Abraxas looked up to find a figure approaching the Dark Lord in a great hurry. He scowled. Edward Parkinson always thought himself far too important among the Death Eaters, an attitude that did not sit well with the Malfoys.
"You loook like a man in haste, Parkinson," Tom Riddle drawled. The Death Eater smiled at Lord Voldemort, bowing down in obeisance.
"I am a wizard with a plan, my Lord, a prospect which I hope you will find infinitely better."
It took all of Abraxas' control to not snort at him.
The Dark Lord gestured for him to rise, and he did so.
"Plan?" Voldemort inquired, and Abraxas noticed the slight tremor of excitement in his voice. Parkinson undoubtedly thought he was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal, even zealous followers.
"A place, where we will have have hundreds, if not thousands of pureblood witches and wizards to do as you wish them to," Parkinson explained, placing a piece of parchment in front of Voldemort.
Tom Riddle looked at the paper, studying it carefully. Abraxas could not help but glance at it for a few seconds. He recognised the map, however, he found himself glaring at Parkinson in confusion as to what he intended to do in a place like India. The Dark Lord too, furrowed his brow.
"We do not have enough men to overthrow the Ministry here in Britain, let alone all of Europe," Parkinson said hesitantly, lest he incur Voldemort's wrath.
"Nor enough to overtake all the wizards in a country of millions," Abraxas reminded. "Besides, they are in chaos, since their independence. There are riots abound, and they will not take kindly to your efforts, if you were to make them."
"A country like that is easily swayed. All we need to do is win over Mountbatten, as Viceroy," Parkinson pressed on. "They have been subdued before. And they believe they are free. We must encourage that belief, while making sure they do as we say."
Abraxas sighed at his fellow Death Eater's stubbornness. It was ridiculous to argue with a fool, he thought.
Voldemort did not look entirely convinced either. After some deliberation, however, he waved his hand dismissively. "Take Malfoy with you," he ordered.
Abraxas stared at his Master in disbelief, even as Parkinson bowed again and left quietly with a victorious smile on his face.
"I do not see why you must insist on this foolish endeavour," Abraxas repeated for what must have been the hundredth time.
"Need I remind you of the decrease in the number of Muggles and Muggleborns that this "foolish endeavour" has brought about in these past two years?"
Abraxas let out a derisive laugh. "Given the sheer number of people in this country, and the fact that they have been at each other's throats anyway, proves your argument rather invalid. Besides, you had not won the Viceroy over when you had the chance, and now you will never be able to, because this country is nearly a democracy, with the man sitting on the Viceroy's chair, a friend of the Indian National Congress, which, may I remind you, has not taken kindly to our presence here. They suspect us," he replied, looking out the window of the large library. He could see the people outside, celebrating their first election that was soon to be, and he sighed.
Parkinson did not reply, though Abraxas knew that if he turned, he would find the other man looking at him.
"We should be in Britain, helping the Dark Lord, not stuck in the midst of a revolution, halfway across the world!" he added, raising his voice slightly as the anger he had built up over the months reached a peak.
"We are helping the Dark Lord. If you don't believe in it, the do what you want! Leave, if you so wish." Parkinson's voice was oddly firm.
Abraxas stiffened. He had not been expecting that. But then, a thought struck him and he decided to make the better of it. He turned to the man, a playful smirk on his lips.
"Is that what you want, Edward?" he asked, slyly.
"I...I would prefer your support, of course," Parkinson muttered, looking away.
Abraxas decided that it was far too much fun to stop, and started walking towards him.
"Oh?" he asked, twinging his voice with something he knew would shock Parkinson. He was right, of course. Parkinson stared at him as if he had grown two heads, amazed at his bold hints.
"I have work, Abraxas," he said, getting up from his chair. Abraxas stared at him for a moment, before stepping aside to allow him to pass through the doors.
"A man too proud to be defeated, eh?" he muttered to the empty library, with a smile. Perhaps this plan would work after all. Parkinson was not entirely wrong. They had, in fact managed to "recruit" quite a few purebloods for their cause, and Abraxas could see why he had picked that specific place. Nonetheless, the volatile atmosphere made it a bit difficult to control them. Unless...
Abraxas strode out of a library with a steady pace. He could be a wizard with a plan too.
"Tell me, Malfoy, is it true what they say?"
Abraxas was taken aback. "My Lord?" he asked, having no idea what the Dark Lord meant.
"Parkinson is dead, is he not?" Voldemort enquired, with some impatience.
"I...yes, he is," Abraxas replied, not expecting he would feel a twinge of pain as he said it.
"Then why have you called me here?" The Dark Lord seemed extremely annoyed.
Abraxas looked meaningfully at the crowd in front of him; the crowd that had been dissatisfied with the new democracy in which they now lived, that did not recognise magic; the crowd who had wanted to follow the Dark Lord because they believed in a lifeblood society that could flourish.
Voldemort followed his gaze and laughed cruelly.
"Them? They are hardly worth my time."
Abraxas looked on in disbelief, and a slight anger. He was proud of the work he had done and he had thought it would impress the Dark Lord as well.
"They are expendable, Malfoy, as Parkinson was," came the cold explanation, followed by the loud crack of Apparition.
Abraxas stood facing the crowd, question the Dark Lord's decision for the first time in his life.
A single thought came to his mind. It terrified him.
Was he, too, expendable?
Notes: For the QLFC Training Camp Round 3
Position: Chaser 2 of the Banchory Bangers
Main Prompt: Setting: Establishment of a democracy
Optional Prompts: Bold, Decision, "Do what you want"
For reference: India got Independence in 1947 and became a republic in 1950. The first election was in 1951. The story is mainly set between these dates.