Whether Malfoy would spend the rest of his life in a Muggle prison, he didn't know. What he did know was that he might be in a bit of trouble right now.
When he returned home, he found two middle-aged wizards in Ministry uniforms standing stiffly in the drawing room beside Narcissa and Lucius. All four of them wore the same grim expression.
"Honey, you're finally back! Nothing happened, right?" Narcissa rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Relief flooded her face as she patted his back. Then, in a low whisper by his ear, she said, "Go upstairs and get some sleep, dear. Don't stay here."
"Don't protect him." Lucius's voice was colder than usual. He took several letters from the table and tossed them in front of his son. "Let him see for himself the trouble he's caused."
Malfoy glanced at the pile of parchment and unfolded the first one.
Mr. Malfoy: We have received a report that at 3:40 p.m. today, you used a Stupefy Charm on a Muggle in a Muggle residence in Little Hangleton.
You are aware that underage wizards are strictly forbidden from using magic outside school. Any further violations may result in expulsion (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Clause 3).
Furthermore, under Clause 13 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, any magical activity likely to attract the attention of Muggles constitutes a serious offense.
Have a pleasant holiday! — Mafalda Hopkirk, Improper Use of Magic Office, Ministry of Magic.
Malfoy sighed and muttered, "Well… this is indeed a little trouble."
"A little trouble?" Lucius's voice rose sharply, his temper flaring for the first time that evening. "Look at this!" he barked, losing the composure that usually marked his aristocratic demeanor.
Malfoy picked up the next letter.
Mr. Malfoy: We have received another report that at 4:30 p.m. today, you cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm on a Muggle residence in Little Hangleton.
You are reminded again that underage wizards are not permitted to use magic outside school grounds. Repeated violations may result in expulsion.
Clause 13 of the International Statute of Secrecy also applies.
Have a pleasant holiday! — Mafalda Hopkirk.
The letters that followed were much the same, only the spell names changed.
At last, he reached the final one.
In light of your repeated violations of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, the Ministry has decided to impose a disciplinary penalty. Although your Hogwarts record is excellent and Professor Dumbledore has vouched for you, we will not expel you. However, your wand will be temporarily confiscated as a disciplinary measure and returned at a later date.
"My darling didn't even see those warning letters," Narcissa cried, standing in front of her son. "They were sent straight here!"
"Please calm down, Madam," said one of the uniformed wizards — a tall, thin man with weary eyes.
"We're only following orders," his shorter, rounder partner added in a placating tone.
"Hand over the wand," Lucius said, his voice low and edged with steel.
"I understand," Malfoy replied calmly. He nodded and passed his wand to the tall wizard without hesitation.
"No!" Narcissa shrieked, unable to accept what was happening. Her voice trembled with despair — a mother's instinctive panic at seeing her child punished.
The two Ministry officials exchanged surprised looks. They had confiscated plenty of wands before, and the reactions were usually predictable — sobbing, pleading, even tantrums. But this boy, with his cool composure and steady gaze, seemed utterly unshaken.
"Such admirable self-control," murmured the tall wizard.
"Yes," the shorter one agreed, nodding with an unexpected hint of admiration. "I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. We'll explain everything to our superiors."
They seemed almost guilty for disturbing such a well-behaved young wizard.
Lucius inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, gentlemen."
"Well, we'd best return and file our report," said the tall wizard, straightening his cloak.
"Please, stay and have something to eat. We've prepared some desserts," Narcissa offered, desperate for one last chance to smooth things over.
"Madam, that's very kind, but we really must be going," the tall wizard replied politely.
With that, the two men stepped outside. A moment later, their outlines shimmered and vanished into the air — Apparition complete.
"Lucius!" Narcissa turned on her husband, her voice sharp and trembling.
"Oh, Narcissa, calm down," Lucius said, suddenly far more composed than before. The coldness had left his tone, replaced by a lazy kind of satisfaction.
"Calm down? Calm down? Our son was almost expelled! His wand is gone! How can you tell me to calm down?" Narcissa's voice wavered between fury and tears. Any mother would have reacted the same.
Lucius simply gave a faint smile. "There's no need to worry. You should take a lesson from our son — look at how calm he is."
Malfoy stood quietly by the table, neither defensive nor afraid. He looked perfectly relaxed, almost indifferent to the chaos around him.
Lucius continued in a quieter voice, "When the Ministry of Magic comes calling, one must let them have their moment. It's all about appearances — official business and saving face. The letters are nothing but formalities."
He gave a small, knowing smirk. "Dumbledore and the Ministry have been at odds for years. The more the old man defends you, the more they want to spite him. I doubt they ever intended real expulsion."
"As for the wand," Lucius went on smoothly, "I happened to dine recently with the superior of those two Ministry clerks — the one who's been begging for sponsors for that ridiculous new event. I think he'll remember my generosity."
Realization dawned on Narcissa. "Oh," she murmured, sinking weakly into a chair. Relief softened her face as the tension melted from her shoulders.
Lucius smiled faintly. "You see? There's always someone pulling the strings."
Malfoy listened silently. None of this surprised him. His father had always been the sort to orchestrate events from behind the curtain — protective, proud, and cunning to the core.
Lucius turned toward him with a glint of pride. "Besides, our little one is already close to mastering wandless magic," he said, patting Malfoy's shoulder. "That's not something every wizard can boast."
Narcissa sighed. "Let's drop the subject. It's late."
Lucius ignored her and leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Tell me, how exactly did you deal with that Muggle? The report said you used a Stupefy Charm. Rather inefficient for torture — the target can't feel pain or fear that way! You should—"
"Lucius." Narcissa's voice snapped like a whip. "Enough of your nonsense."
Her mood had clearly lightened, though her scolding tone remained.
"Oh, come now," Lucius protested mildly. "I'm just reminiscing. There's an art to these things."
"Do you want our son sent to Azkaban?" she shot back.
Lucius blinked. "No, no, of course not," he said quickly, raising both hands. "I'm only saying—"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," he replied at once, lips twitching into an awkward smile.
Narcissa sighed again, shaking her head. "Draco, darling, you must be exhausted. You're going back to school tomorrow — go get some rest."
"Yes, Mother," Malfoy said. Grateful for the excuse to leave, he turned and walked toward the stairs, his footsteps light but measured.
Lucius watched him disappear down the hallway. "I haven't even taught him about the Unforgivable Curses yet," he muttered under his breath.
"Do you want him to take a trip to Azkaban?" Narcissa said sharply.
Lucius winced and chuckled awkwardly. "No, no, no. I was only joking. I won't say another word."
"Good," she said, giving him a warning look.
"It's just an introduction, not a lesson," he murmured.
"What was that?"
"Nothing at all," Lucius replied quickly, spreading his hands in mock innocence.
Night gradually settled over Malfoy Manor. The towering windows darkened, and soft candlelight flickered across the marble floor.
The household grew quiet. No one spoke of the earlier commotion again.
For now, at least, peace returned to the grand, cold halls of the Malfoys' estate — a fragile peace, shimmering faintly under the weight of unspoken secrets.
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