Murder at Malfoy Manor

Chapter Four

Murder Most Foul

Harry intentionally stayed on the other side of the Malfoys' drawing room, letting the other guests separate him from Voldemort. Ron loyally stayed at his side, grumbling under his breath. In a 'normal' tense situation, Harry stayed stoic, the strength of morality on his side, good and evil delineated into a fighting spirit. However, this was one situation for which none of his prior experience had prepared him. To be polite to Lord Voldemort, his parents' murderer; to be civil at a house belonging to a Death Eater; to refrain from battling it out when every instinct screamed at him to 'finish Voldemort!' while he had the chance. His scar throbbed with a dull ache. But with the spell fog in place, Harry was powerless.

He noticed Hermione, grouped in feminine solidarity with Ginny and Pansy; Dumbledore casually chatting with Draco; Bellatrix Lestrange clutching her sister's arm and whispering something. The black-clad figure of Lord Voldemort stood tall in the corner, his crimson eyes, curiously, on Hermione.

'I don't like this one little bit,' Ron muttered next to him, grasping a glass of swirling brandy with a fist so tight, Harry wondered it did not break like that time with Aunt Marge.

'Me neither,' Harry replied. 'But I don't see any way out of it.'

'There has to be something,' Ron insisted. 'We could alert the Ministry, tell them to lift the fog so you can kill - kill You-Know-Who.'

'I don't know, Ron,' Harry said. 'I doubt an owl could fly through this weather.' He gestured toward a rain-lashed window. The outer edge of the looming storm was striking them at last, and Harry could hear the rising winds howling along the sides of the Manor. 'I doubt we'll get much hunting in tomorrow,' he remarked wryly.

'Did you see Ginny come in with Draco?' Ron changed the subject abruptly.

'Yeah,' Harry muttered.

'What do you suppose that was about? What's that git after, anyway?'

'Dunno. But I have bigger things to worry about. No offence, Ron,' Harry said, seeing the slightly murderous expression on his best mate's face.

'I know,' Ron sighed. 'Hard to concentrate on much at all, with You-Know-Who in the room.' In unison, they glanced back over at Voldemort, who still stood with that radiance of evil.

'Lucius, I would leave,' Voldemort suddenly spoke, and a hush fell over the room as he did. 'But, with this weather...'

'Your presence is always welcome in my home, my Lord,' Lucius replied through gritted teeth.

Bellatrix giggled with the mad hysteria of a hyena. 'Oh, Lucius, how terrible for you! To endure our Lord and master's company for the duration. How unexpected.' She laughed again. 'You'll have to host us, along with the rest of your rag-tag little group. Fellow refugees from the storm.' Her dark eyes looked around the room, dancing across Harry who glared back at her, the witch who had killed his godfather.

'Now, Bella,' Narcissa interjected. 'Surely you don't think it's that kind of storm.'

'Oh, I'm afraid it is,' spoke up Dumbledore. 'My left knee is acting up, and it always does that when in the direct path of a magical storm.'

'A magical storm? What's that?' Pansy Parkinson asked.

'It is a highly volatile weather system that includes thunder, lightning, rain, high winds, and such electrical force that all magic, including Apparition, is made impossible,' Dumbledore explained.

'What does that mean?' Ron interjected.

'It means that we are trapped under the same roof. Not one of us can leave.' Voldemort's cold voice sounded amused.

Harry stifled a groan of dismay. 'Headmaster, sir,' he addressed Dumbledore, deliberately ignoring Voldemort, 'how long do magical storms last?'

'I heard of one that lasted three weeks,' Dumbledore said, sounding unconcerned. 'But I feel sure this one will clear up in a few days.'

Harry's heart sank even further. No Apparition, no owls, no magic, no brooms...'What about the Floo Network?' he said aloud.

'I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that the Ministry has removed my house from the Floo Network,' Lucius Malfoy said. 'It was opened only for your arrival, and then the wards were re-cast.' Malfoy had a sour, triumphant expression. In that moment, Harry hated the man more than ever.

'Great,' Harry muttered. As soon as Voldemort and Bellatrix had shown up at the door, Harry's suspicions had been aroused. Now, in the path of an oncoming magical storm, he was unable to use his wand, and his worst enemy stood in front of him...with each passing moment, Harry doubted the wisdom of accepting the original invitation. 'And how exactly am I supposed to trust you? This could be a set-up!'

'That's right!' Ron agreed. He pointed an accusing finger at Lucius Malfoy. 'This is a trick! You mean to kill us, don't you!'

The room erupted into an outraged roar. Protestations of innocence and accusations of guilt flew around, until Hermione's clear, rational voice broke through the squabbling crowd.

'Everyone, just be quiet!' she commanded loudly. The clarity of her tone demanded nothing less than total attention. 'There is nothing any of us can do,' she said in her typical reasonable manner. 'You can't create, or predict, magical storms. This is unfortunate luck, but I suggest we all act like adults, and when it's over, we can go our separate ways.'

'Well said, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore nodded. From outside, a clap of thunder rattled the windowpanes. The storm was descending in a fury, to match the inner temper in Harry's chest that cried out for vengeance, against Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and most of all Lord Voldemort.

At the anticlimactic truce, the party fell silent once more. It was thirteen seconds later that the lights blew out.

*****

The drawing room plunged into stifling blackness.

There was a thud, a muffled groan.

A glittering crash of glass.

Hollow clattering of metal on wood.

A great loud bang with a sharp report, jumping through the shadows.

A strange gurgling sound infiltrated the darkness.

Then, the witch-lights flickered back on.

*****

Voldemort blinked once, then again, as his serpentine eyes readjusted to the light. A very curious sight greeted him. Lucius Malfoy was face-down on the fine silk carpet, blood pooling around his head. The hilt of a dagger stuck out of the back of his neck, and from his vantage point Voldemort could see a small but distinctive hole in the man's left temple. He looked around. Ah, yes, there it was. Smoking in the middle of the floor was a genuine Muggle revolver. Voldemort had almost forgotten what they looked like; not since he read gangster comics as a boy had he considered the destructive power of a gun.

More odd details jumped out to Voldemort's keen eyes. A teacup, Lucius's, presumably, lay smashed next to him, a tiny brown pool of the liquid still steaming in the unbroken saucer. Then, to complicate matters, to the right of Lucius's head lay a gleaming brass candlestick on top of a sturdy length of rope. Voldemort allowed his brow to furrow ever so slightly. It was then that he turned his attention to his fellow guests.

It was as though a freezing spell had been cast over the room. Eleven people stood stock-still, staring down at the lifeless form of their host.

After several more seconds of shock, Pansy Parkinson started to cry. Her quiet sobs broke the silence, and Narcissa rushed to her husband, shaking him. 'Lucius!' she cried. 'Lucius! No! No!'

'Cissy,' Bellatrix grabbed her sister's shoulder with a firm hand. 'Pull back, Cissy.'

'No one move,' Dumbledore interrupted forcefully. Voldemort saw immediately what the old man was thinking, and once more he gave the old codger his grudging respect. Even if he hated Dumbledore, Voldemort was man enough to admit the elderly Headmaster was no fool.

'What are you talking about?' Narcissa cried, although her face was strangely tearless.

'He's been murdered!' Draco exclaimed unnecessarily.

'Calm, please,' Dumbledore said. He met Voldemort's gaze, and for one surreal moment, there was rapport between them. Voldemort quickly realised that any person in this room could be guilty of the crime; he himself had one of the better motives for wanting Lucius dead. But then, so did everyone else...his red eyes moved one-by-one across each person, seeing motives everywhere. Lucius Malfoy had been an unpopular fellow to Death Eater and Ministry official alike. For a brief moment, Voldemort marvelled that the man had managed to stay alive for as long as he had.

Dumbledore continued. 'Someone has committed a grievous crime,' he said. 'Our host has been murdered, and someone in this room is guilty.'

That obnoxious Potter kid scoffed aloud. 'It's obvious, isn't it?' He pointed straight at Voldemort. 'He's already a murderer.'

Voldemort glared back with a dour expression. 'Jumping to conclusions, Potter? I've heard about your legendary losses of temper. Do try to contain yourself. As for me, I am hardly the only one here with a motive to kill Lucius Malfoy.'

'Oh yeah?' The red-headed boy, Ron Weasley was his name, spoke up. 'Who else, then?'

'It could have been any of us, Mr. Weasley,' Dumbledore said, spreading his hands apart in a gesture of reason. 'You, me, anyone. But until this storm lets up, and the Aurors can sweep the crime scene, there is no way of knowing.'

Severus Snape stepped forward to inspect the body more closely, gently brushing Narcissa aside. He knelt down, touching the cooling puddle of tea with his fingers, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together close to his nose. Voldemort waited, certain of what the potions master would say.

'Poison,' Snape declared. 'Essence of box jellyfish, very rare.'

'Wait a minute.' Potter's friend, that brown-haired girl named Hermione Granger, stepped toward Lucius's body. 'This doesn't add up. There was poison in his tea, a knife in his back, a gunshot wound to the head, a rope, a candlestick...which of these was the cause of death?'

Voldemort smiled slightly. That Granger was a bright little witch, there was no doubt of that. He suspected that she was the brains behind Potter's entire operation. He mentally filed it away, for any future plots. There was something about her that he found intriguing; he wondered if she had read his favourite book, Hogwarts: a History. He guessed that she had.

'Indeed, Miss Granger, indeed,' Dumbledore said softly. 'Who murdered Lucius Malfoy?'

For some inexplicable reason, everyone in the room turned to look at Voldemort. He repressed a surge of irritation, and smiled nastily. 'If I had wanted Lucius Malfoy dead, there would be no doubt in any of your minds that I was the culprit,' he said. 'This, to me, looks like sleight of hand, someone who did not want to be caught. What a perfect opportunity, with me in the room! All blame would go to the Dark Lord. Ingenious, whoever you are.' Voldemort emphasised his last words with a hiss, and rocked back on his heels.

'It was her, then!' Harry Potter gestured at Bellatrix. 'She's just as bad.'

'I wouldn't have let him die so easily,' Bellatrix cackled. 'Too quick. Not my style, boy. You should ask your friend Longbottom about that.'

Ron Weasley roared in rage. 'Why, I oughtta -- !'

'Ron, calm down!' Granger tugged on her friend's arm.

'Yes, Mr. Weasley, we had forgotten about your murderous temper,' Snape said. 'Took revenge, did you, for that little book Mr. Malfoy put in your sister's cauldron all those years ago?'

The company turned to look at Ginny Weasley, whose face was solemn and emotionless.

'You!' Bellatrix screeched. 'Pretty, devious little thing, I bet it was you!'

Ginny merely shook her head, saying nothing.

'It wasn't her,' Potter protested.

'Oh, really?' Now Draco Malfoy stepped forward. 'My father is dead, and she has a motive.' Voldemort saw the anger flash in young Ginny's eyes at Draco's accusation. 'And the Weasleys are an uncivilised lot, anyway! And you, Potter, you'd have killed my father as soon as looked at him!'

Potter scowled. 'How much love was between you and your father, Malfoy? He didn't treat you well, did he? How did he treat your mother? How much did you hate him? Want him dead, out of the way, so you could be the man around here? Huh?'

Draco's face drained white as the list of accusatory questions went on. 'I did no such thing!' he shouted. 'My father was - he was - he was my father! Only a total psychopath would murder his own father!'

Once again, everyone turned to look at Voldemort, who rocked his head back in protest. 'What?' he said. 'If you all had known my filthy Muggle father, you'd have murdered him, as well. Can't a man get any sympathy around here? Besides, that is hardly the same thing. Apples and oranges.' He waved one hand dismissively.

'That's enough, all of you!' Narcissa's lovely voice rang through the room. 'I will not have such squabbling over my dear husband's body!' She snapped her fingers, and a house-elf materialised. 'Bring a white sheet, Heffy, and place it over Lucius -' her voice broke and she stumbled forward a little. Snape caught her by the arm, and placed a steadying hand on her back in the manner of habit. Voldemort noted this with interest; did his spy hold a soft spot for Lucius Malfoy's wife? Narcissa was beautiful, and Voldemort had never known Severus to have any other women. Interesting, he thought.

'Mrs. Malfoy, my deepest condolences about this situation,' Dumbledore said. Typical, that he would try to be noble and caring. 'We shall leave your husband in peace, for now, while we ride out the storm. Is there anything you wish me to do?' The old man's blue eyes twinkled in comfort towards his former pupil, the lady of the house.

'N-no,' Narcissa shook her head. She still had not cried. 'Thank you. But I think it's best if we all just retire for the evening.'

'Go to bed? With a murderer on the loose?' Harry Potter sounded incredulous.

'He's right,' said Pansy Parkinson, who had finally stopped crying. 'I don't want to be left all alone. What if someone else turns up dead?'

'I see the problem,' said Dumbledore, pressing his hands together. 'I suggest we pair off. That way, no one should ever be left alone and vulnerable.'

'No!' yelped Pansy. 'What if I get paired off with the murderer!?'

'Then you'll die,' Draco said harshly.

'Then the rest of us shall know who the culprit is,' Dumbledore said, and he smiled pleasantly. 'But be assured, Miss Parkinson, I have confidence that you will be just fine.'

'Fine,' said Pansy, turning up her nose at Draco. 'I request to be with Harry Potter.'

'Now wait just a minute!' Ron Weasley interrupted. 'That's not fair!'

'I want to be with someone safe,' Pansy whined, shooting another look at Draco. Voldemort refrained from rolling his red eyes. These young people, and their little lovers' spats. How annoying.

'It's fine with me,' said Potter, undoubtedly wanting to vex the young Malfoy heir. Harry and Pansy retreated into a corner.

'Beautiful,' said Draco smoothly. 'Weasley, come with me.'

Ron glowered. 'Not in a million years, Malfoy, I -'

'Not you.' Draco's voice dripped with disdain. 'Her.' He reached out and grasped Ginny Weasley's wrist. The girl gasped, and tried to pull away, but Draco held her wrist with strong pale fingers.

'Come, Narcissa,' Snape's voice interrupted the drama, as he escorted the blonde woman out of the room. 'I'll take care of her,' he announced, unnecessarily, to the crowd.

'I'm sure you will,' Voldemort murmured under his breath, somewhat entertained by this new turn of events.

'It's settled then,' Dumbledore announced. 'Remember, stay with your partners. We don't need another murder.'

'What about you, sir?' Potter asked.

'I'll be fine,' Dumbledore smiled.

'Very well,' said Voldemort. 'Bella? Let us go.'

To his astonishment, Hermione Granger held out a hand to stop him. 'I don't think they should be partners,' she said, nodding at himself and Bellatrix. 'The Dark Lord and his number one Death Eater, roaming around? Not a good idea.'

Voldemort smiled with his thin lips. 'All right, Miss Granger. You and I.'

Her face went pallid, and her eyes widened in fright. 'I - I'm sorry, what did you say?'

'You and I. Partners. I can't use my wand, as you so eloquently explained before. If you are going to protest my staying with Bella, then you should be prepared to do something about it. You can be the one to, ahem, keep an eye on me.'

Potter growled from the corner, where Pansy Parkinson clutched his arm, and the Weasley boy appeared ready to Avada Kedavra someone. Voldemort recognised the look.

'Fine,' Granger said quickly. 'It's a deal.'

'Ah, Gryffindor courage,' Voldemort laughed softly. 'Come, then.' He held out an arm to Hermione, who swallowed once and took it, placing her small white hand on his robes with utmost caution. They walked out the door together.