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Laughter echoed through the halls as Lucius made his way downstairs to breakfast. He smiled to himself, wishing Hermione were there to hear it. She’d been called away to France due to a recent diplomatic incident, otherwise she’d be there teasing him about how much he missed a full house. This was the first year all of the children were at Hogwarts and as much as Lucius grumbled at the noise that came with having six children in the house at once, when the rooms and corridors were empty, he found himself craving the chaos just a bit.
The voices grew closer and the only warning Lucius had was a shouted “Anteocultia!” before a flash of white cut through the air. His instincts kicked in just in time and he threw up a protego half a second before the spell hit his shield, bouncing off and hitting Damon square in the chest.
Rosalie and Leo broke into fits of laughter as a set of three prong antlers sprouted from the top of Damon’s head. He reached up and wrapped his hands around the protrusions. Realisation crossed his face and his ears flushed red as he turned toward Lucius.
“Father!!!”
“Yes, Damon?” Lucius asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Please do something, I can’t stay like this all day!”
Lucius regarded his twelve year old son coolly. “You aimed the spell, did you not?”
“Yes…but I meant to hit Leo -”
Lucius interrupted Damon’s excuses as he strode toward the breakfast room. “If you’re old enough for a wand, then you’re old enough to bear the weight of the spells you cast.”
Rosalie burst into another fit of giggles and Damon’s eyes filled with tears of frustration.
“Faaaaatherrrrr!”
“You’re right to be embarrassed Damon; however, what should shame you is your poor aim, not a few hours of looking like a stag.”
“Yes Father,” he said as he hung his head and joined everyone for breakfast.
Rosalie and Leo followed them to the table and everyone took their regular seats. Lucius winked at the two over Damon’s head and they stifled even more giggles.
Saraphina and Gabriel were already at the table, looking innocent enough, though Saraphina had a rather large gob of marmalade stuck to the side of her head. Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, sighed then waved his hand to vanish it.
Just as Lucius started to wonder where she was, Marigold slipped into Hermione’s usual spot to Lucius’ right. He raised his eyebrow at her, and she just gave him a weak smile and reached for her tea.
Most of the children seemed to be a fair mix of both him and Hermione, but aside from her silver blonde hair, Marigold was a tiny replica of her mother in every way. Which was why he was shocked to see her usually curly hair laying pin straight down her back. She’d spent the entire day before in the potions lab, working on a project. He was certain whatever potion she’d made had something to do with her hair.
Keeping an eye on Marigold, Lucius asked the children about their studies. They regaled him with stories from school, including an incident during Professor Longbottom’s herbology class involving a rogue tentacula that tried to bite Albus Potter. Leo nodded as Rosalie told the story.
“Yes, I saw Professor Lovegood running down the corridor toward the green houses! I’d never seen her run before!”
Everyone chimed in with where they were when the near catastrophe happened, and Lucius was relieved that none of his children had been close enough to be at risk. He’d have to talk to McGonagall soon to ensure safety precautions were in place.
Marigold had been uncharacteristically quiet. He glanced at her and frowned slightly when he saw her tugging on the ends of her hair. No longer straight, it was starting to frizz and bush out, reminding him of Hermione’s childhood hair before she’d learned to tame it.
As breakfast ended, Lucius stood, dismissing the children from the table.
“Go outside for a few hours, the fresh air will do you good. Don’t forget your coats and warming charms.” He instructed. As Marigold stood up, he turned toward her, “Sit with me in the solarium, Little Cub.”
Marigold nodded but stayed silent.
Lucius made sure to ruffle Damon’s hair between his antlers as the boy headed outside. He tried to temper his high expectations with reassurance that he loved them. He had learned a lot about being a father since he’d raised Draco. Damon good naturedly bumped Lucius’ shoulder with his antlers on his way out the door. Lucius turned and caught up to Marigold on the way to the solarium.
As they walked she tucked her hand into his and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Like her mother, her intelligence and independent nature often gave the illusion that she didn’t need any support, so Lucius made it a point to check in with her often.
Hand in hand, they walked into the solarium. Despite the snow outside, the air was thick and humid. Lush greenery surrounded them as they walked to the seating area in the middle of the greenhouse.
Marigold sat next to him, her hand still in his as she leaned her head against his shoulder. By now her hair was at least twice as big as usual and the ends tickled his cheek as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Marigold’s usually bright voice was flat and she tried to disguise a sniffle.
Lucius pressed a kiss onto her comically frizzy hair and the two sat in silence for a long moment. Eventually her tears dried up and she sighed.
“How do you keep your hair so straight, Father?”
“Why do you ask?” Lucius frowned. Normally Marigold loved being her mother’s little twin.
“It’s just so long and pretty and,” her lip quivered as she looked up at him. The rest of her sentence came out in a rush, “andnooneevermakesfunofit.”
Righteous indignation bubbled up in Lucus’ chest as he imagined someone making fun of Marigold’s hair and by extension Hermione’s. He tamped down his rage for the moment so he could focus on his daughter, but someone was going to pay dearly for making his little girl cry. His voice was dangerously calm when he replied.
“Who made fun of your hair, Marigold?”
“Amina,” She was suddenly very interested in the embroidered seam of her left sleeve.
“Tell me more about Amina,” he asked.
Apparently, Amina was some French transfer from Beauxbatons who had taken an immediate dislike to Marigold. She’d started calling Marigold “stable head” and joking that Marigold had to sleep in the stables because her curly hair made her too ugly to sleep inside, resulting in having straw for hair.
As Marigold sobbed through her story, Lucius was astounded at how inane Amina’s insults were. Straw wasn’t curly, and Marigold’s hair was a whitish blonde, not straw colored at all. He put Amina’s lack of creativity aside and focused on the girl before him.
Marigold explained that she’d spent all day the day before trying to make a potion to straighten her hair, but she could only get it to work for a few hours before it made her hair ten times worse. She tried to run her fingers through the tangled mess on top of her head before she gave up and rubbed the back of her hands into her puffy eyes.
Lucius held his hands over Marigold’s head and murmured a few spells he used to smooth his own hair. Her hair slowly relaxed and while it hadn’t returned to its normal glossy spirals, it was much better.
“Can you teach me?” Marigold asked as she held the ends up and inspected his work.
“I can, but these spells are made for straight hair, your mother has already taught you the ones for curly hair.”
“I know, I just thought maybe they’d help get rid of some of the curl.” Marigold pouted a little.
“Marigold, who is your mother?”
She looked up at him in confusion. “What?”
“Who is your mother?” He repeated.
“Hermione Granger.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Erm… She’s mum.”
Lucius didn’t respond so Marigold continued.
“She’s the Golden Girl, she helped defeat Voldemort. She’s the Minister of Magic, she’s brilliant and she loves us.”
“Are you ashamed of her?”
“What!? No!” Marigold looked horrified.
“Do you think she should straighten her hair?”
“No!” She exclaimed.
“Why not?” Lucius pushed.
“Then she wouldn’t be mum!”
Lucius smiled at her and gave her a moment to think about what she’d just said, before responding, “You’re just as smart and amazing and beautiful, Marigold. You don’t need to change. When you’re older you can style your hair however you’d like, but you should do it because you want to, not because you’re trying to erase a part of yourself.”
“Well, I never defeated Voldemort, so I have some big shoes to fill to be like mum,” Marigold laughed, then hugged him, “Thank you, Father. You always know what to say.”
The two sat quietly, then Lucius turned to her with a glint in his eye.“So, what do you plan to do?” he asked, certain Marigold had already considered revenge. She was her mother’s daughter after all.
“I haven’t quite decided. I’m thinking of spending the rest of the Holiday coming up with a potion to make her hair curly so she’ll have to see what it’s like.”
Lucius pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything.
“I can tell you don’t like that plan.”
“It’s not a terrible plan as plans go, but have you considered the risks?”
“I don’t care. I just want her to suffer.” Marigold clenched her fist.
Lucius chuckled and shook his head, “Ah my little Gryffindor cub. You know you can have both, you know?”
He could see the gears turning in her head, so he leaned in conspiratorially, “Not only will this plan come at reduced risk to yourself, but you won’t have to spend your entire holiday in the potions lab.”
She chewed her lip as she thought, another trait she’d inherited from her mother. “I don’t have to spend much time in the potions lab…so your plan involves a potion we already have or know how to make.”
Lucius gave her some time to work it out.
“You want to use the straightening potion I made on her.”
“You need to think like a Slytherin, Sweetheart. We don’t give her the potion. You take the potion. Then when your hair fluffs up you comment that your drink tasted funny and point the finger at her.”
Marigold looked at him with incredulity.
“If you give her the potion it will be immediately obvious you gave it to her to humiliate her. You’ll get in trouble and she’ll be a victim. People will rally around her and you’ll be the villain. If you take it, you’ll garner sympathy and she will suffer the consequences instead. But you must be willing to take the potion.”
“I can make an extra vial and drop it in her bag! Then when I accuse her of doing it, they can search her and that will be the proof!”
Lucius beamed with pride. She may not be a Slytherin, but she was a quick study.
“Exactly!”
Marigold laughed, and if it sounded slightly more maniacal than usual, who was Lucius to judge?
Marigold jumped up, and threw her arms around him then ran off, yelling over her shoulder, “If anyone asks, I’ll be in the potions lab!”