The bright moon in the night sky had risen high above the three people on the terrace, casting everything in pale silver light. Under the moonlight's cold lighting, Malfoy Manor lacked its usual elegance and sophisticated beauty. Instead, it resembled an enormous graveyard, shrouded in oppressive gloom and dread.
Even the refreshing evening breeze that drifted by carried a bitter chill that seemed to penetrate bone, as if death itself rode the wind.
"Ah, the task. Of course, I'm certain you can complete such a simple thing. After all, I merely asked you to deliver a message, didn't I, Lucius? Nothing complicated. If you manage to bungle even that... well, I would be quite surprised—and disappointed."
The Dark Lord made his little joke, and both Lucius and Narcissa felt compelled to laugh along, to show appreciation. However, what appeared on their strained faces could hardly be called genuine laughter—the sounds coming from their throats looked more like the expressions of people weeping at a funeral.
"The question is—"
Voldemort's voice shifted, becoming sharp. He smiled coldly, without warmth or humanity.
"Dumbledore. Oh, and Watson—they didn't suspect why you would suddenly visit Hogwarts tonight, did they? Didn't question your timing or motives?"
"No, my Lord, not at all—"
Lucius remained kneeling on the hard stone.
"I didn't even see Dumbledore personally. It was Watson who admitted me into Hogwarts after I arrived at the gates. I told him I was going to Hogsmeade to conduct some routine business and was stopping by Hogwarts on the way to deliver some treats that Narcissa had prepared for Draco."
He paused to draw breath.
"After that, I used the excuse of wanting to know about Draco's recent performance at school to request a private meeting with Severus. Watson granted permission and let Severus meet with me, then went to teach his class. That gave me the perfect opportunity to deliver your orders to Severus without suspicion."
Hiss... hiss...
The Dark Lord listened quietly to Lucius's careful account, his red eyes were unblinking. He asked nothing more, merely flaring his flat nostrils to sniff at the air around Lucius, which faintly reeked of nervous sweat and something else, something like blood.
"Very good, Lucius. Although your intelligence cannot possibly compare with the Dark Lord's superior mind, your... your cleverness, your little tricks and schemes always prove useful from time to time—"
Voldemort said with a light, mocking laugh.
"Rise, Lucius. Stand. We can have a chat now. To be honest, I'm not sleepy at all tonight. Oh, not because I'm anxious about anything, don't mistake my wakefulness for worry. You don't understand what it means to transcend mortal limitations—many years ago, when my magical powers became truly profound, I stopped needing much sleep at all. Rise, Lucius—"
Watching her husband, whose face couldn't hide his deep exhaustion and pain, Narcissa's expression flashed with deep worry. But when she came to her senses, when she tore her attention from Lucius, she noticed with horror that the Dark Lord was studying her with keen interest.
Her heart was seized with panic. She immediately bent at the waist in submission, making herself smaller, less noticeable.
"Do you need me to prepare some refreshments, my Lord? More tea?"
"Oh, no, Narcissa. My stomach is already quite full of the delicious treats you prepared for me earlier this evening. They were adequate."
Voldemort's voice was almost pleasant.
"Let's chat together now. Yes, you should listen too—to what our dear Lucius has been hiding from me."
Like a thunderclap splitting the quiet night, like lightning striking without warning, Narcissa's face instantly turned snow-white. Lucius, who had just painfully stood up on trembling legs, felt his calves go weak beneath him.
But this time he didn't allow himself to kneel again. He remained standing through sheer force of will.
Facing Voldemort's stern, accusing expression, his equally pale face showed traces of confusion, innocence, and urgent concern.
"I haven't hidden anything from you, my Lord! Oh, it's just that there are some things I haven't had the chance to report yet!"
"And what would those things be, exactly?"
Hisssss—
At some point during the conversation, Nagini had slithered silently over from the shadows at the terrace's edge. She was massive, her scales gleaming in the moonlight. She draped her head across Voldemort's leg, allowing him to stroke her grotesque head with affection as she flicked out her dark crimson tongue.
"I heard some news tonight. Oh, actually, Severus told me voluntarily, he thought it was important—"
A drop of sweat formed on Lucius's forehead, grew heavy, broke through the barrier of his eyebrows, and slowly seeped into his eye socket with stinging pain. It made him extremely uncomfortable, yet he absolutely dared not wipe it away.
Still breathing heavily, his chest heaving, he continued with forced enthusiasm,
"Interesting news, my Lord. Severus told me that the Minister of Magic is planning to send Dolores Umbridge to Hogwarts to serve as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. To take Watson's former position."
"Making Umbridge the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Oh, so our esteemed Minister of Magic has finally decided he can no longer tolerate Watson and Dumbledore's independence?"
Voldemort showed some genuine interest, his eyes seemed to be brightening.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts professor... that's not a good choice for her, I'm afraid. Back then... oh, people have spread the word, gossiped about it—I placed a curse on that position. A very powerful curse. It cost quite a few lives to create. I'm afraid even I couldn't lift it now if I wanted to—the magic is too deeply embedded."
Voldemort continued to stroke Nagini's head with meticulous care, his fingers running over her scales.
"Did Dumbledore agree to this arrangement? Oh, I'm afraid he won't refuse. He's just that pathetically hypocritical and cowardly old man, bound by his principles. He clearly knows that Cornelius Fudge is sending someone into Hogwarts specifically to watch him, to spy, but he simply won't refuse—"
"Your wisdom is admirable, my Lord—"
Lucius said tremblingly, seizing his opportunity.
"Severus told me that Dumbledore is indeed in a dilemma. But he doesn't plan to refuse the Ministry's request. However, Watson has returned from New York, and apparently, he demanded that Dumbledore reject the Ministry's arrangement outright and not allow Dolores Umbridge to enter Hogwarts under any circumstances. Watson's attitude is absolutely resolute, and uncompromising. I'm afraid Fudge won't be able to realize his scheme easily, so..."
"So?"
Voldemort's voice was soft, and dangerous.
"I was thinking—should we help Cornelius Fudge achieve his goal, my Lord? Assist him?"
Lucius said, mustering every ounce of his courage.
Voldemort narrowed his scarlet eyes to slits and said nothing, his face was unreadable. He seemed to be waiting for a full explanation. Seeing this expectant silence, Lucius brushed aside a strand of sweat-dampened golden hair from his eyes with a shaking hand, his tone shifting to hint at excitement.
"This would benefit us greatly, my Lord. As you so wisely said, Cornelius Fudge's dispatch of Dolores Umbridge to Hogwarts certainly isn't to actually teach young wizards proper Defense Against the Dark Arts. She's utterly unqualified. No—she's there to monitor and investigate Dumbledore and Watson. To spy and report back."
He was speaking faster now.
"For years, Fudge has worried obsessively about losing his position, worried that Dumbledore will suddenly change his mind and decide to become Minister of Magic himself. He believes Dumbledore's public announcement of your return to the wizarding world is meant to create panic so the public will oust him from office in favor of Dumbledore."
Lucius paused to take a breath and continued.
"Sending Umbridge to Hogwarts is Fudge's preventive measure, his insurance policy. That woman is utterly, fanatically loyal to Fudge—would do anything he asks. Once she enters Hogwarts as a professor, she'll certainly be eager to cause trouble for Dumbledore and Watson at every opportunity! She'll undermine them constantly!"
Seeing no immediate signs of the Dark Lord's anger, Lucius ignored the strange, worried look in Narcissa's eyes and continued with growing excitement, selling his plan,
"Dumbledore is aggressively trying to use the Order of the Phoenix to interfere with your plans for rebuilding your forces. He sent that oaf Hagrid to the mountains to prevent us from recruiting the giants to your cause. He sent Moody with the Longbottoms to Scandinavia to stop us from recruiting powerful wizards there."
He drew a deep breath.
"Of course, Dumbledore cannot possibly stop your inevitable progress—all his desperate arrangements have failed utterly. But—
If Umbridge is constantly causing them trouble right under Dumbledore and Watson's noses at Hogwarts, creating problems and distractions, it will undoubtedly drain their energy and focus. They'll be fighting on two fronts. Even Bryan Watson, powerful as he is, wouldn't dare kill the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. That would be political suicide."
A sudden gust of wind made Voldemort's loose black robes rustle around his skeletal body. His narrowed scarlet pupils glimmered with reflected moonlight, clearly deep in thought, weighing options.
The silence stretched on.
"But how do you plan to help our dear Minister of Magic achieve his laughable little ambition, my dear friend?"
After a long, tense moment, Voldemort finally turned his penetrating gaze back to the expectant Lucius, studying him.
"If Watson insists stubbornly on not letting Umbridge enter Hogwarts, refuses to budge, our foolish Minister of Magic will be completely at a loss. He has no real power there. Or are you planning to make Watson compromise with gold galleons? Bribe him?"
"Unless the Ministry passes new legislation establishing its right to interfere with Hogwarts's teaching activities which would take time and political capital, Fudge is doomed to fail in this endeavor. But there is another way—"
Lucius's expression showed extreme caution now, knowing he was reaching the crucial point.
"The Board of Governors has the legal authority to decide on Hogwarts's teaching activities and personnel arrangements. If you agree... if you give the order... you know, some governors are your Death Eaters. If you command them to assist in this matter, I believe the Malfoy family could return to the Board of Governors..."
"Oh, ho ho—"
Voldemort's laugh was cold and knowing.
He released Nagini to slither to the ground, and then he floated up from his reclining chair like a ghost. He came before Lucius, moving without walking, and his lowered gaze carried crushing, heavy pressure.
"Cunning Malfoy. That's your real calculation, isn't it? Your true motive? To have the Malfoy family regain power and influence on the Board?"
Lucius bent over in immediate panic.
"My Lord... I... the Malfoy family only wishes to better serve you—"
"Crucio!"
As Voldemort turned away, his voice was absolutely chilling. He swung his wand like a whip through the air, and after his vicious word came agonized screams that echoed throughout Malfoy Manor's grounds, carrying across the gardens.
Lucius collapsed, squirming on the stone terrace.
Along with his screams came Narcissa's humble crying and desperate pleading as she threw herself over her husband's shuddering body, trying to shield him.
"Please! Please, my Lord! Have mercy!"
Only when Lucius Malfoy was on the absolute verge of death, his screams having faded to whimpers, his body was barely moving, did Voldemort slowly, move his wand away.
The curse was lifted.
"This is your punishment, Lucius—"
Voldemort said lazily.
"Punishment for attempting to lie to me. You wanted to use the pretense of serving me to gain power for the Malfoy family. You thought I wouldn't see through your scheme. Lying to the Dark Lord is foolish, my friend—incredibly foolish. I hope you remember this lesson. I hope it's burned into your memory."
He paused, looking down at the broken man.
"Of course, your plan is actually quite good despite your deception. Go ahead and proceed with it, Lucius. Make it happen."
Lucius could barely hear him through the ringing in his ears and the aftershocks of pain.
But he understood enough.
He'd survived.
For now.
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