There'll be killin's next!
Chapter 2: Lucius Malfoy
It had been a long hard evening's work, ah, persuading the recalcitrants, but finally he'd got all twelve signatures on the parchment and he couldn't resist gloating over his achievement - so he'd given orders that he was to be informed the moment that the Minister for Magic arrived at Hogwarts, and then he'd gone down to the dungeons, broken the lock on Severus' office - that wasn't difficult, it was only intended to keep out students - lit the fire with a flick of his wand, ordered a bottle of wine, and sent the house-elf who brought it to fetch the Head of Slytherin.
He throws off his long black travelling cloak and warms himself in front of the fire, cursing the Anti-Apparition wards which had meant such a long walk up to the castle through the chilly spring night air, and wonders when Fudge will arrive - because it would be best to confront Dumbledore in Fudge's presence, no, it is essential to confront Dumbledore in Fudge's presence. Dumbledore might be getting on a bit, but he's still a wily old fox … and the only wizard that the Dark Lord ever feared.
He glances around the room, nothing has changed since the last time he was here, except that Severus has acquired a few more interesting specimens, floating in the glass jars on the shelves behind his desk - the desk itself is covered with the usual piles of essays, the tidy piles of unmarked essays and the somewhat less tidy piles of marked ones. He rifles through the marked piles, looking for one of Draco's assignments, and then settles into a chair by the fire and sips from his goblet of wine.
He nods approvingly - an excellent vintage, but the house-elves would know better than to serve inferior stuff to a Malfoy – and thinks, it will be good to see Severus again, I don't see enough of him, hell, Narcissa sees more of him than I do! I didn't see him at Christmas, we were away, Narcissa was a little run down and she needed a few weeks in a warmer climate. I didn't worry about Draco staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, he's pure-blood, he's got nothing to fear from Salazar Slytherin's monster, and I told him so, though I didn't tell him much. I didn't tell Draco anything I didn't want Severus to find out - I know that Severus wouldn't hesitate to bend the Ministry guidelines on the use of Legilimency, and why not? It's the Slytherin way, and Severus is a true Slytherin, despite his foreign father – the family were from Bulgaria or Hungary or somewhere like that, some miserable place that the Muggles wrecked in the Grindelwald war ... people say that a hundred million Muggles died in that war, pity it wasn't more.
Yes, he thinks, it's been an age since I saw Severus, and Severus is my best friend ... Wilkes and Rosier died the year before the Dark Lord fell, Dolohov and Lestrange are in Azkaban, and as for the rest - Avery is a pusillanimous twat, Carrow is an ugly uncouth brute even if he is a pure-blood, and Crabbe and Goyle ... what does Severus say about them? A Muggle saying, but amusing, they can't walk and chew gum at the same time. Yes, Severus is my best friend, he's been my closest friend since he graduated from Hogwarts, and he was always my preferred partner on a mission – when we worked together we never failed, we never disappointed the Dark Lord.
For a moment he feels nostalgic for the old days, thinks, we had some fun in those days, Merlin's beard we had fun. And the Dark Lord didn't mind if we amused ourselves with the Muggle bitches before we killed them – but Severus was always a bit funny about that, he never joined in. I don't know what his problem was - after all, a Muggle is hardly more than an animal, really ... damn Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act!
He remembers the fight in Flourish and Blotts, Weasley hadn't even tried to hex him, he hadn't fought like a wizard – he'd used his fists like a Muggle – and thinks, what a dreadful example the man sets for his sons, no wonder they brawl like foul, common, dirt-veined Muggles! Draco told me how the youngest son attacked him at last year's Slytherin-Hufflepuff match, a disgusting display of Muggle duelling, though it's some consolation that Draco won the fight, gave the other boy a bloody nose ...
His lip curls with disgust at the memory, and he thinks, Arthur Weasley's fascination with Muggle rubbish, with their pathetic substitutes for magic ... it's revolting ... the fellow loves Muggles so much he should break his wand and go and live amongst them, like a filthy Squib. And it's galling that the Weasley line is as old and pure as the Malfoys', galling that they are distantly related by blood, galling that there are six sons in the Weasley brood of blood traitors – all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford ...
And then he thinks, Weasley might have a different attitude towards Muggles if one of his sons were to get mixed up with a Mudblood - Draco tells me that his youngest boy is friendly with the Mudblood Granger, oh yes, Arthur might think differently if that becomes more than friendship. And that's why Mudbloods shouldn't be allowed into Hogwarts, it leads to mixed marriages, pollution of the blood - Andromeda Black met the Mudblood Tonks at Hogwarts, to the eternal shame of her family. And maybe that's what brought her cousin Sirius back to our side - he must have come to his senses when his friend Potter disgraced an old and honourable pure-blood name by actually marrying a filthy Mudblood and breeding half-bloods with her.
The Dark Lord had the right ideas about Muggles and Mudbloods - I can't understand why my father wasn't more enthusiastic about him – the Dark Lord knew that if we can't keep the Mudbloods out of Hogwarts, we can't keep the Muggles out of our world, and that's why he gave me the diary, he told me it would release Slytherin's monster from the Chamber of Secrets and purge Hogwarts of the Mudbloods.
Filthy Mudbloods ... Karkaroff is a traitor and a coward, but at least he runs a proper school, not like Dumbledore - they don't admit Mudbloods at Durmstrang, and they teach the Dark Arts, not just the Defence rubbish that Draco is supposedly learning at Hogwarts. And Dumbledore doesn't even do a good job of that, I can't understand why he keeps passing over Severus' application for the position, he hired that pansy Lockhart this year – and the fellow can't even handle Cornish pixies! I would have sent Draco to Durmstrang, despite Narcissa's fussing that it was too far away to send regular owls, if I hadn't known that Severus would be here at Hogwarts to keep an eye on him.
And then he thinks, with a rush of tenderness, I couldn't have refused my darling Narcissa, I couldn't have refused my pure-blood princess - Draco is everything to her, her only son, and I couldn't give her more sons, I couldn't give her the children she wanted so desperately. We tried for Draco for four years after we were married and I couldn't understand it, I couldn't understand why she wasn't getting pregnant - it was a nasty shock when the Healers at St Mungo's told us that I was the one with the problem. No, I can't refuse Narcissa anything ... and Severus is Draco's Head of House, he's my old friend - Severus will tell me if some scheming little Mudblood trollop catches Draco's eye, and then something just might happen to her in the summer holidays, nothing crude and obvious like the Avada Kedavra, nothing that would attract the Ministry's attention - a car accident, perhaps, Muggles die every day in car accidents. Severus would help me to arrange that, he's good with Muggle things – maybe I should have taken Muggle Studies, like Severus - know your enemy, as Severus said when he was choosing his OWL subjects.
And not for the first time, he wonders – why has Severus stayed at Hogwarts for twelve years, when he was so unhappy here as a student? Those damned Gryffindors never left him alone, they even tried to kill him once – and he was furious when the Dark Lord ordered him here. He's a genius with potions, he could have done so much better for himself ... he's one of only half a dozen wizards in Europe who'd be up to brewing the new Wolfsbane Potion, which is ironic considering how much he hates werewolves. And I know exactly what his salary is, and even with his allowance as a Head of House it's pitiful - no wonder that pathetic old queer Slughorn was always cadging sugared pineapple, that man has no sense of proper wizarding pride despite his abilities and his pedigree, the disgusting way that he favoured Mudbloods and half-bloods when he was Head of Slytherin ... and a half-blood is only one step up from a filthy Mudblood!
Severus always says that he won't desert the post that the Dark Lord gave to him - does he really think that the Dark Lord will return? It's been eleven years since the Dark Lord fell, and there's been no sign, nothing, the Dark Mark hasn't burnt once. No, the Dark Lord isn't coming back, he must be dead. That business with Quirrell has spooked Severus, though, he actually seems to believe Dumbledore's ridiculous story that the Dark Lord was possessing Quirrell. I suppose he's worried because if the Dark Lord ever does return, he'll be in for a severe beating - the Dark Lord might even kill him. Severus wriggled out of trouble when the Dark Lord fell, wriggled out of trouble in a masterly fashion, spun Dumbledore a tale of deepest remorse, fooled him completely - what did Dumbledore say in the Wizengamot? Severus Snape is now no more a Death Eater than I am. Oh, Severus is a bright lad, all right - unlike most of the rest of us, he never spent a day in Azkaban – but the Dark Lord won't see it that way, he was always vengeful, and if he ever returns, Severus and Karkaroff will have a lot of explaining to do.
And then he thinks, with a thrill of fear, if the Dark Lord isn't finished, if he ever comes back- we'll all have a lot of explaining to do, all of us who walked free from Azkaban will have to explain ourselves, because only Bella and her little gang ever made any serious effort to find the Dark Lord, the rest of us fell over ourselves to distance ourselves from him. Not that I didn't suffer for his sake, I was in Azkaban for a week, I had to endure the humiliation of a full trial in Courtroom Ten - thank Merlin my father knew so many members of the Wizengamot – and I'm still on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's watch list! Every time the Ministry has a crackdown on the Dark Arts I have to endure the Aurors searching my home, upsetting my wife, it's outrageous that a Malfoy has to tolerate such humiliations ...
The door bangs open and Severus sweeps in, black robes billowing, the thin face expressionless and the black eyes guarded, but he knows that his friend is both pleased to see him and seething with fury. He thinks, when you've known Severus as long as I have, you can read the signs – he's really peeved, he knows that I'm behind all this trouble at Hogwarts and he doesn't like it all, no, he doesn't like being left in the dark about the Chamber of Secrets. He must be dying to know how I've managed it – it's a good thing I'm the one pouring the wine, or he might slip a few drops of Veritaserum into my drink - but this is my affair, I won't have Severus interfering ... and he'll be glad enough when he's appointed as Headmaster, the first Slytherin Headmaster since Phineas Nigellus, and about time, too!
He greets Severus warmly, pours him a goblet of wine, and leans back in his chair, studying him appraisingly, thinking, Severus looks good, very graceful and dangerous, and every inch the pure-blood wizard. I'd never say that he was handsome, but he's got presence, and the attractive witches notice him, nearly as much as they notice me - Narcissa admires him, and he certainly admires her!
He can't help smirking a little at the thought of how much his best friend would like to get into bed with his beautiful wife, and then he thinks - how Severus has changed since he was an ickle firstie, I thought I'd never seen such a scruffy unprepossessing little first year. He was all temper and talent in those days, he totally lacked polish - he learned that from me. Merlin knows what his family were like, he never talks about them - all I know is that his father's family were refugees from the Grindelwald war and his mother was a Slytherin. No money, that was clear … the father drank, I think, and they lived in some Muggle slum - no wonder Severus loathes Muggles, imagine being surrounded by them, urgh. And who would have thought that one day Severus Snape would be Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry … and he'll owe it to me, he owes everything to me, really – after all, I was the one who saw his potential, I was the one who recommended him to the Dark Lord.
Severus inquires politely after Narcissa, he asks about Draco – the boy is doing well - and then they get down to the business at hand ... the two Mudbloods who were attacked this today, and it's gratifying that Miss Granger is amongst them, Draco would be top of all his classes if it wasn't for that jumped up little bitch. It sounds like Dumbledore has panicked – six o'clock curfew, no evening activities, students escorted to each lesson by a teacher, no student to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher, evening patrols of the castle by teachers, prefects and ghosts – and he thinks with satisfaction, it's too late now, Dumbledore, I've got all twelve signatures on the Order of Suspension and you'll be out of Hogwarts this evening, Merlin willing.
He tells Severus that the Minister for Magic will be arriving shortly to take Hagrid to Azkaban, just as a precaution - apparently Hagrid was involved in a previous incident fifty years ago, which, incidentally, was why Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts ... and watches in amusement as Severus looks contemptuous, no, Severus doesn't believe for a moment that the half-breed savage could be connected to the Chamber of Secrets, despite his interest in dangerous beasts. What an idiot Fudge is, when it's blindingly obvious who the Heir of Slytherin must have been. Bloody hell, Harry Potter is more likely to be the Heir of Slytherin than Rubeus Hagrid! And that's a mystery – how is it that a Gryffindor half-blood possesses that rare and precious gift, the ability to speak Parseltongue?
And then he thinks, resentfully, that fool Fudge is the Minister for Magic, a position that I can never aspire to, all because of a few youthful, ah, indiscretions. I was cleared by a full hearing of the Wizengamot, but I'll never be Minister now, too many people whisper behind my back - and that blood traitor Arthur Weasley is one of them, the bastard!
He tosses the long roll of parchment to Severus and watches him glance through it ... his face twitches and he crumples the parchment before tossing it back to him. For a moment he's puzzled, Severus isn't as pleased as he'd expected at the news that Dumbledore has been suspended. And then he realises – of course, Severus is worried about his young Slytherins, and annoyed that McGonagall will be Acting Headmistress.
He refills their goblets, points out that only Mudbloods have been attacked, hints that he has reason to be absolutely confident that the Slytherins are perfectly safe – Slytherin's monster would hardly attack his own pure-blood students, would it? Really, Severus, he drawls, you don't think I'd risk the life of my only son and heir, do you? And as for Minerva McGonagall - she won't last, she's a plodder ...
But he doesn't get to finish what he was going to say, because he's interrupted by a tap at the door – speak of the devil, it's the old cat herself, sticking her face in to give Severus a disapproving look and to tell them the Minister has arrived, and that the Headmaster has accompanied him to Hagrid's hut. He ignores the look of intense dislike that McGonagall gives him, suavely apologises for distracting Severus from his duties, and assures her that he has business with the Headmaster touching upon the same matter that has brought Fudge to Hogwarts. He insists that he needs no escort through the grounds, thank you very much, he can find his own way to Hagrid's hut - but the ridiculous woman insists upon accompanying him as far as the Entrance Hall, for all the world as if he was some unsavoury visitor intent on pinching the household silver!
He strolls down to Hagrid's hut, but although he's smiling with anticipation at the prospect of driving Dumbledore out of Hogwarts, he can't ignore the fact that his heart is starting to beat a little faster at the thought of the coming confrontation. He raps loudly on the door, Dumbledore opens it but he doesn't greet him - just walks straight in and lets Fudge know that he's pleased to see him ... Hagrid isn't pleased to see him, though, not at all, and his slobbering mutt starts to growl.
"What're you doing here?" says Hagrid furiously. "Get outta my house!"
He remembers when the oaf dared to lay hands on him at Flourish and Blotts, how could the man imagine for an instant that anything other than duty would induce a Malfoy to set foot in his hovel?
"My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your – er – d'you call this a house?" he says, looking around the squalid single room and thinking, this place smells. "I simply called at the school and was told that the Headmaster was here."
Dumbledore, he is delighted to see, looks furious. "And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" he asks.
He savours the pleasure of dismissing Dumbledore for a moment ... the Muggle-loving old fool is the worst thing that ever happened to Hogwarts ... then pulls out the parchment.
"Dreadful thing, Dumbledore," he says, lazily, "But the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension – you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn't it? At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school."
Fudge panics, just as he expected.
"Oh, now, see here, Lucius," says Fudge, looking alarmed. "Dumbledore suspended ... no, no ... the last thing we want just now ..."
He congratulates himself on having the foresight to be present at the meeting between Fudge and Dumbledore, because Fudge is a weak reed - he bends in the strongest breeze, and Dumbledore could easily persuade Fudge to exercise the Ministry's plenary powers over Hogwarts or to send a flurry of owls to the entire Board if he wasn't here to manage the situation.
"The appointment – or suspension – of the Headmaster is a matter for the governors," he says, smoothly, "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks ..."
Fudge is in a complete funk now, his upper lip is actually sweating ... oh, this is delicious.
"Now look, Lucius, if Dumbledore can't stop them," he says, "I mean to say, who can?"
He smiles, nastily, and thinks, I can ... whenever it suits me, and when this is over, Arthur Weasley's daughter will be in St Mungo's, in the same ward as the Longbottoms - and no one will be interested in her father's ridiculous Muggle Protection Act!
"That remains to be seen," he says, "but as all twelve of us have voted ..."
Hagrid leaps to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling, and roars, "An' how many did yeh have to threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?"
Really, he thinks, that is such a crude way of putting it, I prefer to call it persuasion ... and I can't let this pass ...
"Dear, dear, you know that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one day, Hagrid," he says. "I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it at all."
Hagrid completely loses his head, starts shouting in his loutish peasant patois, "Yeh can' take Dumbledore! Take him away, an' the Muggle-borns won't stand a chance! There'll be killin's next!"
For a moment he hopes that the half-giant will do something violent, really get himself into trouble, but Dumbledore is intervening, telling Hagrid to calm himself.
Dumbledore is looking at him, locking bright blue eyes with his grey ones - and Dumbledore is a Legilimens. He throws up his defences, shielding all thoughts of the diary, Dumbledore mustn't know about the Dark Lord's diary, Dumbledore mustn't know how it got into Ginny Weasley's caudron. He thinks, I'm not a master of Occlumency, not like Severus - he could lie to the Dark Lord himself - but Dumbledore won't be able to see my thoughts without using his wand, and he wouldn't dare breach Ministry guidelines on the use of the spell, not in front of Fudge ...
But Dumbledore is conceding defeat, saying, "If the governors want my removal, I shall of course step aside."
Fudge is stuttering, Hagrid is growling ... but he's wary of openly showing his jubilation, Dumbledore still has his eyes fixed on his ...
"However," says Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly, "You will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
He thinks, what in Merlin's name is Dumbledore raving about? Is the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared going senile? And this has turned out to be a piece of cake, the old man is giving up without a fight – and I don't know why I was ever in awe of Albus Dumbledore, I graduated from Hogwarts over twenty years ago and I'm a governor of the school now, I'm not some snotty student he can put into detention!
He bows, ironically, "Admirable sentiments. We shall miss your – er - highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any – ah – 'killin's'."
But as he strides to the cabin door, opens it, and bows Dumbledore out, he thinks, I hope there are killings, four Mudbloods have been attacked, and no deaths yet, it's damned disappointing ...
Fudge and Hagrid are tagging behind, but he pays no attention to them, he's thinking, it's a Saturday night and I told Narcissa not to wait up for me, I'll persuade Severus to come out and celebrate with me - but not in Hogsmeade, it may be the only purely wizarding settlement in Britain but it's also a dreary little village and there's nowhere to go at this time of night other than the Hog's Head. Muggle-baiting is out of the question, but we can Floo down to London, visit one of the more exclusive establishments in Knockturn Alley, have a few drinks, hire a couple of girls, and really make a night of it - just like in the old days ...