Chapter 13: Dark Plans
The dark cloaked figure apparated with a decided *pop* and found himself in a small clearing in the middle of the dark forest of Kavan. It was just nearing dusk. The sky was a dusty gray-purple, and the moon and the stars had yet to shine to their full potential owing to the wash of the sun's last orange rays, but somehow being in these woods made everything much darker. Knarled dead trees, the forest floor thick with shriveled dried plants…the only sound he heard as he approached the shack in the clearing was the crunch of long dead leaves underfoot. He had offered for the dark lord to share his home, after all, didn't the future ruler of the entire wizarding world deserve more opulent surroundings? But Voldemort had refused, and had reminded him about the final battle needing to be conducted here. A battle had waged at this very sight last year…a fight between he and Potter that the dark lord seemed to seethe with distinct bitterness about. It was no secret that Voldemort hated Potter, and although he had not explained the particulars of the fight to the death eater, one thing was for certain…his body had been taken from him again.
The death eater shuddered as he approached the grayed, weathered wooden door. It wasn't cold out tonight; Mother Nature had decided to favor Scotland with a mild autumn evening. And yet, a ruby, flickering glow from the lone window gave away the presence of another fire lit in the hearth. Voldemort was always cold these days. The spell Potter had cast had not only robbed the dark lord of his body, but it had begun to slowly take his strength as well. But, no matter…thought the death eater with a slightly nervous sigh, it would all be returned, and much more…soon enough.
He raised a fist to rap on the door, but had no sooner lifted it when a harsh voice sounded from inside.
"Enter."
How was it that he was one of the most respected members of the board of the Ministry, one of the richest, most powerful men in his city, dreaded by his servants and even his own family, and yet, one word from the weakened dark lord could make his knees tremble with fear?
The servant entered the humble shack with his head high and pushed his hood down, revealing long silvery hair and a rehearsed dignity. He might feel slightly off at having to face his master as most of Voldemort's servants usually did, but he had always been the most adept at hiding it. Malfoy's were notorious if not for anything else, for their supremely cool demeanors.
Lucius stepped around the ratty chair to face his master. "My lord."
Voldemort raised his transparent head. The dark cloak wrapped around him almost seemed too heavy for his frail 'spirit'? Lucius wasn't sure what to call what he had become. Calling it a half-life seemed oddly fitting. He wasn't alive, and yet, he wasn't dead. But though his 'spirit' seemed weak, his eyes glittered with the blood red they always had, and his grim mouth was still set in the same ruthless lines. Lucius wasn't fooled. The dark lord had shown his capability too many times to be taken lightly. That was why he served him…darkness, in Malfoy's eyes, equaled power.
"Give it to me," Voldemort's high-pitched, gravelly voice demanded.
Malfoy extended the pale in front of him and the dark lord grabbed it greedily, tipping its contents immediately into his mouth. Despite himself, Lucius looked away, sneering on the inside with the typical Malfoy disdain. When he was done, the dark lord's mouth shone with silver drippings.
Voldemort placed the pale onto the floor and licked the last remains of unicorn blood from his lips.
"How I loathe having to drink that," he said to no one in particular.
"Soon enough, my lord. Soon enough…" said Lucius as he sat formally in the only other chair in the cabin.
Voldemort sat up straighter and gave his servant a piercingly direct glance. "Yes. It will be."
Despite himself, Lucius once again felt himself tremble. But though he felt it, his body didn't betray it. His cool blue eyes, half-lidded with composure and his straight haughty posture never faltered as he replied with only a humble nod.
"Did you bring it…" began Voldemort.
"I haven't yet had the chance to visit the school my lord," replied Lucius in his trademark refined drawl, "I'm waiting for the ministry to have official business there so as not to attract attention to myself."
"You have a son at the school," replied Voldemort with annoyance, "What other business do you need…"
Malfoy shifted in his seat. "Parents don't normally frequent the school without express invitation, my lord. The few times I've visited, Dumbledore has kept a close watch on my comings and goings. He's never trusted me, which makes this extremely difficult…"
"I'm sure you'll find your way around that, won't you Lucius?" said the dark lord with distinct warning in his voice. "Besides, as you can see, this is becoming quite an eyesore."
Voldemort gestured to the large lump lying half-covered by a cloak in a dark corner of the cabin, and Lucius swallowed thickly, closing his eyes to keep from inadvertently shifting them in that direction. Nausea turned his stomach with a sharp stab, and his indifference slipped away briefly. After all, the boy had lain there dead for more than three months. Had it not been for the charm that he had cast to keep away insects and cover the odor of decay, the stench would have been unbearable.
Lucius forced himself to draw another breath. He'd never quite understood why the dark lord had taken the Creevey boy. "H…how long must he lie there, my lord?"
Voldemort turned a piercing glare Malfoy's way. "I've explained this to you, Lucius. I have plans for the body…or rather I did have plans. In a sense, they were accomplished long ago, were they not? I never needed this specific boy, he just happened to be at the right place at the proverbial right time. And he fits the description…" At a quick alarmed glance from Lucius, Voldemort managed a chuckle. "Yes Lucius. Even now I sense what you're thinking. You must get it."
"My lord, it's not so simple…It's such a dangerous and potentially harmful artifact that it's kept locked in the most private of places. Dumbledore's office has so many hidden alcoves and drawers that I fear it may be impossible to find it…"
Although the voice was coarse and high pitched as usual, Voldemort spoke with the smoothest and yet most dangerous of tones. "Now Lucius. You'd be surprised at what plans the mind can devise when the need arises…And I assure you. That need has most definitely arisen. Am I understood?"
Small hairs stood erect on the back of his neck, and Lucius nodded, pressing his already thin lips into a white line. "Yes, my lord."
"Excellent," the dark lord nodded. "Now tell me. Has anyone yet answered my call…"
"I placed the dark mark over Diagon Alley just as you instructed me, my lord. As of yet, I've had only a few responses from your faithful. Crabbe and Goyle, as always, are ready and able to be of service. Bullstrode and Zabini are also among their ranks."
Voldemort nodded briefly. "Many are still imprisoned in Azkaban, and as for the others, they will soon follow…if they do not, we'll simply eliminate them when the time comes. What of the dementors?"
"I spoke with one of their leaders," said Lucius with an elegant sneer. He despised the scabbed, grotesque creatures. "They are discussing an allegiance, but have not yet decided one way or the other. After all, they have always been neutral. It may take some convincing to sway them."
Voldemort dealt a chilling half-smile that made Malfoy shudder. "They will have all of the souls of the captives to feed on when the war is over; it will help reduce the annoying problem of prisoners. After all I imagine feeding off of the same ones day after day can get a bit tedious. That fact alone should be convincing enough, wouldn't you agree?"
Somehow, Lucius managed a feeble nod. In the back recesses of his mind, he tried to imagine being the kind of creature that could commiserate with dementors, but couldn't seem to wrap his thoughts around it. Even with his unencumbered view of the weak and the strong, those with power, and those meant to serve under it, Malfoy couldn't imagine being allied with such loathsome 'things'. And yet, here he was, about to do just that. But, Lucius sniffed pompously; they were a means to an end, weren't they? Just as everything else in his life had ever been. His job, and even his family…a means to obtain power.
"Yes my lord," said Lucius upon reflection, "I'll remind them of that fact should they decide to refuse our offer."
Voldemort had barely reflected on his answer when he continued on. "And now I have another task to add to your plate. I'll need a few other things from the school..."
When his master had finished with the list, Lucius felt almost overwhelmed. How in the hell did he expect him to be able to get the things he desired, despite how much they were needed? However, he began immediately steeling himself for the project. After all, he reminded himself, he had never been under the illusion that Voldemort's return to power would be easy. But whichever way it came, and in whatever package, he was riding to the top with him where he belonged…After all, he was a Malfoy.
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Professor DeVoncrey seemed none to eager to return to his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he understood that he was the only one qualified for the position. He'd also been informed of the school's inability thus far to hold on to teachers in his position and didn't deem it fair to abandon the students simply because he found the job stressful…and he did find it stressful.
In the first place, the Dark Arts were nothing to be trifled with. Sometimes, the only way to defend one's self against a dark curse was to use one and yet, the use of the dark arts made one susceptible to it's draw. Today in particular he was trying to hammer that fact into his pupil's young heads, but it seemed all they could think about was the up and coming Quidditch match concerning Slytherin and Gryffindor. It so happened that this particular class was made up of just those houses, which made it all the more difficult to make them pay attention. All they seemed to be able to do was whisper quietly amongst themselves about who was better, and these conversations kept causing small arguments all across the classroom.
Once again DeVoncrey thought to himself how wrong he had been in assuming that the English were a genteel and proper bunch. Well, at least by the standards he used to consider.
"You've gone completely round the twist," whispered a narrow-eyed Ron to Malfoy while DeVoncrey's back was turned, "Not only did Gryffindor beat the hell out of Slytherin last year, but we won the sodding house cup! I don't know what the bloody hell you're going on about…"
"Calm down Ron," said Harry quietly through his teeth, "He's just trying to egg you on…"
"Watch for those bludgers Friday scarhead…" sneered Malfoy, "They seem to have a thing for you. Remember second year?"
"Screw you," hissed Harry back. (Ron smiled…Calm down, indeed.) "That bludger was tampered with and you bloody well know it…Even so I still caught the snitch. All you caught was the ground at about fifty."
Hermione elbowed him and caught his eye. "Harry! You two need to be quiet; this is a very important lesson."
Ron sighed loudly enough for Draco, and unfortunately the professor, to hear. "She's right mate. We shouldn't let the ferret get to us. After all he's full of shit and he knows it."
Malfoy smirked magnificently. "No one like the weasel to recognize shit."
Finally, DeVoncrey had had enough. "Zat is enough, all of you! Monsieur Weasley 'az just cozt Gryffindor a total of twenty pointz today. Who'll make it zirty?" He looked at the Slytherin side. "Would any Zlytherin care to join ze point lozz game? Anyone?"
No one spoke. Ron was livid. If the professor had heard his comments then surely he'd heard Malfoy's. But at that moment his angry gaze fell on the blonde boy and he saw Malfoy hold up a piece of parchment for him to see with writing on it. 'Amicio vox'… The voice concealment spell. DeVoncrey hadn't heard a thing from the Slytherin side, sod it all to hell…
Ginny, who was sitting close by with Seamus only sat quietly, stealing small glances every now and then at the group. Still she had noticed however, that whenever Malfoy caught her eye his gaze softened, and lasted a little longer than was necessary. He also seemed to be sending Seamus particularly murderous glances for no reason. Hmm….
When she was sure Draco was looking, Ginny suddenly spilled ink on her textbook and looked down at the mess in mock horror, yelling loud enough for the whole class to hear.
"Oh no! Look what I did! Clumsy me…"
Ron frowned at her. She wasn't usually careless unless something was flustering her, but she had seemed to be paying a lot of attention to his, Harry's and Malfoy's conversation. She must've gotten upset at hearing Malfoy cause Gryffindor to lose points, and at her brother's expense, no doubt. Ron smiled indulgently at his sister and she smiled innocently back. Ginny…she was nothing if not loyal.
DeVoncrey sighed and closed his eyes. He was sure to need a visit to Madame Pomfrey after this class… "Mizz Weasley…do you need anuzzer book?"
Ginny smiled sweetly and began scooting closer to Seamus. "Oh no professor. I'm sure Seamus will share his with me."
When she was close enough that her side was touching Finnegan's, Ginny crossed her legs towards him and flipped her fiery red hair. She leaned over his book, sending him a smile that could have brightened midnight, and Seamus blushed crimson right up to his ears, grinning madly. Ginny made sure to brush his arm just so. She managed to steal a covert glance at Malfoy and saw that he had glued his steely gray gaze back onto his desk with a fierce determination. His expression changed not a bit, but his normally relaxed posture was completely rigid, and both hands were balled into tight fists.
Ginny sighed quietly and turned her attention back to the book she shared with Seamus. Sorry Draco, but you've managed to ignore me ever since school started. Time to play hard ball…
Only one other person near Ginny noticed what she was doing, and it was because she had considered doing it herself at one time, only to Harry. Being a female didn't hurt matters either. Hermione gazed at the back of Ginny's head and then glanced over to the very stiff form of Malfoy. A little smile played on her lips until Harry caught her hand and gave her a questioning smile. Merlin, were all boys this clueless? She quickly quashed the thoughts and squeezed his hand back, turning back to her lesson. Did it have to be Malfoy, though? Oh Ginny, thought Hermione, I hope you know what you're doing…