Chapter 18 : Malfoy being Malfoy.

In the dimly lit study of Malfoy Manor, shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flickering flames of the grand fireplace. The room was a testament to the Malfoy family's wealth and influence, adorned with dark wood furniture, intricate tapestries, and ancestral portraits that seemed to watch over the proceedings with an air of judgment. The scent of aged parchment and expensive cologne permeated the space, creating an atmosphere of opulence tinged with menace.

Lucius Malfoy sat at his ornate desk, his fingers drumming impatiently on the polished surface. His icy blue eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the letter in his hand once more. The humiliation he had endured at the Christmas ball at the hands of Alistair Marshall still burned fresh in his mind. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a hardened expression of cold determination. He would not allow such an insult to go unpunished.

With a deliberate motion, Lucius picked up a small, enchanted mirror from his desk. "Greyback," he hissed into the glass, his voice dripping with malice. The mirror shimmered, and the feral visage of Fenrir Greyback appeared, his yellow eyes glinting with anticipation.

"Malfoy," Greyback growled, his voice low and guttural. "What is it you want?"

Lucius leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly. "I have a task for you, Greyback. One that will require your... unique talents."

Greyback's lips curled into a predatory smile. "I'm listening."

Lucius steepled his fingers, his mind already savoring the thought of his revenge. "I need you to gather a pack of your finest werewolves. There are certain individuals who need to be reminded of their place. The Marshalls, in particular."

Greyback's eyes narrowed. "The Marshalls? You're playing with fire, Malfoy. Even a fool knows better than to cross them."

Lucius's smile returned, cold and confident. "I am aware of the risks. But this needs to be done. Ensure it happens on the next full moon. And Greyback, make sure there are no loose ends."

Greyback's hesitation was palpable, his usual bravado tempered by the reality of the task. "Malfoy, taking on the Marshalls is suicide. They're not just any family."

Lucius's expression hardened. "I am offering you 5,000 Galleons, Greyback. More than enough to compensate for the risk."

Greyback's eyes glinted with greed, but he still seemed uncertain. "It's not just about the money, Malfoy. It's the Marshalls. They've got a reputation."

Lucius's gaze turned icy. "Very well, Greyback. How about this? In addition to the 5,000 Galleons, I'll arrange for you to hunt one or two non-magical people after the attack. Your favorite prey, with no interference."

The offer hung in the air, the temptation almost tangible. Greyback's predatory nature struggled against his better judgment. Finally, the lure of the hunt proved too strong to resist. His lips stretched into a feral grin. "You've got yourself a deal, Malfoy."

As the connection severed, Lucius placed the mirror back on his desk, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He poured himself a glass of firewhisky, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it in his glass. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming attack, each detail meticulously planned.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention, and Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the study. Her elegant features were marred by a frown of concern. "Lucius, what are you plotting now?"

Lucius's gaze softened slightly as he looked at his wife. "Just setting things in motion, my dear. Ensuring that those who dare to defy us are taught a lesson they won't soon forget."

Narcissa sighed, her eyes flicking to the fire. "Be careful, Lucius. The Marshalls are not to be underestimated."

Lucius rose from his chair and walked over to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know, Narcissa. But this is necessary. They humiliated us. We must remind them of our power."

Narcissa nodded reluctantly, her worry evident in her eyes. "Just promise me you'll be cautious."

Lucius kissed her forehead gently. "Always."

As Narcissa left the study, Lucius returned to his desk, his mind already racing with thoughts of the impending attack. The Marshalls would pay for their insolence, and the wizarding world would once again remember why it was unwise to cross a Malfoy. He sipped his firewhisky, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

The fire crackled louder, as if echoing his dark thoughts. Lucius Malfoy was a man who thrived on power and control, and he would stop at nothing to ensure that the Malfoy name remained synonymous with fear and respect. The Marshalls would soon learn that there were consequences to challenging the might of the Malfoys.

His thoughts wandered back to the Christmas ball, replaying the events in his mind. The way Alistair Marshall had effortlessly commanded the room, the dismissive arrogance in his tone, and the blatant disregard for the Malfoy lineage. It had been a slight that cut deeper than any physical wound, a stain on the Malfoy honor that demanded retribution.

Lucius glanced at the clock on the mantel, its ticking a reminder of the time slipping away. The full moon was approaching, and with it, the opportunity to strike. He would need to ensure that all the pieces were in place, that Greyback's pack was ready, and that the attack went off without a hitch.

He stood and walked over to a large, intricately carved cabinet. Unlocking it with a wave of his wand, he retrieved a parchment containing the details of the plan. His eyes scanned the names of the werewolves Greyback had recruited – each one a vicious predator, loyal to Greyback and eager for a taste of Marshall blood.

Lucius's heart raced with anticipation. He could already imagine the chaos, the fear that would spread through the wizarding community when word of the attack got out. The Marshalls would be seen as vulnerable, their reputation tarnished, their strength questioned. And in the shadows, Lucius Malfoy would revel in the knowledge that he had orchestrated their downfall.

With a final glance at the parchment, Lucius locked the cabinet and made his way to the door. There were preparations to be made, contingencies to be planned. As he stepped into the hallway, his mind was a whirlwind of strategies and schemes. The Marshalls had made a powerful enemy, and Lucius Malfoy was determined to show them the true meaning of fear.

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Diagon Alley, Hector is already 8 years old at the time.

The moon hung high in the sky over Diagon Alley, its silvery light casting long, eerie shadows across the cobblestone streets. The usual hustle and bustle of the magical shopping district had quieted down, with most shops closed and only a few late-night establishments still flickering with light. It was a night that seemed to whisper secrets, the kind of night where danger could lurk in the most unexpected places.

Henry Marshall walked with purpose, his steps echoing softly in the stillness of the alley. Beside him was his son, Hector, matching his father's pace stride for stride. The two were on their way to the Magical Menagerie, the family shop, to pick up Diana. She had stayed late to handle a medical emergency involving one of the magical creatures in their care.

Henry's sharp grey eyes scanned the surroundings, always alert, always vigilant. Years of experience had taught him to trust his instincts, and tonight, something felt off. There was a tension in the air, an undercurrent of unease that set his nerves on edge.

He glanced at Hector, noting the determined set of his son's jaw and the alertness in his eyes. "Stay close, Hector. Keep your senses sharp."

Hector nodded, his young face serious. "I will, Dad. Do you think something's wrong?"

Henry's lips pressed into a thin smile. "Just a feeling. But it's always best to be prepared."

As they approached the Magical Menagerie, the sign above the door creaked softly in the evening breeze. The shop was still lit, a warm glow spilling out onto the street. Inside, Diana was at the back, her hands moving deftly as she treated a young unicorn with a deep gash along its flank. The creature lay on a soft pallet, its large, dark eyes full of trust as Diana worked.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Henry and Hector entered. Diana looked up, her face lighting up with a tired but genuine smile. "Henry, Hector, you're here. Sorry for the delay. This little one needed more attention than I anticipated."

Henry moved to her side, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "No need to apologize, Diana. We're here to help. Is there anything we can do?"

Diana nodded, her eyes flicking to a cabinet filled with various potions and supplies. "I just need to finish dressing this wound. Could you fetch me the Aegis Elixir and some fresh bandages?"

Hector hurried to the cabinet, retrieving the items with a sense of purpose. As he handed them to his mother, he couldn't help but marvel at her skill and the calm authority with which she worked.

Henry's gaze returned to the door, his instincts prickling. The night felt unusually still, a sense of being observed settling over him. He glanced back at Diana, his voice low and teasing . "This night could turn out to be interesting! This could be a lot of fun!!."

Diana finished applying the bandages, let out an exasperated sigh at Henry's antics. "You're right. Let's get home."

They stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around them. The silence of the alley was now almost oppressive. Henry's senses were on high alert, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Hector stayed close to his parents, his hand gripping into fists.

They had barely taken a few steps when Henry stoped, his eyes narrowing. Ahead, at the end of the alley, figures emerged from the shadows, their forms barely visible in the dim light. The unmistakable scent of werewolf hit his nose, a pungent mix of musk and decay that made his stomach churn.

Henry's voice was a low growl, filled with a controlled excitement . "Diana, get behind. Hector, get ready!!!."

The figures moved closer, their eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. There were four of them, their forms shifting and contorting under the influence of the full moon. Werewolves. And not just any werewolves – these were feral, rabid creatures, driven by an insatiable bloodlust.

Henry's heart pounded in his chest, looking to let lose in a long time, but his mind remained clear and focused. He had faced many dangers in his life, but an attack on his family was something he would not tolerate. His eyes met Diana's, and he saw a concerned but confident look in her gaze.

"Diana, take this," he said, handing her a small vial of Phoenix tears. "If anything happens, use it."

Diana nodded, her face set with resolve. "What about you?"

Henry's lips curled into a grim smile. "I've dealt with worse. Just keep an eye on Hector"

He turned to Hector, his voice firm but gentle. "Son, you're about to face something very real and very dangerous. Remember your training. Stay focused, and don't hesitate. These creatures will not show mercy."

Hector nodded, his jaw set with determination. "I won't let you down, Dad."

Henry squeezed his shoulder, pride swelling in his chest. "I know you won't. Now, let's show these beasts what it means to cross a Marshall."

The werewolves drew closer, their growls reverberating through the alley. Henry's eyes blazed with a cold fury as he stepped forward, his body radiating a lethal calm. He could see the madness in their eyes, the hunger for violence. But he also saw something else – hesitation. The werewolves were not expecting resistance. They had been sent to ambush, to catch the Marshalls off guard.

Henry's voice rang out, cold and commanding. "Who sent you?"

One of the werewolves, slightly larger and more menacing than the others, snarled in response. "Does it matter? We're here to kill you."

Henry's smile was cold and ruthless. "You're welcome to try."