After speaking his speculation, Lucius lifted his eyes cautiously to observe Bryan Watson's expression, searching for any informative reaction that might reveal his thoughts.
The reason behind the Dark Lord's potential attack on Azkaban was glaringly obvious to anyone who wasn't a hopeless fool—most of his most loyal, battle-hardened, and utterly ruthless Death Eaters were imprisoned within that very fortress prison, trapped on that desolate island in the North Sea!
If the Dark Lord successfully found a way to penetrate Azkaban's defenses and rescued those most dangerous and evil Death Eaters from their cells, the impact on the wizarding world would be nothing short of catastrophic and far-reaching.
Needless to say, the Ministry of Magic's reputation would be dragged mercilessly through the mud, torn to shreds in the public eye. The British wizarding world would immediately plunge into unprecedented turmoil and chaos, with panic spreading like wildfire through every magical household.
And it could even be said, without any exaggeration—that this bold strike would be equivalent to the Dark Lord formally announcing his return to the world with clarity, sounding the chilling horn of attack that would herald a new age of darkness and terror.
In his prior expectations, Bryan Watson should have flown into a rage upon hearing this alarming news. Or at the very least, he should have displayed visible tension.
While Bryan Watson might not particularly care about the Ministry of Magic's authority being trampled and humiliated that much Lucius had gathered from their previous interactions—he certainly wouldn't want to see the order of the wizarding world descend into complete and utter chaos. Would he?
But reality, as it so often did, proved to be vastly different from his expectations.
Bryan Watson showed absolutely no signs of tension whatsoever. He merely leaned back casually against the sofa, his posture was relaxed and unhurried, his fingers rhythmically twirling his two thumbs in a hypnotic, contemplative motion.
"A reasonable deduction—"
Bryan nodded slightly after a prolonged moment of silence, his voice was slow and calm as he affirmed Lucius's dire prediction.
"You don't plan to stop it?"
Bryan's utterly placid reaction caught Lucius completely off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless. The question escaped his lips before he could stop himself, as astonishment was bleeding through his upheld composure.
But immediately, the very instant the words left his mouth—Bryan Watson's penetrating gaze, as deep and unfathomable as an abyss, as mysterious as the darkest depths of the ocean, locked onto him with unsettling intensity.
The weight of that stare made Lucius's heart tremble in his chest, and he instinctively lowered his head in automatic submission.
"Forgive me, Mr. Watson," Lucius said hastily, his voice turning tight with anxiety. "I shouldn't have overstepped my boundaries. It wasn't my place to question."
"It's alright, Lucius," Bryan's tone remained perfectly calm and undisturbed. There was almost a touch of dry amusement in it. "I'm not the Dark Lord, taking lives casually at every turn for the slightest perceived offense."
The comparison made Lucius flinch internally.
"But you must understand—" Bryan continued, his voice dropping slightly lower, taking on a more serious edge, "—that knowing too much is not a good thing for someone in your current... delicate position. The less you know about my intentions, the safer you and your family remain."
Lucius nodded with an ashen face, his complexion was pale in the dim firelight. His throat felt tight as he swallowed hard.
Three short months ago, it seemed like a lifetime now—he had been the proud and distinguished Head of the ancient Malfoy family, a renowned business magnate throughout not just the British wizarding world but across all of European magical society.
His name had carried weight, garnered respect, opened doors. People had sought his favor, his patronage, his influence.
But after the Dark Lord's terrifying resurrection in that graveyard, everything had changed irreversibly. Now he had been reduced to working as a spy for two masters simultaneously, walking a thin tightrope between them, just to barely survive each passing day with his family intact.
The Dark Lord had never been, and would never be, a magnanimous or forgiving wizard. Lucius harbored no naive illusions otherwise. He wouldn't be foolish enough to think that the catastrophic matter of carelessly destroying the Dark Lord's precious artifact would simply be forgotten or overlooked.
The memory of his punishment still made him shudder.
No, the Dark Lord kept him alive and breathing for one reason only: because he still had significant use, still possessed valuable connections and influence. Especially now, when Voldemort hadn't yet gathered his full team of followers.
But if those imprisoned Death Eaters suffering in Azkaban were all successfully rescued and returned to his service, then the Dark Lord would suddenly have many more options at his disposal.
A wealth of alternatives. Expendable servants.
At that point, when Lucius's unique value had diminished sufficiently, whether the Dark Lord would simply take the lives of his entire family swiftly and mercifully, or whether he would choose instead to thoroughly torment them first for his own amusement and vindictive satisfaction before finally allowing the ancient Malfoy bloodline to perish in agony—that remained disturbingly uncertain.
Either way, the outcome was clear: they were doomed. The Malfoy family was living on borrowed time.
The thought made his hands tremble slightly where they rested on his knees.
Having roughly conveyed all the intelligence he possessed, feeling emptied out and exposed, Lucius looked anxiously across at Watson, desperately trying to gauge whether he was satisfied with the information provided. His fate might well depend on Watson's assessment of his usefulness.
Moreover, Watson would almost certainly assign him some tasks in return for this protection, this fragile alliance. Hopefully, Lucius thought with an internal grimace, they wouldn't be those suicidal missions that seemed designed to eliminate him conveniently. Hopefully Watson valued his survival.
Digesting the intelligence Lucius had brought with consideration, Bryan recognized that the most valuable piece of information was undoubtedly Voldemort's specific attitude toward his entry into Salazar Slytherin's ancient vault.
Voldemort had shown appropriate concern about the incident—that much was expected and revealed nothing particularly useful. But beyond that surface reaction, the nervousness he had shown, according to Lucius's account, further confirmed both his and Dumbledore's speculation about the Horcruxes.
"Did Voldemort at Gringotts—"
Bryan suddenly asked, leaning forward slightly, but having spoken only half the sentence, he stopped himself abruptly. His brow furrowed in thought. After considering for a moment, he continued with a different approach,
"Back then—I mean, during the war, when Voldemort was last actively operating and building his forces—besides you, which other Death Eaters did he trust most, Lucius?"
'The most trusted Death Eaters?'
If it were a dozen years ago, during the height of his influence and power, Lucius would have proudly and immediately claimed without hesitation that he was the person the Dark Lord trusted most, the one who stood closest to the throne.
Of course, he would also have reluctantly mentioned, a few fellow Death Eaters, who received similar favor and preferential treatment from their master.
But now, sitting here as a broken man playing spy, forced to betray one side to another just to keep his family safe, Lucius only felt a bitter urge to laugh at the cruel irony of the question.
"From my observation and experience, Mr. Watson," Lucius began, and genuine bitterness seeped through into his expression, twisting his face. His voice emerged slightly hoarse, roughened by suppressed emotion. "The Dark Lord truly trusts no one—absolutely no one."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"He only trusts himself. His own power, his own mind, his own magic. Everyone else is expendable, replaceable, useful only until they cease to be. Of course," Lucius added with a slight, humorless quirk of his lips, "if you absolutely must have an answer to your question, then I suppose—"
Taking a deep, steadying breath that made his chest rise and fall, Lucius continued, dredging up memories from those dark years,
"He trusts Severus, obviously. The Lestrange couple, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, certainly—they're fanatically loyal, utterly devoted beyond reason. The Carrow siblings, Amycus and Alecto, who always worked as a vicious pair. Evan Rosier, before he died fighting Aurors..."
He trailed off, then concluded, "In short, basically those who were imprisoned in Azkaban after the last war. The ones who never broke, never withdrew, never claimed Imperius. The true believers who went to prison rather than deny him. Those are the ones he valued most; the ones he considered his real servants."
"Mm—"
Bryan nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful and distant as he processed this information. He fell into contemplative silence again, his purple eyes unfocused as he stared at something only he could see, working through some complex problem.
The silence stretched uncomfortably.
If Voldemort had truly entrusted another Horcrux to a Death Eater besides the foolish Lucius, and if that Death Eater had subsequently placed Voldemort's precious Horcrux in a Gringotts vault for safekeeping, then unless Bryan obtained a definitive answer through other means, he would potentially have to check each suspect vault individually.
And if he actually did this, if he proceeded with such a broad investigation—first of all, not to mention the enormous trouble and diplomatic nightmare this would inevitably cause for Gerson Barnah—secondly, conducting this sensitive matter so ostentatiously and publicly would surely alert Voldemort immediately.
Unless he was a complete idiot, he would realize that Bryan and Dumbledore already knew about his creation of multiple Horcruxes. He would understand that they were hunting his anchors to immortality. This revelation would be extremely detrimental to their chances of successfully tracking down and destroying the remaining Horcruxes before Voldemort could move or better protect them.
But this had to be done regardless of the risks. The Horcruxes had to be found and eliminated. It just needed a reasonable excuse, a plausible cover story that would mask the true purpose of the investigation.
Even if Voldemort eventually learned that Bryan had forcibly opened various Death Eater vaults, he wouldn't necessarily think the intrusion was specifically targeting his Horcruxes.
"There's something I need your assistance with, Lucius—"
Bryan finally broke the long silence.
'Here it comes!'
When the continued oppressive silence had been making Lucius increasingly anxious, his nerves tattering with each passing second, Bryan finally spoke those anticipated words.
Hearing these words, Lucius's heart immediately tightened with apprehension. Yet paradoxically, he also felt a wave of tremendous relief come over him, easing some of the tension in his shoulders.
Since Watson was willing to assign him specific tasks, to give him missions and responsibilities, this at least clearly indicated two crucial things:
First, at the very least in Watson's eyes, he still had tangible value as an asset, still possessed useful skills and connections. Second, it at least proved that Watson had developed a certain degree of trust in him, enough to involve him in whatever schemes he was planning.
That the dignified Head of the ancient and noble Malfoy family now felt genuine relief at having exploitable value, at being considered useful enough to manipulate, was rather heartbreaking and pathetic to acknowledge.
But such was the harsh and cruel reality of the wizarding world's current deteriorating situation.
When the Dark Lord had returned to the wizarding world in that graveyard and made his decision to ignite the flames of war again, thousands upon thousands of innocent wizards would inevitably become casualties of that war.
Only a small handful of powerful wizards could possibly be the hands that moved the chess pieces on this board. Everyone else would be swept up in forces beyond their control.
And although Watson's general attitude toward him wasn't particularly warm or courteous, wasn't marked by any real friendship or affection, Lucius could nevertheless sense, with the instincts of a man accustomed to reading people—that Watson didn't treat him as a mere slave or disposable tool.
That had to count for something.
"It would be my honor to serve you, Mr. Watson—"
Lucius was already beginning to stand from the sofa, preparing to rise to his feet in a gesture of formal acknowledgment, when Bryan's hand lifted in a slight motion. Though the gesture appeared casual, almost lazy, it immediately exerted a powerful invisible force that pressed Lucius firmly back down onto the sofa cushions.
The casual display of magic made Lucius's breath catch.
"There's one matter—"
Bryan lowered his raised hand slowly, returning it to rest on his knee, and said in a calm tone,
"Given that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts has been sitting vacant for several months now, Fudge has already formally recommended his supposedly capable assistant, Dolores Umbridge, to Headmaster Dumbledore to fill the vacant position—"
'Fudge wants that awful Umbridge woman to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?'
Lucius was first stunned into brief silence by this revelation. Then his left eye twitched as he blurted out his immediate understanding,
"You mean the Ministry is attempting to directly interfere with Hogwarts's internal affairs?"
"That's rather obvious, isn't it?"
Bryan smiled slightly, a sarcastic quirk of his lips.
"What would you like me to do?"
Lucius became immediately cautious. He looked at Bryan carefully, trying to anticipate what might be coming.
"If you want me to use the Malfoy family's influence and longstanding connections to interfere with Fudge's decision, to lobby against this appointment—"
Lucius began slowly, thinking through the possibilities and obstacles,
"—I'm afraid that won't be easy to accomplish. Fudge is quite stubborn in his decisions once he's made them. Moreover,"
He added with particular emphasis, "if the Dark Lord learns of this interference, he would probably be delighted to see open conflict develop between the Ministry and you."
"Yes, Voldemort would certainly be very happy to see such a contentious situation arise and fester," Bryan agreed readily, nodding as though Lucius had made exactly the point he'd been waiting for. "So—"
Bryan's smile widened slightly, becoming more knowing and mysterious. His purple eyes glinted with something that might have been mischief or might have been cold calculation.
"I want you to take the initiative to report this entire matter to Voldemort personally, and then persuade him to let you help Cornelius Fudge with this endeavor, to add fuel to this fire. Make it burn hotter. He'll definitely agree."
As Bryan explained this plan, Lucius's confused face gradually transformed, passing through stages of incomprehension before finally settling into deep uncertainty and suspicion. His brow furrowed deeply.
Had Watson gone completely mad?? Was he deliberately driving himself into a dead end?!
The plan made no logical sense at all.
"Why would you have me do this, Mr. Watson?"
Finally, unable to contain his bewilderment any longer, his confusion overriding his usual careful caution, Lucius couldn't help but ask directly.
"You must know that if I do this, cooperating with the Ministry to pressure Hogwarts, then Hogwarts will be finished. You couldn't possibly hold out against that kind of combined assault!"
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