CHAPTER 91: Two Minutes To Midnight (Part 2)
Bunker #17
April 30th, 1996
2:15 p.m.
Very few people outside the Dark Lord's Pantheon understood just how vast their operation truly was. Neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore's Order was blind, they all knew the Dark Lord's words had resonated with plenty of witches and wizards within Britain. The Great War had been a long and brutal endeavour. Nearly a hundred and fifty years of wizarding subjugation wasn't something that was easily forgotten. Nor forgiven. Even with Dumbledore and many others trying to make people let go of old hatred, resentment towards the muggles was too strong to be swept under the rug.
It had become taboo nowadays to share these views. To not embrace muggles and their offspring. To ignore just how close they came to exterminating wizardkind. But it all happened centuries ago, the muggle lovers would cry, they are different now. And they were supposed to believe that. They had barely escaped the Great War with their lives, allowing the muggles to push them into hiding. They didn't even get a chance to retaliate. To ensure that what happened would never happen again. And with Dumbledore and the rest of his mindless drones in charge, they never would unless something changed. They were supposed to rise above everything the muggles did to them and strive for peace. The mere thought made Barty furious. They were naive, all of them. All the muggle lovers who ran the country, those who had let themselves forget what the muggles were actually capable of. They would be the death of the wizarding world, and many witches and wizards knew it.
The anger may have subsided into whispers as the centuries passed, but it was far from silent. Some didn't even dare voice their views to their loved ones, leading a double life and serving the Dark Lord in secret while pretending to be the average, conditioned citizen. Others had found people who shared the same views as them - family, friends, coworkers - and joined as a group. Each case was different, but they all shared the same mindset: They would die before allowing the muggles a second chance at magical subjugation.
Their numbers had grown so large that it had forced the Dark Lord to create several meeting places all over the country. Some of these places were regular safehouses, hidden amongst their enemy and warded just enough to keep them hidden without raising flags for the Ministry. But when these safehouses had proved themselves to not be enough, the Dark Lord had set several bunkers down all across the country. These were guarded with magic much more powerful than the safehouses, and though that had led the Ministry to notice them more, they had yet to be penetrated. In there, they were as safe as they were at Azkaban. Not a single word would leave the confines of these bunkers unless someone from inside revealed them. Which was precisely what was needed for today's meeting.
They were already there waiting for him. Thirty or more witches or wizards standing at attention as he stepped into the room. Their faces were hidden behind their masks, but Barty could tell he had their full attention. Some seemed eager, others a little hesitant, but after years of living with his reputation, he had learned to ignore it. He welcomed them curtly, quickly dispensing with the formalities as he studied each and every one of them. He didn't know their names and would never see their faces, but he never forgot there was a person behind the mask. And after tomorrow night, some of them might never go home again. It was his responsibility to make sure as many of them did as he could.
"It will be tomorrow night," Barty announced to his brothers and sisters. "We've been handed Birmingham. Besides London, this is the muggle city with the largest concentration of wizarding communities. Some of our kind will stand against us, it's important you do not engage with them. Misguided as they may be, they are still our people. And I'll have no wizarding blood spilled tomorrow night."
"What of the Aurors?" A voice from the crowd asked.
"I hear Dumbledore is now one of them," another said.
"The Aurors will try to apprehend you. And given the magnitude of our task, they will use lethal force. It's important you avoid them at all costs. These are people who have dedicated their entire lives to preparing for a situation like this one. They will be faster than you. Better duellers than you. You will not beat them, and they will apprehend you. The moment you spot one of them, apparate to the other side of the city and continue your mayhem there. Do not give them a chance to apprehend you. As for Dumbledore, he'll prioritize defending London. You have nothing to fear from him."
"What is our goal here?" A woman asked. "What is it that's so important we're risking exposure at such a level?"
"Something that could ensure our victory single-handedly," Barty said gravely. "Something you'll learn about if and when the Dark Lord wills it. For now, it is important you focus on your objective. We only have one shot at this, we cannot afford to waste it."
The meeting continued for the next half an hour as Barty gave all of them instructions for tomorrow's attack. Some would be working in small groups, others would be left to operate alone. And viewing the entire operation through the seven chosen cities, both the Aurors and the Order would be overwhelmed by it all. Barty had no love for Zeus, but he couldn't deny their plan was the perfect way of taking them all out of the equation. He only wondered what Zeus had in mind for luring Longbottom into the Ministry.
After everyone had left the bunker, Barty considered returning to his personal safe house and resting until tomorrow. Besides his meeting with Zeus later tonight, he had nothing but time to prepare. And given it had been over fifteen years since there had been a mission as risky as this one, keeping himself healthy and well rested was one of his top priorities at the moment. But it wasn't his sole one.
When he apparated, he landed in front of a well-kept muggle house. The sounds of traffic all around him were quickly muffled as he stepped into the wards and stared at the front door. He hadn't meant to come here, not intentionally, at least. But he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. Perhaps, even if subconsciously, his mind had taken him right where he needed to be.
He stepped inside the house, only slightly surprised that Harry wasn't there. He'd been busy ever since he got out of the Ministry, word had already begun to spread that Harry had begun to seek out Montague again, something that seemed to greatly displease the smarmy prick. Such determination would have made Barty proud if it hadn't just placed Harry back in Montague's crosshairs again.
Barty thought about what he would do as he waited for the boy, wondering if he'd be going too far if he placed some tracking charms in his socks in case he ever needed to find the boy quicker. But he wasn't allowed to ponder for long as a familiar voice spoke to him when he entered the kitchen. "What are you doing here?"
Regulus Black, except not quite. It was the same Regulus he remembered, the arrogant young man who would have looked handsome if he had been doing anything other than glaring at him. He had never liked the boy, not even when they were somewhat closer in age. He'd always been too fanatical. Too rash. Too vindictive. And in the years since he'd betrayed the Dark Lord, Barty hadn't grown any fonder of him.
"Prometheus," Barty scoffed. He had always hated Black's Death Eater - placing himself as a Titan - as if he could even compare to the Dark Lord. He had excused it by saying he'd give them the Order's secrets just as Prometheus had given the fire to the humans. In the end, his chosen name rang truer than ever once he betrayed the Pantheon. Unfortunately, being stuck as a portrait didn't compare to being chained to a rock and having his liver eaten for all eternity. Black got off easy, in Barty's opinion. "And here I was hoping Montague had finally taken care of you."
"I got better," Black said coldly.
"Harry must have been thrilled," he mocked. "The house must've gotten quiet without its screeching parrot. Does Harry even know the truth about who you are? What lies have you been feeding him, Black? "
"No lies, Junior. Harry knows everything. I'm only trying to tell him what someone should have told me at his age. Perhaps it would have saved me a lot of pain."
"And your brother as well, if I'm not mistaken." Barty gave him a vicious smile.
"I can't believe this," he scoffed. "The Great Ares, God of War, giving me an ethics class? At least I realised my mistakes and tried to atone for them. I left the Death Eaters while you were the one who brought the Dark Lord back from the dead. How can you stand there and pretend you're a decent man after that?"
"I don't," Barty shook his head. "That's the difference between you and me, Black, I never fooled myself about the horrors I inflicted. I never tried to pretend to be a misunderstood saint, unlike you."
"And you still stand with the Dark Lord?"
"I stand for my people! For every witch and wizard in the world, I fight for them. See, while you and others joined the Death Eaters to settle your petty childish squabbles, some of us did it for the good of the world. Some of us actually thought of something beyond ourselves."
"Your ultimate goal is the genocide of over ninety-nine percent of the population!" Black cried out. "You Death Eaters are nothing but a group of thugs and murderers with an astronomical god complex."
"They are muggles," Barty said coolly. "They are nothing like us. While we are connected to the theurgical forces that bind the entire universe, they aren't even touched by them. They can't influence them. They don't even notice them. We may look the same, eat the same foods, but we are nothing like them. They are nothing but a plague that's overrun the planet. An uncontrolled pest that will destroy us, destroy the entire world, if they are not terminated first."
"They are human beings-"
"So were we!" Barty shouted, the words ripping through his throat. "When we had our wands snapped and forced into slavery by them, we were humans. And they didn't care. They butchered us. Enslaved us. They stripped us of our magic for fighting back and then brainwashed our own infants to fight on their side."
"Wizards had tortured and murdered muggles long before the Great War started, Junior."
"And what of every other race? All those that were hunted all over the globe, with the ones that were caught turning into lab experiments. They tortured the leprechauns for their gold. They turned the Veela into their personal sex slaves. And what of the elves? They were a peaceful race, one who never even meddled in human affairs. They kept to their own, and the muggles still found them and beat them into submission. They tortured and twisted them for centuries until they became a race of pathetic slaves. And what of the satyrs? The nymphs? All the other races the muggles managed to exterminate during the war?"
"I know all of this-"
"And do you know what has happened since your death? Just how advanced these muggles are becoming, how close the Statute of Secrecy enforced to protect us from them is to breaking? Cameras, computers, the internet. It's only a matter of time until they discover our secret and history repeats itself. And when they start killing us off again, it will be because of you. You and everyone who turned their back on your own kind for them."
"For me," Black growled. "I saw what being a Death Eater was turning me into. The monster I was becoming. And all to serve a lord who only really cares about his own gain."
"You were a monster before you even met our lord, Black," Barty responded. "The things you did… don't pretend you did them out of duty or duress. You may have stopped being a Death Eater, but that doesn't wash away everything you did when you were."
"At least I stopped. You kept on creating horrors at the Dark Lord's bidding. And still, you stand here, lecturing me. You truly are deranged."
"Whose more deranged? The man who does a wrong thing for the right reason? Or the one who fooled himself into believing what he was doing was right?"
"Both," Harry's voice called out from behind them, earning both Black and Barty's attention. "What are you doing here Junior?"
It had been well over a month since he'd revealed his identity to Harry, and yet he still looked at him the same. A mask of coldness that failed to conceal the utter disdain Harry held for him. A month of the same look, and it hurt Barty every time. "I needed to talk to you."
"Here to invite me to your upcoming Death Eater murder rave?" Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I already know all about that. Not interested."
"I don't want you to join," Barty hurried out, walking towards the boy only for Harry to step back. "But you're not safe here. I have a place a couple of hours from here. It's a bit secluded, but if you'd at least just let me take you there until this passes–"
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry said emotionlessly. "I'm good right where I am."
"With your magic the way it is, you're vulnerable. I know you don't want to admit it-"
"Stop," Harry snapped. "Stop pretending you care. The only reason you're here is that you have this unrelenting obsession with making me a Death Eater. Do I look so attention-starved that you thought you could just walk into my life, try to be my new dad, and I'd just buy it and do whatever you said? Do you really think so little of me?"
"That's not what's happening here-"
"You hired Graham Montague to bring me into the fold!" He shouted, his lip quivering with anger. "And ever since that moment, my life has gone into a downward spiral with depths I couldn't have even imagined before I experienced them. Everything that has gone wrong this year has been because of you. Because the Great Ares wanted me to be a Death Eater. Well, no thanks. I would've thought Montague's corpse would have been a good enough answer, but clearly it wasn't."
Barty sighed. "Contacting Graham was a mistake. I had no idea of your history. But I promise, Harry, I'm not here to do that."
"Just… just leave." Harry looked away from him. "Get out of my house."
Barty stood still, trying to will Harry to look at him, but the boy remained stubborn. Once it became clear he wouldn't get another word from him, Barty nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He began walking out of the kitchen, brushing past Harry as the door came to view only to stop.
"You're wrong," he whispered, but he knew Harry heard it when the boy suddenly tensed. "Over my life, I have met many of the greatest men of their generations. I've seen people with powers you can't even fathom, served under one of the most powerful wizards to ever exist. And still, there is no doubt in my mind you'll grow to be the greatest one of them all. You have this… this spark in you, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. Despite all that you have suffered, experiences that would leave even the most powerful of men crumbling to their knees, you somehow manage to stay on your feet. You rise above it… you learn from it and become more than what you were. That's worth more than any magical power I have seen."
"G-Go," Harry's voice shook.
"Death Eater, Order Member, it doesn't matter. Whatever you choose to do, you'll be great. And more importantly, I'll be there when you need me. Even if you don't want me to be."
The Great Hall
7:45 p.m.
"This can't be happening," Neville threw the latest copy of the Daily Prophet on the table, barely missing his plate with his carelessness. Potter's mugshot glared up at him, almost mockingly. It only made Neville's urge to burn the paper as a whole so much stronger. "How could he have escaped?"
"He somehow managed to escape Grimmauld Place, mate," Ron said darkly, picking up the paper as he read deeper into the article. "The Ministry must have been a piece of cake after that."
The news that Potter had escaped from the DMLE was something that had shaken the entire student body. It took the revelation of what he'd been doing all this time for the idiots that praised Potter after the Three Broomsticks to see who he truly was. Now, his very name wasn't said without a chill entering the room. There were already kids wanting to leave Hogwarts, fearing he'd come to attack them. And though Umbridge had attempted to calm these rumours down, they kept flying.
Every front page since Potter had escaped, both morning and evening prints, had been all about him. For most, it made it impossible to stop fearing him. For Neville, it only made him angrier. And though Ron didn't immediately join him, once the article detailed that Hermione would be kept at the DMLE for another week in suspicion of helping him escape, he became outraged.
"Bloody morons!" He had shouted, earning a detention with Umbridge in the process. "Hermione would never help that creep. Why does she have to pay for his escape? He's the one that should be locked up, not her!"
Neville was glad about it. Not just because now Ron seemed to hate Potter as much as he did, but also because it brought common ground for them. After their last argument, Neville was beginning to think their friendship was over. Ron had avoided him for days after their fight, not even deigning to look in his general direction. But now, with Hermione being fucked over by Potter's actions, Ron was starting to see things as he did. And as pathetic as it sounded, it felt good not to be the only one who was angry at Potter. With Hermione and Ginny and Mrs Weasley suddenly defending the bastard, he had almost begun to question if he had actually been in the wrong.
He missed talking to Eli. Ever since the article about Harry came out, the two hadn't been able to talk much. And with Umbridge increasingly checking through their mail, both of them had agreed not to say anything particularly important in their letters, leaving them with little to talk about. Following Potter's escape, Neville had hoped Eli would write him another letter, or at least answer the one he'd sent. But Eli had been so silent that Neville was beginning to worry that something might have happened to him. It had gotten so bad he'd begun to perpetually see a bloodied Potter standing over Eli's corpse everywhere he went.
It's just your mind playing tricks on you, he reminded himself. It's not real.
"No news on Hermione," Ron said, bringing him back to the present day. "I don't understand, how could they think she was involved in Potter's escape?"
"Maybe Potter framed her like he did with Tracey Davis," Neville replied.
"Longbottom," a voice from behind him spoke right before he was nearly hauled out of his seat by the shoulder. "We need to talk."
"Pansy, enough," Nott said, forcing her hand off Neville's shoulder. "We come in peace."
"What do you want?" Neville barked. "Come here to gloat?"
"Heard from Potter, have you?" Ron continued. "What did he do to Hermione?"
"Look," Nott said, obviously forcing himself to remain civil. "If I knew something, I'd tell you. On my life. But right now, we have more important things to talk about."
"Hermione's important," Ron said. "Not that you lot would care."
"Complain all you like later, but you need to hear this now. Something bad's coming." Parkinson said.
"Something bad?" Ron asked.
"You-Know-Who levels of bad," Nott said. "So you hate us, fine. We aren't particularly fond of you either. But something's going to happen - either tonight or tomorrow - and when it does, you can't do anything about it."
"Anything about what?" Ron said, his ears turning red.
"We don't know, but when it happens you will. And you need to stay inside the castle. No matter what you hear or what you see, you can't leave. And you definitely can't go to the Ministry."
"This is a trick," Neville growled. "Your Death Eater parents put you up to this, didn't they?"
"Our parents aren't Death Eaters," Parkinson scoffed.
"Then how do you know about this?" Ron asked.
"How did you know where the Chamber of Secrets was?" Parkinson pressed. "Or that the philosopher's stone was being hidden in the school? Just because we know something important doesn't make us the ones behind it."
"Ron," Nott grabbed him by the shoulders, his eyes bearing into him. "You have to listen to us. You can't leave the castle, it's what they want. You have to stay here."
"We won't be listening to either of you," Neville snarled, gaining the attention of the rest of the Great Hall as everyone began to quiet down. "I don't know what game you two think you're playing, but we aren't stupid enough to play along with it."
"Longbottom, you're as dim-witted as you are fat," Parkinson rolled her eyes, and Neville felt a fire ignite in his belly. "I can't believe I'm saying this with Weasley involved, but let the people with an actual brain do the talking."
"Why should we believe you?" Ron asked.
"Because we saved you that day at the Three Broomsticks," Nott said. "You and your sister and your friends. That should earn us this much at least. Just trust us, if you really want to help, you'll stay here and not engage."
Neville turned to Ron, who was looking between Nott and Parkinson warily, but still, there was something in his eyes that Neville didn't like. And before he could shout anything else he heard someone clear their throat right behind him.
"Mister Nott. Miss Parkinson. You two have strayed from the Slytherin table. What was so important to discuss with Messrs Weasley and Longbottom?"
"Nothing," Parkinson said crisply. "Just talking about the upcoming OWLs."
Umbridge gave them a smile, but even Neville could tell there was no warmth behind it. "You four can discuss that tomorrow. For now, I must ask that you return to your table."
"Yes, Headmistress," Nott said, bowing slightly to Umbridge before pulling Parkinson away with him.
Umbridge turned to them and Neville glared at her. "Best to return to your dinner, Messrs Longbottom and Weasley. Otherwise, it will get cold."
Azkaban Prison
May 1st, 1996
2:15 a.m.
Lucius Malfoy had rarely set foot inside Azkaban prison ever since the night he helped the Dark Lord rip it from the Ministry's hands. The place was unbecoming of someone like him, its filthy walls ruining his perfectly good robes. The ground was peppered with cracks and puddles, and throughout every floor lived a great variety of disgusting rodents and insects. He was no one to question the Dark Lord, but what he had promised would become a safe haven for the Pantheon turned out to be nothing but a decrepit tower, the likes of which none of them wanted to be near.
But the Dark Lord didn't mind the grime that oozed from the place, so nothing was done about it. And when the Dark Lord summoned you to present the completed plan you had offered to engineer, you had no choice but to ruin another set of perfect robes.
They were all waiting by the time he arrived, huddled around a table within the Dark Lord's quarters. The eight men that would prove indispensable for the Dark Lord's bidding to be fulfilled. There were Junior and Rowle, the two blood fanatics of the group, those who followed the Dark Lord because they were true believers in his mission. Lucius had never managed to respect them as many others did, though Ares' skills kept his mouth shut about it. Mudbloods and muggles needed killing, but not out of some divine mission. They were merely filth.
The next group didn't fare any better in his eyes, but given the mission they would be perfect. Dolohov and Pyrites, the two biggest psychopaths within the Pantheon with enough brains to pull off what was needed. Dolohov, though, was a class of his own. Lucius was no stranger to the effects Dark Magic could have on an individual, but never had he seen it to this extent. His teeth had begun to fall out and his eyes were noticeably sunk deep into his cranium. And the rest of his body wasn't any better, with many of his bones distorted and twisted, not enough to impair his movement but just enough to look inhuman. But worst of all was the skin, peeling off on every part of his body and held on by a large variety of muggle contraptions. And nowhere was this clearer than his face, where the skin had practically fallen off completely already, only to be reattached again. Pyrites, while not as involved with the Dark Arts as Dolohov, was perhaps even more psychopathic in how he treated his victims, often avoiding killing them for the mere joy of seeing them wish for death long after he had released them. These two didn't want money or power, they didn't believe in anything. They wanted nothing more than to burn the world down. And for one night, Lucius would give them that gift. For it, he would gain their favour. And if they survived the night, they would prove to be useful tools in the future.
And finally, there were the ones he truly respected. The four other Death Eaters whose mind, cunning, and resourcefulness had proved to make them very real threats. Titus Nott, an uninitiated member of the Pantheon, but one who had made such an impression that the Dark Lord himself forced his inclusion within this scheme. Peter Pettigrew, a cunning trickster who had mastered manipulation and mind games in a way few others had. Igor Karkaroff, ruthless and ambitious. Many men had stood in his path, and all of them ended up dead and buried before they could do any real damage to the man. And finally, Elijah Montague, someone he had had his eye on for quite a while, but it wasn't until his recent contributions to his plans that proved to him just how dangerous the man could be.
Unlike with Dolohov and Pyrites, he wasn't attempting to win their favour. These weren't the type of men who you could build an alliance with. But fear and necessity are powerful tools, so long as he kept either of them in his sleeve, they wouldn't pose a true threat.
"Thank you for coming," Lucius smiled at the group, going around the table shaking hands and exchanging formalities. Most were curt or succinct, others smiled and acted as if they were happy to see him, engaging in a bit of small talk before letting him go. And then there was Titus Nott, a man who smiled and shook his hand, but instead of seeing nothing inside his eyes, Lucius saw a glimmer of something that immediately put him on edge.
"Mister Malfoy," the man gave him a full grin, his teeth so white they looked like porcelain. "It is such a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I'm honoured you have considered me for such an important task, and I can promise you right now, I will not disappoint. I am a hard worker and a fast learner. I'm someone who will go above and beyond in anything he sets his mind to, and I will prove it to you tomorrow night. The sky is not the ceiling when you're working with me, it's where you stand. I will earn my place in this Pantheon among all of you, just you wait."
The more he talked, the faster he went, and the larger the unsettling glint in his eye got. Yes, Titus Nott was certainly someone he would not remove from his graveyard. "With such attitude, I can see why you have made an impression on the Dark Lord," Lucius smiled. "I look forward to seeing your work tomorrow."
Somehow, Titus Nott smiled even wider. "Oh, I'm sure. Once you see it, you'll want me there for every one of these missions. I promise you that, Mister Malfoy."
Lucius nodded, indicating to the man to take his seat before walking along the table and reaching the head. With Junior on the other side, Lucius sat down and gave a slight smirk.
"It's getting late, Lucius," Junior said irritatedly. "Everything is already set. What was so important for us to convene?"
"You know the Dark Lord as well as I do, Crouch. He wants a full report before the sun rises, and what harm is there in making sure everyone understands what will be required of them."
"We understand our job," Pettigrew drawled, ridding the dirt off his nails. "But your scheme is highly disappointing, Lucius. Anyone with half a brain will see right through it. You won't be fooling anyone."
"Don't doubt me just yet," Lucius said airily. "I might surprise you. Has Greyback agreed to his part?"
"Of course he has," Pettigrew rolled his eyes. "Animals kill for an opportunity like this one. There didn't need to be much convincing."
"And the hairs?"
That got Pettigrew's attention as he finally turned to him and smiled with his crooked teeth. "Oh, yes. I haven't misplaced them."
"Excellent."
"What I don't understand is what he's doing here," Karkaroff said gruffly, pointing towards Elijah Montague.
"Mister Montague is perhaps the most critical piece of our plan. Without him, all of your efforts would be for naught." Lucius said easily.
"And he just suddenly became crucial?" Junior raised an eyebrow at him. "Because as far as I can remember, he wasn't involved in the original vision for the plan."
"I had a proposition for Mister Malfoy, one that would guarantee our success without disrupting our Lord," Montague said calmly. "And he agreed that it was best for us to take on the burden rather than leaving it to the Dark Lord. That's why we are here, after all. To do his bidding."
Junior didn't seem convinced but dropped the topic either way.
"As Crouch has pointed out, the plan has changed from what we had previously accorded. Let's bring everyone up to speed, shall we?"
They discussed everything in precise detail, with Lucius first explaining the changes to the original vision and then everyone else going into their respective plans. He had also taken roll call, with nearly two hundred and fifty reliable Scavengers from the First War having signed up for tomorrow. Everything was in place. They had designed the perfect scenario, now it would depend on executing it well. And for that, he would need the most showy of them all to lead the charge. Which is why, after the meeting had ended and people were beginning to leave, Lucius caught up to Dolohov.
"Achlys," Lucius called out to him, and Dolohov immediately smiled. The Dark Lord himself had branded him with that name when he was inducted to the Pantheon - the personification of sorrow, misery, and poison, a title that fit the man rather well - and ever since then, he had stopped responding to the name Dolohov completely. "A word."
"What can I help you with, Mister Malfoy?" Dolohov asked, giving him that deranged grin that spread across his deformed face.
"I assigned you Liverpool, didn't I?" Lucius asked absently, and when Dolohov confirmed, he continued. "No, that just won't do. A man with your abilities deserves the spotlight. I'll talk to Rowle tomorrow morning and inform you're switching."
Dolohov grinned so hard, that another tooth fell out of his mouth and into the ground. The man didn't seem to care though, as he began cackling. "Ooooh, thank you. I have big plans already, Mister Malfoy. Big plans."
Lucius patted him on the back, managing to keep off the disgust from his face as he did it, and kept up the conversation with Dolohov as he waited for Montague to finish asking Pettigrew questions about the hairs he would use. And once they were done, Lucius politely bowed out of the conversation and waited for Montague to come to him.
"Is everything in place?" The boy asked eagerly as he arrived.
"The wards will not target you, however, I can't say the same for your men. There was only so much I could do without raising suspicion. I suggest you find another way to bring them in."
"That's impossible."
"A few years ago, I would have agreed," Lucius said smoothly. "But things have changed now. With so many people coming in and out, so long as someone doesn't present an apparent threat, the wards may not fully target them. It's the Aurors you will have to worry about."
"I have it under control."
"And Longbottom?" Lucius prodded. "Are you certain you can lure him to us?"
Montague smirked. "I have the boy eating out of my palm, Mister Malfoy. Trust me, he'll be there. Especially with the added incentive I'll give him."
"I hope so. The Dark Lord does not tolerate failure, Mister Montague. I would hate to see what would become of you if Longbottom doesn't show."
Montague gave him a stiff nod, before turning and walking away. But he wouldn't escape just yet.
"Oh, and Mister Montague. I am giving you this opportunity because you show promise, but let's make one thing clear. I will not tolerate accidents befalling any of the people that are off-limits. You don't have much more family left, it would be a shame for you to lose the ones that remain."
That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!
Next chapter we begin the GRAND FIFTH-YEAR FINALE. Be excited!
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