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Voldemort took Lucius's wand, the day before the Potter's raid. It was considered the highest form of disrespect. An outward humiliation that wizarding families would go to war and duel over in the old days. The Death Eaters, all distance cousins and family by marriage, did nothing but watch on in silence. Lucius was pale and trembling. Gripping his wand handler, the snake dragon's head that held his wand before it was taken, in an almost pitiful gesture.
That was the first clear sign. Or it was the first sign that Narcissa was finally willing to look and see it for the truth it represented. The Dark Lord did not want to protect their traditions or their sanctity of magic.
No, he would throw it all to kill a teenage boy.
A wand chooses its master. There is a bond, an unspoken claim of magic and conduit. Wands were merely carriers of the magic in a wizard's or witch's core; it could not produce magic on their own; it transcribed and translated it, helped focus and merged the energy to become something greater.
A wand was considered closer than a soulmate- it was someone's soul and magic combined. It defined your magic into something better.
Lucius wasn't just humiliated he was emasculated, unable to protect his family, hold his head high in front of the other death Eaters, and so he withered into a ghost of himself, a pushover that allowed the Dark Lord and his followers to do what they want in their home.
Narcissa was already upset by the turn of events. Then came the day when the Snatchers brought forward the three new captives.
Harry Potter took Draco's wand, and they all paid the price for letting him escape.
So all that was left was Narcissa's.
She was her family's only defence and would not hesitate to use it.
Yes, she believed in the cause and wanted to ensure the purebloods, tradition, and magic were safeguarded, but if anyone threatened her family, she would not hesitate to strike back. Perhaps, in their eyes, she was still the enemy; no matter what, she fought only for herself and her loved ones.
She remembers what Ollivander said when she forcedly held her wand—a protector you are, your loyalty is indestructible. What she thought was fanciful and unique now reveals the true depths of her heart. "The wand core of a hero," Narcissa frowned at that. When she was young, she was taught to obey and to follow customs. Her sisters would take the instigator's role and change their families' course. Narcissa did best by following the rules, upholding family values, and loving her family.
Even though Andromeda married for love, she turned her back on family.
While Bellatrix does all she can to defend Pureblood's rule, she sneers at the idea of motherhood and would rather duel late into the night than bed her husband.
No, Narcissa was the one who actually practised what they preached. After multiple failed pregnancies, she would still persist until she held Draco in her arms. Raising him with every ounce of her soul.
The custodians of a great heritage are the Blacks and Malfoys.
One by one, the other members of her family were falling off and withering away, but not her; she would be the perfect wife, the example of what a proper witch and husband to a Noble House should act.
Heroism is nothing against duty.
But the Dark Lord returns, and Narcissa begins to see that her duties to her family are first and foremost. The political agenda and the muggle hunts paled compared to keeping her family safe. It was the Dark Lord's first mistake, hurting Lucius.
She saw her husband scream and wither on the floor in pain, all for a lost book.
Then, he was punished in Azkaban for doing the Dark Lord's bidding.
Bellatrix could plead all she wanted about the itch to duel and destroy the Dark lord's enemy.
Andromeda could write pages of excuses for why the Order was the best choice.
Either side demanded from her something she was not willing to give.
Ebony wood- dragon bone and scales and fillings of diamonds.
Narcissa kept her head down, but the magic in her fingertips, thrumming through her wand, grew with more purpose.
Her son stole her wand during the Battle, some idiotic attempt to curry favour—or perhaps just find Potter. Narcissa had nearly lost her mind with worry, silently praying the wand would protect her son. Her hands held onto Lucius, never letting go. Swiftly passing through the fallen, her mind thought of nothing more but ending the war now before it was too late.
She didn't care about fear, not with her son missing.
The same courage is what she used during the battle of Hogwarts to lie to Voldemort.
Harry Potter delivered the final blow, and watching Voldemort finally fall- was an experience Narcissa would never forget. Lucius and Draco both hissed, clutching their arms in fright. The sign that it was well and truly over.
Later, after the rubble was cleaned and the bodies buried and the remnants of battles were far away from yesterday, Harry Potter would stand in court to defend her, saying, "She has done enough for the Light. She saved me." his green eyes were solemn. "You turned the tide of the war."
Yes, but it wasn't for you.
Bellatrix was lying on the ground in a pitiful, still manner, her crazed black eyes hazy and empty.
Someone mentioned Nymphadora, Andromeda's daughter, among the brave witches to have fallen.
Perhaps deep down, somewhere where the darkness of her decisions has yet to touch her, Narcissa feels regret.
Huddled in her arms were her son and husband. Lucius' long hair was long and dirty. His eyes blinked widely at the Great Hall, wondering if the Dark lord would resurrect and return any moment. Draco was staring at his shoes, his body rigid from shock or perhaps denial. The Aurors have yet to notice them.
Her wand vibrated against her chest.
