Fanfiction: The Sins of My Mother
Title: The Sins of My Mother
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Smiths and the Malfoys
Prompt: Family
Word Count: 1624
Rating: PG13
Summary: Even on the pure-blood side of the wizarding world, some families are better than others.
Author’s Notes: Set pre-Hogwarts, a midquel of sorts to It Runs in the Family.
It was not often they made trips into Knockturn Alley. Everyone knew only wizards and witches interested in the dark arts had any business to attend there. Anything was possible to happen. Yet at least once a year, it was custom for the Smiths to enter Borgin and Burkes, because every year Ezekiel Smith asked the same simple question over and over.
This time was no different, and when the stooping Mr Borgin stepped behind the counter, he expected ahead. “This year’s done you no better, Mr Smith,” he said with an oily voice. Zacharias peered from looking at a rather grotesque-looking mask to see a certain feature of disdain sketched in Mr Borgin’s face, teeth sneering through his lips.
There was cynicism in Ezekiel’s conduct as he asked, “You’re certain? I would hate to discover that you’ve been lying to me.”
“What use is asking if you never believe me when I say no one’s come in selling this cup of yours?”
“With only your word to go by? It pays to take heed, especially when one knows how powerful chauvinisms between families and friends can be.” Exchanges between Mr Borgin and his father weren’t always so strained. Zacharias could vaguely remember Mr Borgin saying charming things whenever his mother would ask about one of the knick knacks that lined the cupboards.
Now, he just sounded as he would have been happy to see him and his father leave. “Your Galleons are as good as anyone’s, Mr Smith.”
“It does you well to remember, Mr Borgin.” Ezekiel reached across to tap his son’s hands away from the mask. “We’re leaving. Mr Borgin, same time next year.” Zacharias watched the two exchange tensed nods before he was escorted out of the shop.
That was the only purpose of their visits, that one cup his father asked for. Never would they ever leave with another piece of merchandise from the store, not so far that he had noticed. This was peculiar, in his mind, as the place certainly offered more fascinating objects and treasures than what his father usually brought back to their home.
The dark witches scurried about the alley, holding trays and peering creepily behind their musty cloaks. He didn’t particularly like it there in Knockturn, but mostly because the entire business left him apathetic, rather than anxious. “I’m bored,” he complained as they began walking their way to Diagon Alley. “I’m bored. I want ice cream.”
His father hissed, “Stop whining. It’s not practical of a wizard your age.”
“Oh, Ezekiel, that was you I saw.”
Zacharias turned around as a thin woman stepped outside of an overcast shop, a man and child trailing on either side of her. It struck his mind how all three shared similar bright-blond hair, brilliantly-designed robes, and unpleasant faces.
His father did not look pleased at the sight of them, and definite repulsiveness aligned his pitch. “Narcissa,” he addressed the witch, and then looked up at the wizard. “Lucius.”
The prestigious-looking man didn’t return acknowledgement, instead looking quite bored at the company. Narcissa persisted on, patting the head of her son affectionately. “Word was you were keeping clear of Borgin and Burkes.”
“Am I the subject of much conversation?” Ezekiel mocked, pushing Zacharias to the side. “You flatter me.”
“Only at the Notts’ manor.” The dainty woman hid her smile behind a pale hand, though her approach of catching her words seemed deliberate. “I’d forgotten you weren’t sent an invitation. The entire event has just left the Burkes family devastated, hasn’t it, Lucius?” The wizard agreed, but seemed to be doing poor work at hiding his tediousness at the conversation.
Neither seemed at all upset or shocked as their manners suggested.
Zacharias tried to listen closely, interested in what the witch had to say upon hearing of the Burkes, but the other boy managed to step away from his mother’s attention long enough to glance at him up and down. He didn’t look too impressed. “What’s wrong with your nose?” he asked, eyebrows twisted in puzzlement.
“What’s wrong with yours?” he responded without second-thought, angry that some stranger dared to point out his slightly upturned nose, a feature which his father had told him time and time again was the mark of a good bloodline.
Narcissa’s voice cut back in his ear, “Cornelius mentioned removing her from the family tree. After such a depraved act, I’m surprised it took them this long to act. Does it to you?”
“It hardly matters to me what becomes of her now.” His father stressed to sound confident, throwing his shoulders back in as much a dignified a manner as he could.
The boy stood back in front of his vision, and Zacharias decided he didn’t much care for the company of the other. “I’m getting my first broom, you know? Mum thinks I’m too young, but really I hear the best Quidditch players start at our age.” He tried to sound remarkable, but Zacharias found himself annoyed with the other’s prattling.
“Yeah.”
The boy blinked, looking unpleased with how the discussion seemed to be going nowhere. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a twat over his nose, Zacharias would have cared more about being rude. “Where’s your mum?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” Stepping around to the other side, Zacharias could see his father’s face flushing crimson. Had he missed something important, all because the other boy wouldn’t shut up?
“All of that business with the Ministry must have left your family in humiliation,” said Narcissa, though not one motion of concern seemed to come from what she said. She didn’t bother to lower her voice as a couple of witches passed by, now pointing fingers and whispering into each other’s ears.
With raised eyebrows and motion of hand, Ezekiel tried to pass the comment off. “What affair is it of yours, Malfoy, especially with the Ministry at your doorstep as often as they are? Did they find anything of interest this time? Calls for the trip to Knockturn, does it?”
This caused the faces of both Lucius and Narcissa to scrunch in utter scorn, and Zacharias could see whatever his father had said had struck some sort of nerve. However, both kept themselves distinguished and noble.
“I’m certain I don’t know what you speak of, Smith.” This time, it was finally Lucius Malfoy who spoke, sneering at the notion that had been placed before them. “I doubt a man who cannot keep his own family together should concern himself into the matters of others. Why bother disgracing yourself anymore than you already have?”
He didn’t understand what they were talking about, but Zacharias could see how upset this was making his father. “As far as the Ministry is concerned, Malfoy, disgrace is reserved for the Burkes. Our name has been cleared of the entire muddle. Considering the mess you put yours through during the war with You-Know-Who, shouldn’t you be more troubled by how others perceive your actions during that time?”
The subject was quick to alter back, the accusation of immorality interchanging between the two haughty wizards. “It will be a shame if the wizarding world sees any more mistakes from you.” Malfoy’s tone of voice held contempt and stature, speaking as though talking to Smith was the equivalent to speaking at a small child or dog. “It is contaminated too much as it is without ruining the few remaining pure-blood lines left.”
As her husband talked of wizarding sins, Narcissa scooped her son to her side, planting her arm warmly around his shoulders with love as she promised she would buy him as many sweets as he could want without spoiling their dinner. Looking over her shoulder, as to make certain everyone around was watching them closely, she continued to shower the boy with motherly tenderness before giving word of leave to Ezekiel Smith.
The boy, having now watched how his parents acted around Zacharias and his father, gave an uncouth gesture his way before relishing in his mother’s attention. Both motioned for Lucius to follow, but the wizard remained behind a moment, giving Ezekiel an ostentatious glance that left both of them on edge.
“Really, Smith,” spoke the man in a cold voice; “one would have hoped that a family with as pure a lineage as the Burkes would have spared you such an embarrassment. What was it she was caught under? A Mudblood, I believe?”
Zacharias could see his father’s right hand poising over pocket of his robes, possibly weighing the idea of grabbing his wand. In the end, he did not, nor did he speak a word back to Lucius Malfoy. It left Zacharias unsettled to see his father without retort, but Malfoy took the opportunity to step forward. A disgusted look beset his face, and his voice dropped in an icy tenor.
“Was Benedicta so unsatisfied she had to resort to bestiality to meet her needs?”
Zacharias Smith was sure that the wizard had somehow insulted his mother, but Malfoy turned to make way back to his own family before his father could pull his wand from his pocket. Rather than send a hex, Ezekiel grabbed his shoulder and guided them both in a hastened pace opposite, back to Diagon Alley.
Seeing his father’s seething face, almost purple with rage, Zacharias was almost hesitant to ask what that entire exchange had been about. Still, his mother had been insulted. His father, too. Was he supposed to let some stranger treat his family like that, after his father had so often preached of how they were no one’s inferiors? “Erm...Sir, what did he mean by....?”
“What was it you wanted? Ice cream? Well, pick up your feet then, boy, we haven’t all day.”
--
I apologize for any Americanisms and grammatical errors. Characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Smiths and the Malfoys
Prompt: Family
Word Count: 1624
Rating: PG13
Summary: Even on the pure-blood side of the wizarding world, some families are better than others.
Author’s Notes: Set pre-Hogwarts, a midquel of sorts to It Runs in the Family.
It was not often they made trips into Knockturn Alley. Everyone knew only wizards and witches interested in the dark arts had any business to attend there. Anything was possible to happen. Yet at least once a year, it was custom for the Smiths to enter Borgin and Burkes, because every year Ezekiel Smith asked the same simple question over and over.
This time was no different, and when the stooping Mr Borgin stepped behind the counter, he expected ahead. “This year’s done you no better, Mr Smith,” he said with an oily voice. Zacharias peered from looking at a rather grotesque-looking mask to see a certain feature of disdain sketched in Mr Borgin’s face, teeth sneering through his lips.
There was cynicism in Ezekiel’s conduct as he asked, “You’re certain? I would hate to discover that you’ve been lying to me.”
“What use is asking if you never believe me when I say no one’s come in selling this cup of yours?”
“With only your word to go by? It pays to take heed, especially when one knows how powerful chauvinisms between families and friends can be.” Exchanges between Mr Borgin and his father weren’t always so strained. Zacharias could vaguely remember Mr Borgin saying charming things whenever his mother would ask about one of the knick knacks that lined the cupboards.
Now, he just sounded as he would have been happy to see him and his father leave. “Your Galleons are as good as anyone’s, Mr Smith.”
“It does you well to remember, Mr Borgin.” Ezekiel reached across to tap his son’s hands away from the mask. “We’re leaving. Mr Borgin, same time next year.” Zacharias watched the two exchange tensed nods before he was escorted out of the shop.
That was the only purpose of their visits, that one cup his father asked for. Never would they ever leave with another piece of merchandise from the store, not so far that he had noticed. This was peculiar, in his mind, as the place certainly offered more fascinating objects and treasures than what his father usually brought back to their home.
The dark witches scurried about the alley, holding trays and peering creepily behind their musty cloaks. He didn’t particularly like it there in Knockturn, but mostly because the entire business left him apathetic, rather than anxious. “I’m bored,” he complained as they began walking their way to Diagon Alley. “I’m bored. I want ice cream.”
His father hissed, “Stop whining. It’s not practical of a wizard your age.”
“Oh, Ezekiel, that was you I saw.”
Zacharias turned around as a thin woman stepped outside of an overcast shop, a man and child trailing on either side of her. It struck his mind how all three shared similar bright-blond hair, brilliantly-designed robes, and unpleasant faces.
His father did not look pleased at the sight of them, and definite repulsiveness aligned his pitch. “Narcissa,” he addressed the witch, and then looked up at the wizard. “Lucius.”
The prestigious-looking man didn’t return acknowledgement, instead looking quite bored at the company. Narcissa persisted on, patting the head of her son affectionately. “Word was you were keeping clear of Borgin and Burkes.”
“Am I the subject of much conversation?” Ezekiel mocked, pushing Zacharias to the side. “You flatter me.”
“Only at the Notts’ manor.” The dainty woman hid her smile behind a pale hand, though her approach of catching her words seemed deliberate. “I’d forgotten you weren’t sent an invitation. The entire event has just left the Burkes family devastated, hasn’t it, Lucius?” The wizard agreed, but seemed to be doing poor work at hiding his tediousness at the conversation.
Neither seemed at all upset or shocked as their manners suggested.
Zacharias tried to listen closely, interested in what the witch had to say upon hearing of the Burkes, but the other boy managed to step away from his mother’s attention long enough to glance at him up and down. He didn’t look too impressed. “What’s wrong with your nose?” he asked, eyebrows twisted in puzzlement.
“What’s wrong with yours?” he responded without second-thought, angry that some stranger dared to point out his slightly upturned nose, a feature which his father had told him time and time again was the mark of a good bloodline.
Narcissa’s voice cut back in his ear, “Cornelius mentioned removing her from the family tree. After such a depraved act, I’m surprised it took them this long to act. Does it to you?”
“It hardly matters to me what becomes of her now.” His father stressed to sound confident, throwing his shoulders back in as much a dignified a manner as he could.
The boy stood back in front of his vision, and Zacharias decided he didn’t much care for the company of the other. “I’m getting my first broom, you know? Mum thinks I’m too young, but really I hear the best Quidditch players start at our age.” He tried to sound remarkable, but Zacharias found himself annoyed with the other’s prattling.
“Yeah.”
The boy blinked, looking unpleased with how the discussion seemed to be going nowhere. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a twat over his nose, Zacharias would have cared more about being rude. “Where’s your mum?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” Stepping around to the other side, Zacharias could see his father’s face flushing crimson. Had he missed something important, all because the other boy wouldn’t shut up?
“All of that business with the Ministry must have left your family in humiliation,” said Narcissa, though not one motion of concern seemed to come from what she said. She didn’t bother to lower her voice as a couple of witches passed by, now pointing fingers and whispering into each other’s ears.
With raised eyebrows and motion of hand, Ezekiel tried to pass the comment off. “What affair is it of yours, Malfoy, especially with the Ministry at your doorstep as often as they are? Did they find anything of interest this time? Calls for the trip to Knockturn, does it?”
This caused the faces of both Lucius and Narcissa to scrunch in utter scorn, and Zacharias could see whatever his father had said had struck some sort of nerve. However, both kept themselves distinguished and noble.
“I’m certain I don’t know what you speak of, Smith.” This time, it was finally Lucius Malfoy who spoke, sneering at the notion that had been placed before them. “I doubt a man who cannot keep his own family together should concern himself into the matters of others. Why bother disgracing yourself anymore than you already have?”
He didn’t understand what they were talking about, but Zacharias could see how upset this was making his father. “As far as the Ministry is concerned, Malfoy, disgrace is reserved for the Burkes. Our name has been cleared of the entire muddle. Considering the mess you put yours through during the war with You-Know-Who, shouldn’t you be more troubled by how others perceive your actions during that time?”
The subject was quick to alter back, the accusation of immorality interchanging between the two haughty wizards. “It will be a shame if the wizarding world sees any more mistakes from you.” Malfoy’s tone of voice held contempt and stature, speaking as though talking to Smith was the equivalent to speaking at a small child or dog. “It is contaminated too much as it is without ruining the few remaining pure-blood lines left.”
As her husband talked of wizarding sins, Narcissa scooped her son to her side, planting her arm warmly around his shoulders with love as she promised she would buy him as many sweets as he could want without spoiling their dinner. Looking over her shoulder, as to make certain everyone around was watching them closely, she continued to shower the boy with motherly tenderness before giving word of leave to Ezekiel Smith.
The boy, having now watched how his parents acted around Zacharias and his father, gave an uncouth gesture his way before relishing in his mother’s attention. Both motioned for Lucius to follow, but the wizard remained behind a moment, giving Ezekiel an ostentatious glance that left both of them on edge.
“Really, Smith,” spoke the man in a cold voice; “one would have hoped that a family with as pure a lineage as the Burkes would have spared you such an embarrassment. What was it she was caught under? A Mudblood, I believe?”
Zacharias could see his father’s right hand poising over pocket of his robes, possibly weighing the idea of grabbing his wand. In the end, he did not, nor did he speak a word back to Lucius Malfoy. It left Zacharias unsettled to see his father without retort, but Malfoy took the opportunity to step forward. A disgusted look beset his face, and his voice dropped in an icy tenor.
“Was Benedicta so unsatisfied she had to resort to bestiality to meet her needs?”
Zacharias Smith was sure that the wizard had somehow insulted his mother, but Malfoy turned to make way back to his own family before his father could pull his wand from his pocket. Rather than send a hex, Ezekiel grabbed his shoulder and guided them both in a hastened pace opposite, back to Diagon Alley.
Seeing his father’s seething face, almost purple with rage, Zacharias was almost hesitant to ask what that entire exchange had been about. Still, his mother had been insulted. His father, too. Was he supposed to let some stranger treat his family like that, after his father had so often preached of how they were no one’s inferiors? “Erm...Sir, what did he mean by....?”
“What was it you wanted? Ice cream? Well, pick up your feet then, boy, we haven’t all day.”
--
I apologize for any Americanisms and grammatical errors. Characters belong to J.K. Rowling.