Weaver of Dawn

by DynaDratina

In Year Six, Draco returns to Hogwarts as Death Eater, hoping to redeem his family before Voldemort. Hermione tries to keep calm in the face of increasing danger, but things change when she discovers a diadem in the Room of Reqiurement. Soon they find that their problems are connected, but their friendship has consequences: for themselves, their friends, and finally for two others.

2. Prologue (ii): The Order

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Prologue (ii): The Order
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No one knows when magic began. Some say that the very first humans were wizards, while others claim that a small number of people had gained the powers later on and passed them down genetically. Still others believe that both wizards and Muggles appeared at the same point in time, separated from the very beginning by the difference in their abilities. It was a question that occupied historians for centuries, yielding many attempts to trace wizarding history as far back in time as human intellect could allow. But all these efforts were in vain. No one could solve the mystery of magic's beginning, and no one ever would.

And yet, the more that wizards learned about their powers, and the more distinct their society grew from that of the Muggles, the more they began to treasure the documents of their world.

Located many miles beneath the streets of London, far beyond the bustle of everyday life, lies an enormous wing of the Ministry of Magic known as the Department of Origin. It serves as the Ministry's informational store, housing all of its documents and records. But it also contains relics of wizardkind as a whole, including copies of published works, runic ciphers that were used in the past to create spells, and the records of ancient wizarding families, whose affairs were so closely intertwined with the history of the times that it could well be said that they wrote it themselves. Standing inside the underground library, staring up at the enormous arched ceiling and surrounded by such a wealth of information, any visitor would feel enticed and empowered. For all the wizarding world's secrets, all of its knowledge, were within arm's reach. Even the things that might have been worth forgetting.

But in order to inherit the future, one must first be burdened with the past.

Lucius Malfoy, one of the Department's lucky personnel, knew this better than anyone else.

Lucius didn't work in the actual library of records; he was a Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and his special job was to preside over the business of the Department of Origin, serving as its bridge of communication to the rest of the Ministry. But on occasion, he was allowed to roam the archive in his leisure, looking at artifacts in glass cases and wandering among the rows of bookshelves.

His position was the kind that was rarely bestowed, even among the well-to-do. He had gotten it because of his father, who had the necessary connections and had secured it for him when Lucius finished his education at Hogwarts. During the years that led up to his marriage, Lucius went to the Ministry to report for work every day. He didn't do it for the money, but rather, to be surrounded by the government elite and bring honor to his family name. But the longer he worked in the Department, the more he realized that he was also doing it for the knowledge.

Being the descendant of an old pureblood family, Lucius naturally had a reverence for history bed into him. But it was only here, in the archive, surrounded by ancient books and scrolls, that he realized the true depth and fragility of the entire wizarding enterprise. It was here that he realized just how limited their world was, seeing everything that wizards knew, everything they were, laid out before him in material form. Lucius was a proud man by nature, but being in the archive made him unusually humble and quiet. On the days when he had business there, he often stayed for hours, lurking at the study tables in the aisles and reading the newer books that were still in circulation.

The front of the archive was designed to accommodate visitors like him in fair comfort, with spacious floors and large stone fountains that produced the sounds of cascading streams. The titles were also relatively recent, all of them written in modern languages. But the deeper one went, the denser and stranger the collection became, until finally, somewhere near the middle, the visitor would encounter a glittering, transparent wall that forced them to stop. They would then be left to stand, while the walkway snaked on through the city of bookshelves, plunging into the archive's innermost depths. There the texts became undecipherable, the artifacts priceless. At the very end, it was said that there was a gathering of relics as old as humanity itself, down to the first strokes people painted with fingers and brushes.

The only people who were allowed past this boundary were the archive's keepers, and theirs was a position of prestige on par with the Unspeakables. Lucius couldn't begin to imagine what a person would have to do to become one of them. The keepers were all old witches and wizards, who had likely been with the Department for decades and presided over their own section of the library. They weren't confined to secrecy like the Unspeakables, however, and enjoyed telling visitors about their domain, which they knew inside and out. They were the archive's perpetual guardians, and could often be seen walking among the collections like ghosts.

During his time of employment, Lucius had grown particularly friendly with one of them. He was an elderly wizard by the name of Bradbury, who had spent most of his life as a scholar. While other Ministry workers wore stylish hats and shiny badges, this man wore plain, brown robes, for the fruits of his labor lay within.

Lucius had been introduced to Bradbury on his first day of work. Fresh from Hogwarts and ready for a shining career, Lucius had been walking with one of the other undersecretaries towards the lifts on the first floor. He had already met the Minister of Magic and his future colleagues, and had finally discovered which department he would be working for. He still wasn't sure why an informational archive was called the Department of Origin, but he figured that if it was worth finding out, he would.

Lucius and the man approached the lifts, where an old, slightly-hunched wizard awaited them. Lucius's companion stepped forward and shook his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Bradbury. This is Lucius Malfoy."

Bradbury extended a hand and Lucius shook it. Giving the other undersecretary a nod, Bradbury motioned Lucius towards the nearest lift and followed him inside. They descended to the Department of Mysteries, the deepest that the public lifts would go, and emerged into a dim, black corridor with a single door on the far end. To the left was the staircase that led down to the Wizengamot courtrooms, and to the right was another long wing. Bradbury led Lucius to the right, where they came upon another series of lifts.

"The Department is only accessible through these," Bradbury said. "It's a bit deeper underground, so the lifts are separate."

He opened one of the doors and motioned for Lucius to enter. Inside, Bradbury removed a small golden key from his pocket, identical to the one Lucius had received upon his acceptance, and inserted it into a matching keyhole in the wall. Instantly, the lift dropped like a dead weight, taking them down to Level Eleven.

Lucius stood calmly with his hands behind his back, expecting a basic file room, but the minute the doors opened to reveal a vast, underground palace, and Lucius's gaze swept over the innumerable quantity of bookshelves, his face unconsciously adopted a look of childlike awe. Seeing this, Bradbury smiled.

"Ah, the young."

He stepped around Lucius to take the lead, leaving him somewhat flustered.

The keeper proceeded to give Lucius a general tour and showed him the sections he would use most frequently. But Bradbury also seemed to take an interest in Lucius himself, and from that day on, he took him under his wing. And indeed, he was one of the only people whom Lucius ever allowed to do so. Bradbury presided over the section of familial records, and on occasion, he let Lucius venture beyond the protective boundary. There, Bradbury revealed a stunning creation - a series of vaults for all the ancient wizarding families of Great Britain. Each vault pertained to a single family, much like the vaults at the Gringotts bank, only instead of material possessions, these held information. In order to open them, one had to either be a keeper or a member of the family itself.

Naturally, there was a vault dedicated to the Malfoys, but Lucius still found himself amazed when he saw the name carved above the door. He knew the vault was ancient; it had to be at least as old as the Ministry itself, and likely contained things that many of his ancestors had never seen. Back when they were alive, Malfoys could afford to seclude themselves from the majority of society. Power and influence ran in bloodlines, but those days were quickly fading for a different future, one in which society was diluted and fast-paced. And in order to survive in it, Lucius knew he would have to play a delicate balancing game: Reap the benefits of the new culture while hanging on to the traditions of the old.

…

His first three years at the Department of Origin passed by in peace. Lucius contently fulfilled his duties and felt no interest in the business of other departments, save for what made good conversation in the lounge. He rather liked the fact that he was privy to a section of the Ministry that most of the other workers took for granted, mentioning it only when they were getting something 'filed'. There was something calming about having everything down on paper, and something satisfying in the slow way the keepers worked, contributing to their collections from time to time and exchanging items with other countries. Lucius saw it as a sign of personal belonging that he could spent an extra few hours in his department at the end of the day and not feel like he was working overtime.

But in the months that followed his marriage, the atmosphere at the Ministry began to tense. In October of 1976, there was a sudden spike in crimes against Muggles, many of which showed traces of Dark magic. Inferi began to be spotted in desolated towns, and several wizards' homes were raided by unknown suspects, who left threats of death and torture if the victims did not comply with their terms. Rumor had it that a Dark wizard was on the rise, and the sinister forces of the world seemed to be stirring up in response to his presence. Lucius had heard these rumors even at Hogwarts, but at the time the unrest had been so distant that the issue never lingered long in his mind. The flaunting, Dark-tolerant attitude that had taken over many of the younger Slytherins had seemed like a cliquish fad, much like people inflated their enthusiasm for foreign Quidditch teams after reading a few fan articles.

But as winter approached, the evidence began to solidify. Holiday celebrations were clouded by searches and interrogations, and the Ministry began to circulate pamphlets and posters to inform people about safety precautions. There was no outright panic, but as the months wore on, the situation visibly worsened. While Narcissa sat at home, Lucius was caught in the midst of a bureaucratic breakdown, receiving daily news of dead Ministry officials and failed captures.

It was sometime then, towards the beginning of January, that a new face appeared in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. New recruits were steadily being taken in by the Ministry, filling the places of workers who had been stationed on the field. But Lucius and the man didn't cross paths for weeks, until one day, a knock came on Lucius's door. Lucius, who was writing a letter to Minister Minchum, looked up in annoyance and prepared to send the unlucky visitor away.

The wizard that stepped in was tall and dark-haired, dressed in gray robes that swept the floor behind him. He met Lucius's stare unflinchingly, with nearly the same businesslike coldness. This surprised Lucius, and managed to keep him silent as the man stopped before his desk.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Unless the name on the door has changed, yes," Lucius replied.

The man was neither fazed nor humored. He brought out a folder and set it down. "A case from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It concerns your department."

"Go on."

"Last week, a witch by the name of Fredricia Smith filed a lawsuit against her relative, Preston Smith," the wizard said. "The lawsuit concerned the fortune of a certain Elaine Smith, a wealthy heiress, who passed away the month prior. Among her possessions is a golden cup, which was passed down the female line of her husband's family. Elaine's husband was Dagan Smith, and the goblet in question was previously in the possession of his mother, Hepzibah Smith. The goblet went missing shortly after Hepzibah's death, after which Dagan and Elaine sought to locate it, and finally managed to do so in 1950." Here, he paused, pursing his lips. "They returned the cup to their house, but in the months that followed, their marriage grew strained and they ended up resolving to divorce. But Dagan passed before it was legalized, and Elaine followed just a year later. In her will she expressed her wish that the goblet remain the sole property of her family forever, and that it be given to no one except a direct blood relative. This is where the problem lies."

The man opened the folder to reveal a booklet of papers.

"Fredricia and Preston Smith are the closest surviving relatives of the Smith family. Fredricia is Dagan's cousin, and claims that because she is a female, the cup must belong to her. Preston is Elaine's nephew, and argues that he is more closely related to Elaine and therefore has a greater right to possess it as an heirloom. The Wizengamot must determine which of the two has the rightful claim to the artifact. Due to the complexity of the matter, we require substantial historical evidence and family records from the archive. Specifically, we require records of the transfer of the cup and an analysis of the Smith family tree to determine which of the two claimants is the rightful heir. If it is neither, then the Department of Magical Law Enforcement asks that the cup be declared an ownerless artifact and be transferred to a secure place, preferably the archive itself."

Lucius flipped through the papers without comment, then set the folder aside. "I will investigate it. For now, if that is all, you may leave."

"Very well," said the man. "You may deliver any relevant documents to my office. My name is Hesperus Rex." The man turned, his robes swishing behind him, and left the office.

Later that day, Lucius went down to the archive with the folder the man had given him. He looked around the visitor area for a keeper, and right then, noticed a pale blue glow coming from one of the tables. Bradbury was sitting there, a multitude of books and parchment rolls lying open around him. The light was coming from an enchanted orb that floated beside his workstation, containing several glowing strands that twisted around each other. The keeper himself was hard at work, writing something with his quill.

Lucius started to walk past the table, not wanting to disturb him, but moments later Bradbury noticed him of his own accord. "Ah, Lucius. I hope everything's all right up there?"

Lucius approached the table. "Mostly... The rebels are popping up everywhere, and they're getting more violent by the week. Minchum's stopped trying to convince people they have nothing to worry about. And if he thinks that this will last a long time, then it surely will, without doubt..." He looked around the quiet room and gave a sigh. When his gaze trailed back to Bradbury, he gave a faint smile. "It must be relieving, being down here."

Bradbury chuckled. "One would think. But it can be surprisingly unsettling to sit on the sidelines, doing your research, while the future of your world hangs by a thread. And yet... your work must go on. It might seem that the rebels are smashing relics and overturning traditions, but in reality, nothing is destroyed in this world. Everything that seems lost always comes back, in another form..." Bradbury lifted his hand to the glowing strands, making them bend and twist. Up close, Lucius saw that the strands weren't floating randomly – pairs of them spiraled around each other, connected by tiny ribs. Looking at them seemed to put Bradbury in a state of contemplation, and he began to write some more.

After a moment, Lucius allowed himself a step closer. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your research about?"

"Magical heredity," Bradbury replied. "It's an old project; I've been on it for a few years now. There's too much jargon involved to go into the details, but I'm attempting to investigate how certain qualities pass down by blood."

Lucius looked around at the books the keeper was reading. Some of them were written in other languages, even runes. "If you should ever need assistance, I would gladly listen to your ideas."

Bradbury smiled. "I would be very glad to receive it. However... you must have come here today for a different reason." He eyed the folder tucked under Lucius's arm.

"Ah..." Lucius took it into both hands. "I've received a case for the Wizengamot. Two members of the Smith family are disputing over an heirloom, and I need to get some information from their vault."

"The Smiths? Yes, I'm familiar with them." Bradbury gave a slight cough. Despite the warm lighting, Lucius noticed that he looked a little pale.

"Are you well?" Lucius asked. "I could ask another keeper to take me, if you're not able. It would be no trouble."

But Bradbury shook his head. "Just sat for too long, is all. A little stroll won't hurt."

He rose from his chair and beckoned for Lucius to follow, leading him down the familiar path to the family vaults. Bradbury stopped before the Smith door and placed his palm on it, and the slab of stone slid away to reveal a small library with a wooden worktable in the center. "Here we are. The collection is small, but you should still be able to find what you are looking for."

Lucius, to whom the vault seemed quite expansive, frowned. "Why do you say it is smaller?"

"The Smith family is not originally British," Bradbury explained. "Our collection is limited for those families who have a longer history somewhere else. In the case of the Smiths, their British ties emerged only in the late twelfth century, when they became connected with the Hufflepuff line."

Lucius looked at the keeper in disbelief. "The Hufflepuffs?"

Bradbury smiled. "Yes. The last bearer of the Hufflepuff name was a woman by the name of Krista, who married a man named Smith. Krista was the daughter of Helga Hufflepuff's brother, which makes all subsequent generations of the Smith family partially related to her. The Smiths are, in fact, the only surviving relations of the Hufflepuff family, since Helga had no children."

Lucius nodded in understanding. He was a Slytherin, but that hadn't stopped him from reading about the histories of the other Houses. And he knew that though Helga Hufflepuff was thought of as the most carefree and innocent of the four, her life was arguably the most complex.

She had been born in a small village in Wales, a rare sort of community that held a mix of wizards and Muggles. They existed in harmony, each group fulfilling its own role in securing the survival of the population. At the time, there were no centers for formal magical education, so wizards in usually developed only the skills they needed for survival - healing, potionmaking, and culinary arts. They were still dependent on Muggle skills, like hunting, planting, and building.

The Hufflepuff family held a position of power in their community, and as a result, Helga had connections to distant parts of the country and was able to gain wizarding acquaintances - most notably Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, and Salazar Slytherin. Like them, Helga displayed exceptional talent at magic, and at a young age had mastered more skills than any other wizard in her village. When she inherited her parents' estate, she unified the entire village under her guidance. She even planned to marry one of the village men, with whom she had been in love for years, and live her life quietly. But the more time she spent in the company of her wizard friends, the more Helga became occupied by the affairs of wizardkind. She had done a great deal to benefit Muggles, and had figured that creating a school of sorcery would be her chance to benefit wizards. The Founders' grand goal was to create a school that would combine all branches of magic into a single curriculum, and give wizards a broad, formal education for the first time in English history.

In setting out on the project with her colleagues, however, Helga stayed true to the principles she learned growing up. She despised the lazy attitude prevalent among wizards at the time, who saw magic as a complete replacement for labor. Moreover, Helga denounced magical elitism, for she had been raised with respect for Muggles and sought only three things in her students: hard work, honesty, and loyalty. The seeds of righteousness.

But as Helga spent more time away, the home she had once known began to change. Relations between the wizards and Muggles grew tense, for with Helga's new notoriety as a school founder, the wizards of the village had adopted a lofty air. Hogwarts had allowed them to enhance their powers to the point where they could do most of the Muggles' jobs for them, leaving the Muggles as second-rate helpers. Unhappy with this treatment, the Muggles in the village revolted, raiding the Hufflepuff manor and burning wizards' homes. But many Muggle bystanders also perished, including the man Helga had loved. Legend had it that she had been so heartbroken that she was never again the same. A shadow fell over her usually sunny countenance, and she never married.

Now, Lucius looked around at the books in the vault, and turned to Bradbury with a question in his mind. "But what of the families with a mixed ancestral background? Their records would be scattered about the whole globe, would they not? How would you know in which country to store it?"

A twinkle appeared in Bradbury's eyes. "You ask the right questions. But there is no simple answer. Yes, it's true that most wizarding families have a more complicated past than their living descendants might think. Each country, however, holds only the records that date back as far as a family has lived there. This fools people into thinking that they are purely of one heritage, when in fact, there may exist older files in some other place belonging to the same lineage, possibly even under a different name. We've already found that many families based here in this Department are not originally English. Even your name - Malfoy… it sounds French. I suspect this is more than a coincidence, but of course, we must investigate further before we can draw any conclusions."

Lucius frowned. "But then, you might as well argue that no family is originally from anywhere. Nearly every group of people migrated at some point in their history, so technically it's impossible to determine where any family, or any people for that matter, originated. The farther back in time you go, the more closely connected all families become, which would mean that in the end, everyone is a descendant of one person - the progenitor of the entire human race." At this, he fell silent, befuddled by his own trail of thought. But Bradbury gave a nod.

"Yes, this is the problem of regression. Though it is found in two dimensions: one is the history of humanity as a whole, which is investigated mainly by Muggles, and the other is the history of wizardkind." Bradbury fixed his gaze on Lucius. "Magic, as you know, is an inherited power. That means that every magical individual must have magical ancestors. But what happens when we examine the ancestors of those ancestors? Were they magical too? Our expectations tell us they had to be... but the further back one goes, the more difficult it becomes to prove it. A popular theory is that, much like all human lineages eventually converge back in time, all the wizarding families of the world in fact stem from a single magical ancestor."

Lucius nodded. "Which would leave wizards with one ancestor and Muggles with another... I'm familiar with it..." But now, after trailing off, he frowned. "But there is something I haven't been able to understand. Magic is obviously very diverse. Is it really possible that magic in all of its forms could have originated in just one person? I know it's just as equally a fact of experience that certain talents are concentrated in specific families. The Bulstrodes were great potioneers, the Ollivanders wandmakers. If there really is only one progenitor of magic, then they would have had to be good at all those things, wouldn't they?"

"Not necessarily," said Bradbury. "The various features of magic could very well have appeared later on. The important thing is the initial spark, the moment someone was born with the right conditions in their body for any sort of powers to emerge. Those powers would then be passed on to that person's children, perhaps with several new powers as well, and as the lineage continued to reproduce, their magic would expand."

"But how can someone pass down more magic than what they have?"

Bradbury smiled. "Wizards have a rather metaphorical way of speaking about these things. We typically regard magic as something that fills up a person, like liquid, and it follows that the more concentrated or diluted it is, the stronger or weaker the person's powers are. But this model breaks down when we try to apply it to real-life scenarios. In this respect, Muggle science surpasses ours. They've experimented with heredity more intensively than we have, and as a result they've uncovered many of its mysteries. Magic is what they would call a gene. The human body possesses certain genes, which are passed down through families and determine one's physical characteristics, such as eye color and hair."

Lucius nodded.

"In much the same way, there is a gene in the body that bestows magical power. It can express itself in any way, whether it be an exceptional talent at one thing, or excellence in many. Aptitude can, of course, vary, and can sometimes run in families, but possessing the magical gene enables any wizard to access all forms of magical power to one extent or another. There are people who believe that there are many versions of the magical gene that grant specific powers. But there is, I think, one fact that points to the existence of one gene: We often observe that many Muggle families also produce wizards, and very versatile ones at that. If there were many magical genes responsible for granting specific powers, then the Muggle-born would have had to have a bit of all of them, which is highly unlikely since they had no wizarding ancestors to begin with. The simplest way we can explain this is that their Muggle ancestors had elements of the single magical gene within themselves. If this is so, then it would also imply that wizard and Muggle lineages are historically connected."

Bradbury trailed off, and when he did not speak for another few moments, Lucius frowned. "But… surely there must be a reason why one lineage possessed the fully-formed gene in the first place and the other didn't. It is, after all, what makes us wizards."

Bradbury shrugged. "For now, we have no reason to believe it is anything but a matter of chance." He folded his arms behind his crooked back and looked towards the exit. "The field of heredity is very intricate. Wizards haven't had as great a need for it as the Muggles have, but I believe that now, more than ever, it is time for us to develop it into our own science. We must use all the knowledge that previous generations have left us. If we don't, then we will never properly understand magic, and as a result we will never properly understand ourselves."

He turned back to Lucius, who was standing by the table, not saying anything.

"I'll leave you to your work, then," Bradbury said. And with a faint smile, he left.

...

Sifting through the Smith vault proved to be a massive undertaking that lasted five days. After Bradbury left him alone, Lucius spent the rest of that day searching the shelves for useful books and jotting down information. Each of the following mornings, he arrived at the Ministry of Magic with an armful of papers, stolidly passing his chattering colleagues and proceeding to the lifts.

While he was down in the vault of the Smiths, Lucius felt as if time had died. It was impossible to tell whether it was day or night, or indeed if the outside world was even there behind the closed door. No matter the hour, the chamber remained silent and chilly, the only stirs of life being the scratches of his quill and the crinkle of pages. Skimming through the volumes of memoirs, family trees, and legal records, Lucius felt strangely like an intruder in a cemetery, poking around the headstones of people he didn't know. He began to understand why most of the keepers he saw were old - he couldn't imagine the resolve it would take to detach oneself from the outside world and embrace a life among the relics of the past.

On the sixth day, to his great relief, Lucius finished his work and went up to Hesperus's office to deliver it.

The man looked up as Lucius entered, placing the folder down on the desk in the exact same manner as had been done to him.

"You work swiftly," Hesperus said. "That is good."

Lucius inclined his head politely.

Hesperus began to flip through the pages of handwriting and clipped notes. He did not send Lucius away, and Lucius did not make a move to leave. After a moment, Hesperus looked up nonchalantly. "It is fortunate that Fredricia Smith came from a wizarding family, otherwise her case would have been twice as difficult for us to solve. We would have had to consult Muggle databases, as the wizarding records alone would have been useless."

"If Miss Smith were not a pure-blood, then her claim to the artifact might not even have been legitimate," said Lucius slowly. "Those who are farther removed from a family's point of origin have less of a guarantee of inheritance than those who are closer. It is a simple mechanic of genealogy."

Hesperus raised an eyebrow. "And if the closest living relative is from another family?"

"Then, provided no prior arrangements were made, there would not even be a question of inheritance. It would have no genealogical justification."

Hesperus studied him for a moment. "I see that the Department of Origin provides its workers with a rather… sane perspective."

"I only deal with that which may be logically proven," said Lucius.

Hesperus gave the slightest of smiles. "In that case, I am pleased to be acquainted with a man of reason."

The corners of Lucius's mouth twitched upwards in response, and he found himself returning the gesture.

That same day, Hesperus forwarded the Smith papers to the Wizengamot for an official ruling, and the case of Fredricia Smith was resolved. The goblet was declared an ownerless object and was sent to the Department of Origin to be classified as property of the Ministry. From that point on, Lucius and Hesperus forged a casual partnership. They began to seek each other out at meetings and visited each other to debate over issues of the day. These discussions were professional and restrained, but before long, both men became certain that they held similar views on magic, society, and the world at large.

Hesperus soon stopped transferring cases to Lucius through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and began to deliver them personally. Through Hesperus, Lucius helped solve a number of other disputes concerning wizarding assets, and as the two of them began to work more closely together, Hesperus revealed to Lucius an idea: to use the archive as a storage place for records pertaining to the rebel hunt. The uprising had intensified to such a degree that the Law Enforcement workers were having trouble keeping track of all the people they dealt with. Moreover, it was not uncommon for Ministry outposts to be raided, and all of their documents destroyed. Lucius agreed eagerly, and with Hesperus's help, he began to gather a collection of records and dossiers. Questions of whereabouts and affiliation, which would have taken weeks to prove on the basis of shaky testimonials and befuddled witnesses, could be solved in a single day using the files they stored in the Department of Origin. Soon, Hesperus's colleagues from Law Enforcement began to visit the archive and retrieve information, filling the archive with unprecedented activity.

This filled Lucius with both pleasure and pride. For the first time in its long history, the archive was serving a socially-vital cause and was doing so on his initiative. Hesperus had lifted him from his murky, theoretical world and showed him the application of his specialty. And now, Lucius would take the rest of the department with him. He dreamed of a day when the mountains of informational treasure would be brought forth from the darkness of obscurity, saved from their sure doom of being trampled by the passing years. He, Lucius Malfoy, would give the Department of Origin a place in the modern world. No fragment of wizarding knowledge would ever be forgotten. It would be passed on, just as Bradbury wanted, and be treasured by society forever.

But as Lucius opened the doors to the archive for others, his own need to visit it diminished. It was only a month later that he went down on an urgent errand, and by chance, bumped into Bradbury. The wizard was tired and puffy-eyed, but nevertheless looked pleased to see him. He led Lucius to the section of dossiers, waited for him to get the ones he needed, and guided him out of the boundary. On their way to the front of the archive, they stopped.

"I've left some books in your vault that I think you'll find interesting," Bradbury said. "You can come take a look at them any time."

Lucius lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Thank you, Mr. Bradbury. But... aren't you still working on your research?"

"I've gathered everything I need. It's taken a long time, but I think I've finally gotten my theory right."

"Are you going to publish it?"

Bradbury chuckled. "Perhaps… when the time comes." He took a long look around the room, gazing up at the tall stone walls. "Books are important, Lucius. But one shouldn't get too immersed in them. Don't forget that there is an entire world above the archive that needs your involvement. It is the world of change and loss, yes, but also the world of joys and mysteries. The kind of truth books offer is but a reflection of it. The inner truth, the one that sustains you, is the one you get from living."

Lucius met the keeper's gaze in silence. There was a long pause, then he adjusted the folder in his arms. "I suppose… I should be going. There will be a Wizengamot hearing soon. They're trying suspects."

Bradbury smiled. "Good luck, then! May the be rebels be brought to light."

"Thank you, Mr. Bradbury." Lucius inclined his head to the wizard and left the archive. He proceeded up to the courtrooms, where the full Wizengamot council had assembled, and several people were chained to the chairs before the tribune. Harold Minchum had doubled the number of Dementors in Azkaban and was resolved to imprison every person who was even slightly connected to the rebellion. But the trials became more drawn-out as a result.

Lucius presented the papers to the Minister and took his seat beside Hesperus in the observer area. The hearing was long and monotonous as expected, but those whose dossiers Lucius had brought - Yaxley, Dolohov, and Travers - were cleared with the least hassle.

His conversation with Bradbury kept surfacing in his awareness over the days, and finally, Lucius came to the Ministry early one morning to visit to the archive. The study tables in the front section were empty, and the only other people there were a couple of Wizengamot members. Looking around, Lucius finally saw another keeper walking past and approached him. "Excuse me. Is Mr. Bradbury here?"

The wizard stopped in front of him, frowning. "You're Lucius Malfoy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

The man gave a pause. "Bradbury passed away. His section of the archive has been closed while we remove his possessions."

Lucius felt a stab of shock. "What? No... How?"

"He's been sick for a long time. It's a wonder he didn't retire… But he always loved his work, that Bradbury..." The keeper's gaze trailed off into the distance, then he looked back at Lucius, pursing his lips. "I'm sorry."

He walked off. Lucius was left standing there, blinking numbly. He looked around at the empty tables, then after a while, he turned back to the lifts.

When Lucius came home that evening, Narcissa remarked that he looked unusually tired. Lucius gave a nod and withdrew into his office. He stayed there for the rest of the night, reading a book of runes he had gotten from the archive, letting his gaze plunge into the glyphs. But the image of Bradbury never left his mind. He kept picturing him standing in the front room, hands clasped behind his back, immersed in thoughts that no one would ever know.

...

By springtime, the dark wizard called Lord Voldemort had made rapid advances. The strain on the Ministry proved so great that normal business came to a halt and the government began to focus its efforts solely on crushing the rebellion. But the more time that passed, the more the reins of control seemed to be slipping from their hands. A clan of giants started a riot in the north, trampling their way through entire towns, and their battle with the Aurors left a flattened trail of destruction that stretched for miles. Workers from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes barely managed to clean up the mess before another group of giants attacked from the other side of the country, sending them into a scramble all over again. Snippets of the chaos began to leak into Muggle newspapers, and the Muggles' concern grew to such an extent that the Excuse Committee began generating fake storms and fires simply to distract them.

The people responsible for the chaos revealed themselves as the Death Eaters. Signs of their presence were everywhere, but oddly enough, no one ever saw their faces. No eyewitnesses ever recalled seeing anything but cloaked figures, or hearing anything but maniacal laughter before their attackers fled in a puff of smoke. This made it even more difficult to track them down, for they seemed countless in number. People began to suspect their neighbors and friends, and the cloud of nervous chatter eventually reached the Ministry itself. Once amiable workers grew distant and withdrawn. Overt aloofness was considered just as suspicious as hyperactivity, so most people lingered in a limbo between the two, drifting around as if they had been dosed with the Draught of Living Death.

Lucius gauged the level of strain in affairs by Hesperus's behavior. On a particularly bad day, the man's office would be swamped with papers, and owls would be flying in and out of his window in a feathered frenzy. Lucius hardly had time to share more than a few words with him during the day, but even so, all that anyone ever talked about was the news.

On April 22nd, Lucius left on his lunch break with the Daily Prophet in hand and made his way to the dining hall. The room was tense and hushed. People stood around with looks of deep thought and worry, many of them also reading the headlines. Lucius sat down at a free table and summoned a cup of tea. A few minutes later, Hesperus emerge from another hallway, and after frowning at the newspapers in everyone's hands, he sat down across from Lucius.

"What is it?"

"Dementors," Lucius said. "Everywhere. They managed to break out of Azkaban."

Hesperus waved his hand. "Then the Prophet is two days behind. There's no point in reading it anymore; we're the ones make the stories anyhow. It all depends on how fast our Aurors can react to it. There could be hell breaking loose this very moment and we won't know until tomorrow, when people start seeing the bodies." He lowered his voice. "I would advise you to be on your guard. The Death Eaters are advancing towards London and there's word that they might try to attack the Ministry next. The Minister has already issued an order for us to be on the lookout for suspicious activity within the collective."

Lucius nodded. "I am aware." The Senior Undersecretary had in fact given him the report a day ago and ordered all the Junior Undersecretaries to relay it to their respective departments. Lucius had complied and informed the Department of Origin's head keeper, though he found the measure completely unnecessary. All it did was introduce suspicion to places it didn't belong. Even he, who had always commanded a reasonable amount of respect in the Ministry, was starting to feel people's gazes linger on him a few seconds longer than usual. And now, as Lucius looked around the room, he noticed other wizards looking away from him and whispering something to their companions.

Hesperus, who seemed to have noticed this as well, leaned closer to Lucius. "Not everyone takes kindly to those who remain calm," he murmured. "I am not suggesting that you should change anything that you are doing, but make sure it does not arouse anyone's suspicions. Do you understand?"

"Naturally," said Lucius.

With that, they fell silent. There was a shifting to chairs from the other side of the room, and Lucius looked askance to see a wizard head towards them. Lucius recognized him only vaguely; he remembered seeing that cloud of red hair on his visits to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where the man was always talking animatedly with someone. He was also one of the ones who didn't panic, and like Lucius, seemed more immersed in his work than ever.

The man stopped by their table and fixed his gaze on Hesperus.

"I don't know how long you intend to persist with your schemes," he said quietly, "but I'm warning you, Hesperus. If you take a single step into that file room again, you will regret it." Not waiting for a response, the man turned his eye on Lucius. "And as for you, Malfoy, I would be a little more careful of whom I associated with. Stealing files from the Department of Law Enforcement might ruin your credibility with the Minister."

Lucius rose from his seat. "You dare suggest I am working against the Ministry?"

"I am merely suggesting that if you do not wish to make enemies, you will desist," the man replied.

Lucius's eyes flashed. "And you would do to remember who you are speaking with. I am a Junior Undersecretary and my responsibilities far outweigh your childish paper-pushing."

The man met his gaze with an equally sharp look. "Then you should take care to fulfill them," he said. And without another word, he went off.

Lucius sat back down, still fuming. He saw that Hesperus was sneering.

"Arthur Weasley," he said, when the wizard had left the room. "He works in Law Enforcement, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. But lately he's also been meddling in the affairs of the Wizengamot. He is very disheartened that Muggles are perishing in the conflict and is pushing for greater measures to be taken for their safety."

"It's impossible," Lucius snapped. "Favoring the Muggles would mean slackening defenses of wizards, which would only lead to more deaths. Unless that is what Mr. Weasley wants."

Hesperus inclined his head. "The contradiction is clear to anyone who uses simple logic. But Mr. Weasley still persists with his opinion. He has a particular contempt for me because I took some dossiers from the Law Enforcement's file room. Apparently he doesn't like being an object of suspicion." He trailed off, then narrowed his eyes. "But you see the danger such people pose to our society? In favoring Muggles, they seem to refuse their responsibilities to their own kind."

Lucius was silent. He stirred his tea in spite, though his expression made it clear that he agreed with every word.

"And such people are everywhere," Hesperus continued. "They are dangerous especially now. While honest witches and wizards are fighting for their lives, they are the ones hindering their work and supporting our collapse. But I think I may have something that can be brought to the Wizengamot concerning Mr. Weasley and a few others. I will need you to look over their files." He rose to leave before Lucius could say anything.

When Lucius returned to his office, he found a stack of thick folders waiting for him at his desk, and his heart sank. Each person would take days to investigate, possibly even weeks. Lucius lifted the top folder and read the name: Arthur Weasley.

Lucius opened the folder and began to leaf through it. Mr. Weasley had an active career, starting as a humble secretary in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and gradually rising to be its head. Lucius knew that the Weasleys were one of the 'lenient' pureblood families, but Arthur had made his love for the Muggle world plain from the very beginning. In any normal time, Lucius would have simply brushed this sort of person aside with disdain, but now, Mr. Weasley's actions seemed nothing short of traitorous. What right had he, in such a time of crisis, to favor Muggle security over their own?

After just a few minutes of thinking, Lucius managed to convince himself the worst about Arthur Weasley, and came to hate the man despite never having known him. But no matter how closely he examined his files, Lucius couldn't find any evidence that Arthur had broken the law, and was forced to put his dossier aside. Over the next few days, he examined the other files likewise, but had little success.

Shortly after, Lucius went on a day off and stayed at home with Narcissa. In the peace of the Malfoy house, the mayhem at the Ministry seemed trivial and distant, and Lucius almost succeeded in clearing it from his mind. But that night, an urgent owl arrived with a letter summoning him to the Ministry at once. Moments later, Lucius Apparated into the Main Atrium and found that it was in chaos. Workers were scurrying around from all directions and shouting, their panicked owls circling through the air. Some people rushed for distant hallways with their wands upheld, while others ran out the same way, their possessions and office furniture flying after them.

One man passed by Lucius with a box trailing after him, and Lucius grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?"

"There's been a break-in," the wizard replied. "A group of thieves breached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and they're making their way down. We don't know what they're after, but we're taking all the precautions we can until enough Aurors get in. Get to your office and save everything that's valuable!"

Lucius's heart skipped a beat. He rushed for he lifts and ascended to the first floor, dodging the other Junior Undersecretaries and officials on the way to his office. But moments later, he bumped sharply into someone's shoulder and found himself turning to face the person he least expected and desired to see — Arthur Weasley. Upon recognizing Lucius, the frantic expression on Arthur's face transformed into rage. He grabbed Lucius's robe and pulled him aside. "Look at what you've done, Malfoy!"

Lucius felt a flutter of shock and pried his hands away. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"You let them in!" Arthur shouted. "While everybody else was keeping up their guard, you let them in to your department! You gave them a free ticket into the Ministry!"

"How?"

"The files you gathered! They were frauds, all of them! Not one dossier in your little database was assembled by Ministry workers. You gave the thieves a reason to keep coming into the archive, and I'll be damned if they're not about to go back there now!"

Lucius was unable to respond. It took a few seconds for the meaning of Arthur's words to sink in, and by the time it did, Lucius's face had gone as white as a sheet.

No…

His surroundings began to spin. A moment later, Lucius blinked, and once again he became aware of Arthur Weasley's angered face in the center of his vision. Lucius curled his hands into fists, and without a word, turned away and ran for the lifts. His worst fears had been confirmed. He had to see the keepers. He had to inform them of the situation, if they even knew yet.

Heart hammering, Lucius entered the nearest lift, fumbling for the key in his pocket, and rushed down to the Department of Origin. When he stepped into the archive, what he saw both shocked and sickened him. It was deserted. There wasn't a single keeper in sight. The fountains had stopped playing, plunging the space into a deathly silence. Lucius went up to the boundary point, lifting his hands to search for the wall, but they passed through empty air. The library's most valuable inner collections were standing in complete vulnerability, without even the most rudimentary Shield charm to protect them. Lucius rushed around and began to cast every enchantment he could think of, preventing books from being removed, stabilizing glass display cases, and trying to recreate at least a fragment of the impenetrable barrier that divided the archive. He was in the midst of an incantation when he heard the boom of a closing lift behind him.

Lucius spun around, drawing his wand in reflex, and saw that one of the intruders had walked in. He was wearing a black hooded cloak and a strange silver mask that obscured his face. Lucius backed away, tightening his grip on his wand. He didn't know how he would hold off a group of attackers in an enormous library, or how long his spells on the items would even last. But as he stared into the ghostly mask, a strange feeling of defiance mixed with daring swelled within him. If he was to die, then he would at least not do it in shame.

The cloaked figure advanced. Lucius continued to back away, his wand upheld, till he felt himself bump against the very barrier he had created. He was cornered.

Right then, the intruder's mask vanished in a puff of smoke, and with a shock, Lucius recognized Hesperus.

"Lower your wand, Lucius," said the man in a humored tone. "You have nothing to fear. The Dark Lord values wizarding history above all else. Your precious books are not the object of our quest."

Lucius lifted his wand higher. "Where are the keepers?" he said. "What happened to the shield?"

"The keepers have been detained. As for the spell, we managed to deduce its workings a long time ago. And gradually, we eliminated it."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "So you were helping the thieves all along?"

"I am simply helping my kin. My brothers and sisters by oath. Family always helps family, as I am certain you can appreciate."

"And what is it that your family plans to do here?" Lucius said. "Surely you wouldn't have gone through so much risk and trouble to search the Ministry for a random valuable object. Or perhaps you had something in mind already?" He sneered. "Yes, I see now... those family fortunes were what you were after. All those cases you used to forward to me concerned disputes about heirlooms in one way or another. Disputes which might not even have happened. All that mattered was that you could use the Ministry's credibility to transfer the items from Gringotts. Then you used my trust to gain access into the archive, which compared to a bank would be quite easy to break into."

Hesperus smiled.

"A game well played indeed…" Lucius continued. "But you have made a grave error in revealing yourself to me. I can overpower you before you can do so much as utter a single hex. Whatever you meant to steal will either be recovered in a day's time or snatched out of your hands before you can cross the Floo barrier. In the meantime, I will take a prize of my own. I'll bring you to the Minister myself and say how I apprehended the perpetrator of the crime who so conveniently fell into my hands. Then who knows… one day I might soon be sitting in his place."

This was more boasting than anything, but even so, his words did their job. Hesperus's smile waned, dipping into a sour grimace.

"You misjudge me, Lucius. Do you think I am so ignorant of the Ministry's power that I would come here as a common thief? I say again, it is not gold we want. It wasn't the archive that I sought through my acquainting with you, nor did I do or say anything to you with the intention of masking my true purpose. The Death Eaters have a goal in mind that transcends material gain, and I was placed inside the Ministry to protect the identities of my comrades while they carried out their tasks. But what I did not expect to find among the ranks of the Ministry's fools was a man who walked the same path of righteous belief as I, who showed the seeds of true authority and was capable of impressing change. But his talents had sadly been put to waste behind a desk, serving people with different goals, and so he did not realize how much farther he could have gone." At this point, Hesperus's face suddenly grew serious, and his voice acquired an imploring edge. "I am here to make you an offer, Lucius," he said. "Join us. We need people like you - people with the right perspective of the world - to take power. I know you are one of them because I have seen that even though you work out of necessity with Mudbloods and blood-traitors, you remain uncorrupted yourself. You keep to the true faith of the wizarding enterprise. Join us, Lucius, and one day you will no longer have to mask your pride. You will not have to fear for the existence of this archive, for it will no longer be in harm's way. Our history will be recognized as the true chronicle of humanity, and the Muggles will pay for the blasphemous crimes they waged to suppress it. Don't you see? We will raise all wizardkind above them as their rightful masters. We will give you the power to defend what you treasure."

A chorus of bangs and screams echoed overhead, and Lucius's gaze flew up to the library's domed ceiling, which shook from the force of the blasts on the floors above. The battle had reached the Department of Mysteries. Only minutes remained before its tide would sweep downwards. The seconds ticked by with painful lucidity, and Lucius could hear nothing but the hollow beat of his heart as he stared back into Hesperus's eerily calm face.

Finally, Lucius found his voice. "What are your terms?"

"A lifetime of servitude to our Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who is a terror to behold to his enemies, but most merciful to his followers."

Lucius adjusted his grip on his wand. He felt himself lower it gradually, and after a spark of hope and relief, he pocketed it. "I accept."

Hesperus bowed his head. "Then come."

He turned for the exit, and Lucius followed him out of the archive. They ascended to the Main Atrium level, where they took a series of twists and turns and arrived at the front lobby. The room was in shambles. Statues were crumbling from the blasts of oncoming hexes, which singed the air with brilliant bursts of color. Fires had sprouted at various points among the desks, eating up vast stores of information and infrastructure. But no one paid them any mind. Everyone's eyes and wands were fixed on the myriad of exits that branched off to other corridors, where wizards in dark robes and masks were rushing in. Lucius and Hesperus plunged into the thick of battle, crossing unnoticed to the other side, where a large congregation of the black-cloaked figures was huddled together. The light from the curses reflected off their silver masks as they turned towards the new arrivals. Seeing Lucius with his Ministry badge, they all brandished their wands at him, but Hesperus held up a hand to stop them.

"Peace!" he called. "This man joins us."

The wands were lowered. One of the masked figures spoke up, voice artificially deepened and distorted. "Wilkes and Rosier have retrieved the artifact along with all the hostages. But we're greatly outnumbered. We've been forced away from the upper floors, and we'll be unable to resist the Aurors before long."

Before Hesperus could respond, someone else spoke up: "I still say we finish this! We've already gained enough ground; if we hold out a bit longer we might be able to weaken the Ministry ahead of time-"

"No!" hissed another. "We were specifically told to leave after we got it! We must find a way to leave while we haven't suffered any casualties."

"But the exits and Floo network are blocked! How do we escape?"

At this point, the masked figures all turned to Hesperus, who smiled. "We do not escape," he said. "The Dark Lord does."

Slowly, he pulled back the right sleeve of his robe and revealed a strange tattoo. It was an emblem of a black skull, its mouth open and a snake coiling out of it like a tongue. The image pulsed and moved with eerie fluidity. Hesperus pressed his forefinger to the skull's face, and Lucius thought he could hear a faint, raspy laugh.

Seconds later, a black cloud was thrown up around the group of people and obscured them from view.

The same thing happened to the other Death Eaters in the room, as well as the rest who were scattered about the Ministry building, attacking or retreating, many of whom were in the midst of heated duels. They all vanished in a puff of black smoke, as if they had been nothing more than ghosts, and by the time the fog cleared around them, they were gone.

Moments after the cloud blocked Lucius's vision, he felt himself being whisked away by a rush of wind. The distant noises of battle escalated into the screams of a hundred voices, and he felt as if his body was being forced through a narrow tube, bending and twisting unnaturally. It was like Apparition in slow motion - he felt every sensation, heard every sound, as if he were passing through hundreds of worlds on the way to his destination.

At last, the compressing force around him vanished. The screams stopped, and Lucius was no longer snaking through unintelligible space, but floating through cool evening air. Moments later, his feet touched grass, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees.

All around him, dozens of Death Eaters were being dropped on the ground. In addition to the group he had traveled with, there were many more who had participated in the raid, but their masks made them indistinguishable. Hesperus was the only one whose face was uncovered, and in the dim twilight, Lucius saw him smile.

"A variation of Side-Along Apparition, courtesy of our leader," he explained. "Unpleasant, but foolproof."

Hesperus rose and dusted himself off. Lucius did the same, and scanned the vicinity around them. They had landed in an empty meadow, bordered by a slip of shadowy forest in the distance.

Up ahead there was a glimmer of light, which turned out to be a large bonfire. As Lucius followed Hesperus towards it, he began to distinguish three figures standing in front of it. Two of them were masked, but the one who stood in the middle had his hood pulled so low over his face that Lucius could see nothing but darkness. His robes seemed to melt with the night, as if they were made of the same material as the mist that had transported them.

Hesperus bowed before the figure in the center and kissed the hem of its robes. "My Lord."

A whisper, high and wispy as a snake's hiss, answered him. "Hesperus… has the mission been completed?"

"Yes, my Lord. The Cup has been retrieved."

On cue, two figures broke from the crowd to approach Hesperus's side, stooped low in clumsy bows. They brought forth a golden goblet and placed it at the figure's feet before retreating. In the darkness, Lucius recognized the gems and emblem of Hufflepuff's Cup, the same one he had declared ownerless property all those months ago. The figure seemed pleased, and with a sweep of its long robes, enveloped the goblet somewhere within their folds.

Hesperus remained kneeling in the grass. "In addition, information about the remaining Order members has been found. We are now in the position to obtain contacts from within."

"Excellent."

There came a pause, and Lucius felt the figure sweep its gaze over the party of Death Eaters. Though he could not see its eyes, he could almost hear them moving in their sockets.

"I see we have new recruits," the figure said. "Or are they hostages?"

"No, my Lord," said Hesperus. "These are the recruits. All of them exceptional and worthy of entering your service."

"Then there is no time to waste. Why don't we begin the introductions?" The figure waved a wand, and Lucius felt his feet lift the ground. He was carried over to the figure and dropped just a few steps away, hunching over slightly.

"Your name?"

Up close, the voice was no less chilling, though from its slightly deepened tone Lucius deduced it was male.

"Lucius Malfoy," he said.

"A Malfoy? Very good. It is always pleasing to have the support of noble blood."

Suddenly, a female cackle sounded from beside him. The figure turned to the person on his left, sounding amused. "Do you know this man, Bellatrix?"

"Yes, my Lord!" replied the woman. The mask vanished from her face to reveal dark hair and heavily-lidded eyes, and with a flutter of surprise, Lucius recognized his wife's sister. The last time Lucius saw her had been nearly two years prior, when Narcissa had introduced them. Bellatrix had changed since then. The stoic regality had fled from her features in favor of a gleeful madness, which revealed itself when she flashed her trickster's smile. Her hair hung in scraggly strands down her shoulders, and her formerly deep voice had begun to play up to the tones of her master's.

"Lucius is married to my sister," Bellatrix said. "A fine family, my Lord - I have never seen two people more worthy of each other, or happier in all respects, than the heir of the Malfoys and the heiress of the Blacks."

Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgment. The figure turned to him with new interest.

"Ah, so you are family… All the more reason for you to join, then. But I am surprised that you did not show support for our cause earlier. I suppose being surrounded by blood-traitors does take its toll."

The Death Eaters laughed. Bellatrix smiled at the hooded man, passion shooting through her wan appearance.

Feeling the need to redeem himself, Lucius straightened. "I-I assure you, my relations with Mudbloods and blood-traitors were only what my position demanded of me. Though I worked with them, I never mingled with them, and if I had been given the chance to join you earlier, I would have done so without the slightest-"

The figure held up a bony hand to silence him. "There is no need to justify your actions. I value resourcefulness in all its forms and I am pleased to see that you are respected in their society. We need men like you, who have both power and the knowledge of when to use it." There came a pause. "What is your affiliation in the Ministry?"

"The Department of Origin," Lucius said.

At this, he thought he heard a slow chuckle. "Most fitting…" Spidery white fingers emerged from within the shadowy cloak, turning over the wand as if in thought. "What is your allegiance now, Malfoy?"

Without a pause, Lucius understood. "To you."

Somewhere within the hood, a smile turned a lipless mouth.

"In that case, you shall address me as Lord."

In all his life, Lucius had never saluted anyone; his pride had never allowed it. But right then, by some unseen power, he felt himself bend of his own accord into a courtier's bow, right hand crossed over his chest in utter reverence, as one compelled by no less than a divine power. "My Lord."

"Rise, Lucius, and take the oath."

Lucius did as he was told. The figure lifted Lucius's left arm and pressed the tip of its wand to his skin. A moment later, Lucius felt the spot sear with white-hot pain, as if molten lava had been poured over his skin. But it didn't stop there - the pain seeped into his flesh and blood, radiating from the wand's point of contact and circling systemically through his body. Soon, Lucius felt a channel open in his mind, and suddenly became aware of a sea of presences behind him, as if he had been connected to a vast, living web of which this person was master. Finally, Voldemort withdrew his wand, and Lucius clenched his fist, suppressing the urge to groan.

Voldemort motioned out to the side, indicating for Lucius to take the spot beside Bellatrix. As Voldemort went on to question the next recruit, Bellatrix tilted her head towards Lucius and smiled. "Can you feel it?" she whispered. "His soul within you… His call… It's divine. We are more than family now, Lucius. We are one. Perhaps you can tell Narcissa to join. Then she'll understand…"

"Narcissa hasn't heard from you in a while," Lucius said. "How long have you been among the Dark Lord's order?"

"I joined a few years before your marriage."

"And you didn't tell Narcissa all this time?"

"The Dark Lord's plans call for extreme care and attention! Naturally I had more important things on my mind than bragging to other people." She shook her head, then returned to her former calm. "If you had known, Lucius… the things we achieved these past few years have been remarkable. They would not have been possible if the Dark Lord did not have his genius, or his faithful followers, such as I."

Lucius looked around at the crowd of masked figures. "Who else is here?"

"Those of whom you know?" Bellatrix lazily cast her gaze towards the sky. "Let's see... there's Travers and Yaxley who helped fight the Aurors. Avery and Mulciber joined before they even left Hogwarts; the Dark Lord has them go after Mudbloods. Severus Snape is here, too. I remember he used to be a tiny little thing, but he's grown into a very capable wizard."

Lucius gave a curt smile. "And Rodolphus? He is here as well, I presume?"

At the mention of her husband, Bellatrix snorted. "Oh, he joined with me. I made sure of that. He thought I was wasting my time, you see, that I was allying myself with a cause that would collapse in a matter of months. But when he saw the Dark Lord and learned of his plan in all its majesty, he quickly saw the error of his ways…" She turned back to face the crowd of Death Eaters, signaling that there was to be no further conversation between them. Voldemort had accepted five more recruits, all of whom were branded and cloaked, then joined the ranks of masked soldiers. Lucius had been the only one Voldemort invited to stand at his side.

With his army complete, Voldemort stepped forward and spread out his arms. "My brethren!" he called. "Tonight we have achieved a tremendous victory. Now more than ever, wizardkind realizes our true power. But our mission is not complete. There remains one more obstacle to our total domination: The Ministry of Magic. As you have seen, it is still very powerful, and has many supporters among the people. But we have taken vital steps to ensure its dissolution. Once the Ministry falls, there will be nothing more to stop us. And then, I promise you all, you will have your reward."

The Death Eaters cheered. Many of them sent sparks into the air, which hissed and exploded in multitudes of colors against the night sky. The booms echoed in Lucius's mind, alternating in intensity like a mind-numbing trance.

...

Lucius was staggering upon his arrival home. He Apparated directly into the sitting room, where Narcissa was reclined on the couch, reading a book. She smiled at him. Seeing this picture of warm, typical life, Lucius felt an unexpected exhaustion overtake him. He collapsed onto the armchair.

Such a thing was not unusual to Narcissa, who had long gotten used to his late hours. But on this evening, she noticed that there was a grayish tint to his skin. Even his pale blonde hair seemed to have dulled.

She studied him without comment for a few moments, one finger curled beneath her chin. "You seem tired," she said at last.

Lucius nodded mutely. The mark on his left arm was still burning. He could feel the enchantment still working in him, embedding its identity into his.

"There was an infiltration at the Ministry," Lucius said. "A group of thieves broke in through the Law Enforcement floor."

Narcissa's hand crept up to her heart. "Lucius…"

He held up a hand to stop her. "As far as I know, they are all gone. The Aurors are cleaning up the mess. Nothing important was stolen."

Narcissa nodded, but still did not seem reassured. "Is that all?"

Lucius knew it wasn't.

He shifted his position, but the pain of the Mark did not recede. "There have been rumors for a while that one called the Dark Lord is rising to power."

Narcissa nodded.

"And today, I saw those rumors confirmed. He has indeed risen. And he is gathering a following."

His wife stared at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

"I saw him with my own eyes. We spoke. And he told me his vision. It is not at all that of a terrorist, but of something more… he wishes to better our place in the world, so wizards will no longer have to hide behind the Statute of Secrecy and play to the societal norms of Muggles. He awaits the day when the Statute will be abolished and that Muggles will recognize our power. I was among him and his followers at their meeting. I heard them all speak, and I found that many of whom we know have already allied themselves to their cause. The Lestranges were there. Your sister, Bella."

Narcissa's eyes widened. She had not heard from Bellatrix in months. Her sister's letters had grown infrequent, but she had never attached a significance to it.

Lucius paused again, weighing his words. "Narcissa, we have been found worthy," he said. "The Dark Lord promises to be most merciful to his followers. In return for our friendship, he promises great rewards to come."

"And the price?"

"Our service… and our loyalty." He pulled up his sleeve to show her the Dark Mark. A look of blank horror flickered over Narcissa's face, but it was gone a moment later. The longer she looked at the tattoo, the more it seemed to transfix her.

Narcissa sat still for a while, not speaking. Lucius did not take his gaze away from her in anticipation of her reaction.

It was a long time before Narcissa gave it. Her expression was unreadable at first, then slowly she lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Our world really has changed..." she said quietly. "It's not the way my parents said it used to be. They used to tell us so many stories about our ancestors, how they traveled and leaned and wrote to people. Sometimes I get the feeling that life was simpler back then. Wizards knew that they had a place in the world. But now we're secretive, and we're so good at it that it seems we're losing touch with the world. And with each other." She paused. "If he really means to help wizardkind... then perhaps... all of this really will lead to something new."

"I have no doubt," Lucius affirmed.

Narcissa looked at him. "I trust your judgment." She touched his hand, then stood up and left the room.

And that was that.

Narcissa never questioned him about his choice. She never asked him about what he was doing when they weren't together and didn't utter a single protest about it. And at times, it gave Lucius a strangely disquieted feeling.

He told himself that it was for the best, that soon, because of his actions, Narcissa would get the peace and happiness she deserved.

For a while, that was enough.

...

In the subsequent years, Lucius became one of Lord Voldemort's favorites, rising to the rank of people like Hesperus and Bellatrix. Lucius possessed a bloodline the Dark Lord honored, and a loyalty he prized. In return, Lucius found that his influence was greater than it had ever been before. His post as Junior Undersecretary was now merely a formality. With the help of the Death Eaters, who possessed a strong web of connections even in the Ministry's circles, he began to influence opinions and sway the Ministry to Voldemort's cause. On the official side of business, the Death Eater infiltration was considered to be a failure, and the Ministry was once again deemed to be safe ground. Old suspicions didn't quite die, but now, empowered by support and sense of purpose, Lucius found it easy to evade scrutiny. With Hesperus at his side, Lucius planned the movement that would overthrow the Ministry once Voldemort took power. And when he did, there could be no doubt that the Malfoys would have everlasting glory.

By 1981, Lucius had completed several missions for Lord Voldemort himself, retrieving memories, Imperiusing officials, and sending Aurors on false trails. One night, after a day of chasing and plundering, Lucius Apparated back to the Riddle House, the Death Eaters' current headquarters. He bowed before Voldemort and handed him some intercepted letters, after which the Dark Lord began to pace about the room.

"Very good, Lucius… you have been a most faithful follower. I am not disappointed in you."

Lucius bowed again. "It is my pleasure and purpose to serve you, my Lord."

"We are nearing a crucial point in our effort," Voldemort said. "Soon, we will make our final strike, and then the country will be under our control. But this does not mean that any of us can forget what we had to do to get there. As a worker of the Department of Origin, I am certain you can appreciate the importance of remembering the past."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied.

At this, Voldemor's high voice acquired a grave, drawn-out tone. "I am glad that you are not like many of my other Death Eaters, who often allow themselves to be blinded with power and make foolish mistakes that compromise their missions. You have a rightful wariness, which prevents you from emulating them. You understand that power does not come from just anywhere. It must be sought. Salvaged from the ever-spinning storm of time, which threatens to eat away all knowledge that we do not hold on to. You understand that knowledge, if it is to endure, must be preserved." Voldemort fixed his gaze on Lucius. It felt like being held captive; the red eyes seemed to screen him from the inside out, holding his mind open like a book. "I wish to entrust you with an important item, Lucius. Something that is very dear to me, but alas, something that I can no longer utilize, for I must move on to bigger things."

Lucius bowed. "Of course, my Lord. I would be honored."

Voldemort reached into an inner pocket of his robes and produced a small black book. "This is an old journal of mine. I kept it when I was a student at Hogwarts. I pass it on to you now, in the hopes that you will glean much use and knowledge from it."

He handed it to Lucius, who felt somewhat puzzled. The rational part of him knew that Lord Voldemort was human, but still he couldn't fathom that this otherworldly being standing before him had indeed been a man, and what more, a student. Lucius flipped through the pages of the diary, but found to his surprise that it was completely blank.

"Not all knowledge can be expressed in words," Voldemort said, as if in response. "Simply declare yourself, and all will be revealed."

Lucius sat down at a nearby desk, keeping the diary open. After a moment of deliberation, he took a quill and began to write on the page: Lucius Malfoy.

Moments later, writing appeared:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

HEIR OF SLYTHERIN

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Lucius looked up. Voldemort was looking at him too, half-cloaked in shadow.

"Yes, Lucius. I am the last living descendant of Salazar Slytherin, through the line of the Gaunts. It saddens me to see those of noble wizarding blood die out, exterminated by the ruthlessness of Muggles and their supporters. Salazar Slytherin was one of the few wizards of his time who realized the dangers that Muggles and Muggle-borns posed to wizarding society. But the other founders did not agree with him, and so, he took matters into his own hands. He built the Chamber of Secrets and entrusted it to his heir, who would one day return to Hogwarts and remove unworthy students from the school."

"And that heir… is you?"

"It is," said Voldemort. "But as you understand, I am no longer able to concentrate on Hogwarts. That is why I need you to keep this diary safe. On its own, it is very dangerous. But it contains an enchantment by which the Chamber may be opened, which will activate itself once it is brought into the school."

"So you wish for me to smuggle it into Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Voldemort. "But only upon my command. For now, our mission is to capture the Ministry. Once the Ministry is in our clutches, we will focus on purging the wizarding world of Muggle-borns, starting with the school. But I stress that we must wait until the Ministry is ours."

"When do you expect that will be?"

"Very soon," said Voldemort quietly. "There is one final thing I must do. When it is done, I will send for you."

And with that, the Dark Lord walked off. In the following months, Lucius felt an air of foreboding and excitement grow among the Death Eaters, as if they could feel that the deciding day was almost upon them.

On October 31st of that year, Lord Voldemort set out to strike against his last, most dangerous enemy - a baby boy by the name of Harry Potter. The Death Eaters, including Lucius, knew little of their leader's motives, for they were not let in on the secret of a prophecy that had been made hardly a year ago, overheard by Severus Snape. Lucius only knew the details of what was supposed to happen: Voldemort would kill the boy. Then, in the days that followed, the Death Eaters would throw up a revolt of a larger magnitude than ever and overthrow the Ministry in one fell swoop.

But then, things went more wrong than any of them could have possibly imagined.

Lord Voldemort did set out to kill the baby. But upon casting the fatal curse, his body was obliterated, and Harry Potter survived. The Dark Lord was extinguished by a power far greater than anything he possessed. And in a single stroke, the Dark Order was beheaded, leaving its body to thrash and disintegrate in the chaos it had created. The Death Eaters were dazed and scattered. Many of them, like Hesperus, were killed by Aurors in an attempt to evade capture, the last minutes of their lives spent dueling in fanatic rage. Others were thrown into prison without a trial, like so many animals that had escaped their cages. But still others, like Lucius, had retained enough of their former societal roles to be caught in the administrative mayhem that followed. In a matter of days, they were rounded up into the Ministry's custody and taken to the Wizengamot for questioning.

Lucius watched as many people he knew, and many others he didn't, were tried before the court. Their fates varied. Some were condemned to death, others given life sentences. Those who had families put up the longest fights, for the most part.

In the end, Lucius was one of the ones who managed to get off, claiming that he had been acting under the Imperius Curse. He told the story of how he met Hesperus, and given the fact that the man had been a high-ranking and powerful Death Eater, it seemed likely that he should have placed the curse on Lucius, for he had had ample motive and opportunity to do so. There was evidence that Lucius had done good for the Ministry before, which cohered with his account, and swayed a few key individuals in his favor. Thus, Lucius was released and was allowed to re-immerse himself in society, on the condition that he relinquish his Ministry position.

But there was more to Lucius's choice of defense than convenience of explanation, because for a short while, Lucius actually came to believe in it himself. During his time as a Death Eater, he had felt like the whole world around him had been transformed. For the first time, he had been in a position of power and influence that no Malfoy before him had ever known, and it felt as if he had tapped into some ancient power of his bloodline, one that called him to fulfill some noble destiny that all his ancestors had been striving towards.

But then, without warning, the trance broke. With the death of his master, the veil he had thrown up before Lucius's eyes had vanished, revealing the world exactly as it had been before. The shock and emptiness Lucius had felt inside himself was indeed disenchantment, for he had been given a dream he had never dared to contemplate and had seen it broken in almost the same instant. The Dark Lord's vision had bewitched him, but its power surpassed what any Imperius Curse could ever do, because Lucius himself had come to believe in it with all his heart. It had come and gone before his eyes like a brilliant comet, and now the colors of the real world seemed dull in comparison.

After his official pardoning, Lucius gradually settled back into his former way of life. He rehabilitated his family's image, donating a large sum of money to the Auror office and proclaimed his support for a number of causes and charities. He appealed to the new Minister to remain a government employee, and after some administrative deliberation, was made a Hogwarts school governor, a position that would come in handy when his son reached school age.

But though his status had been more or less restored, Lucius was never again the same. The person he had been before the war had perished in the Department of Origin, among its books and fountains, the day he had accepted Hesperus's offer.

No longer affiliated with the Department, Lucius was barred from entering the archive without permission from one of its high-ranking officials. And this circumstance did not bother him, because he no longer wanted to. He entered the game of politics and played it well, encircling himself with power, trying to tie together as many strands as he could of the promised world he had been robbed of. But each time he came close to mending some fragment of it, it would unravel in his hands like a lifeless replica, as impotent and meaningless as all the efforts of man.