait until morning. Let's go now."

The people Lucius and Narcissa "knew" were always highly efficient. This included not only the wizards in the Portkey Office, but also certain wizards who wielded quills—like Rita Skeeter.

The next morning, as Draco was cutting a tender Angus steak at the Malfoy Manor dining table, Lucius slammed a copy of the *Daily Prophet* onto the table before Draco.

"See?" His expression was indifferent, but his tone revealed a hint of smugness.

Draco glanced quickly at the headline. "Ministry in panic... Criminals uncaught... Lax security... Dark wizards at large... National embarrassment..."

Draco looked up at his father—who was already sitting opposite him, skillfully cutting his Cissy's steak.

"Read it aloud," Lucius said. Sensing his gaze, he smiled arrogantly and commanded his son.

"A high-ranking Ministry official may be involved. According to sources, the Dark Mark that appeared in the forest may be closely related to this official's house-elf. Although this official has been tough on the issue of resisting You-Know-Who in the past, the fact his family members were once staunch supporters of You-Know-Who cannot be ignored... How to quell the storm, conduct an internal investigation, and appease the panicked wizards are urgent problems the Ministry needs to solve," Draco read aloud word for word.

"Tell me your thoughts," Lucius said, asking his son across from him.

He shouldn't have asked that question. He'd already avenged his son, restored his dignity, and punished the fool who'd dared be rude to a Malfoy.

Draco appeared remarkably calm—too calm. His face was expressionless, devoid of any joy. This wasn't something any fourteen-year-old boy could do, especially one who'd just been avenged after being humiliated.

This gave Lucius a subtle sense of lost control. For a moment, he couldn't quite understand his son's thoughts.

Son... was he satisfied or dissatisfied? Lucius wondered to himself.

Across the table, Draco folded his newspaper and said calmly, "I think Mr. Crouch is probably having trouble sleeping."

"He deserves it," Lucius said. He was certain; he'd detected a hint of pleasure in his son's words.

Relieved, he said, a resolute glint in his gray eyes, "Draco, remember this: no one can falsely accuse a Malfoy without facing the consequences."

Draco smiled slightly at his father, finally able to pick up his knife and fork again and tackle the steak.

Yes, Father Lucius always adhered to the Malfoy family rules: I will not offend others unless they offend me; if they offend me, I will repay them a hundredfold.