Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
All 4: (in the corner, tuckered out)
Me: It's naptime now. Chapter 15 took some thinking, and my muses worked nonstop. On a completely unrelated note, we're out of Maxwell House. Anyway, here is Fifteen for your reading pleasure. I said it might get a little wordy, but not to worry. This story isn't all about sex—
Draco: (mumbles) But it'd make it a lot more interesting…
Me: (scowls) I think we have enough action. Chapters 5, 10, and 14 pleased my readers enough, and we got much more to come. Oh, and a couple of days ago I went to my account and saw that this fic received over 1200 hits thus far (Chapter 5 being very popular)! I was mind-boggled! Sure, hits don't really mean anything and I didn't get nearly as enough reviews, but that's another thing. This story also got more reviews than any other I've written, even more than "Sailor Potter R". You think we're ready to start archiving?
Harry: (mumbles) That's a little risky…are there even any other Lucius/Ron supporters out there besides you?
Me: There has to be. Otherwise I wouldn't have reviewers, and I've seen quite a few Lucius/Ron fics out there. Anyway, I got four notices. First, I've decided to use a few hints from HBP. Of course it doesn't make it fully compatible (especially since in this story a certain two people are still walking around). Next, I went back and did some more edits. Reading back, some stuff looked bad, and there was a preface to the original story, but FF didn't allow prefaces. Curse my mistakes; I hate confusing my precious readers.
Lucius: So why do you do it so often?
Me: (hits him over the head with an alarm clock)
Lucius: Ow.
Me: Also, after this we're going to swerve away from the Lucius/Ron for a while and go to the good ol' fashioned Harry/Draco!
Harry: (sits up) About time. The whole book series is about me!
Draco: Prima donna.
Harry: Oh, you're one to talk. By the way, Texas called. They want all their oil tankers back.
Draco: Why you—! (a fight ensues)
Me: And how exactly will I be able to turn these warring young wizards into a match made in heaven? Well, won't that be a feat. (breaks it up by knocking them over the head) Now let's find out what Mr. Zabini's been up to!
Harry and Ron: Yay! (steal remote) Rolling Chapter 15!
(Begin Chap. 15)
…Wednesday evening, 9:26 p.m. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
The place may've retained its gloomy physical structure, and the portrait of the crabby Mrs. Black continued to berate anyone near the entrance who disturbed her rest from time to time. Nevertheless, no amount of peeling paint or creeping shadow in the House of Black could have torn down the air of achievement from within. On Thursday, the Order was finally going to retrieve the Weasleys' youngest son from the clutches of Lucius Malfoy. That was later than initially proposed, but they were lucky the decision was even made at all.
A few days earlier the House of Black had been nearly bursting at the seams with compromise and furor as Harry battled it out with the three main authorities of the Order who didn't wish to see him use more of his parents' money. Mr. Weasley was the first to crumble; everyone foresaw that. The surprising thing was that they also predicted Lupin buckling before Moody, which didn't happen.
But everyone felt this, at least: the once-mutual relationship between Harry and Lupin was fast deteriorating, and no one could explain why. The first guess was that Lupin was becoming attached to the leadership of Mad-Eye Moody, but it didn't provide an additional theory as to why Harry was gaining respect for the other man. Tired, all they could do was boil it down to the stress of the current circumstances. The war was changing everyone.
On the subject of someone else, Mr. Weasley had been gone to a lot of meetings in the past couple of weeks. Way before this fiasco had started, he had been promoted to a newly created department. The Ministry was working itself into a blur despite the possible overthrow of Fudge on the horizon. Still, his recent absences from his other duties as a member of the Order couldn't be explained by his promotion. Only once had he surfaced back at the House of Black to give them a few spoilers. One person that came up in his reports a lot was a witch named Umira Mills. She was getting even more attention than Fudge himself, as she was Head of the Department of Magical and Muggle Crises, a department seldom heard of until now. She was new and young yet very experienced—and she had no heart for Fudge's mistakes either.
This was most likely why on Wednesday night, at 9:26 p.m., both she and Mr. Weasley Apparated into the dim-lit parlor. Her hair was nearly as red as any Weasley's, soft and flowing down to the small of her back. Her violet eyes were small and decisive, and she wore a black cloak fastened by an amethyst brooch. The few members of the Order who had been sitting there gaped in surprise, too puzzled to make a sound. After the initial shock wore off, Lupin finally made a daring move to welcome her.
"You must be Umira Mills, the one we've been hearing so much about. I apologize for being so blunt, but—"
"You want to know if I came here on Fudge's orders to shut down this operation. Heavens no. If I were Minister, however bold the move would be, I'd probably give you your own entire department. I also apologize if you've had to clean up after Cornelius's messes."
Moody immediately stood up. "We don't necessarily make bad-mouthing a hobby, but it feels good to hear someone else within the Ministry who sympathizes with our cause."
Clockwise, he began to sweep a gesturing hand across the room, introducing people one by one. "I am—"
"Wait, don't tell me. You are Alastor Moody, former Auror and now more of less the leader of the Order. This is Remus Lupin, former teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and—if you don't mind me pointing out—a werewolf. That man in the corner is Elphias Doge. The woman with the pink hair is Nymphadora Tonks, who preferably likes to be called 'Tonks', and she's a Metamorpmagus. Very rare. The woman over there in the dark green robes is Emmeline Vance—haven't seen you in a while. And this—" she turned to her immediate left "—must be Arthur's wife, Molly. Of course this isn't everybody. Shacklebolt, Jones, Diggle, and Podmore are tending to other business."
Everyone stared at her aghast. Moody turned to Mr. Weasley and sputtered sadistically, "Is there anything else you left out about us, Arthur!"
"Oh, don't blame Mr. Weasley," laughed Mills. "In fact, he was very cautious with me, too—you have to be in these times. I am a Seer, although I don't practice as frequently anymore. I'm afraid my Inner Eye is wasting away. Politics have me tied, especially when a war's coming up."
Doge nodded understandably. "So what brings you to our headquarters, Miss Mills?"
"It's about the case concerning your son, and I'm very relieved at the decision Arthur and I have come up with. Fudge almost got poor Ron killed."
"How!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
"As you suspected, Mr. Moody, Fudge was planning reconnaissance on the Manor with a follow up raid on the 20th. Fortunately I talked him out of it…no easy task, I'll tell you. He wanted to avoid bargaining with a Death Eater at any cost."
"How noble of him," Tonks replied scathingly.
"Yes indeed," Mills replied with equal candor. "In order for me to fully convince him, though, I had to tell him a little bit of the truth. I only told him the part about where the money will be coming from. We'll be counting on Potter for that, I assume?"
A twitch appeared on Lupin's face.
"Yes," he said reluctantly. Umira gave a piteous glance and took it upon herself once again to unravel a mystery.
"I know you feel it was out of Potter's place to give up his money. After all, it was one of their last legacies his parents left for him. But can you honestly say you or his parents would feel better if he was spending that money on himself and not on others who're in need at a time like this? When you get right down to it, what he needs are his friends, not the Galleons needed to get them out of harm's way."
Lupin stayed quiet. She undoubtedly had a good point.
"In any case, although he's the provider, we feel it best if Potter doesn't come along. We arranged it so that I, Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Fudge himself are there for the exchange. The date is still set for tomorrow at three. We will have our wands out in the open if we're demanded to put them down," explained Umira.
"Who goes first?" Vance spoke up.
"Certainly the most risky part, and that'll be bargained upon when we get there. Even then, I don't believe he can easily fool a Seer…no boasting intended. As to the rest of the arrangements, we Owled Mr. Malfoy and he graciously agreed. The exchange will take place at the Leaky Cauldron in one of the second-floor rooms so he won't have an easy escape in the event he tries to fool us."
"You've done negotiations before?" inquired Tonks in amazement.
"To be honest, half of what I learned came from those Muggle cop shows. I find them so intriguing…and I had to do a few bargains in the Ministry. Not with Death Eaters, though."
"Five negotiations and she's never lost a deal or a hostage," Mr. Weasley added proudly. Umira blushed.
"And we hope this shall be her sixth success," Moody grumbled. "She seems more than experienced when it comes to hostages. Can she provide us information as well?"
"On this alchemist Potter told you about? The name's familiar, but I haven't heard too much about Callisto Zabini. These types of case files normally are in the Aurors' jurisdiction. But I wouldn't worry—your Order has yet to let important data slip through its fingers. Wait until about 11:15."
…As promised, almost two hours later, the form of a bald, black guy Apparated beside Tonks. Three more loud pops indicated the arrival of Hestia Jones, Dedalus Diggle, and Sturgis Podmore. Without so much as a hello, Shacklebolt beckoned everyone into the rundown dining room where it would be warmer, have more room, and hopefully be out of listening range of a certain someone upstairs. It was only then that formal greetings were possible.
"The illustrious Umira Mills, head of the Department of Magical and Muggle Crises. Thank you for contributing to the Order of the Phoenix."
"I wouldn't say 'illustrious', Mr. Shacklebolt. Just credit it to cleverness and organization. Now, I presume you found out who exactly Callisto Zabini is and what his current project is."
"She's a Seer," Tonks whispered audibly to the confounded man.
"Oh. Well, yes, I have, and on the basis of the other info Arthur's son gave us in his note, it's confirmed. Malfoy is usually trusted to finance the Death Eaters if ever they need something which requires money in particular. Recently, of course, Fudge gave the order for his assets in Gringotts to be frozen. Unfortunately for him, they did it at the worst possible time," he said in his trademark calm, deep voice. "If they hired Zabini, then of course they have to pay him. That, as Ron said, is where the 1,500 Galleons are going."
"We were able to look up the files for Zabini, and there was enough information to satisfy our needs, but things are starting to look dangerous," Podmore added. "Zabini was—and presumably still is—in service to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, he was one of the few exceptions: Zabini was never caught in any raid or other operation the Death Eaters have ever done. His only indictment was a few years ago, when a tip led the Ministry to raid his house and they discovered many illegal potion ingredients in his workplace. He got a heavy fine, but nothing more."
"In both the raid report and the log book confiscated from Mr. Zabini's workplace, it was commented on that the ingredients discovered in particular were being used as experimentation on making…," she hesitated.
"Making what? Speak up, Jones," Moody encouraged.
"Um…I'm not sure if anyone's heard of this serum. Its study is deep within the realms of alchemy and the Dark Arts, alchemy being a practice rarely done now…which is why Zabini is so valuable and why You-Know-Who's been keeping him out of trouble. There's a low chance he'd find anyone else in England as talented as Zabini. Even then, both alchemists and Dark wizards throughout history haven't dared to bother with it. Those who did ran into terribly bad luck, gone mad and such. Its notoriety ranks right up there with the Unforgivable Curses."
"Now, this serum tampers with the concept of ego and the human psyche. Any one of us sitting here at this table can be considered 'good', but the truth is that no matter how good a person may seem, they always have some sort of deep-seated fear or mistrust. A 'bad' side, if you will, and this potion unlocks that side of you," continued Shacklebolt. "In Mr. Zabini's log book, he says the name of this potion is called the Malefecium Elixir. When you drink it, he continues writing, it's supposed to feel as if you're drinking air."
"I never heard of a potion with such a light viscosity. What are its effects?"
"It's a very risky guess, but either way it isn't anything good. It doesn't say outright—he copied a piece of prose from an old text written by the last alchemist ever to attempt concocting the Malefecium Elixir. The prose itself is from an even older time. Diggle copied the poem and brought it back. Dedalus, show them what we found."
Diggle jumped a little, excitable as usual, then reached into his robes and pulled out a long scrap of rolled-up parchment. Carefully unrolling it, he laid it out onto the table for everyone to see. Shacklebolt leaned over and placed a pointing finger on the inked words, reciting it aloud.
" 'If one should drink this serum of air, their life shall be thrown into deepest despair. A smile will turn nasty with most horrible reason; you will find true horror within a year's season. Your kindness and courage shall be all but a lie. Your mind will be addled, and you'll never know why. It magnifies your anger, quickens your fear; you'll be the reason you lose everything dear. Happiness becomes madness, light becomes dark; the demons within you you'll find to hark. Enemies become friends, friends become foes, and then you will face life's terrible woes. The antidote is simple, if that is what you seek; find your true love's lips within a moon's week. But a warning to all, it may not be of ease. You may find yourself killing them, listening to their pleas. To all those who so do this remember only this last phrase: the next new moon will be the end of your days.' "
"Now that's scary," piped up Tonks.
"Dreadful," shuddered Jones.
"Well, the poem is too, but I was talking about something else. I know it's only coincidence, but doesn't 'Malefecium' sound an awful lot like 'Malfoy'?"
There was silence in the room for about two minutes—that was too much of a coincidence.
"They do share one thing: root languages. Malfoy is Old French, likewise taken from Latin, where Malefecium also comes from. The basic meaning is 'bane', 'bad', or even 'evil' in some contexts. Some of the poem's riddle we can make out, but there's other parts which puzzle even me. If anyone wants to make contributions now, say so," Podmore challenged.
"The ending is pretty straightforward," said Lupin, speaking up at last, "but you'd have to understand two other parts. In the beginning it says the poem will have a full effect 'within a year's season'. By reckoning each season is roughly three months, so it most likely takes that long. The second part says that a true love's kiss will cure you if and only if you find them 'within a moon's week'."
"And that isn't a regular, seven-day week," Doge added. "Could it be talking about the phases of the moon?"
"My guess exactly. So whatever moon phase it is by the end of those first three months, it'd take the time it takes for the cycle to go back to that same stage for the victim to find the cure. Personal experience made me especially aware that takes about 27 days."
"So after those 27 days are done—" Tonks started.
"There's no more hope, and the next new moon will signal the time of your death," Vance finished with a slight flinch. "Not only that, but the poem says you have a very slim chance of fulfilling the cure's requirement. Like Kingsley said, the potion basically makes you go mad and unleashes your 'bad' side. Who you hated become your allies, and you begin to chase after your friends, loved ones, and anyone else who gets in your way. If you come to hunt down your true love anyway…"
"Then technically, there's no antidote! Who in their right mind would invent a potion like this?" Tonks exclaimed.
"I don't know, but one thing's for sure. At the time of the raid, Callisto Zabini was in the process of doing what no other alchemist was able to do before him—perfecting the Malefecium Elixir," Jones answered. "And there's a good chance that's what You-Know-Who is paying him to finish the job. Considering how far he was able to go before the raid, and with this money he's going to get…"
"But there's one question left to answer."
Everyone turned to pay attention to Umira, who decided to chip in.
"Who is You-Know-Who's intended target?"
"Good question. I myself got two names in my head right now, but it doesn't make them the only possible targets. He could be after anybody. Still, considering those possibilities and all the people they love—it's a frightening thought, and I've seen a lot in my day," Moody mused in a half-whisper. "Think of the person you love most standing over you, not recognizing you anymore, preparing to cast an Unforgivable Curse."
The entire room became silent again, reluctantly bringing to mind nightmares worthy enough to satisfy a legion of Boggarts.
"So if he is working on perfecting the Elixir," Diggle said at last, "will we at least try to investigate after the exchange is done?"
"Point taken! We can't just stand around if they're using Harry's money for an evil potion like this which could reach anybody at any time."
"The good news would be that by then, we'll already have Ron, so there wouldn't be any more risk factors if we do decide to pull off a follow-up investigation. For that step, I'll leave it in Fudge's hands, since he's good in at least those matters—but only as a precaution," Mills advised.
Moody stood up. "Then I suggest we get some sleep. Tomorrow and these following days will be of the utmost importance. I'm just as curious and determined to stop this Malefecium Elixir before it falls into an innocent's hands as anyone. Arthur, Molly, you wouldn't mind taking Potter back to the Burrow for the remainder of the summer?"
"Of course not."
"Right then. Here's to hoping their son will return safe and sound…"
(End Chap. 15)
Harry: For this being a HP fanfic, I am barely seen in this story so far!
Me: Will you stop worrying? You're about to show up soon! Here, to ease your tension I finally got around to making you a Draco Malfoy plushie. Actually, it can be considered a 'Tickle-Me-Draco', but a bit more…mature.
Draco: How?
Me: This plushie I made so that it comes with an endless barrage of HP-related innuendo and sexy smirks only a Malfoy could pull off. Harry, press his left hand.
Harry: (presses)
Plushie: "I've heard about your amazing adventures in the Chamber of Secrets second year, Potter. But are you ready to enter mine?" (smirks)
Harry: (eyes grow wide, then hugs it with glee) Thank you, Kim-chan!
Plushie: "Not so tight, Potter—which makes me a bit of a hypocrite, considering the compliment I gave you last night." (smirk)
Ron: I believe this is the real reason this whole fic was rated M.
Me: Anyway, the next chapter is what most of you have probably been waiting for so long but I couldn't because it's always a precedent to set up the plot and such. Will Lucius be ready to let Ron go? Where's this Malefecium Elixir headed to once its finished?
Lucius: Will Dr. Kim-chan stop asking questions like it's the end of a daytime soap opera? I advise that you wait for Chapter Sixteen. (Me: Hey!)