Avarice

Avarice

Chapter 1

The sun set slowly upon Ottery St. Catchpole that night, typical of lazy summer evenings. Ginny Weasley hovered by the kitchen door, bouncing on the balls of her feet, very aware that she was supposed to have left.

"Go on, Ginerva, out!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, bustling around the corner, handing Ginny a teeming plate of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice, "and take these with you."

"Oh, alright," was her muttered reply, as she allowed her mother to usher her into the parlor.

Ron looked up hopefully when she entered, and upon spotting the food balanced in her arms, he leapt to his feet and keenly relieved her of the burden. His best friend, Hermione Granger, however, neither stirred nor removed her focus from the book in her lap, even when Ginny slammed the kitchen door in a last expression of her frustration.

"The Order will arrive shortly," Ginny announced, not that anyone in the room wasn't already aware of the fact. She helped herself to a sandwich and took a seat beside Hermione on the sofa.

"I can' buhleeve those ol' Durshlees won' let 'Arry come for the shummer," said Ron through a mouthful of food.

"Remember what Dumbledore said." This had become one of Hermione's favorite maxims since the beginning of the summer holidays. "Besides," she continued thoughtfully, reading all the while, "I'm not so sure if maybe it's not better this way."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron inquired, reaching for his second sandwich.

"You know very well what it means, Ron."

"No, actually I don't. Care to explain?"

"Would the both of you stop? We won't be able to hear a bloody thing with the two of you carrying on like that," Ginny snapped in a whisper. The scraping of chairs could be heard from the kitchen, signaling the imminent arrival of Order members.

There was a familiar 'pop' of Apparation, and George Weasley appeared, sitting atop the fireplace mantle. His twin followed a moment later, ending up- albeit standing-in the middle of the parlor.

"I'll give it a nine, George," Fred said laughing, holding up the according number of freckled fingers. "I expected more, honestly..."

"Bugger!" George cried, reappearing next to Fred. "I thought that one would fetch me a ten, for sure."

"Well you'll just have to practice, then, won't you?" Fred drew himself up to his full height, puffed out his chest, and began marching towards the kitchen door. "Now if you'll excuse us, kiddies, we've pressing Order matters to attend to." With that they strut into the kitchen.

"Those two are terrible," Hermione said, finally closing her book.

Several more 'pop's could be heard coming from the next room. Ginny smiled broadly and scurried to press her ear to the wall. The murmur of various voices could distinctly be heard. "Mum's been careless," she sang.

"Ginny, don't," Hermione warned.

"You're gonna need these," Ron said, pulling a pair of Extendable Ears from his pocket. "I saved them from Mum's last raid," he informed her proudly, tossing them in Ginny's direction. Since the twins had successfully established Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, their mother had been particularly diligent in her one-woman crusade to keep their items- fondly termed 'Wheezes'- out of the hands of the rest of her brood. Thus far she hadn't been very triumphant.

"Wicked, Ron!"

He nodded and selected another sandwich.

"Ronald, if you don't stop eating those we'll have to roll you upstairs tonight," Hermione snapped, clearly peeved at them for ignoring her advice.

"A'right, fine wif me."

She sighed in resignation and returned to her book.

Ginny shook her head at her brother and his friend and pressed one Extendable Ear to her own, settling the other against the wall. The haze of voices suddenly separated, revealing each of their owners. As far as Ginny could tell, her mum, dad, the twins, Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, McGonagall, and Mundungus Fletcher were present. Then, another 'pop', and Severus Snape apologized callously for being late.

"Quite alright, Severus, we're just about to begin," Arthur said kindly.

"Have some tea," her mum said, and she could hear the china cup being set down on the table.

"We haven't much time," McGonagall said brusquely. "I'm overseeing the clear-out of Grimmauld Place tonight along with Remus."

"Right, then; the meeting is commenced. What's the report?"

"We got wind of an attack this morning while you were out, Kingsley. Somewhere in the North Sea...near Azkaban. The whole thing reeks of Death Eater."

"Do you know who was attacked?" Kingsley asked.

"Fudge sent a team to investigate. We haven't heard from them as of yet," said Tonks. The silence that followed signaled that the room's occupants were finishing her statement for themselves, with something along the lines of: And we probably never will.

"They're breakin' in, I tell you!" Mad-Eye shouted.

"Alastor, please."

"I'm sorry, Molly, but you know as well as I."

"We don't know anything, yet," Kingsley stated calmly.

"What else?" McGonagall prompted.

"Security isn't any tighter, at least not in and out of the Ministry. Inside's another story. Fudge's getting more paranoid by the day. He's taken to patrolling the departments, and sending out lackeys to do the same."

"What? You-Know-Who's gotten all he wants from the Ministry. Shouldn't Fudge be upping precautions elsewhere?"

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Remus said bitterly, "but just because he's admitted there's a problem doesn't mean he's going to do anything about it. He's out to save his own skin, nothing more."

"Is he doing anything useful?" George asked.

"He's made the search for Sirius Black top priority," Tonks said indignantly.

"Hasn't anybody told him?" Mundungus hiccupped, most likely drunk once again.

"Of course not," McGonagall scoffed. "Albus has just now gained Fudge's support. You'd have to be a fool to even consider it!" Then, she added as an afterthought, "If you've said anything I won't think twice about sending you off to Azkaban."

Mundungus obviously hadn't realized he'd been insulted, because he hiccupped again and promised not to breathe a word.

"What's more," Kingsley continued, "he's got Percy Weasley sending in hourly reports on Merlin-knows-what."

The twins coughed, and Ginny herself scowled at the wall.

"Right...well... Any progress on the Death Eater situation?"

"None, but I'm certain something's up-"

"Bloody right there is, Arthur!" Mad-Eye interjected.

"As Arthur was saying," Snape maintained curtly, "now that their best is under custody, they no doubt are forming some sort of escape strategy. That clearly isn't the question; the question is what, and when."

"Can't Snape find out 'bout that?" Mundungus asked, to which Molly responded with a "Quiet, Mundungus", and a swift clout to the head.

"I do believe I would be of more use if I were to stay alive."

"So what do you know?" urged George.

Ginny chuckled, momentarily forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be listening. The kitchen fell silent, and before Ginny knew it, the Extendable Ears vanished from her grasp. She gasped, pressing her ear to the wall; it was warm to the touch and charmed to block sound. Her mum had found her out.

"Well, damn," she snapped, getting to her feet.

"Ginny..." Hermione reproached. "I told you it wasn't a good idea," she said. "Now you're going to have to face your mum when they're done."

"It doesn't matter. I just wish I could've heard more..."

"Hey, Hermione," said Ron, who had finished the last of the sandwiches and busied himself with an old issue of the Quibbler, "it says here that an old archives building was broken into last night."

"That's probably the place Tonks was talking about- near Azkaban," Ginny offered.

"Is that so?" Hermione asked, marking her page in What Your Professor Won't Tell you About the Dark Arts.

"Sure is," Ron confirmed. "What do you reckon they wanted?"

"It could be a number of things, really, but so close to Azkaban? Probably something prison-related. Here, let me see." She leaned over and snatched the magazine from Ron before he could protest.

"It's getting late, I think I'll just head off to bed," Ginny said. For some reason, waiting for her mum in the parlor seemed too discreetly melodramatic for her liking. Besides, she decided, maybe if she wasn't in the direct line of fire when her mum emerged, the shouting could wait until morning.

"Oh, alright...sleep well, then," Hermione said absently, already absorbed in the article.

"Yeah, 'night..." Ron said, already absorbed in watching Hermione.

Many miles away, sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy waited, for the return of his father from Azkaban loomed moments in the future.

"Are you sure you don't want to join up?" he asked his best friend contemptuously.

"Of course not, Malfoy," Blaise Zabini replied amusedly, sipping from his half-empty goblet of wine. "You know my family isn't into this whole thing." He gestured around the large, lavishly furnished circular room in which they sat. The walls were lined with dark spell books and artifacts, and numerous objects of Malfoy ancestry.

"You mean wealth?"

"Actually I mean the Dark Arts, but we're not too big on wealth, either." The two young men chuckled.

"So your father's really busting out of Azkaban," said Blaise, not as much a question as a statement.

"Are you surprised?"

"Of course not; I didn't think for a moment that the Wizard Prison could hold Lucius Malfoy, not with You-Know-Who behind him. You don't seem too happy about it, though- you've been sulking all day."

"I have not been sulking...I've been...brooding," Draco notified him. "Malfoys do not sulk."

"This one does."

"Sod off, Zabini." Draco crossed and uncrossed his legs, nearly fidgeting, but Malfoys didn't do that either.

"Draco!" His mother's strangled cry echoed down the hallway, and Draco sat up a bit straighter even before she burst through the library doors in a distraught frenzy, a third of the Malfoy House Elves in tow. "Draco, thank heavens! Your father will be here any moment!"

"And..." He poured himself some wine, for he would surely need it.

"Well don't just sit there- do something. Do anything! And don't let him see that you've been in his Zinfandel again, or there'll be hell to pay!" Narcissa stared pleadingly at her son, and he softened considerably.

"Alright, Mum...he won't find a drop," Draco promised, draining his goblet. With a wave of his wand, both his and Blaise's disappeared, as did the half-empty bottle open at the bar.

"Oh, thank you, Draco," she sighed, planting a quick kiss on the top of her son's head. "You might want to leave Blaise; almost a month in Azkaban won't do anything for the man's temper. There's floo powder by the fireplace in the foyer."

"Until next time, then," Blaise said sympathetically, nodding in Draco's direction, striding more quickly than usual down the corridor.

"Do you know if there will be a meeting tonight?" Draco asked, embracing his mother tightly. Affection was not something openly shared in the Malfoy house under the presence of Lucius Malfoy. In fact, save for his mother, affection was not something Draco openly shared at all.

"I don't, my dear." After a moment they let go, and Narcissa smoothed her silver gown nervously. Before either spoke another word, the clicking of Lucius Malfoy's tailored leather boots could be heard traveling in the direction of the library. Almost at once, he appeared in the doorway.

"Well, well...look who's back," he drawled, his smirk laced with malice.

"Master!" the array of House Elves squeaked all at once, gathering around his feet. To one he dealt an instant kick, and the rest scattered in terror.

"Father," Draco announced by way of greeting, in the same cold manner. His father had returned in much the same state as in which he had left. He appeared a trace thinner, and his face slightly more gaunt, but his eyes were filled with the cruel hatred Draco and his mother had long since grown accustomed to.

Lucius quirked an eyebrow disdainfully. "Narcissa," he barked, "fetch me a brandy! When Dolohov and Macnair arrive, I expect you'll send them up to my study. Otherwise, I won't take kindly to being disturbed."

Draco wondered briefly what immoral scheme his father was planning now, and if it would offer any enjoyment to his already dull holiday, but his thoughts were interrupted by his mother's response.

"O-of course, Lucius," Narcissa replied, preparing a tall glass of amber liquid in a zombie-like fashion. "Is there anything else you need?" she asked, offering the drink to him. He pulled it from her hand, and within a moment he was gone.

"Why do you let him do that to you?" Draco asked crossly when he was sure Lucius was well near his study. "You're not his servant."

Narcissa sighed and sank into the nearest chaise. "Draco, your father...he's-" she began miserably.

"A monster?" Draco finished harshly, crossing the room.

"No, you don't understand. He just..."

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to bed." With that Draco set off for his chambers, scowling much more like his father than he'd ever care to admit.