A Promise Worth Keeping

Chapter Six

Lucius Malfoy carefully adjusted the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. The wretched house elf had left it squint again. Satisfied he stepped back and returned to his desk by the window. He stood looking out for a moment. In the summer the view was pleasant enough, but now the grey autumn skies made the dark green of the boxwood topiary dull and dreary; or perhaps it was just that the light was failing in the late afternoon. With a flick of his wand he adjusted the lighting in the room and sat down at his desk again. Grimacing slightly, he picked up the letter he had received from Karkaroff that morning and read it again. The tone was almost desperate. Karkaroff would be delighted to welcome Draco to Durmstrang next year. Unfortunately, while it would undoubtedly be sensible to ensure that the boy had a good grounding in the Dark Arts, as head of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, he would have difficulty in explaining why he had come to send his son to another school and remain in the position. Malfoy liked his role; it gave him a feeling of superiority over that mudblood-loving fool, Dumbledore.

He laid the letter back down on the green baize of the desktop. He was about to pick up a fresh piece of parchment in order to draft a letter to Karkaroff expressing his most sincere regret when a tapping at the window announced the arrival of another owl. He opened the window and let the bird in. It was a Ministry owl. He took the message it carried and gave the bird an owl treat before closing the window again. Opening the creamy coloured parchment he read the message. The terse note was from Fudge, well sort of.

Due to unforeseen events, The Minister has asked me to inform you that he is unable to keep the dinner engagement he has with you at Malfoy Manor this evening. Please accept etc etc...

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow in surprise and squinted distastefully at the illegible signature. Fudge was cancelling? Fudge hadn't even bothered to let him know personally? Something pretty serious must be going on. He drummed his fingers on the desk in thought for a few moments. Then taking a piece of parchment he picked up his quill and wrote a few lines. Having finished, he read through what he had written and allowed himself a satisfied smile. Once the message was dispatched with his owl, he summoned the house elf and ordered some tea. Then he settled back to wait. He did not expect to have to wait for long.

He didn't. He had barely had time to drink his tea and finish his letter to Karkaroff when the house elf announced a visitor. The agitated man who entered the room was nervously wiping his hands on his robes. "Look, Malfoy I really can't stay long," he said.

"Don't worry, Avery I won't keep you," Malfoy assured him. "I appreciate how hard it must have been for you to get away, what with everything going on."

Avery looked surprised. "Oh, er, right." He paused and looked suspiciously at Malfoy. "What do you know about that?"

Malfoy looked blandly at him. "Why that you are all terribly busy today, suddenly."

Avery nodded and gave a nervous smile. "Up to our eyes in it," he said frankly.

Malfoy examined his fingernails for a moment then glancing back up asked, "Why?"

"Why? What do you mean, why?" Avery stared at him.

Malfoy heaved a sigh. "I mean, my dear Avery, why are you all terribly busy today?"

"Oh." Avery shifted nervously. He didn't say anything for a moment, but watched like a fascinated rabbit as Malfoy picked up his wand and casually started twiddling it in his fingers. Eventually he said, "Somebody's disappeared."

"Really? Not our esteemed Minister I hope?" Malfoy supposed that would be an acceptable reason for calling off.

"Oh no, not Fudge. He's livid. Had Obliviators from my department down there as soon's we knew what had happened."

Malfoy waited, but Avery didn't say anything until he looked rather pointedly at him. "Oh, er the Potter kid's scarpered."

"Good grief, Avery, do I understand you correctly to mean that Harry Potter is no longer with his relatives?"

"That's what I said," Avery assured him. Then he muttered, "Of course, this is in the strictest confidence."

"Naturally." Malfoy gave him a sardonic smile. "What were the circumstances?"

"It was very strange." Avery frowned. "The boy wasn't actually living with his relatives when he disappeared, in fact that's why they brought Accidental Magical Reversal in - there were Muggles involved."

"Really? Well I'm sure you cleaned up the mess splendidly."

Avery smirked. "The Obliviators didn't have to do much in the end. I can never get over how good Muggles are at selective memory loss." He chuckled. Malfoy allowed an expression of utter boredom to cross his face, Avery noticed and turned serious again. "Ahem, yes, well we didn't have much to sort out."

"So where is the brat then?" Malfoy asked, as it was clear Avery wasn't going to come to the point without substantial prompting.

"That's why we're still so busy," Avery said looking worried now. "We don't actually know."

Malfoy sat up at this. "He hasn't turned up with Dumbledore?"

"Well if he has, Dumbledore isn't saying so, because otherwise we wouldn't all still be running around like headless chickens looking for the boy."

Malfoy gave him a long, appraising look, tapping one finger on his desk. Avery started to fidget, but eventually Malfoy said, "I can see you're desperate to get back to work, but you will keep me informed, won't you?" The intonation was interrogative, but it wasn't a question.

Avery grimaced. "Well you know how hard it is for me to get away… yes of course, Malfoy."

Malfoy waved him away and Avery disapparated with a pop, presumably back to his office. Leaning back in his chair, Malfoy steepled his hands in front of him, thinking. Now what on earth did all this mean, he wondered. His eyes flicked round the room at the books on the shelves lining the walls. None of those would have what he was looking for - they were for public display after all. No, what he needed was in his private library. Accordingly, he got up and Apparated down to the dungeons.

As always, he felt a tinge of regret that they weren't currently being put to their proper use. But, needs must, and one's personal survival was always more important than blindly following ideology, however fervently one might believe in it. As he walked along the corridor, he cocked a cynical eyebrow at the philosophical mood he seemed to have slipped into.

Stopping outside an iron-bound door, he automatically checked the wards and the desiccation charms, that kept the damp away. Satisfied, he raised the wards and stepped inside.

There was that hush that suggested a conversation had just been suspended, almost as if the books had somehow been talking to one another. Malfoy remembered how as a child he had been terrified of this room, convinced the books were doing just that, until his father had shown him it was a simple side effect of the magic they contained. Of course these days, while logic told him this, his hindbrain didn't believe a word of it, and still sent the hairs on the back of his neck almost vertical every time he came in here.

He started browsing the shelves, not sure exactly what he was looking for, but quite clear that he would know it when he found it. However, after half an hour he was beginning to wonder. Then he saw it, a small, gold tooled, leather bound volume, no more than three inches high. He took the book, a blood grimoire, from the shelf, noticing that rather appropriately, the cover was stained with something dark brown, that might have been blood, but was probably just ink. The book fell open where some philistine had broken the spine, and scrawled a commentary in the margin of the spell appearing on that page. It wasn't the spell he was looking for.

These books never had indexes which made it time consuming and tedious if one was searching for a particular spell. He was sure the one he was thinking of was in this book, or a similar one, but it had been some years since he had seen it. Starting at the beginning, he began to systematically turn the pages. Eventually towards the end, it would have to be near the end, he thought, he turned a page and let out his breath with a hiss. Ah. He scanned the text, quickly reading the instructions for the potion, the ritual and the words that had to be spoken. Yes, this was certainly it.

Malfoy took the book back to his study and sat at his desk again. He re-read the spell several times, and thought about what it might imply. He was still thinking about it several hours later when the house elf announced that dinner was served.

"I didn't order dinner!" he told the creature, annoyed.

It cowered and slapped its head. "Dobby is thinking that Master is telling Dobby yesterday to serve dinner today at eight for master and guest," it apologised.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Merlin but these creatures were pathetic. "You'd better go and punish yourself for thinking then hadn't you? You're not here to think," he told it.

It went away, doubtless to try and find a suitable punishment for itself. He sighed, it really wasn't amusing baiting the creatures; they were so predictable. Baiting Muggles now, that was amusing, but not something one could do often these days, or not unless one took certain… precautions. His eyes flicked down to the book on his desk. He needed to think some more.

---

He was very pre-occupied over the next few days. Even his wife remarked upon it. Since he never discussed magic or politics with her, he didn't tell her about his visit from Avery. However on Friday she became quite persistent in her assumption that he was sickening for something, so at dinner he told her about the letter he had received from Karkaroff. If she wished to assume that he had been preoccupied over Draco's schooling that was of course her prerogative.

"You want to send him to Durmstrang, Lucius?" she asked, setting down her knife and fork in astonishment.

"You don't think it would provide a suitable education for our son?" he asked in return.

"I didn't say that," she replied hastily. "It's just that it's so far away and I'm sure the climate wouldn't be good for him. He's very delicate."

Malfoy paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "He's a Malfoy, he'll survive," he told her coldly and carried on eating.

"But, Lucius, I really think somewhere closer to home would be -"

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," he remarked, looking up at her. He noticed her bottom lip was trembling in the way it always did when she was upset. Let's see, he thought, first the trembling lip, then the stifled sob, then the hurt look of betrayal, or wait, did that come before the stifled sob? He wasn't sure. He decided to tell her he had declined Karkaroff's offer the following week. She would probably have gone off her food by then. Do her good; he thought callously, she needed to lose some weight.

After dinner he went to his study. With a wave of his wand, he retrieved the blood grimoire from its hiding place as it was certainly not the sort of book one left casually lying around. His pre-occupation was caused by the fact that, for once he did not know his own mind. The spell he had found was one of several that could be used to summon the Dark Lord from whatever place his essence was currently residing. Like them all, it required quantities of blood to achieve its effect, although crabbed handwriting in the margin of the book noted that this effect could only be guaranteed if the blood of the one responsible for the subject's banishment was used. Casting the spell using the Potter boy's blood would also show one way or another whether or not the Dark Lord was truly dead. If he were, nothing would bring him back.

All he needed to do was find the boy before those fools from the Ministry; then he would be able to cast the spell. However, Lucius Malfoy had realised, somewhat to his surprise that he was quite happy with current circumstances thank you very much, and that the Dark Lord's return would be most unwelcome indeed. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named was an extremely unpleasant and uncomfortable individual to be around, no matter what promises he made his followers. Malfoy wondered if all of the others felt the same as he did, but it wasn't precisely the sort of question one could ask outright.

With another wave of his wand he poured himself a glass of cognac from the drinks cabinet and contemplated the grimoire. At least, most of his erstwhile colleagues were utterly incapable of casting the spells required. His lips curled as he thought about the likes of Crabbe and Goyle or even Avery. Thank Merlin the Lestranges were in Azkaban, because they certainly would have been both capable and desirous of casting them. He swirled the brandy in its glass and watched the candlelight glint on its amber surface. No, the -

There was a knock at the door, interrupting his chain of thought. "Yes?" he said in the tone of voice that suggested this had better be important.

The house elf came in. "Mr Avery is arriving here to see you," it told him.

Ah, Avery must have found out something important at last, Malfoy thought. He told the creature to admit the man.

When he came in, Avery looked more cheerful than Malfoy had noticed him look for a long time. In fact, he was positively beaming. Malfoy waited, pointedly not offering him any cognac. The man wouldn't appreciate it anyway. "Is this hysteria or mirth you are displaying, Avery?" he asked eventually.

In response, Avery sniggered. "This is just so good, I had to tell you, you'll never guess."

Malfoy suspected that despite having been a Death Eater, the man really had a death wish. "No I won't, because you are going tell me, now." He picked up his wand.

"Oh er, right." Avery sobered up and stopped sniggering. "I just heard, the MLES have found someone to question about what might have happened to the Potter kid." He paused for a moment, as if for dramatic effect, but when Malfoy glared at him, carried on. "This afternoon, a whole bunch of Aurors plus Milton went off to Azkaban. It seems they had the bright idea that the Potter boy has been kidnapped by Death Eaters."

"Really? So what did they want in Azkaban? They surely can't have gone to interrogate the Lestranges. The last I heard the pair of them were completely gaga."
He took a sip of his cognac.

Avery shook his head. "Nah, they went to speak to Sirius Black, seems some bright spark straight out of Auror training school had noticed he wasn't as gaga as the rest of them."

Malfoy choked and spluttered brandy all over the desk. Then he burst out laughing. "The one person who can't possibly tell them anything!" he said eventually, wiping away tears from his eyes. "So, just what exactly made them think that Death Eaters kidnapped the brat?"

"I'm not sure," responded Avery. "I think it had something to do with the fact that he disappeared so quickly after leaving his relatives' care. And my department picked up a tremendous burst of spontaneous magic round about the same time."

"That's all?"

Avery looked annoyed. "How the hell should I know? The MLES didn't precisely discuss the finer points of their reasoning with me, Malfoy, and it's not really the sort of thing I can go and ask them."

Malfoy thought about this for a moment. "Well it wasn't any of us. "What about Karkaroff's lot?"

"I thought most of them were dead?"

Malfoy frowned. "You're right, apart from Snape they are, or in Azkaban. I hardly think Snape…. Could be one of the other groups," he continued, rapidly reviewing a list of names. Most of them, like himself, had claimed to be acting under Imperius. Some of them probably even had been. In any case, Very few of them were capable of the knowledge required to do the blood spell. He drummed his fingers on the desk. "We need more information," he told Avery then. "See what you can find out."

"Why?" Avery demanded in a mutinous tone. "So the Boy Who Lived is missing, so what?"

Malfoy stood up, and leaning forwards across the desk, grabbed Avery by the throat. "Because, you ignorant oaf, he's an extremely valuable pawn. And I personally would be far happier if I knew who controlled him." He released the man, satisfied by the panic that flickered across Avery's shocked face. "Now, get out, unless you've got anything else to add?"

Avery shook his head and left. As the door closed behind him, Malfoy started chuckling. Sirius Black was being questioned about his Death Eater contacts. And of course the more he said he didn't know anything, the more Veritaserum they'd pour into him. They might even end up killing him.

---

Over the next few days, Malfoy kept his ear cocked for any rumours that might have anything to do with the boy, but there was nothing. He put out subtle feelers, but was unable to establish that anyone was trying to source some of the rarer ingredients potions such as the one his grimoire described. There were no mysterious cases of unicorn death for example. It was all rather frustrating.

Then the following Wednesday, the Hogwarts Board of Governors had the second of their twice yearly meetings. Dumbledore reported on that year's intake, and they discussed various tedious, routine matters. Malfoy paid no attention to them; all the time he was watching the Headmaster for any sign of agitation. He saw none, but then Dumbledore was very good at hiding what he really felt, so his lack of response was inconclusive.

Fudge was a different matter. The Minister had finally sent him an owl that Monday, inviting him to dinner by way of apology. Accordingly on Thursday evening he presented himself at Fudge's official residence.

Malfoy assumed that Fudge's reason for the re-arranged dinner was to convince him that nothing was wrong. Unfortunately, he had that anxious sort of personality that was incapable of hiding when he was agitated, especially when it was something that would personally affect him.

"So, Cornelius everything all right at the Ministry now? I understand it's been a busy week for you." Malfoy asked, as he was shown into the drawing room.

Fudge's eyes widened. "Oh, busy week. Absolutely. Everything's all cleared up." He gave a rather ghastly smile.

Malfoy smiled back insincerely. "That's nice. So the reason you cancelled our dinner engagement last week had nothing to do with all these rumours I'm hearing about the Boy Who Lived?"

"Rumours? People are talking about it? Oh Merlin!" Fudge choked.

Malfoy blandly accepted a glass of Amontillado sherry from a house elf. "You mean there is some truth behind them?" he asked.

Fudge was horrified. "Now really, Lucius, we can't possibly let this get out. The Prophet would have a field day, I'd get; I mean the Ministry would get crucified. No, no, it's not to be thought of."

Malfoy cynically sipped his sherry. "But, Cornelius, people are already talking about it. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before that Skeeter woman hears about it." Malfoy watched as Fudge turned an interesting shade of green. Then he added, "You know how persistent she can be."

Fudge pulled out a silk handkerchief and mopped his brow. "Rather warm in here, I think."

Malfoy smiled unpleasantly. "Anyway, enough of rumour. What do you think has happened to the boy? Have there been any ransom demands?"

"Ransom demands? "Fudge looked taken aback. "No, nothing like that at all. It's obvious what really happened; the poor boy must have been kidnapped by Death Eaters." He took a glass of sherry himself and sat down in an armchair on one side of the fireplace.

Malfoy sat down opposite him. "You'll need to fill me in, Cornelius, why would anyone want to kidnap the boy, and why Death Eaters specifically?"

But Fudge was unable to provide any other explanation than that the boy had disappeared within five hours of leaving his relatives' care, therefore he must have been kidnapped by Death Eaters. Quod erat demonstrandum. Which left Malfoy no further forward in finding out what had really happened to the brat. In fact he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the boy had simply run away.

That all changed on the following Sunday after a hurried conversation with Avery via Floo. It appeared that Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. This was unprecedented; nobody had ever escaped from there before. It was inconceivable that someone who had been there for as long as Black had would be able to manage it. A chill ran up Malfoy's spine. Was it possible Black really had been working for the Dark Lord all along? What Avery said next was not encouraging.

"Apparently the Azkaban guards say that he's been doing nothing but obsess about the Potter brat since he was interrogated."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I don't know what he said, exactly," Avery told him, "but the guards said he'd been pacing around muttering to himself -"

"Sounds like normal Azkaban behaviour if you ask me," Malfoy said sourly.

Avery glared at him and carried on, "He'd been muttering to himself, which is not apparently something he normally does, and talking about the boy in his sleep. They're all convinced here that he's escaped specifically so he can kill the kid."

When Avery had gone, Malfoy sat staring out the study window for a long time, deep in thought. He came to the conclusion that there were two alternatives. It was possible that Black really had been a Death Eater all along. It would have been supremely ironic if two of those closest to Dumbledore had been spying against him. The way the Dark Lord had set things up, neither Pettigrew nor Black need have known the other was a spy. He could now be going after the brat as a means of restoring Voldemort. Black was a powerful wizard and it was not out with the bounds of possibility that he had heard of the blood spell. The alternative was that Black, in typical Gryffindor fashion, was charging off to rescue the boy from the Death Eaters he had been told had kidnapped him, probably in the hope of being able to use the brat as a means of bargaining for his freedom. Either way, the boy would be in the control of a half deranged lunatic. Not the best place for such a valuable pawn.

Lucius Malfoy decided that there was only one thing to do. He would have to find the boy himself and then make sure he could never fall into unfriendly hands. The only way to do that, of course was by killing him. He would enjoy that.