The Chess Set

Chapter 5

He had killed the man - merely a blundering fool of a Muggle. It hadn´t even taken much effort on his part. In full Death Eater regalia, Lucius Malfoy stood in the tidy lounge at number four Privet Drive, as men in cloaks and masks raced through the house, shouting and searching. Malfoy nudged the large lump of flesh at his feet in disgust - Potter´s uncle.

"There´s no one else here, Lucius." An enormous man in a cloak and mask reported. Incompetent fools, Malfoy fumed. The boy had slipped through their grasp once again.

"Which is his room?" he demanded. Lucius wanted to see the place where Potter had been hiding, safely beyond his master´s reach for these many years.

He followed the massive figure, Crabbe, upstairs past three bedrooms, two that were fussily decorated, and one that was packed to overflowing with junk. At the far end of the end of the hall was a very small room about the size of a closet at Lucius´ manor home. Containing only a narrow bed, a dresser, and a desk, it was Spartan and dull. Lucius stepped into the room, looking curiously at his surroundings.

He imagined that Potter might have been there only moments before. Breathing deeply, he took in the air of the room as if he could scent the boy - the pathetic hero of the wizarding world who had somehow escaped the wrath of his lord for these many years.

Idly looking about, Malfoy pulled out the top drawer of the desk, emptying its contents onto the bed. He looked through them for a trace of Potter´s whereabouts. There was nothing, only a few pieces of parchment, quills, and Muggle writing instruments of some sort. Huffing loudly, he pulled out the next drawer, coming across some old Hogwarts school books. He rifled through them, finding nothing of interest. The third drawer was completely empty. Potter must have had plenty of advance warning, he thought, to escape with all of his possessions. The final drawer was empty save for a small, wooden box that was shoved all the way to the back. Perhaps the boy had overlooked it, Lucius mused. If he had merely opened the drawer rather than pulling it out completely, he might have missed it.

Malfoy looked at the box. It was small but quite attractive, with a pattern of unusual woods inlaid cleverly in the top. Wondering what was inside, he opened it. Just a worthless set of chessmen. He growled low in his throat in frustration. It was nothing that would help him find the boy.

Snapping the lid shut, he slipped the box into a pocket of his robes. He didn´t know why he wanted the thing, but having something of the Boy Who Lived felt pleasant. It was also a satisfying reminder that he had killed one of Potter´s Muggle relatives. Malfoy smiled for a moment, but his grin gave way to a frown. Neither pleasure compensated for his rage at missing the boy outright.

He could hear the sounds of the Death Eaters as they ransacked the rest of the house. "Fools!" he scoffed, knowing they would find nothing. Someone had warned the boy - further evidence of a spy in his ranks. It was something he´d suspected for a while now, and he´d been carefully narrowing his list of potential traitors one by one. He was down to only a handful of suspects, each man high in the order of the Death Eaters. Goyle, Rosier, Sheffield, Hawkins, and Snape. It had to be one of them, he thought, disgusted. Lucius would be willing to kill them all just to be certain, but knew it would not please his lord.

Malfoy called the Death Eaters together and they Apparated back to their master.

Voldemort had gathered much strength since his rebirth. He was a veritable tower of baleful magic now. Malfoy cringed slightly under the Dark Lord´s strong gaze as he reported the failure of the night´s mission.

"My Lord, Potter has slipped through our grasp."

The Cruciatus Curse hit him full on in an instant. Voldemort favored that particular curse, Malfoy had the misfortune to know. Unfortunately, it didn´t get easier to bear with frequency. Malfoy took his punishment with gritted teeth, trying not to scream too loudly.

The pain finally eased and he found himself gasping for breath on the floor, quite conscious of the eyes of the other Death Eaters upon him. "I am most sorry, my Lord."

Voldemort turned his wand upon the other Death Eaters, each in turn, cold rage in his eyes. Lucius watched silently, glad that his turn was over and quite satisfied to see the others suffering as he had.

When he was finished, Voldemort screamed in rage, sparks shooting from his wand in a vicious red torrent. "I will have Potter! You will get me the boy!" His throng of Death Eaters quavered before him. Only Malfoy stood tall. He would have both the boy and the traitor. They would die a most painful death. Only then would he rest. His lord would be most proud... and generous.

After being dismissed by the Dark Lord, Malfoy Apparated to the manor, careful not to splinch himself after the Cruciatus. He sat alone in his study through the wee hours, his mind tracing the events of the evening to determine if he could narrow his list of suspects further.

His thoughts were interrupted by something poking painfully into his flesh as he shifted in his leather chair. Reaching into his pocket, he found the box. He´d forgotten about it. He opened the lid to look again at Potter´s chess pieces. A sudden urge to smash them to bits struck him. He might have acted upon it, but a thought crossed his mind. He picked up a pawn in one hand and his wand in the other, and cast a spell to awaken the chess piece.

"Oy, put me down!" the pawn cried.

"Where is Potter?" Malfoy demanded. It was not difficult to torture the tiny pieces, and he got a certain amount of pleasure from hearing their tinny screams. Other than that, however, it came to naught. When he was satisfied that they knew nothing about Potter´s whereabouts, he shoved the box in a drawer and promptly forgot about it.

It wasn´t long before Malfoy narrowed his list of suspects. A few more failed missions and he was almost certain of the traitor´s identity, although he still could prove nothing. He remained undecided on a course of action for some time. He knew he should go to his master, but he hungered to handle it himself. He would have his own revenge on the man that had betrayed both him and the Dark Lord.

He would set a trap for the traitor that would leave no doubt in anyone´s mind. After the turncoat was caught and Lucius killed him - in a most slow and painful manner - he would present the traitor´s broken body and wand to the Dark Lord, along with the irrefutable evidence. His lord would be most grateful.

Malfoy made his plans. After the next meeting he put his trap into action, asking the spy to accompany him back to the Manor. Fool that he was, the man did as instructed. Lucius had a house-elf bring tea to the study, and when the two men were alone, he set his ruse in motion.

"Severus," Malfoy smiled broadly, hoping to keep the man at ease. "I have a special plan that I hope you will assist me with. You are the only man for the job." The two men planned and plotted late into the night, Malfoy weaving his intricate trap to catch the traitor.

It had gone well, Lucius thought once Snape had gone, certain the man suspected nothing. In a few days, Snape would be exposed for the spy he was. Then he would be dead. A satisfied smile crept over Malfoy´s face as he imagined it. The look on Snape´s face when he was confronted with his crimes - he could picture it.

A knock on the door interrupted gleeful thoughts of Snape´s expression when confronted with his crimes.

"Father?" He looked up to see his son standing in the doorway of his study. Malfoy looked proudly at Draco, now so grown. He was looking forward to initiating his son - watching their master place the Dark Mark upon his arm. He smiled at Draco.

"Come in, son."

"Was that Professor Snape, Father?"

Lucius was momentarily annoyed, but told himself that it didn´t really matter if Draco knew Snape had been there. Draco was his flesh and blood, and Lucius knew that he would do as he was told. Why wait for the Dark Mark, he thought. Perhaps it was time to initiate his son into his activities. The fact that he felt the need to brag - to show his son his cleverness, was an unspoken reason, hidden in the dark recesses of his mind.

In his mind´s eye, Lucius saw Draco and himself, ruling together beneath the Dark Lord, father and son standing proudly at the head of the legions of Death Eaters.

Lucius told Draco of his plans for the spy. He saw admiration in his son´s eyes, although for a brief moment he suspected that there was something else. What was it, he wondered? Could it be sympathy for Snape? The man had been his son´s teacher for years. Malfoy discounted this idea, secure that his belief that a Malfoy could never be so sentimental.

After he told his son the plan for the traitor, he told him about the real plan for Potter - not the false one that he had revealed to the spy, but the secret one that only he knew. Only a few more days and the boy would be theirs. The boy would be Voldemort´s. The boy would be dead. After that, he and Draco would have their rightful reward.

A few days later, Malfoy was in a blind rage. Somehow Snape had slithered from his trap. A part of Lucius suspected his son, but he crushed that thought like a bug beneath his boot. Draco was of his flesh and the last of the Malfoy line. He´d been raised to know the importance of family and blood. He wouldn´t give that up for some pathetic excuse for a schoolteacher.

Voldemort was vanquished soon after by Harry Potter, although Lucius Malfoy didn´t live to see it. He died at Hogwarts, in his failed raid to find the boy. Instead of a cowering boy taking refuge in the school, his ranks of Death Eaters found prepared Ministry wizards and Aurors. Harry Potter slipped through their grasp once again. Lying in the blazing library, wounded and gasping for breath, Lucius Malfoy knew the truth. He knew why the spy, Snape, had escaped his trap, and why Potter was safely out of Hogwarts before his Death Eaters arrived. Before he succumbed to the sweet persuasion of death, the identity of another turncoat was most apparent to him. He died cursing the name of his own son.