The Malfoy Manor, once a symbol of pure-blood prestige and power situated in the exclusive outskirts of Wiltshire, had become an isolated secret land completely cut off from the normal world, a place where darkness literally resided.
Bright morning sunlight spilled lavishly across the surrounding earth, shrouding the boundless wilderness and neighboring estates in a warm golden ocean of light. Birds sang, flowers bloomed, life thrived.
Yet Malfoy Manor itself remained continuously enveloped in a shallow gray mist that gathered around the property like a curse but never dispersed, never lifted no matter the time of day. It clung to the manor like a shroud, a manifestation of evil.
This ominous haze carried a faint but distinctive scent of death and decay, something that made even the bravest hearts quail.
Under the corrosive influence of this unnatural atmosphere, the branches and leaves of the decorative plants that had once been so meticulously tended by the manor's groundskeepers, the pride of Narcissa's gardens had developed nauseating black spots that spread like disease.
The roses were dying, the hedges withering, the ancient trees were showing signs of blight.
"Has the Master risen yet?" came a soft, anxious voice.
At the bottom of the marble stairway leading to the top-floor terrace, the pale-faced Lucius Malfoy inquired carefully of his wife, who had just descended carrying a silver serving tray with the Dark Lord's breakfast. His voice sounded like just a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard.
Narcissa nodded once, her face was haggard and tired, aging from constant stress. She reached out and gripped her husband's slightly cold hand with her own trembling fingers.
"But he... the Master seems to be in a foul mood this morning, though I don't know what happened to anger him. He hasn't left the manor these past few days, has he?"
Her blue eyes held a warning.
Lucius understood immediately that this was his wife's subtle reminder to be cautious, to watch his every word and thought. After giving her what he hoped was a reassuring look though he felt far from reassured himself, he drew a deep, steadying breath and began climbing the stairs slowly.
As he gradually approached the doorway at the top that was flooded with natural light, Lucius's breathing grew increasingly erratic and uneven despite his efforts to control it. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum.
Seeming to sense his chaotic, fearful thoughts and racing pulse, the magical golden serpent that Bryan Watson had placed upon him, the one that roamed invisibly across his body and currently rested at the position directly over his heart released soothing threads of cooling sensation that spread through his chest.
Perceiving this coolness, the frantic rhythm of Lucius's pounding heartbeat gradually steadied and slowed to something more manageable.
Truth be told, Lucius hadn't expected that after making the decision to become a spy for Bryan Watson, after betraying the Dark Lord he'd served for decades, he could actually conceal his treachery for so long before Voldemort, who was widely known to be a master of Legilimency capable of reading minds with ease.
He had already thoroughly prepared himself mentally for the worst possible outcome before deciding to take this dangerous path.
Lucius desperately hoped that Watson, along with Dumbledore who stood on the same side as Watson in this war, could somehow protect Draco and Narcissa if his betrayal was discovered. At the very least, they should spare no effort to protect Draco.
As for himself, he could only resign himself to whatever fate had in store, living one more day was just a blessing for him. He'd made his peace with death.
But unexpectedly, the protective magic that Bryan Watson had placed upon him truly prevented the Dark Lord from accurately sensing the treacherous thoughts hidden in his heart.
This gave Lucius tremendous confidence and hope, for this fact seemed to clearly suggest that Bryan Watson's magical power and skill were greater than the Dark Lord's. This was the only simple conclusion Lucius Malfoy's terrified mind could draw from his survival.
But in reality, the truth was far more complex.
In terms of pure magical power and raw reserves of magic, the Dark Lord's abilities were actually somewhat deeper and more vast than Bryan's, accumulated over decades of dark rituals. However, his soul was fractured and torn, riddled with holes like a sieve from creating multiple Horcruxes, and was vastly inferior to Bryan's complete and flawless soul.
This weakness could be exploited.
Since deciding to accept Lucius Malfoy as his inside agent within the Death Eaters' inner circle, Bryan would not simply stand by idly and watch Lucius Malfoy die easily.
The protective magic Bryan had left on Lucius Malfoy was an advanced concealment spell designed through the forceful, precise use of soul power rather than mere magical strength.
It was sufficient to protect the most rebellious and treacherous thoughts hidden in the deepest parts of Malfoy's terrified heart from being spied upon through casual Legilimency.
"You still refuse to answer my summons!" came a sudden roar.
Just as Lucius was about to step cautiously through the doorway leading onto the terrace, a hoarse shout filled with coldness and murderous aura made Lucius's entire body tremble. His legs went weak, nearly buckling beneath him.
Before Lucius could shake off this paralyzing fear, before he could even process what was happening, the world before his eyes, which had been filled with morning light just a moment ago, suddenly became pitch black—as if the previous second had been broad daylight, and the next second night had fallen completely!
Whoosh!
Beyond the single door separating them, the vicious, unnatural darkness whipped up a howling wind that sounded like wailing ghosts and tormented souls.
In the surging, churning darkness that seemed alive with malice, two floating points of blood red and Voldemort's barely audible but rage-filled roar nearly drove Lucius to complete mental collapse.
His mind teetered on the edge of breaking.
However, this descending supernatural darkness came quickly and left just as fast, dissipating as suddenly as it had appeared.
With a loud "BANG" that shook the walls, the darkness that had covered the sky dispersed instantly like smoke blown away.
In the world restored to normal light and color, gray mist floated slowly through the air—the particles seeming like condensed magical residue yet also like simple clouds of smoke, similar to the perpetual mist shrouding the manor grounds. It was nauseating to look at, carrying that same scent of death.
"What is it? Why are you here?" came a voice colder than the harshest north wind.
The question fell upon Lucius's ears, jolting him roughly from his dazed state. As his gaze met the Dark Lord's crimson vertical pupils, those snake-like eyes that held no humanity—Lucius, now sweating profusely and trembling, immediately dropped to his knees at the threshold.
"I bring you news, Master."
"Oh?" Voldemort's voice dragged out with a slanting, suspicious tail note, the murderous aura was still sharp. "What do you have to tell me, Lucius? The negotiations between Watson and the Board of Governors have already collapsed, haven't they? That's old news now. Are you saying that Dumbledore has surrendered so quickly? Has Watson been dismissed?"
"Oh, not so, my Master—" Lucius said quickly, his knees were scraping painfully against the wooden floor with a rustling sound as he shuffled forward while still kneeling before Voldemort.
"Hogwarts has not surrendered because we stopped the flow of funds. On the contrary, Master, Watson has formally and publicly announced that Hogwarts no longer needs the Board of Governors at all. He's severed the relationship completely."
"No longer needs the Board of Governors?" Voldemort repeated slowly, his tone changed.
Even Voldemort himself seemed to briefly forget his earlier anger upon hearing this unexpected news. His narrow red eyes widened slightly with genuine surprise.
"This is quite different from what you told me at the beginning of this operation, my friend. You assured me that if the Board of Governors stopped funding Hogwarts, then Dumbledore would have no choice but to close the school. You said it was inevitable."
"This is not deception, my Master! I swear it!" Lucius said desperately, his voice was rising with panic.
He had already prepared himself mentally to endure a round of Cruciatus Curse torture for this failure. His breathing quickened again, becoming ragged. Large beads of sweat seeped from his forehead, dripping down steadily to dampen the wooden floor beneath his pressed face.
"You must surely know that keeping Hogwarts open even one single day requires vast amounts of funding to sustain it—food, supplies, salaries, maintenance. Without gold galleons in enormous quantities, they couldn't possibly survive for long."
"Can't survive without galleons?" Voldemort let out a scoffing laugh, clearly dismissive of Malfoy's assertion. "Then what about now, Lucius? Explain this to me. Hogwarts lacks financial support from the Board, yet it hasn't surrendered or closed. Watson has even cast the Board of Governors aside like garbage. Oh, that behavior is rather interesting—quite bold, really."
Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into a mocking smile. "Dumbledore actually allowed him to do this. It seems the old fool can no longer control Watson. Perhaps Watson is making his own play for power."
He looked quite satisfied with his own analysis, nodding to himself.
"Even if what you said was correct initially, Lucius..." A reclining chair nearby suddenly floated up silently through the air and settled behind Voldemort as he slowly reclined into it, making himself comfortable.
"Then why does Watson have the courage to break free from the financial pressure?"
"Perhaps... oh, my guess is—" Lucius's shoulders hunched up defensively, making him look smaller and more pathetic. "Watson has found other financial support for Hogwarts, Master. That Learning Machine workshop he established—Watson went to America specifically to promote and sell it to their market. I think he brought back some galleons from there."
"So, you're saying Watson has narrowly survived the crisis you and the Ministry created for him?" Voldemort said lazily, glancing sidelong at the trembling Lucius with those terrible red eyes. "He's slipped through your trap. Is this all you have to tell me? Just news of failure?"
"Oh, I've brought you a copy of today's Daily Prophet, my Master—" Lucius said quickly, tremblingly extracting a folded newspaper from his robe pocket with shaking hands.
Before he could offer it up properly, the paper had already left his grasp and floated smoothly through the air before the Dark Lord, unfolding itself.
"Oh!" Voldemort exclaimed after scanning through several lines of text, his tone turned to genuine surprise and something like pleasure.
"Bryan Watson publicly claims that the Ministry's forced appointment of officials to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is deliberately bringing the flames of political conflict toward the school, toward innocent children. He's condemned Fudge openly. Oh, how interesting—he actually dares to say such things in print? To openly defy the Ministry?"
Voldemort sat up straight in his reclining chair, looking suddenly energetic.
"A foolish move on Watson's part. Politically naive," Voldemort said with evident happiness, his mood was improving. "This will only cause the Ministry to turn its full attention against him personally, make him their primary target. They'll have to respond to such public defiance."
His red eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "But for us, this is excellent news—drawing the Ministry's attention to Watson makes it much more convenient for our own operations. We can move more freely."
"Just as you say, my Master," Lucius echoed humbly, knowing better than to offer his own opinions.
Returning his sharp gaze to the top of Lucius's bowed head, Voldemort's expression softened slightly from rage to something more contemplative. An indistinct light flickered in the depths of his eyes.
"Oh, thank you for bringing me this good news, Lucius. It can keep me happy and entertained for some time." His tone became casual, almost friendly which was more frightening than his anger. "By the way, before you entered just now, you didn't see anything unusual, did you? On your way up?"
Lucius's body shook violently twice, a tremor ran through him. "I... I saw a black mist, Master.... But I don't understand what it was..."
"Is that so?" Voldemort said softly. He narrowed his red eyes at the trembling Malfoy. After a while, he finally withdrew his scrutinizing gaze and waved one hand dismissively before reclining back into his chair.
"Go, Lucius. Leave me. I have nothing for you to do at the moment. You're dismissed."
Lucius Malfoy exhaled heavily, as if granted a great pardon from execution. Still on his knees, not daring to stand or turn his back, he awkwardly backed out of the terrace, shuffling backward through the doorway. Even after descending the stairs carefully, his legs remained weak and unsteady.
Looking at the portraits hanging in the corridor, portraits of his ancestors who cast worried glances toward him, Lucius's heart held only bitterness and relief... and, of course, a deep trace of confusion that he couldn't shake.
Just now, it seemed the Dark Lord had been engaged in combat with someone or something, and moreover, had suffered defeat?
But... what could that have been?
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