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For the briefest heartbeat, the air itself seemed to freeze. Then, without the faintest ripple of warning, Sargeras's figure tore straight through the carefully wrought Anti-Apparition wards that shielded Malfoy Manor.
He appeared like a phantom, materializing out of nothing in the middle of the manicured garden lawn. The vast, ancient estate felt strangely desolate today, as though the stillness in the air carried with it a foreboding whisper of the master's impending misfortune.
He had been here once before, two years ago, though that encounter had been curt and unwelcome. Lucius Malfoy had not even granted him the courtesy of stepping inside the manor. Which was why, this time, Sargeras had no intention whatsoever of knocking at the door.
The house-elf Dobby let out a sharp, terrified squeal, his wide, round eyes bulging so far they seemed ready to leap from their sockets. To see a wizard disregard the manor's layered defenses and Apparate directly into its heart was no small matter, and such power was far beyond anything a house-elf could hope to contend with.
Sargeras glanced at the trembling little creature, his expression unreadable, and asked in a quiet voice,
"Your name is Dobby?"
His tone was flat, detached, his gaze lingering on the elf for no more than a passing moment. "Where is Lucius?"
Dobby was shaking so violently that his words came out broken and tangled. "H–Heavens! R–Respected Mr. Greengrass! M–Master, he—"
"You know who I am?" Sargeras's eyes caught the flicker of recognition in the elf's reaction, and he asked the question as if merely indulging a passing thought.
"O–Of course, Respected Mr. Greengrass!"
Dobby bent low in a deep bow, his voice trembling with such tension that it almost quivered into a squeak. "Every house-elf knows of your deeds, sir! You… you have come for the master? Dobby… Dobby will go and inform him at once!"
"That will not be necessary."
With a mere thought, without a word or a wand, Sargeras cast a perfectly executed Freezing Charm. The spell struck Dobby with flawless precision, locking the little elf instantly in place, his last expression of terror frozen forever in stillness.
Sargeras stepped past him without so much as another glance, his long strides carrying him toward the manor's grand porch. Each step was measured and deliberate, his boots crunching against the gravel path with a dull, rhythmic echo that seemed to beat in time with the oppressive silence hanging over the grounds.
From within the shadowed porch, Narcissa Malfoy emerged, her features touched with quiet worry. Perhaps she had stepped outside in search of a breath of fresh air, or perhaps she had come to ask about Dobby's sudden, piercing scream a moment ago.
Yet the instant her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw the figure approaching, silhouetted against the sun and carrying with him a cold, unyielding presence, her concern melted away. In its place came a sharp, almost paralyzing fear, as though the very blood in her veins had turned to ice.
"P–Professor Greengrass…" Her voice was barely more than a breath, trembling like a whisper carried by the wind. Without thinking, she took a small, involuntary step back. "You… you… why are you…"
"Mrs. Malfoy." Sargeras inclined his head ever so slightly. The gesture was impeccably courteous, yet carried not the faintest trace of warmth. "I am here to see your husband. Where is he?"
Narcissa's face was as pale as if all color had been drained away, her lips trembling. "Sir… please… Lucius… he only did something foolish, nothing more! He never imagined it would come to this, truly he did not! Even Draco… our poor Draco…"
The mention of her petrified son brought an immediate shimmer of tears to her eyes. Her voice broke with raw desperation, each word spilling out like a plea for mercy. "He only meant to take revenge on Arthur Weasley, to cause him a little trouble… he never thought — never dreamed — it would unleash the monster from the Chamber of Secrets! This… this was a dreadful accident! Please, I beg you…"
Sargeras raised one hand, the simple movement enough to still her words as though they had been cut off mid-breath.
"An accident?"
His gaze stayed fixed on her ashen face, his voice calm, steady, and all the more unnerving for it. "Dozens of students have been petrified… among them your own son. Tell me, Mrs. Malfoy, do you truly believe the word 'accident' can bear the weight of such consequences?"
He took a slow step forward, and though he made no sound beyond the crunch of gravel, the invisible pressure that accompanied him pressed down upon her until she could scarcely breathe. "Where is he? I think this is something he ought to explain himself."
"No! You cannot deal with him in private!" Narcissa summoned the last of her courage, clinging to the law as if it were the only shield left to her. "Even if he is guilty, he should be judged by the Ministry of Magic, not—"
Her protest died in her throat as, from within the porch's shadows, the tall, unmistakable figure of Lucius Malfoy stepped into view.
He looked worn and drawn, as though the days had been long and merciless. The once-impeccable silk robes, tailored to perfection, now hung in slight disarray. His grey-blue eyes, usually sharp and composed, were bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion, the strain of his son's fate etched clearly into every line of his face.
He walked with his head bowed, his steps slow and heavy, and it was only when he came close enough to feel the unnatural chill in the air that he sensed something was wrong.
Lucius's head snapped up. The instant his gaze met Sargeras's, every trace of fatigue and anxious worry vanished, replaced in a heartbeat by raw, unguarded fear. His face turned even paler than Narcissa's, the blood draining away as if it had been ripped from his veins.
"Greengrass…"
His voice was dry, hoarse, almost rasping. Without thinking, he shifted his serpent-headed cane behind his back, an instinctive gesture that, in the presence of Sargeras, was nothing short of pitiful.
He drew in a deep breath, forcing his spine straight in a show of composure, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him completely.
"Sir… I… I know why you are here."
He abandoned every scrap of pointless courtesy, every shred of the arrogance that came with pure-blood pride. In the face of absolute power and the legend of the man's past deeds, Lucius chose the only path that could possibly spare him further ruin: he yielded without a fight.
Sargeras's gaze locked into Lucius's eyes, his voice steady and unhurried. "Then that is for the best. It saves me the trouble of asking."
"I admit it!"
The words tumbled out of Lucius in a rush, his voice pitched high with urgency, as though he feared that even a heartbeat's delay would strip him of the chance to speak in his own defense.
"It was I… I who placed that diary in Ginny Weasley's book. But I swear, Mr. Greengrass, I swear it on my life!"
His voice rose with a fevered intensity. "I had no idea what it truly was. The Dark Lord… when he gave it to me for safekeeping, he only said it was… an important object. I believed it to be some kind of surveillance device, or perhaps a… a means of leverage. I only meant to use it to frame Arthur Weasley, to drag him into trouble, humiliate him, strip him of his position. I never… never imagined it would… that it would awaken the creature inside the Chamber of Secrets…"
"This was all a misunderstanding…" Lucius forced himself to sound calm, though the tightness in his throat betrayed him. "I only wanted to teach him a small lesson, to trip him up a little, nothing more. I could not have foreseen it would lead to consequences so grave."
His gaze drifted sideways to Narcissa, who stood weeping silently, tears streaming down her pale face. A flicker of pain crossed his own features, and he added in a voice almost breaking, "And I never thought it would harm my own son… Draco…"
Sargeras said nothing. His dark, fathomless eyes swept over Lucius's face once more, searching.
Without a word, he wove the subtle threads of Legilimency several times, letting them slip like fine silk into the storm of thoughts churning in Lucius's mind: fear, confusion, regret, and the bitter weight of guilt.
Only seconds later, he had the truth. Lucius had lied about the diary's true nature; perhaps he truly did not know it was a Horcrux, but he had been fully aware it was a dangerous piece of dark magic.
Yet in the heart of his account, in his claim that he only wished to ruin Weasley's reputation and that he never foresaw the basilisk's rampage or Draco being caught in harm's way, Sargeras found little falsehood. Those parts rang with the echo of truth.
At the time, the magnitude of the 'accident' and the cold wave of fear that followed had not been enough to crush the brittle shell of Lucius's bravado. He was clever enough to understand that if he had not joined the board of governors in moving against Dumbledore afterward, suspicion would have fallen on him at once. Regret or not, he had made the choice he believed would protect him.
Sargeras regarded him in silence, his voice at last breaking the stillness, calm and unreadable. "Do you know how many people would have died that day, Lucius, if Percy Weasley hadn't used his authority as prefect to warn everyone on the stairs to put on their glasses early?"
Lucius said nothing. The words seemed to strip what little color remained from his face, leaving him ashen. He lowered his head abruptly, bowing lower than he had ever bowed to anyone. "Sir… I am willing to take full responsibility, to pay any price. I only beg that you… show mercy."
He dared not say "forgive." He could only hope for mercy.
For he knew all too well that the man before him possessed the power to bypass the Ministry entirely, perhaps even to disregard it altogether, and deliver the final judgment upon him himself.
Rita Skeeter, Walden Macmillan, Cornelius Fudge, and Violetta Crabbe, who had died on his very doorstep two years ago, were the clearest and most brutal warnings he could ever wish to remember.
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[Chapter End's]
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