C H A P T E R O N E

T H E E S C A P E

Lucius Malfoy lay silently in his dusty jail cell. His head was bowed down just enough so you could only see the bottom half of his eyes if you looked at him straightly, and his hands were folded neatly on his dirty cloak. Although not a word came from his frozen frown, many thoughts ran about him, but one mainly controlled a good portion of his mind. Why didn't he come back? He was angry because of this and the fact that he couldn't escape from Azkaban, the prison he was in now, because no wand was in his pocket. It was confiscated from the guards after a thorough Secrecy Sensor scan. He knew perfectly well that he could say the incantation of the unlocking charm inside his head to make the door open, but the bars of the single small window and the door were cleverly bewitched so that even the Darkest magic could not make one speck of dust fall off one bar. So Lucius's immense knowledge of magic was shut off in his brain until he was proven to have changed and given up his career as a Death Eater. But every time this thought rang to him, he merely smiled, and maybe even chuckled a little bit.

His jail cell consisted of a bench, on which a small loaf of bread and a single cup of water stood, and on the other side an uncomfortable hammock was secured, the two long ends attached to the cobwebbed ceiling. The half moon shined through the glassless window, but Malfoy hoped that the outline of something different would shine through. Something that Malfoy doubted would come: a sign.

While this didn't arrive, Lucius would think about more problems when the main one slipped him: Where is Harry Potter? Where's the prophecy? Where is Draco? Narcissa? His family members caused a slight feeling of sadness rush through him, and many more thoughts led from this. Right now he was thinking about those thoughts. While he thought, a little voice inside him served as his counter arguer.

Draco must be alright.

Why would you care? He's not the son that you expected.

But he's still my son.

He's a terrible Quidditch player. A weakling.

What about Narcissa?

She's probably dead.

Silence!

Malfoy's frown was pulled downwards a little in disgust for a second, but sprung back up gingerly. He sighed deeply and sadly, hoping to change the subject. Automatically, his main thought reached the center nerve of his brain again.

What about Voldemort? He was thinking about Lord Voldemort at this point. The one that he hoped would come to forgive Malfoy for failing the Chamber of Secrets mission as well as the prophecy retrieval and destroy the bars. The one that he was sure, if he came at all, which was highly unlikely, would cast the sign into the night sky, and shine onto the floor, where a rat just scurried out of sight into a mouse hole.

He won't come, said the voice inside him, but this was entirely untrue, for the sure answer came right now. Lucius saw out of the corner of his eye that the shining of the moon was shifting a bit, and a peculiar, dotted outline appeared in black on the floor. It was a picture of a skull, and through its open teeth a snake showed, its head next to the skull's. Immediately, Lucius sat up straight and scanned beyond the bars. He had two hunches of how he'd arrive. The first one came true, for there was a loud CRACK! and a man spun into place. He wore two pitch black robes, the inner one with a hood. But the face was what Malfoy recognized immediately. It was a terrible face with cat-like slits that glowed red, which made him look like a snake. A black wand was in his bony hand and his mouth was curled into a small, but devilish-looking smile.

"Seems you won the argument," said Voldemort. His voice had an aura of menace to it, making Lucius flinch a bit. He remained silent for several enduring seconds until he finally stuttered, "Y-You knew I was thinking about you? From such a distance?"

"You are speaking like that idiot Quirrel," Voldemort responded coldly. "But certainly, I can. I have always been the greatest Legilimens- better than Severus Snape and Dumbledore- or was better than him."

"What do you mean, was?" Lucius suddenly asked, greatly curious. He had a sharply serious expression on his face, but his, "heart," was leaping up and down. Did Dumbledore-?

"Albus Dumbledore has died!" Voldemort said proudly, and his slight smile had widened so that the corners seemed to almost reach his nose level. You could see his horrible yellow teeth. "Severus killed him!"

Lucius looked puzzled. He had eased his fear a bit. "But I thought Snape was working for Dumbledore."

Voldemort kept on grinning. "He was. But I put him under the Imperius Curse. Your foolish son was too wimpy to kill Dumbledore. I knew this at the very minute, so I cursed Severus in the dungeons of the school."

"Draco!" Malfoy suddenly cried. "Is he all right!"

"He's here," Voldemort replied, "with the other Death Eaters. I sent the Mark as a sign to you, but I guess many jailkeepers will make it understandable as to why it's there in the case of everyone else."

"I want to see him!" Malfoy demanded.

"Now, now, Lucius." Said Voldemort quietly. "He is killing tens at a time as we speak. I've got the dementors with them too."

"Are they Kissing him!" Malfoy asked desperately.

"I told you," Voldemort replied, sighing, and his smile fell down now, "the dementors are with my followers and Draco. But because of his fear to what Dumbledore might have done if he sent the Killing Curse at him, I am thinking about sending him back to you, so you'll be back with your fool in no time."

"My son is not a fool!" Malfoy raged, and he got up angrily for the first time.

Slowly, Voldemort's smile was lifted up again. "You are weak." He said coldly. "You are the lousiest Death Eater I have ever hired. You let my old diary out of your grasp, when I had transparently confirmed to you of how crucial it was that you made sure it was kept cautiously, and you failed to retrieve the prophecy and bring it to me."

"But Snape had overheard it from that new teacher recruit at that pub in Hogsmeade," Malfoy said wonderingly.

"Yes," Voldemort said quietly, "but you have know right to know why I needed it. Anyway, all the same, I need you back. The one thing standing between me and Harry Potter is now eliminated, but that will only make the boy more determined than ever. And I still don't have the information."

"What information?" Malfoy asked.

"The knowledge of how to destroy him, you idiot!" Voldemort exclaimed, suddenly impatient. "Have you not been thinking since you were arrested! Have you decided to consider this a vacation to ease your mind? I thought that you would have figured it out by now!"

Malfoy's eyes were wide in fear. He knew that even if he let one more wrong word slip from his mouth, he'd be cursed and forgotten for good.

Summoning all the courage he had with a deep breath, he pleaded, "I am ashamed of my clumsiness to your word. I have done wrong for so long, and I wish to rejoin you and become a noble Death Eater again, this time to fully understand you. Will my master please forgive me tonight?"

Malfoy did not cry, but it would have seemed as if he was on the verge of it. Voldemort grinned again, the meanest of all of them this time. Malfoy could tell that this was the, "You're weak," look, but instead, Voldemort chuckled a nasty little chuckle, but some how, all the same, it was a bit reassuring.

"I was here for you anyway," he said, "but you are to obey my every command exactly as I say it this time and if you fail to do them correctly, you will be killed as soon as your results reach me. Understand?"

"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy nodded, feeling a little better now. Voldemort drew up his wand a little higher, and, with a few complicated flicks, made a black cloak, just like the two he wore, appear out of nowhere, and shoved it without care between the bars and dropped it onto the floor, leaving it with a bunch of dirty wrinkles on it. Malfoy picked it up and started to put it on, but as he did, he saw the rat he saw earlier, scared, come out of its hole. Voldemort must have seen it too because he responded: "Wormtail was a fool. A wimp, like your son."

Malfoy was about to shout again, but Voldemort eased this emotion by raising his hand up for silence and said, "I had sent him to Snape for assistance while I helped your son get the Death Eaters into the castle. Don't know where he is now. He was a horrible servant anyway. That's why I have decided to let you take his place."

Malfoy's, "heart," (if he had one) leapt again at the sound of this. His new servant? He couldn't of heard right. He literally thought this in astonishment, and made sure.

"Me?" he gulped, exasperated. He could not believe his ears.

"Yes, yes, you damn fool!" Voldemort shrieked shrilly. It was so shrill that Malfoy had to cover his ears.

Once everything seemed to be quiet, at the precise right moment, Malfoy asked, "Um, sir? I… I-I have just a couple of questions?"

"What are they?" Voldemort questioned, easily annoyed.

"Well, first… was it easy to curse Snape…?

Voldemort laughed shortly and said, a little more conversationally, "Now, that's an interesting question. Snape was already down in his office. I had Apparated there to see that Filius was giving him some kind of orders. Was talking about how Malfoy had gotten the Mark above the Astronomy tower and how the Death Eaters had surrounded the castle. I tried taking Snape by surprise, but he had gone into my mind from behind. Clever, but weak man."

"And he took over?" Malfoy asked, feeling a little more delighted because he had gotten conversation going.

"If he did, then I would not be here to discuss it, idiot," Voldemort said annoyed again, but pleased to retell his encounter with Snape. "Anyway, he nearly took over, but he didn't seem to reach the part of my brain that caused reflexes just yet. I cursed his body right away, and he floated out of my head to take orders.

"J-just one more question," Malfoy sputtered, "Why was the diary so important.

At this, Voldemort gave a great sigh, and said, "I guess you should understand. When I was at Hogwarts, I had asked Professor Slughorn, the old potions teacher, about Horcruxes, which I had read about in a library book and it only said that Horcruxes were extremely Dark magic. I was in this club with Slughorn, and I had thought that Horcruxes were some kind of potions, so that's why I asked him. He said that Horcruxes were things to conceal part of your soul. Ordinarily, one of the few people on Earth who had done it had only split their soul in half, but since seven is the most powerfully magic number, I split it into seven, one piece still in my body.

"So because you have these Horcrux things," Malfoy said, "it's why you can't die."

"Precisely," said Voldemort, who was still looking at the rat. "And the diary was one of them. Since Potter destroyed it with the basilisk's fang, I have yet again one more part of me dead. And Dumbledore, resulting with a burnt hand, had a lot of trouble destroying my old grandfather's ring.

"So if all the Horcruxes are found and destroyed," Malfoy said, "you'll be like any other mortal man?"

"Of course, idiot," Voldemort said simply, but he was a little angry to remind himself of the bad things that keep happening. "But now, Potter understands Horcruxes, as well as Dumbledore had recently, and someone has taken one of them."

"What did this person take?" asked Malfoy, who was so curious now.

"Slytherin's locket. He replaced it with a fake one in that cave that I tortured a few kids from my old orphanage. Dumbledore would have never understood my acts."

"And who took it?"

Voldemort frowned again. "That's not to be known to any of my Death Eaters, nor will the location of the remaining Horcruxes."

There was an unpleasant silence, and Malfoy used it to hear all the noise going on outside. There were lots of voices yelling peculiar words, and lots of frantic people pleading, and for the first time, Malfoy noticed that there was a cold mist running slowly through the window.

"Dementors," Malfoy decided to mutter to himself and Voldemort, but Voldemort didn't seem to be paying much attention. He was concentrating very hard on something on the floor. Malfoy turned to look at where Voldemort's gaze was aiming at the floor. They were both now looking at the rat, which seemed to be frightened. Malfoy looked back up at Voldemort, who seemed to have realized something.

"Quickly, grab it!" Voldemort screeched at Malfoy at the top of his lungs, and Malfoy made a lousy attempt. He scooped up where the rat was just at, but it turned out to be air and a few dust specks.

"It went back into the hole, fool!" shrieked Voldemort again. "Catch it!"

Malfoy withdrew his wand from his pocket, kneeled down, stuck it quarter ways into the hole, and shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and peeking into the hole; he smiled and pulled the wand out. About three feet from the wand, the rat came out, and it seemed to be being pulled by some invisible string hanging from the wand. But once Malfoy lifted his wand up, the invisible string seemed to be pointing straightly in the direction of the rat that the wand was pointing at.

"Pettigrew!" Voldemort said, and Malfoy finally understood. "Bolcamisso!" He yelled, and a jet of blue light came from the tip of his wand and shot at the rat. Immediately, the rat not only started to grow, but seemed as if it was changing. For it was beginning to look more human. When the transformation was fully complete, a man fell to the floor, scrambled to his feet, and Malfoy and Voldemort got a better look at him. He was a short man, but it could be said that he was a little plump. He had tangled hair going this way and that, but one big bald spot remained on the middle of his head. He was nervous as he eyed Voldemort and in a scared voice he said, "M-Master."

"Peter Pettigrew!" Malfoy raged, and caught the back of Peter Pettigrew's collar as if he were still a rat. "So he's an Animagus?"

"Correct," Voldemort answered, looking somewhat pleased all of a sudden, looking down at Pettigrew's frightened face. Voldemort had a slight grin on, and his eyelids were half down, as if watching two little kids having a physical fight, being amused by it.

"Clever of you to follow me here, Pettigrew," Voldemort said, as if they were having a polite conversation rather than a surprising reunion. "But why?" What happened?"

Sniveling a little bit first, Pettigrew replied reluctantly, "S-Since Snape had gone, I w-wished to be free."

"I see," said Voldemort quietly. His aura of menace kept about him, making even Malfoy wince every now and then.

"I s-saw the Dark Mark above A-Azkaban," Pettigrew continued. "I had t-transformed and spied on L-Lucius behind me here."

"That's enough for me," Voldemort said seemingly politely, holding up a cold hand to demand silence, but Malfoy knew that he was really pulling something. But what? "I shall guess the rest. You snuck in and found me Apparating here to let Malfoy here be my servant, but you became jealous. But now you know about everything we have just discussed together, thinking that no one else was overhearing us, is that what you mean to say?"

Pettigrew did not answer. He could not have been more scared than he was at all in his time in the cell. He knew that if he said yes, than Voldemort would take it as if he was to say everything exactly as Voldemort had said it, making him point his wand had recite the curse, and if he said no, than Voldemort would get mad and kill him just the same. But he wondered what the consequences were for not responding. How would his lord take it?

"I understand," Voldemort said at last, his grin curling up again unsurely. "I see that you are too afraid to answer yes, but I understand just the same." And with that, he lifted his wand up, pointed it between the two cell bars in front of him and yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" A jet of green light came shooting out of his wand, and Pettigrew was hit. Malfoy thrust his arms out, breaking his grasp so he could not be affected on the hands once he backed away. Once the green was gone, Pettigrew fell to the floor, and once on the floor, he didn't budge. His eyes were wide open, but they seemed lifeless. Peter Pettigrew had died.

There was a large hustle outside after the curse had been shot. Voldemort's high voice had carried out through Malfoy's cell window. They must've heard it coming from inside.

"Quickly," said Voldemort, "there isn't much time." And, without any warning or gesture, Voldemort recited the incantation to another spell as he pointed his wand at the bars again, and they blasted onto the floor. Malfoy had fallen onto the floor from the odd implosion, and even more dust covered the area. Malfoy was coughing seriously, but, determined to be a good servant, climbed back up immediately and walked out of his cell happily.

"Couldn't you have just opened the lock?" Malfoy asked a little annoyed because of the blast, positioning himself on Voldemort's right, looking at the destroyed cell as Voldemort did. Voldemort smiled and said, "I don't use secondary magic tricks anymore, Lucius."

Malfoy breathed heavily before asking, "My Lord?"

"Yes?" Voldemort said turning his boney head towards the exasperated Malfoy.

"I just have one more question."

"Ask away, but hurry."

"What will happen to Hogwarts?"

Lord Voldemort grinned the second widest he had during their chat. "Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry is now closed, thanks to your son." And with that, he swayed around, and there was another loud crack as he Disapparated. Smiling to, Lucius Malfoy followed suit. They had escaped Azkaban without leaving a single trace.