Watching Nott Senior scramble out of the meeting room in panic to verify information with the goblin, nearly tripping over his own robes in his rush to obey, Lucius remained where he was, standing there trembling with lingering fear that hadn't yet left his body.
He understood with bitter clarity, why Nott Senior had only threatened and coerced the goblin rather than resorting to more direct, brutal methods like the Imperius Curse or outright torture.
The magical world had been at peace for so long that over these long, comfortable years, they had all grown accustomed to doing things by the "rules" of civilized society.
They'd softened. Grown complacent.
They had yet to fully recover their wartime mentality, that ruthless efficiency that had once made them so feared.
However—
Bowing low in the required posture of subservience, keeping his head down, Lucius observed the Dark Lord from the corner of his eye as Voldemort paced back and forth in the spacious room like a caged predator.
A trace of confusion arose in Lucius's heart despite his fear. The Dark Lord seemed very concerned, almost agitated about what the Gringotts goblin had said. That Watson had opened an ancient vault?
But whose vault had Watson opened, and what could he possibly have obtained from it that would worry the Dark Lord so much?
Not only was Lucius pondering this pressing question, but Voldemort was contemplating it as well with far greater urgency and considerably more information.
According to what Lucius had confessed under threat of death, it was Watson who had personally resolved the Chamber of Secrets crisis two years ago. His Horcrux, his precious fragment of soul, must have been destroyed by Watson's own hand.
The thought still enraged him.
Admittedly, the diary protected by powerful Horcrux magic could not be destroyed by ordinary incompetents, by their pathetic spells. But for Watson, who was exceptionally skilled in Fiendfyre and could control it with masterful precision, destroying the diary wouldn't have been particularly difficult at all.
Losing one Horcrux was unfortunate but not an unbearable loss in the grand scheme. He had others, carefully hidden. The key question that gnawed at Voldemort's mind was: had Watson recognized what that diary-object actually was? Did he understand the dark magic involved?
Did he know about Horcruxes?
With his back turned to Lucius, Voldemort gazed out through the windows at Malfoy Manor's sinister garden outside.
He concealed the unease that flickered across his snake-like face from Lucius's view, keeping his expression hidden.
The Horcruxes were his greatest secret, his guarantee of immortality—the magic that made him superior to all others. Something that absolutely could not have any problems, could not be compromised. His entire plan depended on them remaining hidden.
Dumbledore was a pedantic, hypocritical old man bound by outdated morality who presumably wouldn't be interested in such profound and mysterious dark magic as Horcruxes. He was too "good" for such things, too weak. He'd wince in horror from the very concept.
But Watson was different.
Watson was a Slytherin himself, from his house who showed obvious greed for wealth and material success, who covetously eyed the position of Hogwarts Headmaster. This all proved he was an ambitious man, though the things he pursued were rather base and mundane compared to true power.
Still, ambition was ambition.
And if Watson had been to Hogwarts' Restricted Section which he certainly had, given his position and reputation, he would inevitably have seen that book. That one particular book that explained everything.
Secrets of the Darkest Art.
At this troubling thought, Voldemort suddenly turned around with fast speed to face the still-bowing Lucius. A surge of cold, murderous intent flowed through his scarlet gaze like poison through veins.
It was this absolute fool, this incompetent idiot, who had exposed his Horcrux before Bryan Watson's examining eyes.
"I regret to inform you, my old friend—"
Voldemort's voice was soft, almost gentle, which made it infinitely more terrifying. He twirled his yew wand between fingers as he slowly paced toward Lucius, staring at him with cold calculation and fury.
"I had already decided to forgive your monumental stupidity, Lucius. I was prepared to be merciful. But I've changed my mind—"
With a heavy thud, Malfoy collapsed to his knees. The impact sent pain shooting through his legs but he barely felt it. Cold sweat formed in streams at his temples, running down his face like tears.
His gray eyes filled with absolute despair, with the certainty of death.
The Dark Lord intended to kill him, that much was obvious from his tone. And he certainly wouldn't spare his family either.
Narcissa was in this very house right now, probably in their bedroom. She had no chance of survival if the Dark Lord decided to act. She couldn't fight him, couldn't even run. Only Draco remained at Hogwarts, away from danger but even he wasn't safe.
Draco hadn't contributed anything useful to Watson yet, hadn't proven his value. Would Watson protect Draco when the Dark Lord came for him? Would he even care?
"Please, my master, I beg you for your great mercy—"
Lucius sobbed, tears streaming down his face, all pride abandoned. His voice broke.
"At least let Narcissa and Draco live. Please."
"How touching, truly moving. But that's not for you to decide, Lucius—"
Lucius's face immediately turned ashen, as if he were already mourning at his own funeral.
"Don't lose heart quite so quickly, Lucius. You're giving up already?"
Voldemort's tone shifted, became almost playful. He was enjoying this.
"After all, you've made some contributions to the Dark Lord over the years—shown loyalty when it mattered. Oh, I suppose one could generously call it loyalty, at least."
He paused, letting hope kindle.
"So, I don't intend to kill you immediately. Whether you and your family survive this night depends on what news Nott brings back from his interrogation of that goblin. Pray he brings me something useful."
'It depends on what news Nott brings back...'
Nearly bereft of his ability to think clearly, his mind sluggish with terror and residual pain, Lucius thought dazedly. He didn't quite understand what the Dark Lord meant by this strange reprieve, couldn't grasp why his life hung on Nott's investigation.
But it was obvious that the lives of his entire family hung by a thread, dangling over an abyss. Including the glorious Malfoy family name itself, which might disappear from history tonight.
A flash of bitter resentment passed through his gray eyes, mixed with the despair and fear. Resentment at himself, at this situation, at the Dark Lord.
By now, finally, Lucius saw clearly what he'd been too blind to see before that the Dark Lord couldn't and wouldn't bring glory to pure-blood families as he'd promised. That wasn't even his true purpose for action, never had been.
All he wanted was to enslave everyone, to hold the absolute power of life and death over all wizards. To rule through fear.
But this was absolutely unacceptable. If it were only Dumbledore opposing them, the Malfoy family would have no choice—they would be forced to follow the Dark Lord down a single dark path to the very end, into death or victory.
But now there was Bryan Watson, a third option. A powerful wizard who might oppose the Dark Lord. And they still had some connection to that boy called the Dark Lord's nemesis, Harry Potter.
Previously, Lucius had disdained that Harry Potter, dismissed him as nothing special. But now he sincerely, desperately hoped that the little boy with the stupid lightning-bolt scar on his forehead had something genuinely special about him, some power.
Perhaps intimidated by witnessing the Dark Lord's casual cruelty in person, motivated by terror, Nott Senior whose speed was far inferior to what they had been a decade ago when he'd been younger and stronger, somehow worked with frightening efficiency now.
Fear was a powerful motivator.
After only an hour had passed, during which Lucius knelt in silence, hardly daring to breathe, Nott Senior returned to Malfoy Manor. He rushed into the room under Lucius's suddenly clenched, hopeful gaze, breathing hard from running.
"I've figured it out, Master! I got everything—oh, I mean, everything that goblin personally saw with its own eyes—I used the Imperius Curse on it!"
Nott Senior called out excitedly, almost triumphantly, forgetting himself.
Without waiting for the Dark Lord to formally inquire or give him permission to speak, he immediately recounted in rapid, detailed sentences all the information he had forcibly extracted from the goblin's defenseless mind.
The beginning of Nott Senior's breathless narration made the cold-faced Voldemort breathe a huge, internal sigh of relief despite his external composure—it was all a false alarm, a misunderstanding.
Bryan hadn't come from that vault hiding his other Horcrux. He hadn't gone anywhere near it. Watson hadn't noticed anything suspicious about the diary at all! The Horcrux secret was still safe.
But as Nott Senior continued revealing the information he'd obtained, going into more detail about what had happened in the depths, Voldemort's expression gradually became puzzled. His eyes narrowed. Until finally his face revealed open anger.
"You're saying Bryan Watson opened the personal vault of the great Salazar Slytherin himself? That's impossible!"
Voldemort's voice rose sharply.
"If my great ancestor had left behind a personal vault, I would certainly know about it. I'm his heir, his descendant! Are you lying to me, Nott? Is this some deception?"
Voldemort's grim, accusatory tone poured over Nott Senior's head like a bucket of freezing cold water, drowning the self-satisfied Nott who had genuinely thought he had achieved merit and would be praised, in fresh fear once again.
All his triumph evaporated instantly.
"I swear to you on my magic, my master, this is exactly what I saw in that goblin's memory! I'm not lying!"
Nott Senior said tremulously, his voice cracking with desperation.
Afraid he wouldn't have the chance to finish his report before being cursed, he quickly spilled out everything else he knew.
After hearing all of this information in full detail, not only was Lucius completely confused and lost, but even Voldemort fell silent. His eyes narrowed dangerously, full of perplexity and calculation.
Something didn't add up.
"Bryan didn't take any treasure from that vault? Nothing at all?"
"According to me—oh, in that goblin's memory, that's exactly how it was, Master..."
Nott Senior spoke carefully now, watching for any reaction.
"Watson used some kind of potion to calm the lava eruption, stopped it somehow. And then what I just told you—the goblin saw many emeralds fly out of the nearly solidified lava, rising up and forming a strange shape before Watson in the air.
He tried to destroy it with various spells but failed. Finally, those emeralds and that indescribable glowing cloud just disappeared, and Bryan Watson didn't actually get anything from the vault."
Nott Senior paused, then added with venom:
"Perhaps Salazar Slytherin didn't want to leave Mudbloods the opportunity to covet his wealth."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed smaller and smaller until only a thin slit remained.
"Is there anything else, Nott? Any other detail?"
"There's also... there's also..."
Nott Senior racked his brains desperately, trying to remember every scrap.
"Oh, yes! When Watson and the girl he brought from New York were leaving Gringotts, I was hiding in the alley between buildings, eavesdropping on their conversation...
Please forgive me, Master, there were many people in Diagon Alley at that time, and I didn't dare get too close where I might be seen, but I think I heard Watson say something. He told the girl that after returning to Hogwarts, he would immediately begin preparing for the Triwizard Tournament's task."
"The Triwizard Tournament—hmph!"
Voldemort's expression turned slightly cold, his face hardening as he recalled the scene at his resurrection ceremony that had caused him such profound humiliation.
However, as if thinking of something else, a trace of dark satisfaction emerged in his scarlet pupils. His thin lips curved slightly.
"Watson wants to use the Triwizard Tournament to enhance his personal prestige, to make himself look like a hero... Oh, he can go ahead and do that useless work, waste his time on pageantry. Let him play with his tournament. But I'll focus my efforts on more valuable matters, more practical goals."
He turned to Nott.
"Get up, Nott. Rise. I have other important tasks for you to complete."
Looking at the terrified Nott Senior still kneeling, Voldemort said softly, almost kindly,
"Go find McNair and Avery immediately. Tell them they must complete the task I assigned them before the Triwizard Tournament begins—no excuses, no delays. As payback for the humiliation at the resurrection ceremony, I'm going to give Watson and Dumbledore a surprise they won't forget. A gift."
He smiled without warmth.
"And you, Lucius—"
Malfoy, also still kneeling on the ground in his uncomfortable position, felt his heart leap to his throat, choking him. He wasn't sure if the information Nott brought back had satisfied the Dark Lord. If not, if it wasn't enough, the Malfoy family was finished tonight.
But the Dark Lord's next words made him breathe a huge sigh of relief.
"I want you to accompany me to Gringotts tomorrow, under the pretext of visiting the Malfoy family vault for routine business... I must see that vault with my own eyes, must understand what happened there. After that... you'll go to Hogwarts."
"Go to Hogwarts, my Lord?"
Malfoy asked carefully, confused. Why would he go there?
"I can't have Death Eaters still loyal to me at that school leaving Hogwarts frequently for meetings—Dumbledore will become suspicious, will start watching them."
Voldemort explained with cold patience.
"You'll go see him personally, Lucius. Our contact inside. Have him find out discreetly what those emeralds Watson encountered actually were... Severus told me his relationship with Watson is closer than with Dumbledore. I believe he'll find out the truth for the Dark Lord..."
Voldemort's smile widened.
"One way or another."
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