Disclaimer: I'm not lucky enough to own Harry Potter & the gang—they all belong to the incomparable JK Rowling!

Mischief Managed: Chapter 12

Evil Unveiled

Draco adjusted his cloak. What Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't give to see him now in all his Gryffindor glory? He smiled wryly as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair had gone the longest it ever had without gel. It was starting to look as unrefined as Potter's, and Ginny noticed the disgusted look Malfoy had as he stared at his reflection.

"You've never looked better, Draco," Ginny put her arm on his shoulder, smirking.

He whirled around, startled by her presence. She was so beautiful, in every respect. Why had he failed to see it all those years? How could he, Draco Malfoy, miss something so obviously seen by Potter?

"Well," he said softly, "thanks Weasley. Errr... You know," Draco hesitated a moment, searching for the appropriate words, "you look quite nice yourself."

"Draco, how many times am I going to have to ask you to call me Ginny?"

He shook his head, smiling grudgingly, "I'll remember next time."

"Say it," she commanded.

"Say what, Weasley?"

"I want to hear you say my name."

"I just did, Weasley."

"Do you even know my first name, Draco?"

"Of course, do I appear unintelligent?"

"Say it then."

"Fine, Ginevra."

She stuck her tongue out at him, "I detest the name Ginevra."

"It suits you far better than Ginny. You're not cutsie Weasley; so, Ginevra it shall be."

"Oh, then just what would you say that I am?" started Ginny, slightly taken aback.

"Draco, cut the crap and kiss her," Sirius appeared out of nowhere, "you're just beating around the bush mate, and anyone who's seen you two knows it. I tell Prongs this all the time, but nooo. He just skirts around with Evans and never actually just comes out with the L word. I know that'll be the ticket to her heart. Oh, and he has to quit hexing Snape too, but I think deep down she knows that'll never happen. Snape's too much of a prat and—"

"Push off Sirius," Draco cut him off sharply, his temper flaring after Sirius' blatant disrespect for his Uncle Severus, "even if Ginevra was available in the least, it wouldn't work."

Draco pulled Ginny close to him, whispering so that only she could hear, "But of course, I have no chance against famous Harry Potter. I mean, he can't even go into a book shop without making the front page."

Ginny couldn't believe what she was hearing. Draco Malfoy—and her? He was rich, egotistical, arrogant, and handsome. No, not handsome... downright gorgeous, especially without that slicked back hair. And what was she? She was average at best. And she was a Weasley, meaning she was doomed to poverty. Then Ginny snapped back to reality. Wait, Harry. Stop it Ginny! She berated herself angrily. Some girlfriend she was. She'd liked Harry since before she even entered Hogwarts, and now look at her daydreaming of her boyfriend's arch nemesis. She was actually contemplating the idea of her and Malfoy...Draco MALFOY!

She looked Draco straight in the eye, "You are absolutely right Draco, it would never work."

He gave her a small smile as Sirius clapped him on the back, but there was something in those cold blue eyes that she had never seen before. Draco was deeply hurt, and it wasn't the father-didn't-send-me-any-gifts-today hurt that she saw in him so often.

What had he expected of her? Was she supposed to forget Potter and everything she'd been taught? Malfoys were bad news in the Weasley world. What the bloody hell had he expected her to say? Was she to profess her undying love for him; he who had never been anything more than a prat to her family and best mates?

Not having anything more to say, Draco walked to Potions aimlessly, shuffling his feet, oblivious to everything but his own self pity.

"Draco," said a tall girl with a husky voice.

"What is it, Black? Can't you see I'm wallowing here?" he glared at Bellatrix, his mother's sister. He was certain that she, even her seventeen-year-old version, was pure evil.

She beckoned to him to follow her.

"Look I'm late for Potions. And I must get these advanced potions down to impress Professor Sna—" Draco stopped dead as he remembered what year this was.

"What? Oh never mind! This is important, and I won't keep you long."

Reluctantly, he dropped his bookbag in the hallway as he followed her.

"This way," she grabbed his hand, leading him down a dark corridor that he'd never seen before.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Draco squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There were other students, Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws, all around him. Bellatrix sat at the front of the group along with a man he recognized as Lestrange, who would become her future husband.

"Gather round," Lestrange said in a commanding tone.

"Hurry up Rudy!" a Slytherin girl with braids complained, "We're all going to be late for class."

"Parkinson, do you wish to be part of this council or not?" Bellatrix shot back with a scowl.

Draco recognized a handful of people as his friends' parents. Goyle's dad was up front, grinning stupidly, with Crabbe's hag of a mother trailing like a dog. Then Draco noticed that Snape was there too, sitting alone, staring at the floor. Poor Uncle Sev, Draco thought, I'm sure he's concocting a brilliant potion in his mind right now. Draco always gave Snape the benefit of the doubt that his brilliance was the real reason for his isolation and lack of popularity.

Draco's eyes next fell upon his mother. She was sitting on the floor, looking haughty and bored but very beautifully so. There were about fifteen who belonged to this strange association that he didn't recognize at all.

Suddenly, the door burst open. A man, tall and slender, with silver blonde hair and brilliant grey eyes strode to the front of the room. His mother shivered, but stared at the man with intense attentiveness. Draco would know him anywhere. His mere presence was enough to frighten even the bravest Ministry officials: it was his father, Lucius Malfoy. Yes, Draco thought with a rush of excitement. If I have to bloody time travel with Weasley, at least I get to see my father in his younger years.

"You're late, Malfoy," Lestrange's younger brother said sullenly, "we've been waiting over an hour."

Lucius paid him no heed as he shed his fur cape with one graceful sweep.

"You all know why you have been summoned," he began, "I know most of you from our school days, and I know you to be in consensus with the beliefs of Salthazar Slytherin." He paused for dramatic emphasis, and stroked Narcissa's golden curls affectionately. "A new power is rising, and it's my duty to recruit you all, and invite you to share in the awesome might of Lord Voldemort." Malfoy could just feel that buzz of excitement.

A dark-haired Slytherin boy spoke up, "but Malfoy, we have all heard of Lord Voldemort's reputation as a great sorcerer, but witnessing it is another matter all together. His power is untested against the strength of the Ministry, and I think I speak for most of us when I say that we want a guarantee of success. I will not risk life in Azkaban…"

"How dare you, Nott!" Bellatrix roared, "How dare you question the Dark Lord's power, when your own parents are counted as his most prominent followers."

Nott shook his head, "forgive me Bella, if I do not want to die or go to Azkaban for a dream!"

Lucius slowly paced around the room, looking at the assembly without a trace of emotion. "A dream you say, Nott? You call it a dream still, while Lord Voldemort is building a greater army than has ever been seen? Recruiting all manner of dark creatures: giants, yes they have joined him; werewolves too; and most importantly dementors—"

He grinned as one Ravenclaw girl gasped, "Yes, they are our natural allies; do you not see Nott, that you need not fear Azkaban!"

He paused again as he took in the reactions of his audience.

"You see, is it becoming clearer to you? When the time is right, the armies of Lord Voldemort will swoop through the entire country and none will foresee it, nor will there be anyone left alive to stop it."

Draco felt a wave of nausea hit him as he watched his father's satisfied smile. He had won them over.

"And what of Dumbledore!" Draco said loudly, causing the attention of the entire room to shift toward him.

Lucius smiled, "and who are you, boy? A little young to be on this council, I think."

"He's from Durmstrang, Lucius," Bellatrix said softly, "I thought he might be of some assistance with some training."

Lucius placed a long slender hand on Draco's shoulder, "It's odd—but you remind me of—myself at your age. Have you a name?"

Draco stared deeply into his father's cold eyes, "its Draco."

"Draco," his father repeated slowly, "Welcome Draco. I am Lucius Malfoy. Do not forget that name."

"Dumbledore could be a problem," the Ravenclaw prefect stroked his chin, returning the assembly to the question at hand, "How does your lord plan to overtake him?"

Lucius scowled, "Dumbledore is nothing! Not but a washed out old schoolteacher who won a miniscule battle that took place before any of our parents were born. He's through—his prowess lives on only in bedtime stories for children."

"Lucius is right," Lestrange said heartily, "he's got to be over a hundred years old anyway."

Draco shook his head at their absolute stupidity; even he feared Dumbledore. That was the Dark Lord's first mistake: underestimating Dumbledore! Draco was sure that if Harry had not stopped Voldemort that night, it wouldn't have been long before Dumbledore would have.

As the mob began to dismiss, Lucius made his way once more to Draco, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder.

"Hands off, pal," Draco tried to brush him off, but his father pinned him tightly against the wall.

"Listen to me, boy," he spat out, his handsome face contorted with rage, "I want to give you a small piece of advice. Look at me, when I'm addressing you! Never forget this. There are only two kinds of men in this world: those with power, and those too weak to seek it. It's for you to decide, either you do what it takes to have the power—or not. And that does not include fearing Albus Dumbledore!"

Draco's head was spinning as Lucius released him. He wanted to yell that Dumbledore will be Voldemort's downfall! His father was insane, and he'd just gone along with his power hungry insanity all these years. The pureblood mania that had torn their family apart was pure ballocks with no basis in reality. He wanted nothing more than to hug Lucius and cry out I'm your son. He wanted to beg him for what he had never had, a real family. So—he thought to himself— this was his purpose in coming here: to tell Dumbledore of the Death Eaters' Plans, and to help keep Dumbledore informed of their actions when he returned to 1996. For some strange reason it was one Harry Potter that popped into Draco's thoughts. As much as Draco hated to admit it, it was Potter who would ultimately bring about Voldemort's demise. Yes, Dumbledore was going to use Harry for the Dark Lord's next downfall, though Draco couldn't imagine how Potter could manage the task alone—after all, hadn't the first time been sheer luck—not any particular brilliance of Potter's. Draco had no way of knowing that it was Lily's sacrifice which ultimately held the key to the salvation of the wizarding world. It was at this moment when he thought he had it all figured out, that he caught sight of a boy with a distinct rat-like nose leaving the meeting.