June 1994. Somewhere in Wiltshire.
The mansion, hidden in the center of a vast park, made an impression. On the one hand, by the tangible antiquity of its walls, which could not be leveled by numerous reconstructions and innovations of different eras. And on the other hand, by the amazing sense of style and taste of the owners, who managed to maintain this difficult balance. Harry looked at the Malfoy family home and inhaled the amazing aroma of a real aristocratic nest. How many times had he heard about such places? How many had he read? And it was not so much about the center of a special "ancestral" magic that permeated magical manors, and which all pure-blooded wizards without exception were so proud of. In addition to the magic itself, there was something special in this estate, a certain atmosphere of a place that could tell many stories in itself. The fleur of many generations of Malfoys, who had permeated every stone of the house, every inch of land with their spirit.
There's a pond over there where grindylows live, - Draco explained to them and Ron with feigned laziness, clearly pleased with the impression he was making. - And over there is a birdhouse with daddy's white peacocks. People even come from the continent, from the Italian Borgia Alchemical Academy, for their feathers!
Harry, following Ron and the other members of the Chess Club, obediently turned his head and admired the "miracles" being presented. However, he didn't have to pretend to be so: as has already been said, he really liked it here. Considering that Draco also promised to introduce them to the house-elves of the manor and take them to the library with their help - it was pure manna from heaven! And he really needed a good mood today. At least so as not to lose his temper with those around him and tear someone to pieces.
Quiet, Harry! "Quiet," despite the admonishing tone, Sweetie's voice sounded with a slight chuckle in his head. "We don't want to splatter this gorgeous oak parquet with blood, do we?"
And if we do?! - Bully was quick to show himself.
Whoever wants to can let off steam later in a less crowded place , - Smartie muttered irritably, just like his student. Despite the proximity of unique books and knowledge, his mood was disgusting. - We didn't endure Mordred's for several months, trying our best to act like a good boy, just to get caught on trifles!
Oh, come on, Smartie! - the Slaaneshi was almost the only one in their company today who maintained a cheerful mood. - You're the only one of us who did anything the rest of the school year. Chess, excavations in the library, sea battle...
They really got carried away by the Sea Battle. More precisely, they got the guys from the chess club carried away - which is why they abandoned chess for almost a week, enthusiastically hacking away at the unfamiliar Muggle game. And even in class. True, when Snape and McGonagall started hissing about the topic of "the club was not created for stupid outside entertainment and, in general, the tournament is coming up", they had to cut this activity short. But, as Harry suspected, in the coming year, Sea Battle threatens to go beyond the limits of their small company and begin a victorious march through the school. So, what haven't they done these past few months - almost half a year! More precisely, the question was precisely what "they haven't done".
Not a single victim. Not a single deed. All in vain , - sighed Dobryak sadly, joining the conversation. - We will stop developing ourselves, degrade and eventually decompose and die...
Yes, yes, we will decompose, we will definitely decompose , - snorted the Sweet Tooth. - Preferably on a four-poster bed, with a cold butterbeer on the table, and naked Hermione and Dracusic by the side!
At this phrase, accompanied by the corresponding visions, Harry only held his breath for a moment. Which was already quite noticeable progress: three months ago, he almost fell off the crest of the castle wall from surprise! Stumbled. On a hard obstacle that suddenly appeared between his legs. "I asked you not to distract me at a crucial moment," he thought sullenly.
Harry, are you going there too? - the Sweet Tooth groaned sadly. - These three whiners have already gotten on my nerves to cause depression because of their forced lying low, and now you along with them!
I'll show you a "whiner"!!! - the Khornit roared, but was almost immediately pushed aside by the Smart One:
Yeah. I've never been called a depressive whiner before , - he even chuckled. - But seriously, it's not like we've been inactive...
And partly it was true. They had to completely wind down their secret activities and close several projects only until April-May of this year, until the Auror Office and the Department of Mysteries, together with the Order of the Phoenix, stopped digging their noses in search of the cause of Alastor Moody's death. But in the end, as Harry realized, they were all forced to be content with a simple and straightforward conclusion: Mad-Eye had simply run into trouble after all. How many times had the one-eyed old man, back when he was an Auror, prowled around Knockturn and similar places, provoking trouble for the gray head? Here was one of those troubles that turned out to be a little more unpleasant than the others, that's all. Of course, Harry and the four demons realized that this was not the end. The Aurors were okay - after all, they were heavily dependent on the wishes of the Minister of Magic and, accordingly, his orders, and therefore they did not have many opportunities for investigation. But the Department and the Order will definitely not leave it like that.
But even the time remaining until the end of the third year did not give them much time to do their business. Somehow everything spun in such a way that with the departure of the Dementors from the school, the teachers seemed to have found a second wind - including in the matter of control over the Boy Who Lived. And all of Harry's Forecasts, visions and intuition whispered to him that this control had now only increased. It was not worth pulling the dragon's tail once again.
Come on, Harry, this is wonderful! - Sweet Tooth again wedged himself into the boy's thoughts. - Oh, this wonderful age! Life begins to sparkle with new colors and desires that whisper and lead you into a wonderful world of new pleasures ! -
That is, distract you! - Ruffnut growled. - Instead of becoming stronger to win - we show off in front of everyone around, like these whitish chickens !!
They were just watching the peacocks with silver-white feathers and golden patterns on their luxurious tails strutting around the clearing. It occurred to Potter that it was good that the birds were still silent. He had read somewhere about the disgustingness of peacock cries, as well as about how the magical analogues of these birds outdid their ordinary relatives in this regard as well. He didn't need to add a headache from the cries of overgrown Mordred pheasants to the general irritation! He sorely missed Hermione nearby. If anyone had mastered the art of leveling his mood swings, it was Granger! It seemed that even her demonic teacher, Smarty, was not able to maneuver between Harry's outbursts and desires as his friend could.
Thinking about Hermione, Potter immediately regretted it, because piquant pictures with her participation began to creep into his head again - and, most offensively, this time without the participation of the Sweet Tooth. Trying not to look at Draco's smug - and very, very pretty - face, he inhaled and exhaled several times. The "interesting" age had not yet brought the boy anything as interesting as it was problematic. A body going haywire and a mind torn to pieces - an excellent "interest", what can I say! Emotions were overflowing, barely amenable to control. The Sweet Tooth was openly amused and juicy reasoning about who, how and in what positions it was worth "getting to know better" first of all - and to hell with the fact that Potter could not allow himself any special intimacy for the next couple of years, until he formally reached the "age of consent".
And here it is again: as soon as Harry calmed down a little and calmed the hormonal fire raging inside him, a soft female voice was heard right next to him:
Boys, it's time to go to the table. You will still have time to walk in the garden.
The speaker, a slender, tall woman in an elusively luxurious robe of dark shades, was standing at the glass doors to the garden. Her pale face was beautiful and refined, and her black and white hair looked surprisingly natural. Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother.
It took a lot of effort for Harry to hold back a stupid grin: despite the closed robe and age, the mistress of Malfoy Manor caused very unambiguous reactions in his body. After all, the Malfoys definitely have taste, at least the eldest. To snatch such a wife for himself... However, these were again unnecessary thoughts, which, of course, greatly amused the Sweet Tooth, but did not help in business. But Harry came here to do business. Mostly.
The dining room of the manor was a separate art form. A combination of strict Victorian classics with frankly magical elements of decor - the Malfoys continued to surprise and delight Harry with their sense of style time after time. What is it: the personal qualities of the owners or the notorious aristocratic genes? Perhaps both together.
The members of the Chess Club gathered in the hall, numbering about twenty, dressed in school uniforms with ties and badges of all four faculties. Severus Snape, as a representative of the school's teaching staff, stood slightly to the side, portraying in his manner a black statue. Next to him, a girl in a scarlet Auror robe was shifting from foot to foot - Nymphadora Tonks, the same intern, a former student of Alastor Moody, apparently assigned by the Ministry to observe from the official authorities. And around all those present, two more figures were spinning: a plump wizard with a massive magic camera and a brightly dressed middle-aged woman with a shock of blond curls on her head and half-glasses on her nose. In combination with the parrot-like colors of the clothes, it looked like a female parody of Dumbledore.
The last two were representatives of the press: Rita Skitter, a journalist for the Daily Prophet, who has been gaining popularity in the last year, and the photographer accompanying her. Harry frowned at first as she approached them, but then he relaxed.
There's something of our late friend Gilderoy Lockhart in her, - Sweet Tooth chuckled in the same cheerful tone. - They even seem to have copied each other's outfits! By the way, her legs are not bad, - he chuckled, drawing attention to the journalist's very short bright emerald dress and the truly slender limbs visible from underneath.
A thirst for fame at any cost. How lovely. And the external manifestation of this quality really does resemble Lockhart, - Smart Tooth agreed with him. - Only this lady exudes much more prudence and intelligence than our untimely deceased friend. At least she has some kind of mental protection on her mind.
An interesting woman hiding some dirty secret? - the Slaaneshi became even more cheerful. - Definitely my type...
You say that about everyone, - Dobryak muttered mockingly. - Regardless of not only type, but of anything at all: gender, age, or species.
I am a cosmopolitan and I love everyone equally! - Sweet Tooth responded instructively. - And in general!...
Harry had already stopped listening to what "in general". He had long ago learned to determine when his "spirit-advisers" were saying something important, and when they were just chatting and bickering among themselves. It couldn't be otherwise: then he would definitely never get rid of his headache.
To Potter's surprise, Rita Skeeter limited herself to quite "decent" questions, despite her peculiar reputation. However, considering that Lucius Malfoy himself had invited her, the thought "how much did they pay her for this?" inevitably came to mind. Because only very solid funding could explain the fact that a journalist, famous for her very sharp tongue and ability to turn even the answer to a completely innocent question from the most unexpected angle, calmly and without much fuss covered the awarding of "young talents" from the school club. Where is the scandal and shock value here? Although, considering how the elder Malfoy had promoted himself at this club, especially after their success in France last year and in Spain this year, it was a very good move on Skitter's part to attach herself to such a successful party. If she had also received something material "from generosity", then the scandalous reporter's motivation to behave within the framework of "boring decency" was absolutely rock-solid. And Lucius, as Harry understood, had also organized a real Sports Foundation, whose goal was "to promote talented young wizards of Britain in sports and other events."
Malfoy is in his element, - the Smart Guy chuckled. - As in the case of the Gatherers in the Forbidden Forest, he achieved several goals at once. He showed his respectability, threw a bone to the parents of ordinary students, and also organized a very profitable structure in which big money will spin! Which can be sawed with impunity, not forgetting to share with the Minister and other interested parties.
Then it's unclear why this Tonks came from the Ministry, - Harry noted mentally, while sitting down in his place at the table, next to Draco.
I thought it was obvious, - the Smart Guy chuckled. - She's Snape's lover, and he's a close friend of Lucius. I don't know what kind of stories those guys in the Auror Office and the Ministry have come up with, but they probably think she'll spy for them in this "Eater's Lair," - he snorted. - And she won't? - Harry chuckled in response.
Well, she'll probably report something like that, - the Tzeentch snorted again. - But he's unlikely to spy fully. And don't forget: this summer there's a Quidditch Championship planned, which is taking place right in old Britain. And in the coming school year, something large-scale is planned at Hogwarts. Fudge is simply not very interested in our little chess get-together. But cooperation with the rich and influential Malfoy is very interesting!
Harry chuckled and turned to discuss the political picture that had appeared before him... and turned away in annoyance. He missed Hermione. With whom could he discuss the multi-layered arrangements in the Ministry and in this particular mansion? There was no one. Not to mention their little "hobby", which greatly helped to see and notice all this. He could hardly wait for the end of the official part.
Group and individual photographs were taken for the Prophet, and the elder Malfoy gave a heartfelt speech, which was carefully recorded by Quick Quill Skitter. The only thing that reconciled Harry with all this was the desserts that the house-elves of Malfoy Manor had put out for their dear guests. The magnificent cakes and fragrant tea were worth all the wait, Potter and Sweet Tooth were in complete solidarity in this!
But everything comes to an end: both the good and the bad. The reception was over, the main part of the club members went after Draco to inspect the garden, the reporters followed Narcissa to the bar, and Harry noticed the elder Malfoy frozen near the entrance to the hall in the company of Snape and Tonks. The latter was practically emitting awkwardness in the warp, but this could be determined without any wizarding tricks. Just by the way the girl tugged at the sleeves of her scarlet robe, how her eyes darted and her hair changed color. She clearly felt out of place in this mansion.
Snape could be a problem, - Kindly boomed anxiously. - He and Tonks were sniffing around the year before last, questioning house elves, looking for clues. What will he say when he finds out why exactly we came to Malfoy?
Shut up, you piece of rotten jelly! - Ruffnut barked at him. - We need that book! We need to know what we're dealing with! Where to hit, how to hit!! And no Mordred Snape will stop us!!!
What amazing common sense, - Smarty drawled mockingly in response. - But Ruffnut is right: we need the book. And our beloved professor won't be much of an obstacle to that. Well, if only because he won't understand the true purpose of our acquisition.
So, Mr. Potter, - Lucius smiled widely. Judging by the breath from the warp - completely sincerely. Of course, he had something to be happy about today! He had achieved so many goals in one fell swoop. - Before you go for a walk, would you mind finishing up some of our... um, business?
No, Mr. Malfoy, sir, of course I wouldn't mind, - Harry smiled back just as sincerely and widely. - And call me Harry, just Harry. Sir.
Oh, in that case, I'm just Lucius to you, - another wide smile. A wave of irritation swept through Snape, causing Harry in turn to smile contentedly again. He had enjoyed annoying Snape since their first year.
Mr. Potter, - the Potions Master said with exaggerated politeness, unable to withstand this exchange of cheerful smiles. - May I ask why you need the book "Forgotten Cults and Beliefs of Wild Magical Peoples"? - At this, he narrowed his eyes, as if taking aim. Tonks, who had been hanging around Snape until then, had disappeared somewhere - she probably whistled into the garden after the schoolchildren, away from the stuffy aristocratic atmosphere of the mansion and the tense conversations.
And is this forbidden literature, Professor? - Potter raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. - Professor Binns said that many historical works of antiquity were forbidden not only from publication, but also from translation, but "Cults" does not seem to be one of them...
No, this book is not forbidden. Officially, - he said dryly with an even more suspicious expression on his face. - I don't recall it being on the extracurricular reading list, though.
Professor Binns recommended it to me, - Harry answered, looking into his eyes, not at all disingenuous with his words. The ghost teacher had indeed recommended many things to his favorite student, including "Cults." - He said that it was "an excellent alternative to the Ministry's cheap historical propaganda."
Malfoy coughed hard next to him, trying to hide his laughter. And I must say: the expression on Severus Snape's face was something to behold! They exchanged glances, and the Potions Master, chuckling with an inscrutable expression, bowed his head silently, as if accepting Potter's explanation.
Snape is a natural Occlumens, - the Smarty chuckled as they walked to Lucius's office, making small talk about nothing. - Have you noticed, student, that we can only read his emotions if he is close enough to us, and only if they are spilling over the edge?
That is, when he sees me, - Potter noted. - I irritate him terribly.
Oh, I can smell some personal drama! - the Sweet Tooth burst out laughed.
In the meantime, they had reached the library: a vast room lined with shelves holding many books. The vaulted ceiling, lost in the semi-darkness, was decorated with moving frescoes depicting a wonderful garden with fruit trees and birds walking among them. As Potter knew, although it did not reach the ceiling of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the scale of the magical-artistic work was still impressive.
Admiring it, Harry? - Lucius asked smugly, slowly walking to the high window at the end of the hall and sitting down at the wide reading table.
It's... magnificent! - again, the boy answered completely sincerely, sitting down opposite and continuing to turn his head.
Fifteenth century, - the elder Malfoy said a little casually. - My ancestor then decided to reconstruct the estate and radically expand its magical component. Enhanced camouflage, secret passages, artistic design... That's when this magical fresco of the Garden of Eden appeared.
A moment later, Snape joined them, also sitting at the table with an inscrutable face - he again hid his true feelings behind Occlumency shields.
Somewhere in the depths of the garden, even the ruins of the family chapel remained, - Lucius shrugged. - In those days, you couldn't survive without demonstrating loyalty to the Christian church, - he explained, as if justifying himself. - In many ways, that's why my ancestor decided to finally protect the estate from Muggles - he was tired of following the fickle, but ever-increasing desires of Muggle priests.
Harry nodded understandingly. The end of the Dark Ages, the separation of Protestants from the Muggle church and the final separation of wizards from the Muggles themselves. The formation of the Statute of Secrecy. Professor Binns recommended only interesting literature to his favorite student - and the student did not disappoint, diligently absorbing new knowledge.
Actually, - as if remembering, Lucius extended his hand towards the bookshelves and a book in a dark cover immediately flew into it, - here it is. An old, uncensored edition, as you asked, Harry. The book was last restored about five years ago, so it is in excellent condition! Consider this a small symbolic gift for the coming school year, - he smiled again.
Thank you, sir, - Harry accepted the book volume with reverence, even for a while forgetting that he promised to call the interlocutor by name. - I have been looking for this book for a long time!
Oh, it's a mere trifle, nothing special! - Lucius waved his hand. - I am glad to help such a talented and bright representative of modern student youth in his quest for knowledge.
Here Harry pulled himself together: if the other person started issuing official phrases instead of a sincere conversation, their conversation was approaching the business stage. And so it happened.
Actually, Harry, what do you know about the event that is being prepared at Hogwarts for the coming year? - Malfoy asked casually, when a nervous house elf brought them tea, coffee and cakes.
I heard the Minister is cooking something, - the boy shrugged. - All the kids whose parents work at the Ministry of Magic are discussing something like that.
You heard correctly, - Lucius nodded contentedly. Snape took a sip of black coffee with an inscrutable face.
As you know, the Quidditch World Cup final is coming up this summer. You're going to go, right? - he asked.
Well… - Potter was a little embarrassed. Of course, he really wanted to go, and had even received several invitations. But he never responded to any of them. - Yes, I'd be happy to watch the professionals play.
Oh, I know that your... friends have invited you several times already, - Malfoy Sr. could not help but grimace slightly. Harry chuckled to himself: after all, the blond's dislike for the Weasleys was sometimes stronger than his self-control. How did he let Ron into the estate? - But I would like you to consider the offer to take a place in the front row of the Ministry box. Mr. Fudge was very favorable to this idea - he sincerely wants to participate in your fate, Harry.
And at the same time to collect a few political points following Malfoy, - snorted Sweet Tooth. No one answered him - it was too obvious.
I understand, sir. And I am grateful to both you and the Minister, - Harry smiled politely in response, blowing on his tea. - But I can't go without my best friend - Hermione Granger. If there is a place for her, I will gladly accept this offer!
Lucius had excellent control over his own face, and therefore, if Harry had not been a warp sorcerer, the boy would not have noticed the fleeting irritation on it. Not as strong as at the thought of Weasley, but still... The thought that he would be sitting in front of everyone, in the front rows of the Ministry box next to a mudblood - it jarred Malfoy! But, apparently, he had already accelerated too much in his ambitions to stop because of personal disdain for Muggle-borns. Especially since Lucius somehow still let the offspring of Blood Traitors into his home and even allowed his son to be friends with him. It was too late to jerk around.
It is quite solvable, - he finally nodded neutrally. - So, is it agreed?
Of course, Mister... I mean, Lucius, - Harry smiled back.
Excellent, excellent! - Malfoy saluted him with a cup of tea. - But let's get back to what's being prepared at Hogwarts itself. What do you know about the Triwizard Tournament?
A grand competition between the three largest European schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hasn't been held for a long time, - the Smarty chuckled. - So that's what it is...
I read about it, - Harry nodded. - But I thought it was cancelled a long time ago. They decided that the Tournament in its previous form was too dangerous for the participants. And if the danger exceeds all conceivable limits, then it is not profitable, - an inquisitive look towards Lucius.
Exactly, - Malfoy's expression was like that of a cat that had eaten sour cream. - I'm glad we understand each other. Such competitions are not only a grandiose and prestigious undertaking, but also extremely profitable. If you approach it with the standards of the Middle Ages, when the absence of deaths was considered a sign of boredom, then this benefit will very quickly come to naught.
Are you planning to include me in the Tournament? - Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.
In a way, - Lucius answered. - Of course, the age of the direct participants in the Tournament will be limited: only graduates no younger than seventeen years old. That is, in the case of Hogwarts, seventh-year students. Of course, it is technically possible to hack the Goblet of Fire and push through almost anyone, - at this point he grinned, showing how stupid this idea was, - but it would be damn stupid. Especially considering that we don't need it.
Oh, I'm intrigued! - Harry smiled broadly, causing Snape's irritation again, who continued to sit silently next to him.
The tournament is not only the honor of the country and the school, - Malfoy said. - It's a lot of money! Chess? - the question as if to himself. - It interests a rather limited number of wizards, so the scale is incomparable. Quidditch? - again the question. - What are school Quidditch competitions compared to even a duel between private professional clubs? But the Triwizard Tournament ... It is an ancient, iconic event. Famous throughout Europe, Asia and both Americas. Wherever the students of the Three Great Schools come from. And many, many people want to watch it, root for the participants... be involved in it. And it will be held at the initiative of Britain for the first time in many years!
I think I'm starting to understand, - Potter narrowed his eyes slyly. - The Quidditch Championship, although a much more popular and regular event, but everything is divided there, you can only squeeze into a small niche. And here ... - he laughed briefly with joy. - This is our territory. Our initiative. And our money, - he looked intently at Lucius.
He, in turn, sat back in his chair with satisfaction and looked triumphantly at Snape, who grimaced sourly:
And I said that the boy is very smart and able to negotiate, - as if continuing an old argument, the blond said instructively. - You understood everything correctly, Harry, - he turned to Potter again. - You will not become a participant in the Tournament. But you will become its face! Not only of Hogwarts, - he shook his head. - The entire Tournament! A symbol of hope, victory over Darkness. Wizards celebrate and hold grand competitions, ignoring the threats of all and sundry evil forces.
Four skeptical snorts sounded in the back of Harry's mind.
And competitions, especially popular ones, - Malfoy drawled slowly, - are not only the actual confrontation of different participants, adrenaline, spectators and tickets. There are attributes, accompanying events, souvenirs... even banal bets! - he waved his hand in a fit of emotion. - But the latter is a drop in the ocean, in fact, - Lucius immediately grimaced. - Do you understand what I'm talking about? - he peered inquisitively into Harry's face.
Muggles call it a brand, sir, - Potter nodded in response. - Trading the team's name is much more profitable than what the team itself does, - he chuckled. - So you want me to become a Brand?
Exactly, - Lucius nodded once again. - I've been watching you for quite a while now, Harry, - he said earnestly. - I know that even now, at not quite fourteen years old, you behave quite balanced and maturely, - at this phrase Snape could not resist and croaked mockingly, but Malfoy ignored him. - That's exactly why I decided to offer you such an enterprise. I know that you will be a worthy face of both the school and all of wizarding Britain!
And of course, my share will correspond to my contribution to the common cause? - Harry asked casually, slightly tilting his head to the side.
Of course, - Lucius narrowed his eyes in turn. - I will provide the organization, production of accessories and other material support. You will provide the investments, as well as yourself, all your acting talents and charm! Let's split the profits... in half?
Oh, how! - the Good Man boomed in surprise. - Why such generosity?! Something is wrong here! "
Lucius has a lot more experience in business, especially Muggle business, than most wizards, - Smarty chuckled. - But even he hasn't done anything on this scale yet. He can be forgiven for being so generous.
Shake on it, Lucius, - Harry smiled broadly and stood up. Opposite him stood an extremely pleased Malfoy. - I agree!
Already leaving the library after the house-elf, Harry furtively glanced back. There, Snape was quietly and very displeasedly scolding the elder Malfoy, which caused Lucius's benevolent expression to quickly change first to displeased, and then to worried. Echoes of obvious discontent, thickly mixed with fear, were heard in the warp! Malfoy was afraid of something. And it was unlikely that the source of this fear was Harry James Potter. And considering that Lucius and Snape weren't in the mansion for the remaining couple of hours, they had gone off somewhere in a hurry. Where? Harry thought with a smile that he would soon find out anyway. For now, the absence of the owner of the estate was only to his advantage. All that was left was to be alone and call Dobby...
June 1994.
... Meanwhile, Snape was following Lucius through the corridors of Malfoy Manor.
What did that bloody Goyle and Mulciber tell you that you're not yourself lately? - he asked sharply when they entered Malfoy's office and closed the door behind them.
Severus, I don't think that... - Lucius winced, but was interrupted by the Potions Master:
No way, Lucius! I'm your friend, your son's godfather - I simply have no right to remain silent in such a situation! - Snape snapped. - What happened? What did they tell you?!
Lucius only waved his wand in response, opening a bar hidden in the wall and levitating a bottle of Firewhiskey onto the table. Having poured himself a third of a glass, he looked questioningly at his friend, but Snape only narrowed his eyes and shook his head sharply, refusing.
Mulciber was always eloquent. But, shouldn't you know? - the blond glanced absentmindedly at his interlocutor, taking a sip. - And he always envied his classmates who were richer and more noble than him. But this time he completely surpassed himself!
Severus did not make skeptical faces. Although he was offended by the reminder of his school friendship with Mulciber. Oh, no, back then, at Hogwarts, he sincerely considered it friendship and was even proud that he was accepted into the company of "cool pure-blooded guys." And only after graduating from school did he understand that the company was not particularly cool and consisted mainly of pure-blooded boys from not particularly prosperous families. And they were "friends" with the nerdy Snape only because of his exceptional talents, allowing him to do all sorts of trash, while avoiding punishment. Only correspondence with Lucius, who advised him on who to associate with besides Mulciber and his pack, allowed Severus to soar so quickly after graduation.
The boys grew up. But the existing state of affairs hardly changed. Lucius and Severus, who was dragged along with him, took places if not right next to the Dark Lord, then somewhere in the Inner Circle. Mulciber and the others became ordinary "gangsters". The former took it for granted, the latter were furious, but no one could change anything. Until the day when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell.
That was when the advantages of being in ordinary positions were revealed. If Lucius, as the richest and most noble among the Death Eaters, was shaken like a pear, forced to spend fabulous money on lawsuits in an attempt to prove his innocence, then ordinary performers were seized and imprisoned almost without a trial ... if they could catch them red-handed. Mulciber and his company were not caught. And now he was causing problems for Malfoy.
For ten years he kept a low profile, - Lucius sighed sadly. - I was moving up, restoring my trampled authority and justifying myself to the Ministry, and he... just kept a low profile, - Malfoy winced. - But as soon as I rose enough, he... kind of went berserk.
He was always jealous of the talents and wealth of others, - Snape shrugged. - But you didn't answer the question: What did he tell you?
He and his gang got wind of the return of the Dark Lord's spirit, - Malfoy said in a flat, dead voice, looking thoughtfully at the glass in his hand. He took a sip. - And he got completely insolent. He dared to threaten me - ME! - that soon all my dalliances with the "light ones" would come back to haunt me. That I had become arrogant and played around with that damned Harry Potter, who dared to raise his hand against Him! - Lucius clearly pronounced this word with a capital letter. - And that soon they would show how to properly demonstrate loyalty to ideals.
What are they up to? - Snape raised an eyebrow. - But how many friends does Mulciber have? Three? Four? And all of them are regulars of the pubs in Knockturn and permanent residents there, - he snorted. - What can slum riffraff do?
Nothing themselves, - Malfoy winced. - But Goyle was present during the conversation ...
So, - Snape drawled much more tensely. - And as usual, he pricked up his ears in front of Mulciber's cheap rhetoric.
Crabbe and Goyle are not the smartest representatives of the wizarding community, - Lucius sighed. - Or of all humanity, for that matter. And they are easily manipulated.
Let me guess, - Snape winced. - In order not to lose your authority in front of your so-called "vassals", you were forced to agree with Mulciber. Mordred's politics!
How do you work with Dumbledore if politics irritates you so much? - Malfoy chuckled, already slightly flushed. But then he became serious. - But that's not the main reason. If I, from my current position, insisted on my own and sent Mulciber, Crabbe and Goyle would understand. But there is one more "but".
Severus tilted his head to the side, showing that he was paying attention.
Mulciber appealed to the fact that a new force had appeared in Knockturn, - Lucius continued tensely. - A certain "Mr. Chorney", a distant relative of the Blacks, who came from somewhere in Eastern Europe. And he clearly began to pull all sorts of scum under his wing. Mostly dark creatures and outright outlaws.
You speak like that very "scum", - the Potions Master winced. - So what?
And the fact that the mysterious "Mr. Chorney" has stirred up our little Death Eater swamp, - Lucius winced. - There were rumors that Chorney had come to rescue his relative Sirius and help the resurrected Dark Lord. And the fucking bastards believe it! - He slammed his fist on the table in irritation. - And the worst thing, - the blond continued after taking another sip of whiskey. - That they are pitting me against him. That, they say, while the spineless and self-interested Malfoy is bending over backwards for the Muggle-loving Ministry, someone has been found who is doing REAL business! Even if, of all the things that could have occurred to Mulciber, they decided to simply scare the people at the World Cup.
Lucius, I don't think that… What? - Severus didn't immediately understand. - What were you saying about the Cup?
Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of the gang are planning a provocation at the World Cup, - Lucius said gloomily. - And I signed up for it too. Otherwise, my authority among them is over.
Snape was silent for a while, staring at his friend with an unreadable gaze. Then he silently took a glass, filled it halfway with firewhiskey and tipped it into himself.
M-Mordred! - the Potions Master breathed out under his friend's respectful gaze. - This is… not good. Of course, I said that you were as cunning as a fox, Lucius, but this… this is too much.
I know, - Lucius sighed. - I'll try not to get caught.
Does Narcissa know? - Snape asked neutrally.
About the new relative from Europe or about where I was off to during the Championship? - Malfoy asked caustically.
About the Championship, - Severus clarified coldly.
A lord shouldn't report to a lady where he disappears to in his free time. Unless, of course, he gave his word, - the blond winced at this. - And I didn't give any word.
There was silence for a while. Which Snape broke again:
I can't blame you, Lucius. You want to dance the dance of "ours and yours", but the risks… - he shook his head. - In the end, this is your family: a wife and a son. Not me. But I won't dare to risk that for the sake of supposed points in the eyes of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.
"Bye," - the blond suddenly said.
Forgive what? - Snape asked in surprise.
"For now," I am the only one with a family. You proposed to Miss Tonks, didn't you?
Severus, who was about to leave, turned around abruptly.
And how is this connected? - he hissed much more sharply than he intended.
In the most direct way, - the slightly drunk blond said in a dead voice. - If the Dark Lord returns, you will need every bit of reputation in his eyes to justify your connection with this girl. If he frees Bella…
No explanation was needed. Bellatrix Lestrange was insane, and she hated two things more than anything in life: traitors to the family and mudbloods. The daughter of a traitor and a mudblood would be an especially tasty prey for her.
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