A/N: As you may or may not have noticed, this fan-fic is Harry, Hermione and Ron's seventh year at Hogwarts. Very AU. My apologies.
Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-
The Stone Speaks
Two: The Stone Of Montol
DRACO
With a swirl of green smoke, a tall, lean young man appeared from the empty fireplace. Draco Malfoy dusted his robes off, and stepped away from the hearth, should any other members of the group decide to Floo while he was standing there.
For many years, the Death Eaters had met in Malfoy Mansion, which, highly convenient as it was, had been extremely annoying, to be having lunch when the Dark Lord appears, expecting you to cater to his every need. The Ministry had discovered that this was the hiding place of the Death Eaters, and had stormed it. Luckily everyone had Disapparated (Draco had simply hidden in the kitchen, and then came out, looking surprised, with a glass of orange juice when Mr. Fudge arrived), but the meeting place had to be moved.
Thankfully, Draco could now relax in his own house, as the meetings were now held weekly in the Lestrange castle, in the far North of England. It was far to travel, but it was out of the way. An empty apartment block nearby provided an excellent place to Floo, as it would be highly rude for anyone but the Dark Lord to Apparate or Floo straight into Bellatrix Lestrange's dining room.
Draco smoothed a few strands of platinum blonde hair back, and then walked briskly from the apartment block, his dark robe snapping around his ankles. As he stepped into the lamplight where he could be seen, he flipped his Death Eaters' hood up, then continued, the dim glow of the Muggle street-lamps lighting up his pale face.
He stopped at the grand, iron-wrought gates, with the curving letter L spun into the metal, and pointed his wand at his heart. Then Draco muttered the Death Eater's vow, hating how mere words could ensnare and choke his heart like a boa constrictor. The gates creaked open, welcoming him, and then, as he continued, somewhat nervously, down the winding cobbled path, the gates clanked shut omninously.
Before Draco even reached the oak doors they swung open to let him in, and the whole we-know-where-you-are-at-all-times feel of the castle sent a shiver swooping down his spine. The rest of the Death Eaters were already seated around the fabulous dining table when Draco entered, and the seventeen-year-old slipped into the nearest chair. "I apologize for my lateness, my Lord," he said, curling his fists so as to keep his voice from shaking. The prescence of the most dangerous man alive always unnerved him.
"No matter," Lord Voldemort said coldly, and a fat green snake slithered from around his neck onto the mahogany table, curling up in a loose coil and staring directly at Draco with cruel, beady eyes. "What news is there for me?"
A short, pudgy man cleared his throat. "M'Lord," he said excitedly, "I have news – Potter is back at school."
Lord Voldemort eyed the speaker, as if trying to contemplate if he was serious. "Hogdson, considering that it is September, and Potter has one year left at Hogwarts, then yes, I've already realized where he would be," he said icily.
Hodgson's mouth formed an 'O' of acknowledgment, and looked down at the table shamefacedly. "Sorry, m'Lord," he muttered.
A smirk pulled at Lord Voldemort's lips, but the madman hid it, and glared around at the rest of the Death Eaters. "Anything else? Or are you all such disloyal subjects that you've done nothing for me?" he snapped.
There was a haughty sniff. "These scum may have done nothing towards you, my Lord," declared Bellatrix Lestrange, whose castle it was, "but I have!" She stood, fiercely beautiful with her curly black tresses cascading down her thin back, crossed to where Lord Voldemort sat, looking upon her interestedly, and then she dropped into a bow so low it looked painful to Draco's young eyes.
Lord Voldemort arched one hairless, white eyebrow, and leant back in his chair, stroking the head of his snake, Nagini. "Go on," he said casually.
Bellatrix' breath audibly quickened, and she flexed her fingers in anticipation. "I have found something to help you return to power," she said gleefully. She looked like a small child at Christmas, practically on the verge of bouncing up and down.
Lord Voldemort's attention left Nagini and narrowed his scarlet eyes at his most faithful servant. After a moment of judging her loyalty, "Go on," he repeated, his long fingers leaving Nagini (indignant at being ignored, she slithered back on her master's shoulders).
Bellatrix took a deep breath. "In the Goblin Wars of 1422, Montol the Great was killed. He possessed the Stone of Hladmir. Hladmir was a great Goblin sorceror, many centuries old. He created a Stone, a put all of his powers into it – his ability to stop and control Time, his magic, his Invisibility… and his power to control Death."
"This isn't a history lesson, Lestrange, get on with it!" Lord Voldemort stopped, but the controlling Death part was highly catching his fancy, Draco could tell.
"Montol was relieved of the burden of carrying so much wisdom, and he felt a million years younger. But – if someone else where to find that Stone, they could destroy civilization as we all knew it." (Lord Voldemort's eyes lit up) "So Montol cast it into an amulet, an amulet that he would wear at all times, so that his power never left him.
"In the Goblin Wars, when Montol the Great was killed, the amulet still retained his power. Had Montol left the power in his body, his magical abilities would have disappeared into the mud. However, he didn't, and the Stone of Montol lived on," Bellatrix finished.
A smirk was unfolding on Lord Voldemort's face. "If I were to have the Stone of Montol, I would be immortal," he mused to himself, "I could kill anyone, without even having to try. I could ambush in Invisibility." He looked up, crimson eyes sparkling maliciously. "All I have to do is find the Stone."
Draco frowned. Everyone else might be oblivious to it, but he saw just the tiniest flaw in this magnificent plan. "But, my Lord," he interrupted over the quiet chatter of the rest of the Death Eaters, "the battlefield is sunken in mud, and the Goblin Wars were leagues ago. The Stone could be anywhere, across seven acres, up to five miles down under filth, fossils and even stone. Where do you suggest we start looking, exactly?"
Draco hoped that his sarcasm didn't over-rule his sensibility, and lowered his gaze from the Dark Lord's, so as not to seem disrespectful.
A hush filled the room as everyone thought this over. Then Bellatrix burst out in a cackle. "So naïve!" she laughed.
Lord Voldemort, and Draco, and just about everyone else in the room, looked at her inquisitively. "What," Lord Voldemort said dully, "are you on about now?" Nagini flared her nostrils at the dark-haired woman, sharing her master's irritation, and flickered her tongue.
Bellatrix grinned evilly. "As it happens, Malfoy, we don't have to look for it."
Draco winced slightly; he had always been Malfoy Junior, or Draco, when Lord Voldemort was in a good mood. His father had been Malfoy, and this name-change cut into the fresh wound in Draco's heart that he was now an orphan. Pushing these matters aside, though, in place of more urgent matters, such as the Dark Lord, he leaned forwards in his chair to find out more.
"And why not?" Lord Voldemort drawled, inspecting his fingers carelessly.
"Because, as it happens, someone else has already found it for us," Bellatrix Lestrange sneered, "and made our job a lot easier."
The Dark Lord steepled his fingers and peered at Bellatrix over the tops of them, in a fashion uncannily similar to Albus Dumbledore, and Draco shivered again.
"And who might this person be?" grunted Macnair, surprising Draco. Macnair usually remained silent for the meetings; he preferred killing people than sitting around discussing the people they had killed, would kill, or wanted to kill.
Bellatrix smiled malovently.
"Ginny Weasley."
A/N: Oooo the suspense. That was kind of predictable but oh well. Please review!