20Title: Unprivileged
Summary: A foray into one of the secret chambers in her grandparents' manor teaches Lily the value of privilege.
Characters: Lily Potter-Malfoy, daughter of Hyacinth Potter and Draco Malfoy; Penelope Malfoy (OC)
Year: 2017
Written For: Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Season Six, Round Two (Details at the end.)
Beta-ed by: JBrocks917 (Thank you!)
Disclaimer: JKR owns HP&co. "Steles" are borrowed from Cassandra Clare, and the Old Gods from GRRM.
Note: I've tried to stay as true to Victorian English as I could. There might be inaccuracies and anachronistic language, but I've tried my level best. I've included a vocabulary key at the bottom. I've stayed true to the meanings of the runes mentioned. Lily's twelve in this fic; I hope her reactions are age-appropriate. Also, this features a genderbent Harry Potter, i.e., femHarry. And finally, steles are writing instruments that are used to draw runes.
.
Unprivileged
(Or the one where Lily grows up.)
.
Lily knows that the room she's just entered right now is probably off limits—her dad has always vehemently opposed the exploration of Malfoy Manor—but then again, he shouldn't have left her here in the first place. It isn't fair, in her opinion, that she has to be babysat by Grandma Cissy, while her stupid brother gets to spend the day with his Quidditch role model.
Pushing aside thoughts of how her brother definitely won Quidditch Weekly's write-in quiz competition by fluke, Lily looks around the chamber she's stumbled upon by accident. It's lit up by strange runes that are hewn onto the stone walls, their cold blue light a little eerie.
Smack in the centre of the cavernous room sits what seems to be a miniature tree, about three feet high, made of white stone. The leaves look real. They even sound real. If she strains her ears, Lily thinks she can hear a faint rustling, in a conspicuously absent breeze.
Apart from that weird sculpture, the room is bare, and it's with misgiving that Lily notes, when she turns around, that the door through which she'd entered has slid back into place. She's effectively trapped in this circular room, and Lily feels she can't breathe anymore.
She feels around the wall in an attempt to find something akin to a door jamb, but her hands are only met with smooth stone. She finds that the thought of dying in this unknown chamber isn't very comforting—her parents might never recover her body in their lifetimes. She shouldn't have ventured into this without her wand, she realises belatedly.
Trying to draw inspiration from the fact that her mother had survived a battle with a Basilisk when she was Lily's age, Lily turns back to face the room. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Lily walks towards the tree slowly. It's not like she has any choice; it's literally the only thing in the room, and maybe if she presses the correct leaf or something, she might even be able to get out.
As she draws closer, the rustling becomes louder, and maybe if she were anyone else, she might have shrieked in terror and run away. But she's more than just a Malfoy; she's a Potter too, and courage runs in her veins. Sure, she was Sorted into Slytherin, but that doesn't mean she can't be brave. At least, that's what she tells herself, as she comes to a stop right in front of the stone sculpture.
She can't hear the false rustling sound anymore; it's quiet like Professor Chang's Transfiguration classes. The silence is more nerve-wracking than the previously heard rustling.
Just as she tries to figure out what she is to do next, the tree lights up, and the branches start moving to the side. The trunk grows further, and sitting atop it is a stone bowl, its outer side etched with runes intricately. A distant part of her mind notes that the tree, its leaves, the bowl—they're all made of ivory, and they're actually yellowed with age. Grandma would be proud of her eye for detail, she thinks, as she peers into the bowl.
Inside, a mercurious liquid splashes around with a life of its own, and Lily can see her own distorted reflection on the rippling surface. One of her eyes looks bigger than the other, and that's the last coherent thought Lily has, before she finds herself falling face first into a ever-growing pool of silver.
x
When Lily regains her balance, she finds herself standing in an ornately decorated room, very similar to her own at Grandma's, though she doesn't have quite as much gold in her furniture trimmings. She rubs her eyes to clear her vision—it feels like she's looking through the Valencia filter that Rose had introduced her to last week.
"If you are watching this, it means two things. Firstly, I have passed on to a better life, and secondly, you are a daughter of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy."
Lily whirls around in shock, and finds a tall woman sitting in front of a vanity very similar to Lily's own, powdering her nose, while two house-elves stand on stools behind her, fixing her hair.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know how I got here, promise," Lily squeaks, but the woman doesn't pay her any attention.
"You might be confused as to why you're here; fret not, I am not an enemy. I am Lady Penelope Malfoy, and you have earned the right to carry forth my legacy."
"W-What?" Lily stutters, but the woman pays her no attention.
Setting down the rag she was brushing her nose with, the tall brunette claps her hands, and the two house-elves disappear.
"What I am to share with you will help secure your future. Use this as your leverage to stand your place in this house; just because you are born a member of the fairer sex doesn't mean you should be sold to another house as a broodmare is."
Lily looks around for a way out, and doesn't bother answering, when Penelope Malfoy continues, "I shall now take you through my life, and if you're bright enough, you may learn how to survive."
The ground slips from beneath Lily's feet, and she finds herself tumbling into a vortex of colours.
x
A young girl sits in the corner of a darkened room and continues to sob her heart out, her face buried in her hands, as a much older woman enters with a tray of biscuits and clucks her tongue sympathetically.
"It's been a month, Penny; you should be taking care of the household and your brother. Merlin knows your father is weak and swayed easily. You are not behaving as must a lady of a house as noble as ours."
The young girl looks up and stares blankly at the older woman, and Lily's taken aback to see that it's a much younger Penelope Malfoy, not more than ten, at most.
"Why did the pox take her away, Nana?" asks the girl, her voice thick, and the older woman sets down the tray on the mantelpiece, sighing.
"Mysterious are the ways of the Old Gods; it isn't your place to question them. I believe my good-daughter was taken away for a greater purpose; you believe that of your mother. She's been summoned for greater things, she lives elsewhere now," lectures the woman, not unkindly.
"How can she live elsewhere when I am here? When Brother needs her as much as I, how could she have left us for a greater purpose?" asks the girl, and Lily finds it deeply unsettling. It's not like she can do anything to comfort the girl, though—the other occupants of the room had seemingly not noticed her attempts to catch their attention, and when Lily'd tried nipping a biscuit from the tray, her hand had passed through it, as if she was a ghost.
Penelope's grandmother sighs once more, and sits down on the stiff looking chair, looking pensive for a moment.
"You might not see your mother living and breathing as you are, around you, Penny. But she isn't gone as you fear; she will always be with you. She lives on, in your memories, inside you. She's always with you, in here," says the old woman, tapping her own greying temples.
There's a moment of silence, and Lily stays as still as possible, though she knows they can't hear her. The grandfather clock in the corner chimes thrice, signifying the hour.
The older woman stands up, and with a wave of her hand, pushes the curtains apart. The afternoon sunlight filters through, and Penelope Malfoy flinches.
"You have moped around enough, Penelope. The Malfoy family needs you to be an exemplary daughter. Tomorrow, at dawn, I shall start your lessons on managing the house. Shed all the tears you want now, for I do not like sniffling students."
Before Lily can even gather her thoughts about how brusque and insensitive the woman had been, the scene disappears in mist and vapour, and she's back in the Valencia-Filter-Room.
Penelope stands against the window, looking out, with her back to Lily. Turning her face, such that Lily can see her side-profile, she speaks, "That is what started me on my laborious path. I needed a way to sieve through my memories, see what I wanted to remember. With every passing year, my mother's handsome face became more distant. I couldn't remember her finer features, but I could still remember how she made me feel. My brother was but a babe when she passed, and wasn't as blessed as I to have more than a name to associate to her likeness Father had commissioned.
"The year now is 1857, and I will not presume to know from whence you are, but I do wonder if witches have the right to possess a wand. I wonder…" she trails off, deep in thought, and Lily swallows loudly.
Lily can't believe that witches hadn't been allowed wands—why did Professor Binns never talk about this?
"Where was I? Yes, I was talking about my legacy, wasn't I? Have you ever asked yourself what remains of you when you're gone? The people who knew you shall remember you fondly, but once they too are gone, who will remember you? You'll be forgotten, washed away by the sands of time. And that's why it becomes so important to have something which ties you to this mortal earth long after you've been interred. Think about what you'll leave behind."
The scene starts disappearing, and Lily feels like she's grabbed an active Portkey. This time though, she's prepared.
x
Lily finds herself standing in a workspace not very different from Grandma's art studio, the only difference being the lack of sunlight streaming in. Maybe Penelope Malfoy doesn't like sunlight, she thinks.
"Wunjo for joy," mutters a hoarse voice, and Lily squints to make out the lean figure of Penelope Malfoy hunched forward, a stone bowl in her hands, a stele of silver gripped tightly in her fist, as she inscribes something in the shape of a 'P'. The rune glows in the dark, before the stone shatters with a deafening noise.
Cursing, Penelope scribbles something into a scrap of parchment with a quill, muttering under her breath, "Maybe an Eihwaz for stability first, next time."
She proceeds to summon her stele from where it had fallen onto the floor during the earlier explosion, and cleans the tip carefully with a piece of muslin cloth, looking at the silver implement tenderly, the way Lily's mother often looks at her old Firebolt.
Penelope's experiment with the runes continues, often with loud and explosive results, and Lily grows tired of watching it. It's been about thirteen hours, and Lily wants to go back so that she can eat lunch. Resignedly, she paces about, as the other witch continues to work diligently.
Penelope's added about twenty runes onto the current bowl, when the door is thrown open.
Both Lily and Penelope jump back in tandem, as a tall man with silvery white hair walks in, a scowl on his face.
"You're still doing this? I warned you when I caught you a sennight ago. Drop this rubbish about seeing your mother again! Unless you indulge in necromancy, you will not bring Laura back, child."
Penelope stands up to her full height, and speaks earnestly, "I think it will work this time, Papa! All we need to do is remember Mama, and she'll appear to us. Trust me, I think I've chosen the correct potions and runes this time, please!"
"Demonstrate," he says coldly, and Penelope scrambles around to clear her workstation. Once ready, she pours a transparent liquid into the bowl from a jug, and proceeds to press her fingers against her cheeks, pressing harder and harder, till silvery teardrops start falling into the carefully placed bowl.
With a hiss, smoke starts rising from the bowl, as Penelope moves backwards. Penelope's father watches keenly, as the apparition of a dark haired woman appears. She seems to be holding a baby, wrapped up in pristine white linen, and she smiles tiredly.
"Would you like to meet your brother, Penny?" she asks, before disappearing into nothing.
The man's earlier look of fury has been replaced by one of abject fear, and his face looks ashen.
"Follow me to my study," he orders, before striding out, but Lily isn't entirely sure Penelope heard him, for the other witch stands in the same spot, a look of amazement and wonderment evident on her face.
Lily finds that she can't help the broad smile that's stretching across her own face.
x
When the scene shifts and reforms, Lily expects to find herself in the Valencia-Filter-Room once more. It's with mild disappointment that she notes that she's in her grandfather's study.
Penelope's father sits behind the desk, stoic in expression, while Penelope thrums with ire.
"You said you would let me study. You said I would not have to marry Gaunt. Why are you doing this?" she shrieks, as her father looks at her with contempt.
"I've let you play around enough with your runes and your potions. You are five and twenty of age; practically a maid. It's time you performed your duty to your house. The Gaunts are an acceptable match, and they have promised—"
"You forbade me from attending Hogwarts because they allowed filth like the Gaunts!"
"This is different, Penelope. This is about an alliance for greater power in the Wizengamot. I do not expect your feminine mind to understand the finer intricacies of politics—"
"I am cleverer than that, Papa! I have single-handedly created two score Memory Sieves, which is more than what those loutish lords can claim they have done in their lifetimes!"
"Oh yes, regarding that—I have found suitable buyers for your Sieves. They, of course, believe that it is your brother who has created them, and you shall not try and claim credit for it."
Lily feels sick, as she watches Penelope's mouth fall open.
"I worked hard for that, Papa. It is my work, what I've made out of love for Mama. You can't take that away from me."
"And I won't, Penny. But naming you the creator? The inventor? The rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would laugh at us; you'd bring shame upon the Malfoy name. Is that what you want?"
"But Adrian didn't spend years learning and experimenting, Papa. I did. And I deserve—"
Penelope's father stands up, his face venomous, and rather inconveniently, Lily's vision goes black.
x
When Lily opens her eyes, she's back in the Valencia-Filter-Room. Penelope sits by the fireplace, throwing journals and scrolls of parchment into the fire.
"I apologise, daughter. I lied. My Sieves are not my legacy. They are meant to be that of my brother, Adrian's. That memory I showed you does not end well for me, because eventually, I end up here. The Gaunts will arrive shortly, and I am to be ready to receive them. Lord Gaunt hopes to find a young bride to bend to his will, but there's something Papa and Lord Gaunt did not account for. I am spiteful."
She pauses to open a bunch of vials wandlessly, before pouring them all into the fire. The flames turn green, and then purple, and it makes for a fascinating display. Lily feels terrible, though.
"Papa thinks I've taught Adrian everything I know about the Sieves. But as much as I love my brother, I still believe my work should either be accredited to me, or be forgotten. That's why I'm throwing away all my research and findings. And what Adrian's learnt will not help him; I've omitted vital pieces of knowledge which he shall be hard pressed to recover or discover on his own."
Standing up regally, Penelope sets the empty chest down and smirks right at Lily, as though she can see her, unnerving Lily in the process. The older witch begins to pace the room.
"I have but two things left to do. I have already converted Nana's Prayer Chamber into the future resting place of my memories, and now I shall have only to extract this memory and sew it into the others with my stele. Once that is completed, I shall etch Ingwaz upon myself.
"Ingwaz, if you do not know, is the rune for forgetting, and living in the present. In essence, I shall be wiping away all my former memories, making myself worthless to my father and Lord Gaunt."
Penelope pauses in her pacing, and sighs tiredly, before going to stand by the window as she had been, earlier.
"I am running out of time, I need to finish what I started. Do not worry for me, daughter. I have faith that I will find liberation outside the walls of this restrictive society. My real legacy is the knowledge I leave behind for you, daughter of House Malfoy. When you leave my side, you shall find a letter, listing every step you will need to take to create a Sieve. I hope my knowledge saves you in a way it hasn't saved me.
"Fare thee well, daughter," she says solemnly, and though Lily knows the other Malfoy can't hear her, she replies in kind, her throat clogged with some unnamed emotion.
"Good luck, Penny. I hope you get away from your dad all right."
At that moment, Lily decides that once she's back, she'll dig up all the history books she can find, just to learn what finally happened to Penelope.
There's a gentle tug at Lily's navel, and this time, she closes her eyes and just lets go.
x
Written For: Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Season Six, Round Two
Word Count: 2947 (According to Google docs)
Prompt: Write about the invention of a magical object, potion, or other creation. (I've chosen the Pensieve.)
Position: Seeker, Puddlemere United
Vocabulary Key:
Broodmare: A mare used for breeding; women were often treated as such in the 17th and 18th centuries.
Handsome: A word used to describe a well built woman, often signifying greater and superior "breeding". The word beautiful referred to a frail and delicate disposition, while handsome referred to a well-groomed member of upper society.
Good-daughter: Daughter-in-law
Likeness: A portrait or painting made of a person, usually made after they die (or as they're dying). Some families created likenesses when a new heir took up his position as the Earl or Viscount.
Sennight: One week
End note: Penny's Sieve, PennysSieve, Pensieve, geddit? xD
Seriously though, there is something I should mention. This story was inspired by the Ann Mozart conspiracy theory—Mozart (the one we've heard of) supposedly passed off some of his sister's work as his own at their father's behest. Maria Ann Mozart was apparently a musician far superior to Wolfgang.
I'd love to hear your thoughts; do leave a review!