Chapter Nine

As he finished his sixth glass of Firewhiskey, Cornelius Fudge swore and hurled his glass into the fireplace he was currently in front of, causing the flames to roar up momentarily before they settled back down. The reason for Fudge's current night of inebriation was the same reason that he had been drinking for nearly a month: James Potter.

When James Potter had first put his name forth as a candidate for the next Minister of Magic, Fudge had thought it a joke, as did many of those who supported Fudge; after all, James Potter was notorious for his practical jokes. But James Potter's newest joke was turning into one that Fudge did not find funny whatsoever; in fact, Fudge was beginning to think that the impossible might actually happen; he might actually lose his position!

Fudge, at first, had been supremely confident that he would win the coming election; after all, he had powerful financiers behind him that were determined to ensure that the status quo remained. Change, after all, was a dangerous thing, especially when Muggleborns and Half-bloods were trying to end traditions that had been in place for centuries; considering James Potter was married to a Muggleborn, it was no wonder that the other Purebloods were determined to see Potter's candidacy end in a humiliating defeat.

Fudge had begun his campaign full of confidence in his inevitable win, but that confidence had been dealt blow after blow as Fudge realized how contemptible the rest of the Magical World viewed him. The Ministers of France, Belgium, Germany, and Italy had flat-out refused to offer any aid to Fudge's candidacy, citing how few actual changes Fudge had allowed to occur in Britain. The President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America had been blunter when Fudge had reached out, calling Fudge a pathetic corrupt weakling who should have been drowned at birth and spared the rest of Magical Britain, his incompetent leadership; Fudge had drunk himself into oblivion after that particular meeting.

Finding no allies willing to come to his aid in the wider Magical World, Fudge decided to use old tactics that had always succeeded in bringing results: slander.

Fudge had used the considerable power of the Daily Prophet to slander and discredit James Potter every chance he could, hoping that the people would lap up Fudge's words as they always did and so destroy Potter's chances. That decision had blown up spectacularly in Fudge's face when the people began canceling their subscriptions to the Daily Prophet en masse. So many had canceled their subscriptions that the editor, Trevor Till, had come to Fudge personally to inform the Minister that the Daily Prophet would not survive if they continued to denigrate James Potter. However, even threatening to fire the editor had yielded no results, as Trevor had told Fudge that even if he fired him, the result would stay the same, and the Prophet would be ruined. Since then, fate seemed determined to destroy Fudge's future career; someone was systemically targeting Purebloods, and the end results had made Fudge physically sick each time he saw them.

So far, four Purebloods had been tortured and murdered, and not just them, but their entire families as well; Crabbe, MacNair, Avery, and Wilkes had all been discovered horribly tortured and murdered in ways that had made many Aurors empty their stomachs, but the sight of what had been done to their families was far worse. Fudge remembered how Amelia Bones had come to his office, her eyes red from weeping, and told him what had happened to Wilkes's six-year-old daughter; Fudge had only been able to make the horrible images in his head stop when he passed out from a long night of drinking.

Lucius Malfoy had tried to argue that James Potter was behind the slaughter, but even Fudge had to admit that Potter would never do something so horrendous, even to defeat Fudge; whoever was behind these murders was a true monster, and Fudge began to wonder if Potter had been right about Voldemort's return.

"Fifi!" Fudge yelled angrily, causing a diminutive house-elf to appear with an echoing 'crack,'

"Master called for Fifi?" The house-elf said in a soft voice,

"Yes! Bring me more Firewhiskey!" Fudge demanded with a drunken slur, "Now!"

"Yes, master," Fifi replied quickly before disappearing with another echoing 'crack.'

Once again left alone, Fudge stared at the fire as it danced before him; one way or another, he would be the last man standing when the elections came. He would not let some upstart end his career; he would watch the Ministry burn before he accepted defeat at the hands of James Potter.

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Harry's month at Hogwarts was honestly the strangest of his life. At the same time, the familiarity of being back at Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron made Harry indescribably happy. However, it didn't change that Harry was once again the subject of scrutiny and rumor, not because he was the Boy-Who-lived, but because he wasn't.

Instead, his newfound fame was because he was supposed to be dead and yet had been found safe and sound; the fact that the Prophet had told the world that Harry had been abused hadn't helped either.

Harry's only comfort from the whispers and stares came from his sister, Rose, who didn't hesitate to hex anyone stupid enough to spread rumors about her little brother where she could hear them.

But the thing that Harry loved most was that he got to see his mother every day, something that he wouldn't have thought possible in his wildest dreams. Another thing that surprised Harry and reminded him that this wasn't his world was that Professor Snape wasn't the Hogwarts Potions master in this world. Instead, Severus Snape was a permanent resident of Azkaban prison, having been sent there by James Potter himself; Lily Potter had supposedly visited him only once after his incarceration, but the result of that visit had rendered Snape without the use of his tongue forever after. However, no charges were ever filed, and no one ever found out what Lily had done to cause it.

In this world, the potions class was taught by a large, portly gentleman named Professor Slughorn, and Harry could honestly say that he had never been happier to go to a potions class. Where Snape had been a belligerent bully who could barely be called a Professor, Slughorn was meticulous and went out of his way to instruct his classes on everything that they needed to know, not only how to make potions but also why certain ingredients were needed, and what would happen if the wrong ingredients were used.

In the month since returning to Hogwarts, Harry had been astounded to discover that Potions was quickly becoming his favorite class, something that his mother and father found hilarious; Lily, because it had once been hers as well, and James, because he had hoped Harry's favorite class would be Transfiguration just as it was James' when he attended Hogwarts.

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Lucius Malfoy was a proud man; he was the head of House Malfoy and could trace his lineage back over five hundred years; he was a fierce believer in Pureblood superiority, which was why when the Dark Lord Voldemort first began his campaign to finally put the mudbloods in their place, Lucius had been among the first to join him.

For the first few years of Voldemort's war, Lucius had been thrilled as he and the rest of his Death Eater comrades achieved victory after victory against Dumbledore's pathetic resistance, but all that changed when Lord Voldemort lost his power at the hands of James Potter.

Once it became that Voldemort had as much power as a mudblood, Lucius did what any upstanding member of Pureblood society had done and abandoned Voldemort, thinking he would simply fade into obscurity. The only difficult thing that occurred after Voldemort's fall was the number of bribes that Lucius had to pay to keep himself out of Azkaban, but with House Malfoy's wealth, it was simply a drop in a bucket for him. Still, the fact that he had to pay at all had annoyed Lucius more than he could bear, and the years of whispers that followed him only exacerbated his discomfort.

Now, however, Lucius had begun to wonder if he had made a grave mistake in abandoning the Dark Lord; Lucius had heard the rumors of Voldemort's return, but naturally, he had assumed that the rumors were just that.

But after seeing four of his fellow Purebloods and their families brutally murdered, Lucius was beginning to wonder if Voldemort had indeed returned and, if so, how long before Lucius would be next for his betrayal.

As Lucius sat in his study, staring at the flames dancing in his fireplace, he was suddenly very glad that he had sent his wife to their villa in Italy; Narcissa had wanted to take Draco with her, but Lucius had argued that there was no safer place for their son than Hogwarts. Loathe though he was to admit it, Lucius was sure that as long as Dumbledore was in charge there, no harm would befall his son and heir.

He was just starting on his second glass of brandy when he felt the wards surrounding his home fall with so much force that it caused Lucius to drop his glass in pain, causing it to shatter on the wood floor.

As Lucius struggled to his feet, he heard his front door explode with a shattering roar of broken wood; ripping his wand free from his cane, Lucius stumbled into the entrance hall, determined to destroy the one who would dare to invade his home. However, that determination immediately evaporated when Lucius stormed into the entrance hall and saw someone he hoped never to face again.

"Lord Voldemort?" Lucius asked in horror as his wand fell from his loose fingers,

"Hello, Lucius," Voldemort replied with a cruel smile, "Did you miss me?"

Before Lucius could respond, Voldemort flicked his wand at his former follower, causing the head of House Malfoy to fly backward through the adjacent wall and land in a crumpled heap in his study.

As Lucius lay in a painful heap on the floor, Voldemort slowly walked in, casting an appreciating gaze over the affluence that Lucius had painstakingly brought into his home.

"I must say, I always did love it here," Voldemort drawled, "So much power and beauty lie in this manor. I think I'll keep it after I'm done with you."

"My lord," Lucius wheezed through what he thought were broken ribs, "Please have mercy!"

"Mercy?" Voldemort asked with a dark chuckle, "And pray tell, why should I show mercy to a traitor who abandoned their lord, after swearing eternal obedience?"

"I can still be of use," Lucius wheezed, "I can still serve!"

"Can you?" Voldemort drawled, "Can you indeed?"

"You will need supporters to fund your campaign," Lucius replied, latching onto the hope that his silver tongue might still save him, "And you will need the political power that House Malfoy can bring you. Please, my lord, spare me and my family, and my house will serve you for all time."

"This is a song that I've heard once before, Lucius," Voldemort sneered, "And I distinctly remember you leaving my service when I lost my powers. So why should I trust you again? How do I know that you won't betray me again?"

"I will make any oath you demand, my lord," Lucius begged, rising to his knees and staring at Voldemort in abject terror, "I will never betray you again! Please!"

For a moment, Voldemort stared down at Lucius, who was struggling to breathe; he could very easily kill Lucius, and considering how the head of House Malfoy had betrayed him, Voldemort was well within his rights to kill the Pureblood bastard. But on the other hand, Lucius did have a point. To continue his campaign, which would end with his complete domination over not just Magical Britain but the whole world, Voldemort would need powerful and affluent backers to ensure his inevitable victory.

"Very well, Lucius," Voldemort purred, almost laughing at the naked hope that appeared on Lucius' face, "You shall live on one condition."

"Condition, my lord?" Lucius asked in bemusement,

"Crucio!" Voldemort said simply, causing Lucius to collapse to the ground as he screamed in agony.

"Never interrupt me, Lucius," Voldemort purred as he ended the spell, leaving Lucius sobbing on the floor.

"As I was saying," Voldemort continued, taking a seat in Lucius' chair, "You shall live on one condition. Your son's life shall be held as payment for your debt."

"What?" Lucius asked in horror as he rose shakily to his knees,

"Don't worry, Lucius," Voldemort said silkily, "I don't plan on killing your whelp. Not now, at any rate. But if you ever betray me again, your dear sweet Draco shall be the one to pay the price. Do we have a deal?"

Lucius stared at Voldemort in horror at what the Dark Lord was proposing, causing Voldemort to chuckle softly as he twirled his wand between his fingers.

"Or, I can kill you here, and now, then, I shall go hunting for the rest of your pathetic family. Is that more agreeable to you?"

"Please, my lord," Lucius begged, clasping his hands together in supplication, "Not Draco!"

"Make your choice, Lucius," Voldemort replied mercilessly, "You either die here, followed soon after by your entire family. Or you give your son's life to me to take whenever I so choose."

Realizing that he had no choice in the matter, Lucius' head dropped in sorrow; taking a shaky breath and begging whatever deities there were for what he was about to do, Lucius took a shaky breath.

"His life is yours, my lord," Lucius whispered in a broken voice, "To ensure my service to you."

"Good, Lucius," Voldemort replied with a cruel smile, knowing he had broken the man, "But, unfortunately, you still have a debt to pay."

"My lord?" Lucius asked, his head shooting up in horror and bemusement,

"You betrayed me, Lucius. And I would be a poor master if I allowed such betrayal to go unpunished."

The color seemed to drain from Lucius' face as he heard the words, yet his body refused to follow his directions and run.

"Seeing as how you left my service for ten years, it only makes sense that you should be punished for ten hours," Voldemort replied cruelly, " One hour for every year you abandoned me."

As Lucius opened his mouth to beg for forgiveness, Voldemort lazily raised his wand and pointed it at Lucius,

"Crucio!"

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Authors Note:

I apologize for the lateness of this story's update. I'm currently suffering from an extreme case of writer's block, and as a result, all of my stories are suffering. I have no idea how long this will last, so it might be a while before I update again, or it could be tomorrow. Either way, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.