Though Lucius could hear a trace of weakness in Voldemort's voice, the fear the Dark Lord had instilled in him over the years ran far too deep for any thought of defiance to take root.
Lucius lowered his head even further, his forehead nearly touching the ground as sweat dripped from his brow. He spoke, voice trembling:
"Of course it is you, my great Lord! Lucius Malfoy shall forever remain loyal to his most magnificent master!"
Voldemort gave no immediate response. He neither confirmed nor denied Lucius's words. The silence stretched, so long that Lucius's body had begun to tremble, until finally, Voldemort's voice slithered coldly into his ears.
"Lucius, I've heard... your son is in his third year at Hogwarts now, isn't he?"
At the mention of his son, Lucius prostrated himself even more fervently, bowing again and again until his forehead was red and swollen. He pleaded:
"My great Lord, Draco... Draco knows nothing. He is just a child. Please, my Lord, believe me! I am your most faithful servant. I am willing to do anything for you!"
This time, Voldemort's response came swiftly, a low, menacing chuckle echoing in Lucius's ears. Then came his voice, laced with veiled threat:
"Lucius, do not worry. I have always trusted you. That is why I sent Wormtail to find you today. I will not harm your son."
But those words did nothing to ease Lucius's dread. His anxiety only grew worse. As expected, Voldemort continued:
"However, as my most devoted follower, it is time for your son to participate in the activities of the Death Eaters. This is the honour I bestow upon him. I hope... he won't disappoint me."
A storm of emotion surged through Lucius. For a fleeting moment, he felt the urge to rise to his feet, to take a stand. He believed—no, knew, that Peter Pettigrew was no match for him and Narcissa. The thought even crossed his mind to kill Wormtail, and then flee with his wife to seek sanctuary under the Alliance's protection.
But then he recalled Draco's recent letter. Wentworth Grindelwald, the boy who had left such a profound impression on him at their first meeting, had vanished without a trace.
The courage that had just begun to kindle in his chest was extinguished instantly.
Still sprawled on the floor, Lucius pleaded once more, desperation in his voice:
"My great Lord, Draco... he's still just a child. He understands nothing, he knows nothing. I fear he'll ruin everything! Please, if there's a task to be done, give it to me instead. I am willing to offer all of myself to serve you!"
At these words, Voldemort erupted in a furious roar:
"This is something Draco must do! Do you understand?! As for you, you have your own task to complete!"
"Remember this, Lucius, I am not asking for your opinion. You are to follow my orders precisely and without question! Now, do you understand?!"
Torn by anguish, Lucius nodded slowly, anxiety for Draco gnawing at his heart.
Voldemort, on the other hand, was visibly pleased by Lucius's submission. Seeing him nod in obedience, Voldemort's tone softened, almost coaxing, as he said:
"Lucius, who do you think I am? I am Voldemort! You know my power. So long as you carry out my instructions and complete the tasks I assign to you, I shall lead the pure-bloods to usher in a new order in the wizarding world."
"And you, Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you shall guide your house to a new era of glory. We shall become the rulers of this age."
Lucius had heard words like these countless times before. In the past, every time Voldemort painted that grand vision, Lucius had felt a thrill in his blood and looked forward eagerly to the future.
But today, in this room, those promises rang hollow. For some inexplicable reason, Lucius felt nothing. Instead, a singular figure haunted his mind. He had the strange, persistent feeling that any second now, that boy would burst through the door at the head of his wizarding army.
Still, outwardly, Lucius forced a faint smile and echoed Voldemort's slogans, expressing his loyalty just as he had always done.
Then Voldemort said:
"Lucius, I've heard you've done quite well for yourself in Britain these past few years. Even the Minister for Magic treats you like an honoured guest."
Lucius had just opened his mouth to respond modestly, but Voldemort didn't give him the chance. Before Lucius could utter a word, Voldemort declared:
"Now, I have a task for you: a prison break."
The words hit Lucius and Narcissa like a Stunning Spell. Both turned pale, visibly shocked. But before either could speak, Voldemort continued, allowing no room for protest:
"I don't care how you do it. But within three days, I want every Death Eater in Azkaban standing before me. Here. Not there."
Lucius's face twisted in alarm as he began to protest:
"My great Lord, you are magnificent, you must surely know that Azkaban is guarded not only by Aurors of the Ministry, but also by legions of Dementors!"
"Even if I could find a way to distract the Aurors, those foul creatures, the Dementors, there's nothing I can do about them! Please, my Lord, I beg you, it's not that I'm unwilling, it's that... I truly cannot do it!"
Voldemort sneered, voice dripping with disdain:
"Lucius, after all these years, you're still the same. Always full of excuses."
Lucius opened his mouth to defend himself, but Voldemort cut him off again, cold and contemptuous:
"You needn't worry about the Dementors. You bear the Dark Mark. They won't harm you. The Dementors are no longer your concern."
"Do you understand me, Lucius Malfoy?"
Lucius nodded, dazed and uncertain. He wasn't a genius, but he wasn't a fool either. Voldemort's words made one thing painfully clear:
The Dementors had betrayed the Ministry.
Those foul, terrifying creatures, the most loathed abominations in the magical world, had chosen to throw in their lot with Voldemort.
Before Lucius could process the full implications, Voldemort's voice once again pierced the air:
"As for Draco, I have an even more important task for him."
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