Year V

Chapter Nine

The Evil Men Do

Draco Malfoy leaned against the railing at the top of the staircase and looked down at the main hall by the front door. The guests had begun arriving an hour ago, some he recognized, some he hadn't. He had to admit that his parents had moved fast, almost everybody who was anybody in high society of the Wizarding World was here at this party, including several high ranking Ministry officials. Even Minister Fudge himself was in attendance, having just arrived a few minutes ago. Draco couldn't help smiling as he watched his father greet the Minister and introduce him to members of another wizarding family.

What a fool, Draco thought to himself as he watched his father lead the Minister around the room. The Minister himself comes to this party, thinking it to be nothing more than a social gathering. And he hasn't a clue as to what is really going on.

Draco allowed himself another smile. Even he had to admit that his parents had outdone themselves. He heard them talking late last night about the attack on Diagon Alley and it was the first time he had ever actually hear his father sound almost afraid.

"It wasn't one of us, Narcissa," he remembered his father saying to his mother. "I know everyone in our group, and he wasn't anyone I recognized."

"Perhaps not," said Narcissa. "But he was able to summon the Dark Mark, which meant someone showed him. We should call a meeting."

"I don't think that's a good idea, my dear. The Ministry called in those of us who were formerly known as Death Eaters. Even though Fudge is still convinced our lord hasn't returned, some members of the Ministry think otherwise."

Draco heard his mother laugh, it was a soft laugh, the voice almost as smooth as silk. It was the kind of tone she used whenever she figured a way through a difficult situation. "Then perhaps we should throw a party tomorrow night. Invite a lot of people, even members of the Ministry. With that many people here, it wouldn't be too difficult for key people to slip off for a half hour."

"In plain sight?" Lucius mused. "That would work."

And here we are, in plain sight. Draco chuckled and helped himself to a butterbeer from one of the floating trays that made their way around the mansion. He couldn't help wondering what the meeting would be about, but after what he had heard the night before, he had a pretty good idea. And if what his father had said was true, there would be some dangerous times ahead.

Father said that his people weren't behind the attack on Diagon Alley. But someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like the Death Eaters were behind it. Why?

Draco half-closed his eyes as he overheard various snippets of conversation…almost all of them were about the same thing.

"Who could have imagined…Diagon Alley attacked in broad daylight."

"Some people say You-Know-Who was behind it…"

"Impossible, he was vanquished by the boy who lived…"

"I find it interesting that Harry Potter was there to save the day…"

"Maybe he planned it, he's been something of an attention whore lately…"

Draco almost choked on his drink when he heard that last comment. He found that last comment amusing. It would seem that the Minister was going out of his way to discredit Harry Potter and he was using his minions at the Daily Prophet to do it.

Potter behind this? Funny, but unlikely.

However, the smile on his face was short-lived as he remembered something else that happened the day before in Diagon Alley.

And Granger had to be the one that saved my life. He took another sip of his butterbeer which seemed to a little more difficult to swallow. But if that mudblood thinks I owe her something, she can forget it. I didn't ask her to save me.

"A sickle for your thoughts, young Lord Malfoy?"

Draco turned and saw a man in his early thirties wearing emerald Ministry robes and standing behind him and sipping a glass of wine. Draco had seen the man a couple times before, talking to his father at the Ministry, or briefly visiting the manor. Draco knew he was a Death Eater, but he also knew his father didn't care much for the man. According to father, Jason Morgan was a "lowborn upstart" who was only recently accepted into the group and spent his time sucking up to the inner circle.

But Jason Morgan didn't look like the kind of person who would suck up to anyone. Draco could see it in the man's eyes, he was constantly thinking…planning. Draco inclined his head and nodded. "Mr. Morgan, is it?"

"Yes, Lord Malfoy."

"And what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering why the son of one of the most influential Wizards in our society was choosing to be anti-social instead of joining his father and mingling with the elite of our community."

Draco felt a another faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He could see now why his father hated Morgan, the man had the social tact of a Hippogriff. And yet…those eyes were still calculating. "Tell me, Mr. Morgan," asked Draco as he glanced down at the small crowd. "Do you always go out of your way to throw subtle insults at the people you talk to?"

There was a flicker of hesitation in the other man's eyes. Apparently, Draco had stumbled onto something. Morgan nodded his head and chuckled. "Pretty much. I learn a lot about a person by how they respond. It comes in handy with my line of work."

"Ah," said Draco, "and I suppose it applies to all your lines of work."

Morgan shook his head. "Not quite that subtle, young Malfoy. A mistake like that might make some people suspicious."

Draco shrugged. "Like you said, I'm still young, unlike yourself."

Morgan pretended to wince in pain. "Ouch, and such stinging wit too. You show promise, boy. But you have much to learn. However, I'm impressed. I was under the assumption you were a pompous and spoiled brat."

For a moment, Draco wanted to throw an insult back, but he managed to keep a calm expression on his face and shook his head. "Not anymore…I think I grew out of it when I was humiliated on the train returning home this last term."

"Ah, yes, I heard about that. Your father was enraged that we couldn't nail Harry Potter and his friends for violating the under-age wizardry law. So tell me, have you learned from that incident?"

"A little," Draco replied before he finished the last of his butterbeer. "At least enough to avoid repeating past mistakes…or to be goaded into doing something stupid."

Morgan was about to say something in response, but he was interrupted when Narcissa Malfoy joined them and put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Ah, there you are, Draco. Your father would like you to meet someone."

Draco nodded and made his way downstairs, leaving Narcissa alone with Morgan. When she was certain Draco was out of earshot, Narcissa turned to face Morgan. "A warning, Jason, stay away from my son. He has enough pressure put upon him as it is."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Morgan smirked. "But I think you'll find he's not as delicate as you may think."

Anger flickered briefly across Narcissa Malfoy's face, but she was able to hide it behind a neutral smile. "Perhaps you're right, but you have no right to make that judgement."

"And neither does Lucius, apparently."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Morgan sipped some more of his wine and smiled back at Narcissa. "He's at that age where he's going to start to defy authority, Narcissa. Most children are like that when they reach that point in their lives. Lucius likes to control everything he considers to be his, you like to be more subtle and find ways to get what you want. Draco's inherited both of those qualities, and if I were you, I'd be very careful with him. Between your coddling him and Lucius' 'fatherly guidance', it will be interesting to see how you keep him under control or which of you wins control of him."

It took almost all of Narcissa's will to remain calm. "Mr. Morgan," she said, her voice barely more than a harsh whisper. "You are only here because we have mutual interests. But do not take that as an invitation to question my, or my husband's skills, as parents."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Lady Malfoy," Morgan said as he bowed his head slightly, though Narcissa thought it more out of mockery than respect. "I'm only advising some caution, that is all." He finished off his wine, then bowed again. "Well, I guess I should report to the Minister, then make my rounds."

Narcissa nodded and watched him join the crowd downstairs. We'll have to be careful with this one, she thought, trying to remember what she actually knew about the man. He had recently begun working for the Ministry when he returned from Africa a few months ago where he worked as a Hitwizard. She never learned how he managed to get hired by the Ministry, but it was obvious that he was very good at his job. What surprised her, and others, was when he appeared at a meeting of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He never said much during their meetings, but merely stood silently and listened. Only when questioned by Lucius or the Dark Lord himself, did Morgan say anything. She wasn't certain, but she suspected that Morgan carried out some assassinations on behalf of the Master.

As a Hitwizard in Africa, he killed for whoever paid him and was very good at it. But who did he work for before? A cold-blooded killer doesn't just appear out of nowhere.

She knew it was wrong to question the Dark Lord's decision to let this complete stranger join the group, but she wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Lucius hates the man, and it's easy to see why from the way he deliberately goes out of his way to anger others. But there is a cold and dangerous mind behind those eyes. He does not follow the Master out of fear or respect…but why?

She watched as Morgan made his way through the crowd, smiling and exchanging greetings with the various people in attendance before finally joining the Minister who was in discussion with Lucius, Draco, and a woman Narcissa recognized as Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. A few moments later, Lucius excused himself from the group and looked up to give his wife a quick nod…it was time.

* * * * * * * *

Benjamin DeBoer studied the young man who stood in front of his desk and talked about the dire situation that was happening in the British Wizarding World. And he had to admit that Percy Weasley was everything he had expected for a Ministry official. Polite, courteous, diplomatic, and honest.

And very boring, DeBoer thought as he listened to Percy Weasley continue on with an arrogant, nasal tone in his voice. There was a time I could get away with snapping his neck and feeding him to the wolves, but alas, that was over a thousand years ago and times have changed…I really miss the old days.

Percy Weasley, being the ignorant bureaucrat that he was, did not notice the glazed look in the older man's eyes as he kept on with his report. "However," he was saying, "Minister Fudge is convinced that it is not the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or his followers. He thinks other people might be responsible."

Suddenly, the boredom that DeBoer was fighting vanished and Percy Weasley had his undivided attention. The Minister suspected someone's else's involvement? How could that be possible? Were his plans compromised? When he spoke, however, he kept his voice casual so it wouldn't spark any suspicion. Percy Weasley may be ignorant, but he wasn't stupid.

"Then who does he think it is?" asked DeBoer. "A possible rogue group?"

Percy Weasley shook his head. "No, but the Minister believes, and I agree, that there are people back home trying to undermine his authority and they might be using the Dark Lord's alleged return to force him out of office."

"Really?" DeBoer was actually half-surprised by this revelation. He knew from his contacts in England that Cornelius Fudge was at odds with some people back home, but he didn't know whole story. "Like who?"

The young man hesitated for a moment, apparently wondering if he had said too much, but it was obvious that he felt that he was carrying a very important piece of information. After a few moments, he shrugged. "Well, I don't suppose it matters to you, and it will be only a matter of days before your own Colonial Council hears about it. The Minister believes that Albus Dumbledore is out to usurp control of the Ministry from him. He, along with a few others like myself, believe that Dumbledore had something to do with the attack on Diagon Alley. We think it might have been a scare tactic of some sort."

DeBoer wanted to laugh, but was thankful several centuries of political experience allowed him to put on a false face of concern. "Those are serious charges," he said. "Do you really think that's possible?"

"Let's just say that there are those of us that believe that things are too coincidental. Not to mention that Harry Potter, Dumbledore's favorite pupil at Hogwarts, just happened to be there to save the day. The Daily Prophet's revealed some interesting information about young Potter. And Dumbledore has repeatedly ignored the Ministry when it comes to dealing with how Hogwarts should be run."

Okay, DeBoer thought to himself, do not laugh. But dammit, this is so unbelievable. Is old Cornelius really that blind? This will be easier than I thought. Perhaps it's time to add to his paranoia.

DeBoer frowned for a moment, then looked up at Percy. "Then it all makes sense then," he mused.

Now it was Percy who had a curious look on his face. "What makes sense?"

"Percy, you're the acting head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I've heard a rumour that Dumbledore had taken in an American student. It's upset some members in the Council who believe we should keep our societies separate from each other."

Percy's eyes widened in disbelief. "But that's impossible, my office would have been notified!" His disbelief then turned to anger. "I bet my father had something to do with this. He had been in contact with Dumbledore a lot lately."

"I really don't see what the big deal is," said DeBoer. "International Exchanges aren't uncommon."

"No, but they're usually done with Ministry approval."

DeBoer smiled. "Then maybe you can use this as a charge against Dumbledore."

Percy smiled as well, but shook his head. "Not really, the old fool will find some way around it."

"Hmmm, maybe you're right. But it would give you an excuse to conduct an investigation, wouldn't it?"

Percy's eyes brightened as he realized what DeBoer was saying. "Yes, that would work. Thank you, Mr. DeBoer."

"Think nothing of it," said DeBoer.

Percy bowed his head slightly then looked at his pocket watch. "Well, I really must be heading back to the Ministry. But if you hear anything else of interest, do not hesitate to contact me."

DeBoer kept the neutral expression on his face until Percy had Disapparated, then shook his head and laughed aloud. "How stupid can one be?" he asked as he picked up a phone and dialed a number. It was time to move things to the next level, he decided.

"Hello, Reese? Has Nicholas' team set the gate up on their end? They have…good…I'll be at the compound shortly to try it out."

He hung up the phone, then swiveled his chair around to look at a painting behind his desk. The painting depicted a warrior in armor battling a giant serpent. DeBoer closed his eyes as he remembered a time long ago…a time when his kind were treated like gods.

Ah…the good old days. I really miss them…

* * * * * * * *

"Forty-seven dead, and nearly two hundred injured," said Avery angrily as he smashed his fist against the table. "And people are saying that we are behind it!"

Lucius shook his head. "Avery, please refrain from making too much noise. This area may be soundproof and hidden, but I don't need you testing the limits of the magical properties of this place."

The other man glared daggers at him. "I've had several Ministry officials questioning me these last two days, Lucius. Unlike you, I wasn't born with the ability to buy myself some immunity."

Before Lucius could answer, Elizabeth Duclare, a woman in her early forties with black hair and a parrot perched on her arm, spoke first. "Avery, we came here to discuss what happened yesterday, not listen you complain about how better off others are compared to you."

The parrot on Duclare's arm squawked in annoyance and ruffled its feathers. "Shutup!"

Duclare laughed as she fed the parrot a piece of bread and Lucius couldn't help finding the whole situation amusing. "Elizabeth, your husband has been a parrot for neatly fifteen years now. Have you ever considered changing him back?"

"I had thought about it," replied Duclare. "But chances are, Armand would have probably killed me, taken my money, and run off with his mistress. But ever since that hag turned him into this, he's been a lot more sociable."

"Doesn't any of this bother you?" roared Avery. "Someone has attacked Diagon Alley and arranged for us to take the blame! We face further scrutiny by the Ministry and run the risk of-"

"You run the risk of giving yourself a heart-attack, Mr. Avery," interrupted Jason Morgan as he entered the dimly lit room. "Although, to be honest, I think the organization would be better off if that happened. It would certainly be a lot more peaceful, that's for sure."

"I do not have to be lectured by some young whelp!" roared Avery, who stood his full height and towered over Morgan by nearly a head.

Morgan stood his ground and smiled at the bigger man. "Wow, very impressive Avery. And to imagine, you were crying like a baby and curled up in a ball when the Dark Lord returned a couple months ago."

Lucius managed to stifle his laughter. Though he despised Morgan, he admired the man's audacity and had no doubt that he could kill easily kill Avery if he had wanted to. After watching the two face each other down for a couple seconds, Lucius cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen, this is not the time to argue. Avery, you are correct, this is a serious development, but I have a feeling that Morgan would not be here if the Ministry actually posed a problem, is that correct?"

Morgan looked over at Lucius and nodded. "It is," he replied. "As a matter of fact, the Minister is convinced that an unknown group was behind the attack on Diagon Alley. I believe he may be correct in that assessment. However, he's partially convinced that Dumbledore, or people connected to him, are behind it."

Laughter broke out around the table, even Lucius couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"You can't be serious," said Avery.

"Oh, but he is," hissed a cold voice as a tall cloaked form stepped out of the darkness. The mood in the room abruptly changed from amusement to an atmosphere of fear as Lord Voldemort approached, his glowing red eyes surveying the eight people gathered around the table. "One thing I know about Jason Morgan, is that he never lies about facts, Avery. Nor does he panic when an unexpected situation occurs."

Anger and fear registered across Avery's face. He was about to say something, but thought better of it and sat down, but that didn't stop him from glaring silent contempt in Morgan's direction. Morgan, on the other hand, merely stood there, waiting for the Dark Lord to address the group.

"An interesting development, is it not, my friends? Diagon Alley had been attacked, we have been blamed, and I find my inner circle arguing amongst themselves." Voldemort paused, as if he were silently daring the others to speak out. "However, it would appear the Minster himself has not been convinced, which helps our cause. But it would be foolish to assume that whoever was responsible will be content with this action. By carrying out further attacks and laying the credit at our feet, it will bring the Ministry down on us."

He held up a hand to forestall a comment from Morgan. "I know what you've done, Jason, and your efforts are appreciated. But even Cornelius Fudge's stupidity has limits. Lucius, you told me earlier that you saw the man you believed was responsible for this?"

"Yes, my Lord, but Morgan was there as well."

"What did he look like?"

"Fairly young, maybe his early twenties. From his accent, I'd say he was American."

There were gasps of shock and disbelief from around the table. The only two who did not seem surprised by this were Voldemort and Morgan.

"By all means, Lucius, please continue."

"During the attack on Diagon Alley, I noticed something peculiar atop Flourish and Blotts. When Apparated to the roof, I saw Arthur Weasley fighting this man. I must admit it was amusing to see this person to beat Arthur Weasley within an inch of his life."

"I'm certain that was amusing, Lucius, but what happened next?"

"The stranger summoned his wand, transfigured it into a sword, and was about to decapitate Arthur Weasley when Morgan showed up."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and Lucius could have sworn he saw his master hesitate. "An interesting development indeed," he mused. "He transformed his wand into a sword, you say?"

"Yes, my Lord."

A thoughtful look formed on the Dark Lord's face and he remained silent for several seconds before finally speaking. "And what of Dumbledore? Jason, surely you have not simply wasted your time at the Ministry?"

Jason Morgan shrugged, as if the implied insult that he was not doing his job did not bother him. "Hard to say, sir. Although, he did charge Arthur Weasley with the care of an American student."

"Ah yes," said Voldemort, his voice dripping with disgust. "It would appear that Albus Dumbledore has finally lost his mind. But he never does something like this without a reason…what is this student's name?"

"Jesse McCade, sir."

Lucius winced when he heard that name and, for a moment, he felt the flames searing his face once more. He was thankful that he was hidden enough in the shadows so people wouldn't notice his reaction to the boy's name. Yes, it brought back horrible memories, but that was the least of it. He could hear the disgust in the voices of the others, but he was more fearful of the reaction from his master.

"McCade?" said Voldemort as an almost delighted expression formed on his face. "As in the son of Devin and Simone McCade?"

"The same," said Morgan and Lucius could almost here the amusement in the younger man's voice. "However, I'm afraid that they no longer work for the highest bidder."

"What?" hissed Voldemort, the delight had turned immediately to anger. "They served me faithfully for years, why would they change their ways now?"

Lucius dreaded the answer, and for a long moment, no one said anything. In fact, it would appear the answer would remain unspoken…until Morgan spoke again. "Because one of our number had regarded them as a loose end and thought it would be prudent to kill them off. However, they survived, and I can assure you that they will have nothing to do with us." Morgan glanced over at Lucius and grinned. "Isn't that right, Lucius?"

The others sitting around the table gasped in shock and Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he fixed his eyes on Lucius. "Lucius," he rasped, "is this true?"

"My Lord, you must understand…you had been gone nearly five years, and I felt the task was of the utmost importance. They had located the Stiehl, I doubt they realized what it was for."

"I sincerely doubt that, Lucius, the McCades were relic hunters. They knew exactly what they were looking for." Voldemort stepped away from the table, pulled his wand out of his cloak, and studied it as if it were a piece of exquisite art. "This Stiehl wouldn't happen to be the same Stiehl that's mentioned in legend by chance?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"The enchanted weapon that would allow the wielder to kill any magical being? That Stiehl?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And let me guess, Lucius. You decided that once they found the artifact, you would kill them off. But what happened?"

Lucius hesitated. "They didn't have the item, so I tried to persuade them-" he cut himself off as he locked eyes with his master and felt something reach through his mind. He tried to push the memory back, to hide it, but he failed. "My Lord," he stammered as he saw Voldemort's face start to contort with rage. "Wait-"

"CRUCIO!" growled Voldemort. Lucius dropped to the ground and screamed in agony as Voldemort walked over to where he was keeled over. "So," said Voldemort as he knelt down to bring himself to eye level with Lucius. "You decided to use one of my most trusted associates to acquire a weapon instead of helping my return. And then you tortured and tried to kill them."

"It was for the cause," gasped Lucius.

Voldemort chuckled as he stood back up and yawned before pointing his wand at Lucius again. "Crucio…that's for lying to me Lucius. I'm half tempted to kill you, but you're still of some value to me alive. Simone McCade and her husband were invaluable to me, and your greed cost me their allegiance. If I did not have use for your influence in our world, I would be feeding your remains to Nagini right now."

"My apologies, my Lord, I-"

"Oh, shut up," said Voldemort as he returned his wand to his robes. "Your whining only adds to your disgrace. Now get up before I change my mind, the news you brought me has turned up an interesting development. Hopefully, you can maintain order while I'm gone."

"Gone?" asked Lucius in a mixture of curiosity at this sudden announcement and relief that he was still alive.

"Yes, Lucius. Your description of the stranger triggered a memory…and if what I suspect is true, then our task may have become more difficult." Voldemort paused for a moment as he considered something, then look over at Morgan. "Jason, anything else about Dumbledore?"

Morgan shook his head. "Nothing I can confirm, sir. Although the Minister has been making inquiries about certain officials and a few individuals who have had ties to Dumbledore in the past. Arthur Weasley is one of them." He allowed himself a smug grin. "Minister Fudge has been moving Arthur Weasley around from one assignment to another, and tagged me with him to report any 'suspicious' activity."

"And what do you tell him?"

"I tell him the truth, sir."

"The truth," Voldemort chuckled. "Jason, knowing you, you probably only told him just enough of the truth you felt he needed to hear. I almost wonder if you're doing the same to me."

"Of course I am," replied Morgan. "I only provide you with the facts I'm certain of. I would hate to give you faulty information and suffer your wrath because I was incompetent."

There were gasps of shock and outrage at the flippancy of Morgan's remarks and Voldemort's red eyes narrowed in anger as he focused on the young man. But Morgan stood his ground and looked on impassively. And for a very long moment, no one moved or said anything.

Then the Dark Lord laughed. "I like you Jason, you seem to have the backbone that some of the others lack. But I guess that was obvious when you brought me Karkaroff's body parts."

"Just the arms and legs, sir. I'm sure I'll find the rest, it's not like he'll be able to go very far without them."

Voldemort laughed again and looked over at Lucius. "You should watch this one, Lucius. He may replace you someday if you aren't careful enough." Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows. A moment later, there was a faint pop as he Disapparated, leaving the group alone to contemplate what had been discussed.

"Well," said Lucius after waiting for nearly a minute to break the silence. "I guess this meeting is adjourned."

The others started to exit the room and make their way back up to the house above, but Lucius grabbed Morgan by the arm. "And what the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" he asked.

Morgan calmly reached over and removed Lucius' hand from his arm. "I only answered the Dark Lord's questions and gave him the information he requested."

"Really?" snapped Lucius. "And I could have sworn that you were trying to goad him into killing me."

"Hmm," said Morgan as he pretended to contemplate what Lucius had told him, "maybe you're right. But I don't desire your position in the organization and I'm certain the others prefer you as the Dark Lord's personal bitch instead of one of them."

"Watch your tone, Morgan," Lucius warned. "You may have won the Dark Lord's favor, but I assure you that is temporary."

"I guess that's the difference between you and me, Lucius," said Morgan as he turned and started to walk away. "You want to please the Dark Lord and suck up to him, I just simply do the job I'm charged with."

Lucius watched the man leave the room and clenched his fists in anger.

Go ahead, Morgan. Sooner or later, you'll make a mistake, then we'll see how well you keep that smug look on your face when I kill you.