*** Author's Note ***

Thanks to g21lto for my first review! I'm sorry about any grammatical errors, but English is not my native language.

Also, I have some more chapters ready but I'm still writing, so please read and review and help me make a better story. If you want to be mailed when there is an update please email me at fanfic@zantvoort.nl.

***

"Lucius!"

Lucius Malfoy turned his head in the direction of the panting voice. Derrick Crabbe's enormous silhouette stood in the doorway of 'The Scuttling Scarab', a somewhat pretentious lunchroom on Diagon Alley. Malfoy, who was sitting in a secluded booth in the corner, motioned for Crabbe to join him.

"Good afternoon, Derrick," Malfoy said loudly. He looked around inconspicuously. It was past lunchtime, so the place was mostly empty. There were empty plates zooming through the air to the kitchen, directed by a witch standing in the middle of the room. "You attract too much attention to yourself," he added in a low voice after Crabbe had squeezed his body into the opposite seat.

"Uhm, well, yeah... hard not too, when you're this big," Crabbe said. The stupid grin that usually adorned his face had made way for a half worrying, half serious look, that didn't make Crabbe look any more intelligent in Malfoy's opinion. He sighed. With a shifty look in his eyes that indicated he was about to get to the point, Crabbe whispered: "Uh, I… I need to talk to you, Lucius. About… about 'him'…" His voice trailed off, and he now had a decidedly unhappy look on his face.

"Have you gone completely mad?" Malfoy answered in a violent hiss. "I can't talk to you now. Leave."

Crabbe's hesitation was clearly visible. He was not used to disobeying orders, especially not from Malfoy, who had been giving them as long as they knew each other. "Lucius, please – I must – please," he mumbled.

Malfoy started to speak, then reconsidered and drew out his wand. He pointed it straight up into the air, and muttered: "Occultus." Then he fixed his angry gaze on Crabbe. "At least we can't be overheard now. What do you think you are doing? If he finds out about this, he will not be pleased… he will not be pleased at all." Glaring at Crabbe, who was now examining a particularly interesting spot on the table while muttering under his breath, he added impatiently: "Get on with it then. What do you want?"

"Lucius… can it – can it be? Can he really be back?"

Malfoy sighed inwardly as he looked at his mentally challenged friend. Crabbe knew as well as he did that the Dark Lord had returned, but he didn't seem to know how to say what he really wanted to get of his mind.

"You saw him as you see me now. You heard him talk, you saw him fight the boy. Of course he is back."

Crabbe hesitated again, before he opened his mouth. "But – how is… I mean, is everything going to go back to normal now? To the way things were, I mean?"

"The boy's escape will undoubtedly complicate matters. But our master is back, and he will take care of everything. We cannot presume to doubt his capabilities," Malfoy responded with a warning look.

"But things are different now! I don't know if I want to – I mean… Lucius, I'm afraid! We are suspected, the ministry will watch us, and I don't -"

Malfoy raised his hand, and Crabbe stopped his rambling immediately. When Malfoy spoke, his voice was cold and forbidding. "You must watch what you say out loud, Derrick. And I advise you not to think any such things in the vicinity of our master either. I hope you are not unsure of your loyalty – we both know what will happen."

Crabbe's face whitened at these words, making it look like a particularly large ball of dough. His response was frantic: "NO! No, I'd never – Lucius, you know I wouldn't! It's just… I don't know what to do."

"I would think our orders were very clear. Go about your business as usual until he calls you, and don't speak to anyone about this."

"Yes, Lucius," Crabbe said submissively.

"Very well. Now, don't come see me again, and never doubt our Lord again. He will take care of us now. Soon, the good times will return."

With a last warning look, Malfoy got up and left 'The Scuttling Scarab,' leaving Crabbe sitting at the table, still looking unhappy.

***

A few days later a select number of Death Eaters gathered in a meadow that was occupied by nothing but a few sheep. It was late, and the summer sun was at the horizon, casting long shadows across the field. They stood together without talking, apparently waiting for something.

When the sun had disappeared completely, one of the Death Eaters addressed the others with a cool, arrogant voice: "Everyone is here, I think. The Dark Lord is waiting for us."

He walked a few steps and spoke to the others over his shoulder: "Follow me." Then he took his wand, pointed it forward and said: "MORDSMORDRE!" Immediately, he appeared to be sucked forward as though through an invisible wall, but he didn't reappear on the other side. The others followed his example.

***

Lord Voldemort chuckled maliciously when the robed figure was unceremoniously chucked into the room. "Good evening, Lucius," he said, "do you enjoy my new security measures?"

"They are very… effective, My Lord," Malfoy responded, while the rest of the Death Eaters were getting to their feet behind him. A look out of the windows showed that the scenery had not changed. They were inside a small cabin in the middle of the field they had just been standing in, though it had not been visible from the outside.

Voldemort was seated at the head of a massive stone table, the only piece of furniture in the cabin besides eight wooden chairs, which were engraved with the Dark Mark on their backs, and the large stone chair he was sitting in. He motioned to the empty chairs, four on either side of the table, and said: "Sit down."

When all the chairs had been filled he started to speak: "Unfortunately, my most loyal followers are still locked away in Azkaban. Therefore, the eight of you are to be my temporary council. Not because you deserve it, but because you are the least ill-suited."

Voldemort saw the shimmer of ambition in every pair of eyes. These eight were not exactly the most blindly obedient or loyal of his followers, power hungry and self-serving as they were, but they were the most capable. It seemed that his most powerful Death Eaters were also the least willing to give their lives for him. However, they knew death at the hands of an Auror was by far preferable to death at the hands of Lord Voldemort, so as long as he was around their fear would keep them in check.

After Malfoy and the others had professed their eternal gratefulness for their new positions Voldemort motioned for silence and said: "Very well. First, I have not heard from my servant at Hogwarts. I know the Potter boy is not dead, so I must assume he has failed me as well." He looked at Malfoy, who lowered his head. "Lucius… I hear you are still quite the prominent figure. Can you tell me why word of my return hasn't gotten out? Does Dumbledore know?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I am no longer a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Dumbledore doesn't trust me in the least. I have not heard any rumors from the school, however, so I suppose that is a good sign."

"We'll have to see about that -" Voldemort stopped as the Death Eater at his left raised his hand, and said: "If you would allow me to interrupt, My Lord… I have some important information."

Voldemort was relieved to hear that someone had something to say. He had been sadly devoid of intelligence while he was recovering from his resurrection. To be able to work in secret the only ones who were in direct contact with him were his Death Eaters, his most trusted followers. Unfortunately, this also meant he himself could only contact the rest of his followers through his Death Eaters. Because of that, it would be difficult to rebuild his network of spies and informers, which had been very widespread before his disappearance. For now, he had to rely on his Death Eaters for information, so he said: "I am listening."

"I got a message over the old Contacters. It was from your… er… former informant at Hogwarts. He wants to meet with you, My Lord -" He was forced to stop, as Voldemort suddenly surged out of his chair.

"He what? Was there anything else?"

The Death Eater hesitantly shook his head. Voldemort fell back into his seat.

"Interesting… yes… I wonder how he will try to get out of this one." He sat in thought for a few moments, before coming to a decision.

"Very well, I will meet with him. Now is as good as any time to deal with him. DeWitt," he said, addressing the same Death Eater who had delivered the message, "make the necessary arrangements." DeWitt nodded.

"Now, I have not been able to get much information lately… Macnair, how are things at the ministry?"

"I'm afraid they don't trust me like they used to, My Lord. I have been shoved off to Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, don't get much word of anything these days."

Voldemort didn't show his disappointment, but there was a clear edge of impatience to his voice. "We will have to see to it you get a more useful position, then. Still, there must be something you can tell me."

"Well, it has been very quiet lately. I'm sure you're aware that the ministry has reported the death of a Cedric Diggory 'due to a tragic accident' at Hogwarts. That's all they've been letting out, so either they don't know, or they're keeping it quiet for some reason."

"It's not as bad as it could have been, then," Voldemort mused. "Malfoy, I hear you have been getting quite friendly with Fudge and his fools."

"I have, My Lord. It is still the way it has always been. A little money here, an impressive gift there… I daresay I have even more influence now than I had before your… accident." Malfoy looked thoroughly satisfied with himself.

"Good, it seems they have not learned anything in the last fourteen years. So how would you estimate the strength of Fudge's administration?"

Malfoy smiled evilly. "I have some good news there. Fudge is a weak, indecisive idiot. He relies heavily on his subordinates, who are far more capable then him, but he believes that he is the clever one, so he pushes through stupid decisions even though his advisors are against it."

Voldemort nodded: "Tell me more."

After a short moment's thought, Malfoy continued. "It started right after you disappeared, My Lord. As you well know, Dumbledore and his bunch of admirers had a good idea of who was a Death Eater and who was not. But the ministry decided they wanted to do it 'proper', and every one of us who could not be directly linked to a recent attack was cleared, because of lack of evidence."

Voldemort cackled lightly. "Ah, yes… justice is rather complicated, isn't it? I'd say my methods are more effective."

The Death Eaters laughed, although it sounded a little forced. They had experienced the Dark Lord's methods of dealing with those who hesitated to follow his orders firsthand. Malfoy continued.

"After they heard of your disappearance, the people celebrated. They thought you were gone for good, and the ministry did nothing to make them believe otherwise. There were a few warning voices, Dumbledore among them, of course, but you know how it is – the people believe what they want to believe. The ministry has become even more of a joke since. Fudge used to turn to Dumbledore for advice, but know he thinks he can do it on his own… well, we've all how badly they dealt with the disturbance we created at the World Cup."

Voldemort was not really surprised to hear this. The Ministry of Magic had always been weakened by bureaucracy, internal strife and the need to follow the rules. The real danger had always come from somewhere else… "What about Dumbledore?"

The Death Eaters looked at each other, not sure who he had asked. Malfoy was the first to speak: "My Lord?"

"What has he been up to? He knows at the very least that I'm not dead, has known since I tried to get the philosopher's stone. Hasn't he warned the ministry?"

"Like I said, Fudge has become increasingly… independent. He doesn't trust Dumbledore like he used to, and he's been turning a deaf ear to anyone who has tried to warn him you might not be gone forever."

"Interesting. We could be able to use that to our advantage. Does anyone know what Dumbledore himself has been planning? I suppose to hope that he has disbanded his little 'order' would be too much..."

Again, the Death Eaters exchanged silent glances. Apparently nobody knew much. It was again Malfoy who spoke.

"I'm sorry, My Lord. We know very little. Dumbledore hasn't let his guard down for a single moment, I'm afraid. He is very particular on who to trust, and we certainly aren't among them. Since he expected you to return, however, I think he must have kept his former group together."

"Thank you, Lucius," Voldemort interrupted sarcastically. "I could have guessed that much on my own. I hope I will be able to extract something useful out of Snape before I kill him, since you don't seem to be very helpful."

"Sorry, My Lord," the chorus of Death Eaters muttered.

"Yes… well, next order of business. As long as we are not sure what Dumbledore knows, we have to be very careful. However, some of the plans I made can still be put into effect. First, I want to persuade all creatures that are sympathetic to our cause to join us, because they won't be likely to alarm the ministry, even if they don't take our offer."

"So that's the giants and the dementors then, My Lord?" Macnair asked.

"Yes," Voldemort said to Macnair, "I want you to handle the giants. Inform the ministry you need a leave for a family emergency, and take two Death Eaters with you. I do not know exactly where the giants are, so find them."

"What offer should I make them, My Lord?"

"The same offer we made last time. Take some trinkets to appease them, and then tell them they'll get to kill muggles and ministry wizards, and that I will protect them from repercussions."

"All right, My Lord. I can leave in – 4 days?"

"Make that two."

"But -" Voldemort gave Macnair an icy glare. "Yes, My Lord."

"Now, what about the dementors?" Voldemort said, "I hear the ministry have them firmly under control now. Morgan?"

One of the Death Eaters that had not said much until now spoke: "That is what they would like everybody to think, My Lord. The Dementors have no loyalty; they defected to the ministry the moment they heard you had disappeared, and they will return to us the moment they hear you are back. They are not happy with the restrictions the ministry has imposed on them. Azkaban is not as full as it used to be, so they are hungry. You don't have to offer them anything but new prey."

Voldemort was happy to hear that; he had expected the ministry to keep a very close eye on the Dementors. "Surely the ministry knows this, Morgan. Will it be possible to contact the Dementors without the ministry finding out?" he said.

"It will be difficult," Morgan answered, "but I can do it. It is as Malfoy says: the ministry is weak, they are entirely unprepared."

The Dark Lord gave a short, grating laugh. "I will be happy to catch them off guard then. Get started on it right away. I want to hear from you within a week."

The Death Eater named Morgan nodded, and said: "It will be done, My Lord."

"Good," Voldemort said. "Malfoy; I want you to get close to Fudge, and encourage his distrust of Dumbledore. The rest of you: contact the other Death Eaters, and tell them to get in touch with their old contacts, see who we can still make use of. They have to be careful, as long as the ministry doesn't raise the alarm I don't want to give them any reason to be worried."

Everyone muttered their assent, and Voldemort said: "We are done for now. You can still contact me through the Dark Mark if you need to. Macnair, you report to me before you leave; Morgan, I want to hear from you as soon as you have accomplished anything."

The eight Death Eaters rose from their seats, bowed towards Voldemort and left the cabin through the door. When they were gone the Dark Lord waved his wand and vanished, as did the cabin.

***