Never be seen doing anything. His father had said that long ago in relation to the underhanded dealings he'd been so fond of, but while he had applied the mantra only towards his criminal enterprises, Lucius applied it to everything. Having been excluded from wielding actual political power due to an ancestor's blunder generations ago, the Malfoys had needed to find new ways to exert influence.
Nothing exuded wealth and influence as ostentatiously as doing nothing at all. Doing nothing also infuriated the lesser people. So used to scurrying about in their menial tasks in the hopes of accomplishing something, they simply couldn't understand how he thwarted them so easily when he hadn't seemed to lift a finger. Everyone knew it was him of course, it was rather the point, but they couldn't prove anything and thus his influence grew.
The seeming exception to this was his spot on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, the mostly hereditary and secretive group of select families charged with overseeing the well-being of their illustrious school. But since no one really knew what they did, and few spared them any thought, it didn't particularly count for much in most people's eyes.
On the other rare instances he was seen to act it was always innocuous, making it seem like he was still doing nothing. A false smile in the halls of the Ministry to remind everyone that he knew what they were doing and was always watching, bland platitudes and idle comments outside of the Wizengamot chamber to remind them what to think, and 'small gifts for their children' in the form of crushed velvet bags full of gold were his preferred means of orchestrating the world's affairs.
It was a much more civilized way of doing things than his father had done, though arranging harsh accidents for wayward children was still sometimes necessary, even when they didn't know what their fathers had done that was so wrong. Even then, Lucius took pains to make sure things were never connected to him except in the target's own mind.
That was why days like today never sat well with him, but he'd had no choice; Dumbledore had forced his hand, he'd had to act. The doddering old fool had no children or grandchildren to use due to his perverse and unnatural affections, and everyone who could be considered reasonably close to the man was safely snug in the castle had made things difficult. That was when a golden opportunity presented itself.
The infinitely mundane Arthur Weasley had started cringing and begging his way through the Ministry like the dirty little weasel he was. The fact he thought anyone would support such a misguided effort as his Muggle Protection Act when nearly everyone of any standing had a small hoard of cursed family heirlooms hidden away in secret rooms or in their vaults at Gringotts was laughable. He was close to the Headmaster's affections for some reason though, and this made him priceless as far as targets went.
Lucius had made his thoughts on the matter clear in a token resistance but in the end had let the initiative come to a vote. Dumbledore could have his temporary victory; he would win the cultural war. The Ministry barging in and searching homes would only serve to rally people against such new, invasive, and ultimately untrustworthy ideas. In time, the entire thing would be scrapped and the thought that we shouldn't be protecting muggles from ourselves but protecting ourselves from them would embed itself in people's minds.
Arranging the world as he wished it to be was a delicate thing full of subtle maneuvers and schemes which took time to come to fruition. It was a generational game and Dumbledore had proved too much of a hindrance, had defied him too long, and was too prevalent for him to ignore. He had to be swept aside so a better man could reign supreme. Unfortunately, this left him with only one option to choose: deploying the diary a self-styled Dark Lord had entrusted him with.
He had taken immense satisfaction with the thought that the balding ginger weasel's insipid daughter would be Dumbledore's downfall, and would likely take her own father down with him. Since the pathetic man had dared to strike him, and in public, perhaps he'd have her sent to Azkaban as well, once everything was done. Penniless, jobless, joyless, and utterly without prospects or determinable skill they'd be a constant reminder to others of what happened to those who dared to go against his wishes, perhaps an even more powerful reminder than Dumbledore's own fall would be.
What Marsh said now was unsettling. The entire stability of the world he was shaping, of the schemes he had, the ultimate culmination of his family's rise and return to their rightful place of power had all been undermined. All their great gains were at risk as they found themselves on the edge a precipice with no broom to cling to.
"You were quite right to bring this to me, Marsh," Lucius said, schooling his features into a semblance of calm detachment bordering on slightly mocking indulgence as he luxuriated in his Wiltshire manor's drawing room.
Of course he had known everything the misnamed Overseer had said, or so he wanted the man to believe. Suspicions were as good as facts when you played the game as well as he did, but he had never thought Dumbledore would blunder so badly. It could ruin everything. He had always thought the man a poor, but insistent player but now… now he was convinced the old fool had been playing a different game entirely.
How could the power-hungry madman styling himself a Dark Lord still be alive?
His first instinct was to cower, to hunker down and protect himself from the maniac who would so joyously take his life in an instant, and offer up those gains in hopes of buying his freedom. Lucius wished he had never become involved with the man; it had been his fanatical wife's doing, her and her sister. Not being in line to inherit their family's wealth themselves, they had been drawn in with visions of a courtly ruling class, pure of blood, noble, and Slytherin, guiding the world into the golden age the Founders had envisioned; it was not what they received. All the Dark Lord gave was pain and demanded everything of you in return.
"I trust you will do everything in your power to guide things on their proper course and keep others out of our affairs," he drawled, mind occupied on other things as he said what was expected of him.
He would have to change his plans, especially in regards to Draco's long-term prospects. Should the Dark Lord indeed find some way to return, it wouldn't do to have that particular gem waiting for him. He had the family's long-term success to consider; the individual was irrelevant, no matter the Black Family's thoughts on the subject, and there was no one left to enforce any contracts on their side anyway.
"The other Governors and I will remember your good stewardship when these issues are behind us," he said to his pawn, knowing the unspoken promise of gold would buy his compliance, it always did.
"Of course, sir," the man gave a winning smile which said all was already well in hand in the way only the particularly good boot-licking servants - the ones who stayed bought once you paid for them - seemed to have.