Chapter 5

"Please, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Sit." He indicated the chair across from his own.

Harry did as he was told. Everything felt slightly surreal. He sat slowly on the edge of the chair, his focus completely centered on the Headmaster. He suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Dumbledore had to say. The answers held more dark possibilities than the questions. Finally, Harry nodded. Dumbledore leaned forward and began to speak.

"Voldemort is by no means the first Dark Wizard to rise to power. Different wizards have used different means by which to gain power, and they all have one common thread. They all wish to control people. They all controlled people through fear. Some used mass murder, some used torture, and some used magic. Many used a combination, yet all their methods had one thing in common. The control they had over people was indirect. A person might be physically forced to do something, or even have their will clouded over by the Imperious curse, but that only went so far. Nobody had the power to alter the inner workings of the human mind.

"At a young age, Voldemort had already realized this. He had gathered information about many Dark Wizards, including, but not exclusively, Salazar Slytherin. He analyzed their methods, and as cunning as he was, he discovered the common thread to their weaknesses. He decided that the ultimate power lay in the ability to control the mind, the very soul, of a person. He began a search for the source of this power. That search led him to you."

Harry balked. What could Dumbledore be talking about? "Sir? Me? What does that have to do with me? I can't control people's minds!"

"I know that, Harry, I know." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "That ability is the most highly developed aspect of the power of the Mind Touch."

"The Mind Touch?" Harry repeated vaguely. "I've never heard of that."

"I'm not surprised. It's quite rare. Almost as rare as Parseltongue. You have been monitored for signs of this ability since you were a baby. The only current indication that you may possess this power is your ability to see and hear the thoughts of Voldemort, but I feel that is due to the connection that was created when he gave you that scar.

"Not many people are even aware of the real reason Voldemort tried to kill you. In fact, there are only three people alive who do know. Most people assumed the attacks on your family were due to your grandfather's history."

"My grandfather?" Nobody had ever spoken of Harry's grandparents to him before.

"Your grandfather was a talented Auror, Harry. He was also involved in the defeat of the dark wizard, Grindelwald, as was I. He was awarded the Order of Merlin for that mission. The magical community knew your family's name, and regarded it with high respect. Most people assumed that Voldemort wanted the Potter lineage destroyed because if your grandfather could help bring down such a powerful wizard, Voldemort must have feared him and his descendants. That is only partially the truth."

"That name sounds familiar. Sir, who was Grindelwald?"

"He was more commonly known amongst the Muggle population as Adolph Hitler. You probably remember that name. We don't speak of it often. Just before his defeat, Muggles started to suspect Grindelwald's use of magic. He not only would have killed the massive populations of Muggles that he did, he would have exposed the entire Wizarding world." Dumbledore paused and waited for Harry to absorb this information. Harry was sitting perfectly still, staring at a frayed thread on the arm of his chair. He finally nodded, and Dumbledore continued.

"Grindelwald was defeated by the Mind Touch. There was a spy who worked with me on that very mission, and this spy had that ability. Unfortunately, Voldemort believed your grandfather to be that spy. He suspected, as with most magical abilities, that the dormant power had been passed down through your bloodline. By killing you, his intent was to absorb this ability for himself. You were the key to his domination of the Wizarding World."

Harry's head snapped upright with a jolt. His entire body had gone numb, his heart was racing, and the world seemed to have frozen around him. He had never wanted to believe that there really was a reason Voldemort had wanted to kill him. Harry sank backwards into his chair, a sick feeling settling into his stomach. When he spoke, his mouth was dry.

"Sir, who was this spy?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Alas, I do not know. Nobody knows."

"But you said you worked with him. Didn't you?" Desperation made his voice crack slightly.

"Harry, one of the things that made the Mind Touch so valuable for a spy was the ability to completely alter a person's perceptions of things, people, events, and more. Nobody remembers who this spy was because he blanked the minds of the people he worked with. The only reason I know there had been a spy was because I had led the mission and I have records of the reports the spy had given me." Dumbledore sighed. "It is unlikely that the person will ever be found. Every Dark Wizard in the world would have wanted to kill him after Grindelwald's downfall."

Harry considered this carefully for a moment. It was almost too much information for him to absorb, but he couldn't let himself loose his focus now. He began twirling the piece of string on the arm of the chair. There was a question he wanted to ask, just beyond the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth to ask the question, although he couldn't quite put it into words, when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Voldemort thought it was your grandfather because of information one of his spies located. The spy with the Mind-Touch was believed to have been working in the United States at the time, and your grandfather happened to have been working there at that same time, on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic as part of an international effort to stop Grindelwald. Voldemort's spy found the record of your grandfather and made that connection, not realizing that records of the real spy would have either been erased or have never existed."

Harry regarded Dumbledore for a moment, and for the first time since he had known the great wizard, Dumbledore seemed hesitant. That wasn't everything, Harry knew. Dumbledore was still hiding something, and Harry had a suspicion about what Dumbledore might be avoiding. "Who . . ."

"The wizard who uncovered the files about your grandfather, Harry, was Severus Snape."

A strange fire began in the pit of Harry's stomach. It crawled up his backbone and spread across his shoulders. Harry's face contorted with a fury he couldn't begin to understand or to express. He felt his face grow hot and his eyes begin to sting. He looked up at Dumbledore, who was watching him with sympathy. Harry didn't want sympathy. He didn't need it. He needed his family, but they were long dead. His family, his mum and dad, his entire existence had been ruined, and now, Harry had one more link in the chain that had caused the destruction. If Snape had never found those files, if only . . . but he had.

Harry's throat constricted and he felt his shoulders give an involuntary shudder. Dumbledore reached out with a hand to comfort him, but Harry pushed it away. He forced himself to speak through his building anguish. "How could you?" he choked. "You trust the man who led my mum and dad straight to Voldemort? How can you trust him? Snape . . . he . . . I . . ." Harry's voice left him completely. He struggled against the rage and despair threatening to overwhelm him. With an unnatural jerk, he pulled himself out of the chair and began pacing the room in a daze. Dumbledore watched silently. Harry finally walked to the windowsill, his back turned towards the older wizard, and silent tears burned down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, praying again that it would all go away, that none of it had ever happened. He bit at the inside of his lip to keep himself from making a sound. He had sat in Snape's class almost every day for the past four years. He had despised the greasy-haired potions master enough already, but this was another matter completely.

Harry opened his eyes and realized his glasses had fogged up. He took them off and wiped them on his shirt, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Finally, he turned and looked at Dumbledore hopelessly. "Why?"

"Harry, there is a real reason I trust Professor Snape. You remember when I told you that your father saved his life?" Harry nodded, not really wanting to hear this, but needing to do just that. "As you know, that creates a very strong bond between two wizards."

Harry's fury was dulled slightly as confusion took its place. "But Snape said that my dad didn't do anything heroic, that he was just too cowardly to follow through with a prank. He hated my father."

"Yes, Harry, I will admit that Snape was not altogether fond of your father, but there are truly bonds that can not be broken," Dumbledore said carefully. "Professor Snape risked his life for your father in return, but sadly, the debt was never truly paid. Voldemort was at the height of his power just before he attacked your parents. He was expecting to make an enormous gain in power with that attack. It was the day before the attack that Severus Snape defected from Voldemort."

Harry's eyes went wide, not knowing how to take this new piece of information.

"Snape not only defected from Voldemort, he also brought valuable information with him. He told me about the impending attack. He told me how he had found the information about your grandfather. He confirmed my suspicions of why Voldemort was after your family in the first place. He swore that he would spy against Voldemort for us. The only thing he couldn't do was stop the attack."

"Why?" Harry felt himself choking up again.

"Because the Fidelis Charm had already been performed, Harry. Your parents were not only hidden from Voldemort, but also from the world, myself included." A small tear threatened to leak from the corner of the old wizard's eye. "I could not contact them; I could not find them to bring them to Hogwarts. There was nothing that could be done. The very spell that was to protect them also killed them.

"We were determined to ensure your protection after the disaster with your parents. We could not use the Fidelis Charm on your aunt and uncle's house. They were Muggles, and would never concede to abide by the constraints necessary for the charm to work. Instead, we used something that would ward Voldemort from the Dursley's house in a completely different way."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"The love your mother had for you when she sacrificed her life to save yours was one of the strongest forms of magic possible for a normal witch or wizard to use. That magic kept Voldemort from touching you, as you remember. What you would not be aware of yet is that most forms of magic must to be grounded to a physical object to maintain strength. Your aunt and uncle's house was used to ground the spell, as they were your only living relatives and the only guardians we could leave you with at the time. The protection your mother gave to you would remain strong as long as you returned there at least once a year. It would also ward Voldemort from the house itself. Arabella Figg has dedicated herself to maintaining that bond, putting herself at great risk."

"Uh, sir?" Harry interrupted. Dumbledore tipped his head indicating for Harry to speak. Harry swallowed and asked, "When Voldemort, well, used my blood to get his body back, he could touch me. He even showed the Death Eaters he could, to prove it. Does that mean the spell was broken?"

Dumbledore's jaw set itself forcefully as he spoke. "No, Harry, the spell is certainly not broken."

"Then how . . .?"

"For now, all you must know about that is that love is one of the greatest counterspells against hate. The Dark Arts draw their power from hate, Harry. Those are both forms of what we call Deep Magic, and there are other varieties of Deep Magic as well."

Harry shifted in his seat and looked up in confusion. Dumbledore had said something like this before, it seemed.

Dumbledore clasped his hands in his lap. "The spells you learn at Hogwarts are Simple magic. Yes Harry, even the Patronus charm. Those kinds of magic are worked with a wand, they involve objects, and are external. Deep magic revolves around the inner workings of the mind and soul of a wizard, and is much stronger."

A whole new set of realizations were dawning on Harry. He took a shaky breath and said, "Like the protection my mum gave me, and the Mind Touch too?"

Dumbledore smiled for the first time since the conversation had begun. "Yes Harry, exactly like that."

Harry nodded slowly and continued think aloud. "That's how I must have survived the Killing Curse, because love is a Deep magic, and the Killing Curse is Simple magic. Isn't it?"

Dumbledore shook his head. His bright blue eyes met Harry's green ones. "Harry, your mother's love prevented Voldemort from physically touching you. Your bond with him through your wands prevented any sort of normal duel with you. Those are rooted in Deep magic, even the wands, for the wand chooses the wizard based on matters of the soul. Still, those kinds of things could not stop the Killing Curse."

Harry slouched back in his chair. "So, nobody knows how I survived. I'm still just a big freakish mystery with a scar."

"Perhaps not, Harry. I do have an idea of how you survived."

Harry was immediately on the edge of his seat again. "How?!?"

Dumbledore chuckled before becoming serious again. "Some things are essentially written in stone, Harry. You were protected in many ways. Your mother was quite brilliant in her planning. We were not altogether surprised to find you alive the night your parents died. It was actually expected. What we were unsure of was the means by which you survived. The Killing Curse works by pulling the mind and soul from the physical body, not as a Dementor does, which only attacks the soul, but through a totally different mechanism. It can't be stopped, but it can be diverted." Dumbledore's eyes burned intensely as he spoke. "The only way to do that is to send it into the mind of another person. The only way to do that is with the Mind Touch."

Harry's jaw had fallen several inches at this revelation. He closed his mouth and blinked several times. "What does that mean, sir? It can't possibly be me who did that?"

"That's what I was never sure about. Usually such abilities would emerge by now, but they haven't. The only other possibility is that somebody else was involved that night." He held up a hand as Harry started to ask a question. "No, Harry, I don't know who."

Harry tipped his head to the side. A strange thought was buzzing in his mind, something he had been wondering for years. "Sir, can you read minds?"

Dumbledore smile softened and said lightly, "I've had a bit of practice. No natural talent, mind you. For example, true Seers are rare, but most anyone can learn some of the more crude methods of divination. A strong witch or wizard can learn crude methods of reading minds. No, Harry, I do not possess the Mind Touch."

Harry cracked a weak smile. "I had always wondered about that, sir."

"Of course, there are other ways to know what is happening in all corners of Hogwarts when you are the Headmaster," he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "The walls have ears, you know."

Harry looked at his hands again, shaking his head, but still smiling. "I'm almost afraid to learn how much you've heard from the walls, sir."

"And who said I was about to tell you, young man?" Dumbledore leaned back casually in his chair, and began pulling lightly on the edge of his beard, thinking. "There is also one more matter. Have you begun reading that book Mrs. Figg gave you?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore with disbelief. It all came back to that book, after all that? He felt slightly sheepish as he said, "Actually, no Professor, I haven't. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, Harry, but I recommend you begin looking through it. That book contains a wealth of information from a very unusual source. I told you that Voldemort had gathered information about the rise and fall of many dark wizards from the past. I hadn't told you where he put that information."

The warm, sunny room suddenly felt much colder on Harry's thin frame. "You mean that book . . . that Mrs. Figg gave me . . . was Voldemort's?" He shivered and automatically covered his arm where the basilisk's fang had once pierced him. His mind raced back to the ghastly results of his encounter with Tom Riddle's diary.

"Yes Harry. That book contains all the information Voldemort gathered from the time he was in Hogwarts to the time of his initial downfall. Snape was the person who brought it to me, just before the attack on your parents. I feel it is important for you to learn this information. I trust you can understand why."

Harry began to nod, then tipped his face forward into his hands and shook his head as though trying to shake off the weight that had settled on his mind. Dumbledore leaned forward and placed his hand softly on Harry's back. This time, Harry didn't brush him off. "Harry, you're stronger than you think. You've survived and succeeded where many more experienced wizards would have failed miserably. You need to trust yourself."

The young wizard pulled his face from his hands. "How can I? I've caused so much destruction, been at the center of so much death and pain. How can I trust myself?"

"Very simple, Harry. There is no person in the world that you should prefer to trust than yourself." Dumbledore clapped him solidly on the back then once again leaned back in his own chair. "Now, I would be willing to bet that Ron has already finished his game of chess with Hermione and will need someone else to play against shortly."

"How do you figure that, sir?"

"Because he's standing at the doorway waiting for you," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. Harry's head snapped around to see Ron's eyes and a shock of red hair poking around the edge of the door. He turned back to Dumbledore, who said, "Go along and have some fun. Relax. You'll need it. There are still some tense issues that must be addressed, but they are out of your hands, and you needn't worry about what you can't change."

Dumbledore stood and shook out his robes, then placed his hand on top of Harry's head. "You do have courage, Harry. It runs thick in your veins. You are a Gryffindor for a reason. By the way, Happy Birthday, Harry." The twinkle returned the Headmaster's eyes, and he inclined his head slightly towards Harry in farewell.

With that, Dumbledore stepped back from the bewildered boy and Disapparated. Harry turned around in his chair and faced Ron, who had moved fully into the door frame. Hermione was standing behind him. Both of them had a million questions written all over their faces. Harry shook his head and said, "We have to talk."

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I'm not talking. Not even my name. I don't care what he does, what he says, I'm not talking, not until I get some answers of my own. Holly paced back and forth across the small but well-furnished room Fudge had provided for her. True, her current situation was better than the one she probably would have received had she stayed at the inn that night. Fudge had no intent to hurt her, but he seemed driven by one obsession. He wanted to know what had happened the night before, and he didn't want anyone else to know. What could be so important to him about that, and why wouldn't he give her any answers? Still more troublesome, there seemed to be no way out. The door was locked, but not with any lock she could see. All of her highly valued lock-picking skills were useless. The window was too high and small for her to use as an escape route. Even if she made it past the door, she had a feeling that she wouldn't get far, not that she knew where to go from there anyway.

When she had arrived at the Ministry building the previous night, she had appeared within that very room, and at the time, had been so exhausted that she didn't care. The bed was comfortable, and she had slept very deeply. The dreamless sleep had been very welcomed after such a long period of restless nights, but even then, she woke feeling drained. Being tired wasn't going to be her only problem that morning, she soon discovered.

Fudge had arrived with a breakfast for her, but immediately she'd known he had put something in it. When she had refused to eat it, he had become irritated and wanted to know why. When she told him that she knew he had tainted it with something, he had stared at her in disbelief, and demanded that she tell him how she had known. Once again, Holly had crossed her arms and refused to speak until she got some answers for herself. The little man had crammed his bowler hat back on his head and stormed out of the room.

Since then, he had been back two more times. The first time, he had practically pleaded with her, which did nothing but elicit a laugh from the young woman. The last time had almost scared Holly to death. Fudge must have worked himself into a small fit while he had been out of the room, for he had burst in with his wand already in his hand, aimed directly at Holly. She had found herself on her feet, with her back against the wall before she had time to consider her reaction. Fudge had spoken to her, saying, "Well, young lady, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but you won't cooperate. Imperio!"

Holly's head felt as though someone was grabbing her sharply at the temples, as though someone were trying to get a grip directly on her mind. Fudge said to her, "Now, you are going to tell me everything."

She had looked at him incredulously through a growing headache and said, "Give me one good reason why."

Annoyance replaced fear quickly for Holly. In the meantime, Fudge had turned a peculiar shade of pale green. He shook his head. "No, no, that's not possible. That can't be possible!" Fudge lowered his wand slowly. Who was this little brat? Why couldn't he crack her? She was practically a child! It suddenly dawned on him that this girl would be more trouble to him than she was worth. She wasn't going to talk, she knew he had put the Veritaserum in her food, and the Imperious curse hadn't even begun to work. He looked at the girl, who was now rubbing her temples lightly as though working out a mild headache.

She had to go back. He couldn't keep her here, he couldn't get her to cooperate, so he would just send her back. He would just wipe her memory as he had done with all the other Muggles at the scene of the attack, and it would all be over, like a bad dream. He raised his wand again, and whispered "Obliviate!"

Instead of the dazed stupor Fudge had expected, Holly looked as though she'd merely been slapped lightly across the face. She shook her head as though trying to clear a few cobwebs from it, then turned sharply towards him. Fudge took a step backwards in surprise, and fell over Holly's hiking pack, which was lying on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, but this time, his back was against the wall, and Holly was walking towards him. Her dark eyes were blazing with a kind of fire Fudge had only seen a few times before, in witches and wizards much older than this girl. Her eyes burned into his as she spoke two words. "Get out."

Fudge scrambled for the door and slammed it shut behind him, immediately replacing the locking and silencing charms he had put there that morning. He rushed back to his office and locked himself in. His heart was racing as he slumped against the wall, balling his hands into fists. What kind of mess had he gotten himself into? Nobody could know the girl was in there. Nobody.]

Holly tried the door. No luck, it had already been locked again. She sat down on the bed and flopped backwards onto her pillow. A lot of good that had done. Perhaps she hadn't made the wisest choice, she admitted to herself, coming with Cornelius Fudge. She had known the man wasn't trustworthy, but he hadn't lied about the Death Eaters going to find her. She sighed. At least she was still alive, she reminded herself. Unfortunately, she was also still trapped.

She looked up at the ceiling. She could tell there were other people in the building, quite a few of them. They were all going about their business, completely oblivious to the fact that she was there. She also noticed something unusual. There was a strange tension in the building. Some people were feeling an intense anticipation, while others were angry or distraught. It was odd, but vague. When she had tried to focus on it, all she managed to do was to give herself a bigger headache. Whatever she had done the night before must have wiped her out more than she'd thought. Deciding there was nothing she could do about it, she resumed the little project she had begun that morning.

Holly rolled onto her stomach and reached over the edge of the bed and into her hiking pack. She withdrew the roll of letters she had found in the box her mum had left to her. She had been reading through them slowly all day, being careful to put them away when she felt Fudge approaching. At first, the letters hadn't made sense to her, but slowly, the pieces had begun to fall into place. It was a connection to her past, to her family. She was finally getting a chance to know her grandmother and grandfather. She was also learning a lot of very, very interesting things. She pulled out the next one from the roll.

"Dear Jan, They've been keeping me plenty busy here at Headquarters since you left last Wednesday. We've actually run two complete missions since then. We caught a group of four dark wizards yesterday who were trying to get information from a group of American scientists using Veritaserum. Two days later, we found a mole who had been placed almost at the heart of Military Intelligence. I ran that mission myself. I seem to be developing quite a skill for that sort of thing. I may even consider a career as an Auror if I ever return to Britain. But then, I may not want to. I'll be happy to be wherever you are. I hope this will all be over soon. Maybe we could even look at settling down together. It doesn't matter where I am, as long as we can get away from all this mess, find a quiet little place. I wish they'd let me know where you go on these missions of yours, but I know that's not possible. The security risk is too high. I'd say that it doesn't matter, as long as you know I'm thinking of you, but then I remember that you already know I'm thinking of you. Listen to me! I'm chattering like a fool. You're going to have quite the pile of letters waiting for you when you get home. I swear Bram laughs at me every time I give her another letter to bring to you. She shows up every night, waiting for me to write the next one. She's good company, but nothing like you. I suppose I should get some sleep now. Goodnight, and sweet dreams, wherever you are.
Love,
Harry

For some insane reason, all of this made more and more sense to Holly. The letters, the strangely dressed people, the magic . . . she laughed to herself and wondered how most people would react to the events she had experienced over the past day. If her grandparents could do magic, perhaps she could too. Witches and wizards, wizards and witches. Still laughing, but with a shiver working its way into her back, she considered how ridiculous this sounded, even to her own ears. Would any rational person believe such a story? But then, it wasn't so hard to believe, given her current situation, was it? She questioned herself. She was here, wasn't she? She had seen it with her own eyes, hadn't she? She grinned widely. Despite the Fudge's furious efforts, she even remembered everything.

Holly put the letter back into the roll with the other parchments. She swung herself off the bed and dug deep into the bottom of the pack. She rummaged for a moment until her hand made contact with the soft cloth that could only belong to that beautiful cloak. She pulled it from the pack and hooked the clasp around her neck. She tucked the roll of letters into one of the pockets deep inside the cloak. She patted the other pocket where she had tucked the small gold key and the stones, relaxing at the reassurance they were still there.

Holly wrapped the cloak tightly around her body. She relished the feel of its weight pulling on her arms and back. It felt like a shield around her, protecting her from things she couldn't see. She caught her own image in the mirror in the corner of room, and felt a wave of emotion wash past at her own image. What would her mum think if she could see her now? She reached into her shirt and pulled out the necklace, feeling its familiar contours. It looked lovely with the cloak, as though they belonged together. She laughed at how strange the ensemble looked over her hiking pants, boots, and t-shirt. She looked so different from the little girl she had once been.

What she looked like now . . . Holly considered the image staring back at her in the mirror. The dream she had when she'd passed out flooded back to her like a torrent. She walked up to the mirror slowly, and put her hand out to touch the reflection. That face had been so similar to her own, but it hadn't been her. It must have been her grandfather. That was the only explanation that made sense. She pulled her hand back from the mirror and brought it up to her face. Those bright green eyes she had seen, and also something else. She traced a finger along her cheekbone, and then up over her eyebrows, trying to remember something. Something on his forehead . . . her finger began tracing a peculiar zigzag pattern, something like a lightning-bolt . . .

Holly spun around in near panic at a rattling noise from the tiny window. She might not have been able to reach the window, but that didn't stop the large black bird who was furiously attacking the bolt with her beak. Finally the window flipped open and the raven flew into the room, landed on the bed, and immediately began clacking at her.

"Bram! Shh! You've got to help me!" Holly said in a rush.

Bram scolded her sternly.

"Yes, I know I got into a mess. I'm sorry, all right? You've got to go get help, or I'll never get out of here. Please!"

Bram bobbed her head once in agreement, but instead of flying out the window, she hopped off the bed and into Holly's hiking pack.

"What are you looking for?" Holly asked, totally puzzled. The raven ignored her and continued to dig through the items near the top of the pack. Finally, Bram's head emerged from the pack, and in her beak, she held the feather Holly had put there weeks ago.

"Uh, thanks Bram," Holly said, confused, as the raven dropped the feather on the bed. "I put that there for luck. Whole lot of good it did me."

Bram clacked loudly and wagged her beak back and forth sharply, then nudged the feather closer to Holly.

"That's really so important?" Holly asked. Bram bobbed her head in reply, and then sang one of her unusual calls before taking off out the window.

Holly watched the raven go, and then sighed to herself. Whatever Bram was up to, she hoped it was a better plan than she had. She reached over to the bed and picked up the feather. It made her hands tingle with the same warm sensation as when she had first picked it up. She felt herself relaxing. Although Holly had no idea what Bram had in mind, for some reason, she suddenly felt much more confident.

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In an office at the western corner of the Ministry building, Lucius Malfoy felt a sudden burning sensation across his forearm. He welcomed the pain, but knew he need not answer the call that day. He was already where he needed to be. The Dark Lord would arrive shortly, and the Ministry would fall. Lord Voldemort would soon possess the full extent of the power he sought. The world would crumble at his feet. At that time, his faithful Death Eaters would be rewarded with power and riches beyond compare. Malfoy folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe and smiled. The time would come soon.