Author's Note: This was inspired by obsessmuch. I read her hysterical Lucius Malfoy diaries, and knew that I somehow had to complete diary entries for the years of HP that she hasn't done yet. So here I am, starting with PoA (Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone is too Harry-centered to really be productive, in my opinion.)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here.
August 1, 1993.
Oh, for the love of Merlin. It was all over the Prophet this morning that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban.
WHAT ARE THESE MINISTRY PEOPLE DOING BESIDES SITTING ON THEIR BLOOMING ARSES?
Narcissa is worried that her formerly imprisoned cousin may attack family members. I told her to take all the anxiety potions she wants; if Black comes here, I'll simply tell him to hit the road and attack more Muggles. What an awful loss that would be (cue the eye roll.)
On second thought, maybe I'd best make Narcissa a sleeping potion. Don't want her to interrupt my session with my "night-time visitor" tonight, now would we?
August 4, 1993.
Narcissa is getting suspicious. She's asking me why I keep forcing the bloody sleeping potions down her throat. I tell her it's to calm her nerves.
And I think she buys it. God, that woman is so gullible. I love it!
August 14, 1993.
Is it time for my wicked spawn- oops, I mean Draco, to return to school yet? "Father, play Quidditch with me!" he yells. "Father, throw me a party! Buy me a new broomstick!" I had to stop drugging Narcissa so she'd play with him and shut him up.
It's a sad day in the Malfoy household when I just can't get rid of that child.
September 3, 1993.
I am royally pissed. All the money I donate to my son's school, and they have the audacity to hire a homeless person as their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
I told Narcissa at least one hundred times that we should have sent our brat to Durmstrang. But nooooo, she would miss him too much.
Woman, get yourself some ice cream and get over it.
Damn. Plumb forgot that I'm no longer on the Board of Governors at Hogwarts, and cannot ask Dumbledore to get rid of the…uhhh….newest faculty member. And I checked all of the old photograph albums, too—I think the Dark Lord confiscated the picture of himself and Dumbledore schmoozing with those girls at that nightclub in Jamaica, so I guess blackmail is out.
On top of everything else, that damned woman- oops, I meant Narcissa, sorry!- is freaking out that dementors are monitoring Hogwarts this year and scaring the children. She thinks we should file a complaint with the Ministry.
Where's the booze around here?
September 4, 1993.
Whoa, last night was crazy. I woke up this morning by the side of the pool, two empty bottles of whiskey at the other end of the yard.
God, I hope I didn't piss in the pool again.
September 5, 1993.
BY THE HAIR OF NOBLE SALAZAR'S BACKSIDE, THIS CANNOT STAND!
A HIPPOGRIFF ATTACKED MY BLOODY BRAT DRACO IN HIS CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES CLASS. Nobody puts their hands on Draco except for his mother and myself!
At once I sat down and wrote a letter of complaint to the Ministry; it turned out to be ten pages long. Yes, I have a lot to complain about concerning that bloody school this year. Unfortunately, I had to write page seven over, because I found it was written on the back of an old love letter from Bellatrix to the Dark Lord (and why it in my desk, I haven't the faintest.)
I sent the letter off to Cornelius Fudge, along with an old photograph of him drunk out of his mind at last year's Ministry Christmas party. He has a lampshade on his head. I wrote a note telling him that if my complaint isn't addressed in a satisfactory manner, I'll publish the photograph in the Daily Prophet.
September 9, 1993.
The brat Draco wanted to come home for the weekend. Like hell he is.
I told him to keep milking that 'injured' arm of his for attention and sympathy. I'll turn him into a Malfoy yet!
October 26, 1993.
I heard from some other concerned Hogwarts parents that Sirius Black may have tried to break into Hogwarts over the weekend.
…?
I sent Howlers to each and every member of the Board of Governors, somewhat in revenge for sacking me last spring. I also refused to share my bed with Narcissa tonight.
NEXT TIME, OUR CHILD IS GOING TO DURMSTRANG.
November 2, 1993.
Don't tell the Dark Lord, but I have a Muggle television set up in the attic. I went up there last night after Narcissa kicked me out of bed (called her by the wrong name…long story!), and caught an old rerun of this program called Cheers. Wouldn't that be so nice, to walk into a tavern and immediately be recognized by everyone?
"Hi, Lucius!" they would all say in unison.
The show takes place in a Muggle tavern. Does everyone in a Muggle tavern automatically know your name, even if you've never entered one before? I'm confused—and curious. Methinks I must find a Muggle tavern and try this out.
November 4, 1993.
Okay, so the Cheers experiment failed miserably. Nobody recognized me and nobody cheerfully said "Hi, Lucius!"
I Avada Kedavra'ed everyone and then blew up the tavern. Hopefully other Muggles will find it an accident. The Dark Lord will be so proud of me!
December 12, 1993.
Finally got a date for a hearing about the hippogriff at Hogwarts. Sweet beard of Merlin, how many people do I have to curse around this place to get my way?
I'm thankful I'm not a lawyer working for me. I'd be too busy to do anything else!
December 24, 1993.
Narcissa and Draco had better be bloody grateful. I near emptied one of our thirty-two bank accounts at Gringotts paying for presents for them this year.
What's on my Christmas list?
A BLOODY TAVERN WHERE EVERYBODY KNOWS MY NAME…and a Vanishing Cabinet, to push Narcissa into for a few hours if need be.
January 13, 1994.
Nothing new to report. My lawyers are still busy working for me.
I spent most of my nights thinking about new ways to kill Muggles and impress the Dark Lord. I've got the guest room in the manse all ready for him!
February 27, 1994.
Draco says he got detention at school for dressing up like a dementor and scaring the hell out of Harry Potter at a Quidditch match. I told him it was well worth it.
Draco also says that Sirius Black may have broken into Harry Potter's dormitory. I never remembered Narcissa's cousin working for the Dark Lord. WTF?! Did the Dark Lord accept Black into the Death Eaters without telling me?
I sure hope Black maims or kills Potter. It would save me a lot of trouble.
March 2, 1994.
DAY OF THE HEARING, ZIP-A-DEE-DOO-DAH!
After much deliberation (and wonderful commentary by yours truly and the Malfoy lawyers), the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures has sentenced the hippogriff to death.
SWEET JUSTICE!
March 3, 1994.
Damn. Since this is a capital case, there's going to be an appeal.
I can't take all of this sitting around and waiting. I really need to get a hobby.
March 21, 1994.
That damn wife of mine, Narcissa, is still trying to adjust to life without the house-elf. Since I've flooded the mansion trying to do the laundry last spring, Narcissa has burned every single meal she's tried to cook, shrunk half of her wardrobe, and spread more dust than she's eliminated. We've been trying to apply for a new house-elf, but to no avail. I think they're all nervous to work for such a high-class family such as ours.
The reason I bring this up is because Narcissa almost strangled herself today trying to work some Muggle contraption called the vacuum cleaner. The cord was tied around her neck, and she was on the verge of passing out. After blowing up the damned vacuum cleaner, I was forced to punish Narcissa for bringing a Muggle object into our home. She's doing the laundry for the next month and a half.
Please, oh please, stay out of the attic from now on, Narcissa. I can't bear to have you find out about my fetish for the Muggle television.
April 3, 1994.
DAMN THAT NARCISSA! She's shrunk my favorite cape. I can't wear it now without looking like some damned Muggle superhero.
On second thought…
April 5, 1994.
I AM SUPER LUCIUS! I descend onto unsuspecting Muggles, cast an Unforgivable Curse, and disappear without a trace!
I hope the Dark Lord returns soon, so I can tell him my new idea. All of the Death Eaters are going to get superhero names. I call either SuperLucius or Pureblood Man.
June 2, 1994.
Good job, lawyers! We won our appeal, and that bloody hippogriff is going to be executed!
Later:
Macnair swears the hippogriff was executed. Why is his face all red?
Later:
There was a report in the Evening Prophet that said Black was at Hogwarts again, but escaped WHILE RIDING ON A HIPPOGRIFF!
I don't think those Ministry goons are ever going to get off their arses and arrest this guy. Is this a job for SuperLucius?
June 3, 1994.
SWEET MERLIN'S UNDERPANTS! My son has been taught by a werewolf all year!
Damn that Dumbledore. At least the werewolf resigned…I can't have someone like that teaching my son. Draco annoys me…but he is still a Malfoy.