(Gilderoy Lockhart)
The rest of the day passed more quietly than I had expected, considering the situation at Azkaban.
That was not to say the wizarding public was calm. Far from it. The news had spread quickly enough to make people nervous, but it had been carefully shaped before release. The Ministry emphasized decisive action, reinforced wards, and above all, the generous donations made to the Auror Office to dramatically increase security. Gold, I had learned long ago, soothed fears almost as effectively as words.
Still, whispers followed me through the corridors of Hogwarts.
By the time I reached my fourth-year class, the tension had filtered down to the students. A few pale faces, a few nervous glances toward the windows, and far too many hands raised with questions that could not be answered honestly. I did what I could. I reassured them that everything was under control, that the Ministry was responding swiftly and competently, and that there was no reason to panic.
It was a lie.
Or at least, a very selective version of the truth.
But panic would not help anyone, least of all a castle full of children. Fear spread faster than any Dark spell, and once loose, it was nearly impossible to contain. So I smiled, spoke confidently, and redirected their attention to the lesson.
Fortunately, the Fire Crab helped.
Few things distracted a classroom more effectively than a creature with a shell layered in iridescent gems of multiple colours. The students were fascinated, leaning forward as it skittered across the paddock, clicking its claws irritably. I had just begun explaining the remarkable heat resistance of its shell when it lifted its rear end and unleashed a jet of flame without warning.
Straight at Hagrid.
He yelped, diving aside with surprising speed for a man his size. He desperately patted his beard, and when he finally managed to extinguish the fire it was noticeably shorter and smoking at the tips. For one dreadful second, I thought I might have witnessed my first truly irreversible classroom incident.
Thankfully, the damage was superficial. Hagrid took it well, laughing it off once I assured him that a hair-growing tonic would restore his beard by morning. The students were delighted, their earlier anxiety completely forgotten as they buzzed with excitement.
Crisis averted.
By the time dinner approached, my nerves were taut despite the outward calm. The day had been quiet, yes, but it felt like the hush before something broke.
Which was why I found myself waiting at the Three Broomsticks that evening.
The warmth of the pub wrapped around me as I took a seat near the back, the air thick with the scent of butterbeer and roasted meat. Low conversations filled the space, laughter mixing with the clink of mugs, but I kept my attention on the door.
Lucius Malfoy would arrive soon.
And when he did, the real conversation of the day would finally begin.
…
Lucius Malfoy arrived precisely on time.
The door of the Three Broomsticks opened with a soft creak, letting in a draft of cold evening air, and there he was. Immaculately dressed as always, silver-blond hair pulled neatly back, posture straight and composed. His pale eyes swept the room once before settling on me.
"Mr. Lockhart," he said smoothly, inclining his head just enough to be polite without being submissive.
"Mr. Malfoy," I replied, returning the gesture. "I'm glad you could make it."
His lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. "Thank you for taking the time to meet me."
I rose and gestured toward the back. "If you'll follow me."
I led him through the main room and up the narrow stairs to one of the private rooms. The room was warmly lit, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, and it was fully warded to ensure privacy. As soon as we stepped inside, there was a soft pop.
Dobby appeared.
The house elf looked far healthier than when he worked for the Malfoy family; he was wearing a small butler uniform instead of a dirty pillowcase, and his posture was less hunched, though he still avoided Lucius' eyes out of habit.
Lucius barely reacted.
If anything, he looked mildly amused.
"Dobby," Lucius said casually, as though addressing an old acquaintance rather than a former servant. "Bring me my usual favorites."
Dobby blinked. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir."
He turned to me eagerly. "And Master Lokihart, sir?"
"The same," I said, trusting Lucius' refined tastes. "Whatever he's having."
Dobby nodded enthusiastically and vanished again.
I watched Lucius carefully, but there was no tension, no flicker of annoyance. If he felt anything about Dobby's presence, he did not show it.
We took our seats at the table, crystal glasses already waiting.
For a while, we talked like old friends.
Lucius asked about Hogwarts, about my work, and eventually about his son.
"How is Draco faring in your classes?" he asked lightly. "I trust he hasn't been too troublesome."
I allowed myself a small smile. "He was, at first."
Lucius sighed, rubbing his temple. "I suspected as much."
"He made a habit of insulting the magical creatures I introduced," I continued. "Unfortunately for him, some of them took offense."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I can imagine."
"The first few incidents ended with Draco being chased and attacked by some very angry critters," I said calmly. "Nothing serious. Educational, I would say."
Lucius exhaled slowly. "Perhaps I indulged him too much over the years. Narcissa has a tendency to coddle him."
He straightened. "I may need to be stricter. Still, it is good to know he learned his lesson."
"He did," I assured him. "By the time I began introducing more dangerous creatures, his behavior had improved dramatically."
The food arrived then, carried in by Dobby with practiced efficiency. The plates were beautifully arranged, steam rising as rich aromas filled the room. I thanked him, and he disappeared once more.
We ate in silence at first, both of us well-mannered enough to appreciate the meal before the conversation turned serious. Lucius cut his food with elegant precision, every movement deliberate.
It was only when we were halfway through that he finally spoke again.
"I assume you know," he said quietly, "that Sirius Black had nothing to do with the Azkaban breakout."
"Indeed," I replied.
He nodded, unsurprised. "This was the Dark Lord's work. Most likely his younger iteration. The other one is still in Albania, from what I know, licking his wounds."
I tilted my head slightly. "Just my thoughts, but what does this have to do with me?"
Lucius set his cutlery down carefully.
"I can read the signs," he said. "Dumbledore is grooming you as his successor. Before, I threw my full support behind the Dark Lord because Dumbledore was old and tired. He did not interfere directly unless forced."
His gaze sharpened. "I was young then. Foolish. I followed my father's arrangements and found myself nothing more than a servant before I even understood what kind of man the Dark Lord truly was."
He took a slow breath. "He does not care about the Pureblood cause. He never did. He used us. Our ideology was a mere tool to him. Our beliefs a leash. He tricked us with promises of power, and we were arrogant and stupid enough to believe him."
I listened without interrupting.
Lucius took a sip of water, then continued, voice lower now.
"Unfortunately, it is too late for me."
His fingers brushed his wrist, just barely lifting the cuff of his sleeve. The implication was unmistakable.
"I am marked," he said. "And when the time comes, I will be called back."
I narrowed my eyes, but he met my gaze without flinching.
"But there is a new variable now," he said. "You."
I felt it then, the careful scrutiny beneath his words.
"Even now, I can feel it," Lucius continued. "You emanate the same aura of power as Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. I do not know if your skill matches it yet, but with Dumbledore guiding you, it will not take long."
He paused.
"I may be doomed," he said quietly. "But my son is not. Nor is my wife. Narcissa was never marked; I made sure of that."
He leaned forward slightly. "I want you to ensure their protection when the time comes."
I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand.
"Of course," he added, "I am not asking this for free."
His eyes gleamed.
"I am willing to act as your spy within the Dark Lord's faction."
"That would put you at great risk," I said.
Lucius did not hesitate. "As long as my family is safe, I am willing to bet my life for them, for their future."
I studied him then, really studied him.
Say what you wish about Lucius Malfoy, the man might be many things. A slippery politician. Cruel. Opportunistic. Ruthless when it suited him.
But he loved his family.
That much was undeniable.
In the end, I nodded. "I agree, but we'll have to make a vow."
We might already have a spy in Snape, but he is Dumbledore's. And now, I will have my own.
Lucius' lips curved faintly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
The fire crackled softly beside us.
Outside, Hogsmeade carried on as though nothing had changed.
Inside that room, the board had just gained a new piece.
…
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