Lucius's Ploy

As they walked toward the Quidditch pitch in the Malfoy estate's sprawling grounds, Draco continued to go on about his plans to defeat Harry Potter, his competitive streak as fierce as ever. Damian, while not as invested in Quidditch, enjoyed the back-and-forth banter with Draco, and he was eager to see how things would play out once the school year started again.

Though Quidditch wasn't his strength, the idea of flying, of being free in the air, was enough to make him grab a broom and join Draco, even if only to enjoy the camaraderie and competition.

The afternoon was spent flying, Draco showing off his skills while Damian managed to hold his own—just average, but good enough to keep up. Even though he wasn't as passionate about flying as Draco, there was something freeing about being in the air, even if only for a short while.

As they approached the Quidditch pitch, the excitement in Draco was palpable. "You know, last year I was sure to enter the Quidditch team had I been given a test round." he said, gesturing with his hands to illustrate just how close he'd come. 

"Right," Damian replied, smirking. "And how many times did you get knocked off your broom during the quidditch classes last year?" 

Draco huffed, crossing his arms. "That was just because of Weasley! He kept flying into me. It's not like he has any skill!"

Damian chuckled as they reached the pitch. The sun was shining, casting a bright glow on the freshly mown grass. He hopped onto a broomstick that one of the house-elves had brought out for him. "Alright, show me what you've got, then."

Draco mounted his Nimbus 2001 with flair, demonstrating the usual show-off tendencies. "Prepare to be amazed!" he called out, taking off into the air with impressive speed. 

"Show-off!" Damian shouted after him, taking off as well. He managed to catch up quickly, feeling the rush of wind against his face. "Not bad, not bad at all!"

"Just wait until I start doing tricks!" Draco exclaimed, spiraling through the air. 

While Draco showed off, Damian focused on his flying technique, trying to keep it simple. He maneuvered the broom with precision, gliding smoothly through the air. After a few minutes of circling the pitch, he decided to join in on Draco's antics. "Alright, I'll try something too!"

He took a deep breath and attempted a small loop. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to impress himself. He felt a rush of adrenaline and satisfaction as he completed the move without falling off. 

"Not bad!" Draco called out, doing a little backflip. "But can you do this?" He zoomed high up, and with a flourish, executed a perfect dive toward the ground, pulling up at the last second.

"Show-off!" Damian shouted again, laughing. "You're just trying to make me jealous!"

"Admit it," Draco said, landing beside him with a smug grin. "I'm the best flyer in Hogwarts!"

"Alright, alright, you win this round," Damian replied, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. "But we'll see when it comes to the real games. I'll be ready."

Draco's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Just don't get too confident, Damian. You might surprise us all!"

They spent the next hour practicing, enjoying the camaraderie that came so naturally between them. Each laugh, every playful jab, and shared moment made Damian feel even more at home. 

Eventually, they returned to the manor, both slightly out of breath and laughing. As they walked back inside, Draco looked over at Damian, his expression shifting slightly to something more serious. "Hey, you're really getting better. I mean it."

"Thanks, Draco," Damian said, appreciating the sincerity in his friend's voice. "That means a lot."

Just as they entered the grand hall, Narcissa appeared from the sitting room. "Dinner will be ready soon, boys! Come wash up," she called, her voice echoing through the marble-floored entrance.

"Alright, let's go!" Draco said, starting to jog toward the staircase. "Race you there!"

Damian laughed and sprinted after him, the friendly competition igniting the warmth of the day as they dashed up the stairs, feeling like true friends for the first time in a long while.

—-----------------------

Damian sat quietly in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, flipping through one of the many books he'd borrowed from the vast library. The calm was interrupted when a house-elf appeared beside him, bowing deeply.

"Master Damian," the elf squeaked. "Lord Malfoy is calling for you."

Damian closed his book, a trace of curiosity flickering in his mind. "Lead the way."

The elf guided him through the winding corridors of the manor, eventually stopping in front of a large, intricately carved door. The elf knocked lightly before pushing the door open to reveal Lucius Malfoy's personal study.

Lucius Malfoy sat at the grand study table, his posture rigid and refined, exuding an air of calculated authority. His silver-blonde hair was perfectly groomed, and his cold, piercing eyes scanned over the array of documents before him with practiced precision, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows across his sharp features.

The room was immaculate, save for the ivory table in the center, which was covered with documents, vials, and scattered parchments. Damian took it all in as Lucius stood near the window, gazing out into the grounds. As the door closed behind him, Lucius turned, his piercing eyes settling on Damian.

"Ah, Damian," Lucius began smoothly. "How is your dueling practice going?"

Damian shifted his weight slightly, remaining cautious. "It's going fine," he replied, his voice neutral.

Lucius stepped toward the table, his hands gliding over the scattered parchments. "You are an excellent student, very studious," he said, his tone almost conversational. "So I wonder—why push yourself so hard? What drives you to such lengths?"

Damian hesitated, gauging the intention behind the question. "To be stronger," he said finally. "To protect myself."

Lucius nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "And what if I told you," Lucius continued, his tone dropping slightly, "that you could become stronger—faster?"

Damian felt his guard rise at the shift in tone. He didn't respond immediately, wary of where the conversation was heading. Instead, he nodded carefully.

Lucius watched him closely, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he placed something on the table: an old, worn diary. The very sight of it made Damian's stomach churn, but he kept his face neutral. He recognized it immediately. It was the Horcrux.

Damian schooled his features and forced himself to stay in character. "What is that?" he asked, his tone measured.

Lucius leaned back, his eyes glinting with a strange mixture of calculation and curiosity. "An artifact," he said smoothly. "It was given to me by a very powerful wizard. He told me this diary could grant great magical power to whoever possesses it—but he never explained how to use it."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

"You're intelligent, Damian," Lucius continued, his tone now laced with an edge of manipulation. "I believe you could find more use for this than anyone else."

Damian watched Lucius carefully, noting the subtle disappointment in his expression. It was clear Lucius had no real idea of the diary's true power—or at least, he pretended not to.

"I would have given it to Draco," Lucius added, sounding almost regretful, "but he's too preoccupied with silly games and Quidditch. I believe you are... better suited for something of this magnitude."

Damian, though inwardly disgusted, kept his face calm and composed. "Thank you, Lord Malfoy," he said, inclining his head slightly.

Lucius smiled, satisfied, and waved a hand. "Use it well, Damian."

As Damian was about to leave the study, Lucius called after him, "We'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to purchase your school supplies for next year—make sure you're prepared."

Damian nodded, carefully tucking the diary away before leaving the study. Once he was out of sight, his mind raced. He needed a plan, and fast. This wasn't just any dark object—this was a piece of Voldemort's soul, something that could corrupt and destroy. He couldn't just leave it unattended, but he also needed to dispose of it without raising suspicion.