"Les merchants sont toujours surpris de trouver de l'habilete dans les bons. - The wicked are always surprised to find ability in the good." (Luc de Clapier de Vauvanargues: Refexions CIII)
Lucius Malfoy stood quietly at the ready in the musty cramped space behind the deserted Ludicrous Patents Office on level seven of the Ministry while around him dark-robed figures whispered nervously and excitedly. He appeared self-possessed, aloof and cool, as befitted the chief Death Eater, and his mask helped further to hide his emotions from his associates. However, he had to admit to himself that the prospect of battle, the knowledge of being so close to their goals stirred his blood. Victory was in their grasp and he could almost taste it.
Some time soon he would hand over the prophecy and the boy who lived to his master. The secret of how Voldemort could vanquish Potter would be revealed and the last best hope of the Order of the Phoenix would be dashed. He would be rewarded, and all of the Death Eaters would soon witness the demise of the muggle scum that had infected the wizarding world for centuries.
Suddenly he felt the mark on his arm ignite in a brief flash of pain, and as the voices surrounding him fell silent, he knew that Voldemort was signaling them: Harry Potter had finally been lured into the Department of Mysteries. Everything was prepared, the pieces were in position. He faced his fellow conspirators. "This is the moment we have been waiting for. Our master's destiny will be fulfilled, and our loyalty will be rewarded," he told them.
He really hated pep-speeches, but somehow felt that the significance of the occasion merited a few words. He also wanted to make sure that everyone understood their orders. His sister-in-law, whose gaunt form stood to his right, would prove difficult to control, as would McNair. Both of them could be counted on to choose a bit of senseless torture and mayhem over any cool-headed battle-plan.
"Remember," he reminded them. "Our first priority is to secure the prophecy sphere unharmed. Our second is to capture Harry Potter for the Dark Lord alive – curse only to disable. Our third is to exterminate as many Order members, as we can manage. So if you see anyone with Potter, curse to kill. Ready? This is it, apparate now!"
To his surprise Lucius found himself facing only a small group of children, Potter in their midst. He blinked and rapidly scanned his surroundings. Where were the grown-up members of the Order? Hiding somewhere? Then he realized that Potter must have come on his own initiative, without alerting anyone. Perfect! Some of the children looked vaguely familiar. He recognized two of the numerous Weaslys, the fat, dumb-looking boy off to the side had to be a Longbottom, and next to Potter stood that little snotty mudblood know-it-all, Granger.
At a rapid wave of his hand his troops fanned out and surrounded the Hogwarts students, pointing their wands in menace. The children looked suitably shocked and impressed. He smirked when he saw that Arthur's youngest seemed actually ready to pass out. This should be easier than he had anticipated. "To me, Potter," he commanded and held out his hand. Potter blanched, but seemed rooted to the spot. "To me," Lucius repeated.
"Where's Sirius?" Potter asked. The chief Death Eater felt a grim smile curve his lips. So the legilimency had finally worked. It wasn't curiosity that killed the cat, but Potter's ridiculous sense of Gryffindor loyalty. Several of the Slytherin Death Eaters laughed and Bellatrix voiced their sense of triumph: "The Dark Lord always knows!"
Lucius felt himself nod. "Always," he echoed his sister-in-law. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter." However, the young wizard proved more stubborn than he had thought. "I want to know where Sirius is!" Lucius felt Bellatrix shift at his side impatiently. "I want to know where Sirius is!" she mimicked Potter. The whole group started to close in on the children in menace: time to end this as quickly as possible.
"You've got him," Potter insisted stubbornly. "He's here. I know he is." "The little baby woke up frightened and thought what it dreamed was true," said Bellatrix in a horrible, high baby-voice. It seemed that Narcissa's sister was beginning to enjoy herself. The young wizard murmured something to the Weasly boy standing next to him while Bellatrix exploded in raucous laughter. Lucius realized he had to start watching her. "You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" she crowed.
He leaned in to her. "Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," he said softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter." "I know Sirius is here," the boy insisted again. "I know you've got him!" This time most of the Death Eaters joined in Bellatrix's mirth.
Lucius felt his patience slip. "It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," he said. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands." Against better judgment the young wizard decided to accept his challenge. "Go on, then," he said, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of his companions rose on either side of him.
"Hand over the prophecy and no one needs get hurt," Lucius insisted again. This was getting tiresome. Now Potter dared to openly laugh at him. "Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when Lucius felt the woman by his side stir. She raised her wand and shrieked: "Accio proph-" But Potter was ready with a counter spell. "Protego!" he shouted before she was done, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of the boy's fingers he managed to cling on to it.
"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," Bellatrix mocked, moving closer and menacing the young wizard. "Very well, then…" Holy Hecate, Lucius thought, the stupid Black bitch would ruin everything. "I told you, no!" he roared at her. "If you smash it!" But she did not heed him, stepping forward and pulling off her mask. A sidewise glance showed Lucius that her face was flushed with mad, sadistic excitement.
"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well - take the smallest one" she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."
The children shifted to surround the Weasly girl and Potter stepped in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest. "You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"
She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. "So," said the boy, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?" "What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."
"Nope, not jesting," said the young wizard, his eyes flicking from one Death Eater to another like a frightened, cornered animal's. "How come Voldemort wants it?" Lucius felt his associates cringe and hiss at the open mentioning of their master's name." You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix.
"Yeah," Potter admitted with forced insolence. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol-"
"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare…" Now Potter was going for broke. "Did you know he's a half-blood too?" he challenged the witch. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a muggle - or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"
Lucius groaned inwardly. This would not end well. And really, his volatile sister-in-law was raising her wand. "Stupef-" He stepped forward to intervene. "No!" A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand, but he managed to deflect it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of the boy and several of the glass orbs there shattered.
Through the babble and mayhem of the freed prophecies he grabbed her by the robes and yelled at her in frustration. "I will kill you myself, you stupid bitch. What have I told you? Do not attack! We need the prophecy!" "He dared - he dares…" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, "he stands there - filthy half-blood –" He shook her by her collar like a wet kitten, unsure if he could get through to her. Bloody dementors, they had obviously cost her her last remaining brain cells. "Wait until we've got the prophecy!" he yelled at her.
Potter's voice made him turn and face the boy again. The young wizard seemed to be a bit too unfazed after the deflected attack as he asked calmly: "You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over." Lucius did not like calm. He wanted these children too terrified to think. "Do not play games with us, Potter," he threatened.
"I'm not playing games," said the boy, looking genuinely clueless. Lucius shook his head in disbelief. "Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" he sneered. "I - what?" said Potter, looking confused now. "What about my scar?" Oh, the ignorance of the boy who lived was priceless. "Can this be?" Lucius taunted. Some of the Death Eaters were laughing again. It seemed he was regaining control of the situation after all.
"Dumbledore never told you?" he repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter. The Dark Lord wondered why you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…"
"Did he?" asked the boy. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"
"Why?" This was getting better and better. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him." "And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?" "About both of you, Potter, about both of you… haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"
He had Potter's full attention now. The young wizard looked hurt and scared. "Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he said quietly, gazing at him. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?" "Get it himself?" shrieked Bellatrix, over another cackle of mad laughter. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"
"So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" said Potter. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it -and Bode?" Lucius felt some grudging admiration for the boy. It seemed he was not as clueless as he had originally assumed. "Very good, Potter, very good…" he admitted slowly. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell-" A shouted command from the young wizard interrupted him mid-sentence.
"Now!" yelled the boy, and the group of children suddenly erupted before Lucius' unbelieving eyes. Five different voices bellowed "Reducto!" Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves behind the Death Eaters exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood.
"Damn it!" roared the chief Death Eater as he felt woodchips and broken glass spheres rain down on them. "Seize them!" He heard Potter yell a command and the group of children scattered. Lucius saw McNair make a mad lunge for the boy, but he recoiled with a cry of pain, and then the blond wizard was too busy to keep himself from being clubbed to death by falling furniture in the mad pandemonium of destruction and babbling prophecies to pay much attention to anything else. This had become a horrible waking nightmare.
As the dust settled he surveyed the situation that had gone so suddenly and so terribly wrong. Several of his associates were writhing on the floor in various stages of injury. Others were dashing over to the doors that the children seemed to have sealed during their flight, trying to throw them open. He needed to regroup as swiftly as possible. A quick glance told him who was still capable of fighting.
He spat out orders. "Leave Nott, leave him, I say- his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary – Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right - Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead - Macnair and Avery, through here -Rookwood, over there -Mulciber, come with me!" The group seemed to return to some semblance of order at that point and complied. The situation could still be salvaged.
After a mad scramble through halls and corridors, he finally came across Potter again. The boy was alone this time, seemingly having lost his companions during the flight. There he was, held at bay. They finally had him cornered. Lucius took a deep breath of relief. He felt winded, but obviously so did Potter. He watched Dolohov step to his side, leveling his wand at the young wizard's face. The man was seething with anger. "Potter, your race is run," Lucius said, pulling off his mask. He was getting hot in his heavy robes. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy."
"Let - let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" the boy offered desperately. A few of the Death Eaters laughed. Oh, the kid remained a self-sacrificing Gryffindor to the last. "You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," Lucius smiled. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you…or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?"
"He's not alone!" shouted a shrill and somewhat congested voice from above them. "He's still got me!" Lucius craned his neck and watched the fat Longbottom kid awkwardly scramble down the stone benches towards them. Potter seemed rather dismayed at the sight. "Neville - no - go back to Ron…" "Stupefy!" Longbottom shouted again, pointing his wand at each Death Eater in turn. "Stupefy! Stup-"
Lucius watched Jugson walk lazily over to the frantic boy and seize him from behind, pinioning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked and Lucius fought down an amused smirk. Gryffindor idiocy at its very best. "It's Longbottom, isn't it?" he sneered. "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause… your death will not come as a great shock."
"Longbottom?" repeated Bellatrix, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy." That really set off their prisoner. "I know you have," he roared and fought so hard against Jugson's grip that the Death Eater shouted, "Someone stun him!"
"No, no, no," said Bellatrix. Lucius watched her as she glanced at Potter, then back at Longbottom. She was glowing with sadistic excitement and he decided to let her have some fun. "No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents. Unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy."
"Don't give it to them!" roared the fat boy, who seemed beside himself, kicking and writhing as Bellatrix drew nearer to him, her wand raised. "Don't give it to them, Harry!"
Bellatrix raised her wand. "Crucio!" Lucius prepared himself for the onslaught of agonized yelling on his ears, the usual tedious and predictable reaction of everyone who crossed his sweet sister-in-law. Longbottom screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest, so that Jugson was momentarily holding him off the ground. He dropped him in disgust and the aurors' son fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.
"That was just a taster!" crowed Bellatrix, raising her wand so that the boy's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at the boy who lived. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way!" Lucius nodded in appreciation. It seemed the woman was going to redeem herself for her earlier outburst. Slowly Potter held out the small sphere and he eagerly jumped forwards to take it.
A sudden noise distracted him just as he felt the warm glass under his fingertips. High above them, two doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: he turned in alarm, and raised his wand, but a woman he recognized as Andromeda's muggle spawn had already sent a stunning spell right at him. It grazed him despite his frantic attempt to duck it and he felt his limbs twitch and grow limp for a few moments. His legs collapsed beneath him and he watched helplessly as Potter dove away.
Lucius cursed and gritted his teeth. This was his last, best and only chance. If he screwed this up he could kiss his life goodbye, one way or the other. While his associates engaged the newly arrived Order members in battle, he crawled on hands and knees after Potter. As the effects of the spell slowly left him, he regained command of his body and saw the boy a short distance off waiting for the Longbottom kid who was moving again, albeit much the worse for wear after the cruciatus.
The young wizard paid no attention to his surroundings as he concentrated on his friend and Lucius took the opportunity to pounce. "The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" he snarled at the boy and jabbed his wand in his ribs for emphasis. Potter struggled. "No - get - off - me… Neville - catch it!"
The small sphere skipped across the floor, as Longbottom span himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Lucius swiveled around and pointed his wand at Potter's friend, but suddenly felt a spell slam into him as a voice behind him yelled, "Impedimenta!" He exhaled in pained surprise as he was blasted off his back. Agony enveloped him in a red haze as he smashed into a dais further off, but he fought to keep conscious, got up, threw back his cloak and again aimed his wand at the two boys when suddenly a man he recognized as the werewolf who had taught at Hogwarts for a while stepped in the way.
Before he could adjust, the scruffily-dressed scar-faced man had leveled his wand at him. "Stupefy!" he heard, before his mind went blank. And before his limp body hit the ground, very quietly, as if from a huge distance: "Petrificus totalus!"