Nothing was going well lately, nothing at all. Everything was shit, actually. Absolute, utter shit. Not that he'd admit such a thing, not under threat of Cruciatus, not when it would come at the cost of his own dignity.
Lucius Malfoy's beautiful manor was overrun by unruly guests who did not appreciate the delicate summer air (his beloved peacocks had been hunted down for sport!) and there was a suffocating tension that clung to the halls as he came downstairs to breakfast to find Barty Crouch Jr shoving food down his throat with no regard for manners or silverware. Narcissa gave him a look over her tea. Lucius could only shrug in response. He had already tried to reason with their guest but to say he had gotten peculiar after his house arrest was an understatement.
Barty Jr and Snr had arrived back in early June, the former grinning ear to ear and the latter in such a stunned daze he could barely walk.
Without any fanfare, and without any acknowledgment that everyone had thought he was dead, Barty Jr had announced, "Guess who I ran into?"
Their Lord had returned from isolation, more of a shade than man, surviving out of the back of Crouch Snr's head. And he had been absolutely furious with the lot of them. (Mostly with Lucius, honestly. Again, everything was not going well!)
"Good morning," Lucius said, sliding into his chair and plating some toast and eggs. One of the elves popped in with a fresh cup of Turkish coffee and the morning paper. "Any news from our Lord?" He asked as he looked over the Prophet, nothing but more dribble on Black. The man had been the media's darling for months upon his announcement to sue the Ministry for his false imprisonment.
"He's still holed up at the Riddle House. Gotta tell ya' Luce, he is fuckin' pissed about our dead Azkaban buddies. Do ya' reckon it was Black who did 'em in?" Barty cackled nonsensically. Lucius could only feign disappointment his Lord was no longer taking up primary residence at his manor. A good roommate Voldemort was not. He was not a conversationalist, preferring to share his thoughts through more violent methods.
Hopefully Barty would join their Lord soon, he hoped, as the man went straight for the delicate china pitcher of juice and began to chug straight from it. Bulbous Crabbe and Amadeus Goyle at least knew how to use a spoon though their conversational skills were nonexistent. Soon, soon, soon it would become unsafe to host everyone at his manor and he would be free from these idiots.
"I do not think anyone can speculate what my cousin is willing and capable of doing. I just received a letter from the goblins informing me that he had resumed his place as Lord Black and had listed Potter as his heir." Narcissa said in an even, calm tone. That specific tone was one he recognized, and meant she was full of contempt for the man, and Lucius could only agree.
On the subject of Black, Lucius was highly skeptical. Black had vehemently denied the murders of his Azkaban cellmates time and time again. But he was the only possible explanation. A former auror, falsely imprisoned with the most feared and despised Death Eaters? There was no evidence on who else could have done such a thing. Zero clues. It was infuriating, and likely the reason why their Lord had holed away to crucio some muggles in peace. They had lost the majority of their army. Rebuilding while in hiding was proving difficult.
"Clearly he is no longer a pawn of Dumbledore and the Ministry," he noted. "But he is still Light-aligned. Considering our Lord attacked the Potters, there will be no convincing him to join our side."
"Whether he killed Bella or not, I think the Dark Lord is gonna kill him anyway," Barty said, finishing up his meal with a burp and wiping the jam off his face with a silk hand towel. "Speakin' of. I'd better get started on my errands."
"I have much to accomplish today as well," Lucius said. "I have a meeting with Fudge. This Tournament is turning into quite the international scandal," he complained mildly to his wife. "I am doubtful Fudge will be able to survive this and that Umbridge incident at the same time."
"What a shame," she said, giving him a quick delighted smile at the thought over her teacup. "I thought everything with the Tournament had finally been settled?"
"Fudge is desperately trying to salvage his career with its success. He's been branding himself rather heavily as the harbinger of a new prosperous era. He was focused solely on improving Hogwarts until that nasty scandal." He huffed out a laugh. "But now with the Tournament, the International Confederation is wondering if safety was ever Fudge's priority at all."
They both laughed at the thought. Fudge had cared only about student safety because there had been threats to sue the Ministry for incompetence. The second an inkling of prestige or power crossed the man's gaze he would throw every student into a pit of fire to secure his legitimacy.
"Well, love. All these distractions will make it easy to keep word of our activities from reaching the Minister's ears. And when he crumbles under the pressure, you will be there to take his place."
Lucius stood and planted an indulgent kiss on her forehead.
"Right you are, my dear. I rejoice in knowing this is all temporary. Soon our Lord will lead us into a new era. We will show the world how poorly he can handle a crisis."
They bid farewell and he carried off to the edge of the grounds where the apparition point was.
Deep in his heart though, Lucius was not so certain of his imminent appointment as Minister. For years he'd worked tirelessly, whispering in the Minister's ear, keeping careful council with all the important members of their government. But it would all be for naught, he feared.
His Lord would not allow him in that position. He had lost their Lord's favor. Lucius knew he only lived because not a single Death Eater could be spared. Lucius held important positions and had resources that were needed, but once Voldemort's rise to power was confirmed, Lucius would not be spared.
All he could do was try his best to protect his family. Draco was spending the summer at the Notts. He missed his son dreadfully but it wasn't safe with their Lord operating out of their home. All he could do was protect himself and work to advance their goals such that his Lord might have mercy. It was his job to keep the Ministry unaware of their plans, for a little while longer. It was his job to make sure their plans were carried out smoothly, and he would ensure his Lord's success if it was the last thing he did. Because it very likely would be the last thing he did.
Reaching the edge of the wards, he apparated to the Ministry.
...
Voldemort was not having a very good couple of years. It had all started when the boy had exorcised him from Quirrell, ruining his plans to regain his body with the Philosopher's Stone. Then, as he had been milling around in a forest trying to think of some other way to fix things, he had felt a sudden agonizing wrench in his being. It had left his weak form unable to focus for several months, tearing at the shreds of power he had been able to rebuild over the years. It had undoubtedly been his strongest horcrux, the diary.
He was really starting to regret putting all his eggs in this very flimsy basket.
He'd felt one pass years prior, a faint, weak thing that he'd had to assume was the Potter horcrux. What with the whole dying thing happening, he hadn't been sure that one had stuck. It had likely been extremely weak. Perhaps the boy had accidentally died in any number of ways and dislodged it from his being. That had been his hope. At the time, he did not have the power to investigate any further. And when he had infiltrated the school during the boy's first year, he had indeed not felt the telltale calling of his soul shard emanating from the boy. It was an unfortunate but not unexpected loss.
Then he had felt the diary. And promptly panicked. Because one could be a coincidence, a horcrux placed in a volatile container. Hell, an advanced medical check-up might have revealed the Dark magic. But another shard destroyed!? Dumbledore had to know. Had likely ripped the thing out of the Potter boy and gone investigating.
If Lucius had not gone and fucked things up royally by handing his goddamn horcrux to a child and - ugh! What an idiot. He was paying dearly for his crimes. He would continue to pay dearly.
And then he'd felt the third horcrux pass in early May. By then Voldemort had enough strength and was back in the country to go on the defensive. He could not afford to lose more of his soul!
Most of his followers had abandoned him or had been mysteriously killed in prison, but he cobbled together what forces he could. Thank magic for Barty Crouch Jr, he was proving instrumental. One of the last of his truly loyal. There were a handful still imprisoned, but he didn't think they were worth the trouble to break free. Had Bellatrix, his best duelist, lived it would have been another story. He snarled with anger, sending a volley of fire to ignite his correspondence. Even Severus had apparently snapped under the pressure and, as far as Lucius could tell, was living as a recluse somewhere along the Mediterranean!
So, recap. He had a dozen or so direct followers, most of whom had grown complacent under the current administration. Most of his safe houses, resources, and money had been stolen or seized. He didn't even have a fucking body!
But that was no matter. It was all temporary. Soon he would regain his body and his forces, soon Lord Voldemort would be at his full strength and the world would remember why they used to fear his name!
....
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