"I've gone and gotten myself turned around again." Arthur Weasley heaved a heavy sigh. This bloody mansion was like a maze. He'd lost Kingsley again. He was out of the section he was supposed to be checking. And he truly worried that he would fall into one of Malfoy's traps.
Arthur had been willing to bet his career on this raid, but they'd turned nothing up yet. Word must have gotten out that the Ministry had approved a raid on Malfoy manor; someone must have told Lucius Malfoy. And Malfoy in turn must have gotten rid of any and all things incriminating.
As always.
How many raids did this make? Three at least. Arthur knew, he just knew, that Malfoy was at the top of the Death Eater ranks. So, why couldn't he ever find one single shred of evidence?
Yes, he knew that the Malfoys had "been under the Imperius Curse" during the first war, but MALFOY WAS STILL YOU-WHO-WHO'S! He had to be! You didn't just leave the ranks. Unless he pulled a Severus Snape, he always was and would always remain He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's.
Arthur sank into an armchair with a sigh. There was nothing; he would never catch Malfoy. The arse would always remain just beyond his reach.