Narcissa was waiting for him at the table. Lucius kissed her proffered hand politely, then touched his lips tenderly to his wife's cheek. For a moment he was wrapped up in the delicate scent of her perfume. Narcissa smiled slightly, pressed closer to him and sighed.
"Is everything all right?"
"Everything is the same as usual."
Lucius stepped away from her and made himself comfortable at the head of the table. Immediately a plate of hot soup appeared in front of him. Only then did he realize how hungry he really was.
They ate in silence. Lucius was too tired to make meaningless small-talk, and it was not customary to discuss serious matters during dinner. Narcissa was of the same mind as him. She only mentioned that a letter from Draco had arrived—he had decided to stay in Spain for a few more days. It wasn't until they started dessert—wonderful strawberries in cream—that Lucius made up his mind to talk.
"Do you remember your cousin?"
Narcissa stilled with the spoon halfway to her lips, and lifted her eyes up to meet his.
"Which one?" She asked impassively, "If you remember, I have five of them."
Actually, he didn't remember. Regulus had died too long ago, as did Evan. The other cousins on her mother's side—Ferdinand and Josef—never left France.
"The blood traitor."
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Do you mean Sirius? Of course I remember him. Why do you ask? Did something happen?"
"That dog, his animagus form, did it have any identifying marks?"
Narcissa put down the spoon and asked for a cup of black tea. Taking advantage of the pause, Lucius ordered a glass of brandy. Narcissa glanced at him with disapproval, but said nothing. Perhaps she hoped that a drink would make him more talkative.
"Why are you interested in this? Besides, you should remember yourself. Better than I," she added coldly.
"I do remember, but still... you are his cousin."
"You know that we were never close. Especially after he got involved with Potter... And again, why the sudden interest in him? You saw a black dog and decided that it must be Sirius?" She smiled coldly.
Lucius sipped from the glass that had appeared on the table.
"Something like that..."
"As far as I understand, he died. Even the Ministry and the goblins acknowledged it, otherwise Potter would've never been able to touch the Black vaults."
"I saw how he died. That wasn't... an ordinary death."
"So you think he could have come back? From the Veil of Death?.. Highly doubtful."
"Doubtful, but not impossible."
She twirled her cup thoughtfully.
"I just don't know. I don't know what this Veil is. They say that those who fall into it are simply transported to the world of the dead, and that means a physical death. And resurrection, as everyone knows, is impossible."
"They say..." Lucius smirked, "that doesn't mean that it's actually true."
"Let's suppose that you actually truly saw Sirius. So what? For the past twenty years, if I'm to believe your words, you were enemies. So what business could you possibly have with him? Let Potter deal with him, or Andromeda. Although she was never that close to him either."
"Think for yourself—if no one knows that Black is alive, if he's locked up, experimented on—how do you think Potter will react if, say, I were to bring him his dear godfather, alive and well?"
"If I were you, I would rather think about how I would react—to you trying to get stuck in another shady scheme," her voice was now laced with a hint of steel, "and you getting involved with Sirius again."
"I have no intention of starting any scheme—it's not that kind of situation." He gave her a conciliatory smile. "Right now I just want to understand, is it him or not. Or if the tale that this Mr. Long told me is actually true."
Narcissa pursed her lips.
"I don't like this."
"I don't either."
Lucius emptied his glass in one gulp.
The library was cold. Lately Lucius rarely came here—it was too painful to see the empty gaps in the shelves. It felt like the Ministry rats took everything except textbooks and some reference volumes that were of no interest to anyone. The old grimoires collected by his ancestors had been confiscated by the Aurors to "determine their potential danger." All that remained were a few rare books that physically could not be removed from the Manor grounds. They had placed surveillance charms on a couple of them, but left the rest alone as "unfit for being used in the Dark Arts." Fortunately it was one of these tomes that should have contained the information he needed.
The first edition of "The Concise Compendium of Medieval Artifacts" was a very rare book. His father once said that it was actually the only copy left. The compendium was written in times immemorial by an ancestor of his, Severus Malfoy—that must be why a copy was preserved at Malfoy Manor. All subsequent editions, according to his father, were published in abridged form.
Lucius found the compendium easily and arranged it carefully on a table—the book was very fragile, in spite of the protective charms placed on it. "The Archway of Death"-the book immediately opened to the page he needed. A schematic diagram, a short history of its creation... no, its discovery. When and by whom the Archway was created was never determined. It was found by chance in the beginning of the fourteenth century, in the mountains of Scotland. According to remaining lore, the ancient Picts worshiped it, believing it to be the gate to the kingdom of death. Lucius smiled—not much had changed since then.
In the middle of the fifteenth century the famous mage Gilbert of Edinburgh examined the Archway, using muggles for his experiments. He would send them through the veil, and then measure the magical disturbance. In the end he ran out of muggles, without achieving any concrete results. After this Gilbert postponed his research for a few years, as he developed a magical device which would help him peek behind the veil. Finally, he traveled to the Archway again, but never returned. His diary was found, charred, near the site. From these notes it was clear that Gilbert actually managed to peek into the Archway. He then decided to try to enter it and then to return with the help of a spell that he had developed, but obviously had no luck.
The research did not stop there. It turned out that Gilbert had some followers, who combined their efforts to continue the search for a way to enter the Archway without remaining there forever. There was some information that suggested that one brave soul actually succeeded. His friends used the Dark Arts to get him out of the Archway. But in the end he went insane and never could tell anyone what happened to him.
Lucius closed the book. This meant that... it was possible, theoretically. And apparently Black lost his mind, if the Unspeakables were keeping him. Interesting. But first he should make sure that this really was Black. He went up to his study and took a pensieve out of a secret cupboard. For a moment he considered using Narcissa's wand, but decided that it would be easier to tell the Ministry that he forgot where he left his cane, rather than convince his own wife that he wasn't thinking about Sirus Black at all, much less that he had no intention of getting involved in any dangerous scheme. And he really had no intention of getting into anything like that! It's just that he needed to understand...
Lucius pulled out a silvery strand of memories and lowered it into the pensieve bowl. A moment later he was once again in the dark corridors of the Department of Mysteries. The black dog rounded a corner right in front of his double. Lucius walked around it and took a closer look. Thick, matted black fur, long tail... The same breed, the same height... it's hard to tell one dog from another. If you don't know what to look for. Black should have a clump of white fur near his spine. There was almost no light in the hallway, but Lucius still managed to make out the dog's back, and he surfaced from the memories with relief. Yes, it really was Black.
He sank slowly into a chair, staring at the pensieve with unseeing eyes. What now? How can he use this new information? Blackmail the Unspeakables? It was more likely to backfire. Write to Potter—anonymously, obviously—but what's the point of that? Now, if he were to bring Black to Potter himself, on a leash... The gratitude of the conqueror of the Dark Lord was worth quite a bit. But the risk... the risk was too high, and a conflict with the Unspeakables wasn't likely to turn out well. Leave it all the way it is?
Lucius jumped up and started pacing the room. He couldn't. He just couldn't—that's all. After everything that was between them, to leave Black in the hands of those soulless scientists felt like sacrilege. The easiest thing would be to write to Potter after all, and let him deal with his godfather and the Department of Mysteries. That boy had a lot more resources, by far, than Lucius. Potter will succeed, of course, if he believes him—and if the Ministry doesn't deceive him by telling him one of their usual likely stories. An anonymous note or a letter from Lucius Malfoy, against the word of the Unspeakables. Ridiculous.
Sneak into the Department of Mysteries himself and kidnap Black? He laughed out loud. No, leave such heroics to the Griffindors. He definitely wasn't planning on stepping into the same trap twice.
Lucius sat down slowly and pressed his fingers to his temples. Alright, what does he have? The Unspeakables pulled Black out of the Archway. How? why?-that's not important right now. What's important is that they got him out, and that he seems to be stuck in his animagus form. Stuck, or is he hiding, or being forced to stay in it? All questions to which there were no answers. It's highly probable that he's not in his right mind since his return, and the Unspeakables simply can't establish contact with him. If that's true, than Lucius can try to put himself into play, and under the pretext of helping and his knowledge of Dark magic, get to Black. In this case, he can just try to offer them his help.
Lucius took a clean piece of parchment from a desk drawer, dipped a quill in the inkwell, and then froze for a moment, figuring out to whom it would be best to address the letter. He didn't have that many choices. Before a dark drop could slip off the quill and mar the parchment, he began to write the letter:
Dear Mr. Long,
If you recall, this afternoon I was a witness to a curious scene in the halls of the Department of Mysteries. You informed me that the Department had a Grim at it's disposal. I must admit that I was fascinated by the animal. As you can probably guess, the Dark Lord had always been interested in various aspects of death. Naturally he feared it, but he also studied it, and as he did, he shared the results of his investigations with his faithful followers, me among them.
Furthermore, I would risk to hazard that I am possibly the only one among the remaining followers of the Dark Lord who is aware of the results of his investigation of death. In particular, I know quite a bit about the Grim and could assist you in your analysis of it. I am by no means putting into question the competence of your colleagues, but the uniqueness of my knowledge allows me to assert that my cooperation would be of material benefit to the Department of Mysteries.
L. Malfoy, August 22, 1998, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
Lucius re-read the letter one more time, put an ink-drying charm on it, and walked to the window. With a snap of his fingers he summoned his eagle-owl, and just a minute later it was making itself comfortable on his arm, shuffling its feet nervously and turning its head in irritation. Lucius set it down on a table and petted its horned head tenderly. His old friend (unlike the peacocks, for instance) safely made it through the chaos that dominated the Manor for the past year. Sometimes it seemed as if he could foretell where his master was about to send him. This time as well—he was demonstrating his displeasure at the upcoming trip with his whole appearance. He disliked the Ministry intensely. Lucius rolled up the parchment, addressed it and sealed it with a spell. The owl held out its leg, allowing the letter to be tied to it, hooted dolefully and, with a flap of its wide wings, flew out the window.
Well then... the deed is done. Lucius picked up the papers which the owl had knocked to the floor, and went down to the library. It might benefit him to resurrect the legend of the Grim in his memory.
