Chapter Text
Draco wondered if it was too much to ask for a sense of normalcy at Hogwarts, but he supposed that train had long since departed, just as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station. Was it so much to ask for a normal year, with normal students? No mudblood-adoring Dumbledore, no riffraff at Hogwarts, no Harry Potter.
No, perhaps Draco was doomed to spend the rest of his Hogwarts career without the acknowledgment his bloodline rightfully deserved. Year after year, Potter and his gaggle of fans would find some way to uproot normalcy.
Year one, Potter and Elric supposedly fight the Dark Lord deep beneath the school, and Draco would’ve believed it to be a tall tale if not for Elric’s missing leg. Their reward for misbehavior? A heapful of House points, tearing the rightful victory from Slytherin at the eleventh hour.
Year two, Potter and Yao somehow both become popular suspects for the Heir of Slytherin when it should’ve been clear as day that neither had the guts to drive the mudbloods from Hogwarts. And then they supposedly fight and defeat a basilisk, because of course they did.
Year three, younger Elric and Chang catch a literal rat, revealing a lie that shook the foundation of the wizarding world. It certainly made Father’s life a lot more difficult, as old wounds and suspicions were suddenly reopened.
And now, at the end of year four, with Potter participating in the tournament he had no business of being a part of, and as the current point leader, no less. Draco got Vincent to buy the event Omniculars for the three of them- shame that this was so last minute, otherwise he was sure Father could have gotten them for free. And, through his Omninoculars, Draco watched Potter and Diggory happen upon a duel between an Auror he was sure Father had complained about before and Draco’s least favorite Defense teacher. And, when they, along with this alleged imposter, touched the Cup, they vanished as if they’d touched a Portkey. Draco caught a glimpse of a dark graveyard before the Perspecti-meras cracked and the visuals went black.
No, Draco could never hope for a peaceful end to the year.
They had all been sent back to their common rooms in a rather unceremonious fashion, nevermind that there wasn’t enough fanfare for a literal international event. He supposed the situation did call for some sort of emergency response, but his annoyance superseded that brand of logic. Of course, everything was always more complicated when Potter was involved.
Draco made sure to take the comfiest armchair in the common room, watching and waiting for some report to come of this. He was sure Professor Snape would return with news soon and share in their contempt for Potter making it all about himself, as usual. Blaise and Theo looked equally disinterested in the current state of things, Pansy was magically applying a fresh coat of nail polish, Vincent and Gregory were finishing off the last of the snacks provided to the spectators of the final task.
“What do you think happened?” one of the younger Slytherins - Greengrass’s little sister - asked.
“Who knows?” one of her friends responded with disinterest.
“B-but, this seems kind of serious, doesn’t it?” the younger Greengrass asked again. She looked to her older sister, who was sitting next to Davis on one of the big couches. “Hasn’t Potter been attacked by a teacher before? So it’s not even a new thing.”
“He has,” the older Greengrass said, looking away. “And that one was…”
Professor Quirrell, who was - allegedly - working for the Dark Lord. And if the pattern was to continue…
Not that it mattered. Potter deserved to be knocked down a peg, get his ego checked, to be shown he wasn’t top dog-
“Are none of you the least bit concerned?” Draco had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at Yao, the only one their age who appeared agitated in the slightest. He had refused to sit, instead pacing the length of the common room and holding onto the wrist of his gloved hand. Honestly, the fact that he hadn’t broken out of the common room yet was nothing short of a miracle.
“Our two champions just got abducted by some maniac! And none of you are worried?! That imposter had been teaching us for months, who knows what his intentions are-” Yao’s grip on his gloved hand tightened.
Draco looked aside. He hated Moody - or rather, whoever that imposter was - as much as the next guy, and it seemed like for once Yao’s ideas lined up with the House majority. He treated Slytherin House so unfairly, and if Draco thought Yao had any sort of rational bone in his body, he’d think that he was almost afraid of him. Wary was probably a better term in this case.
“But, why Harry?” Davis asked. Draco scowled. She was as good as blood traitor after going with Potter to the Ball, and she didn’t even seem to care that her status within Slytherin had plummeted to even lower depths. “I’ve never seen Moody have any issues with him-”
“Because that’s not Moody, obviously!” Yao snapped. “He was driven into a corner and dropped the act! We don’t know a thing about what he’s really like. Or who he works for.”
The insinuation was crystal clear.
“Unfortunately,” Draco drawled, meeting Yao’s glare, “the Dark Lord is gone. Father always said as much. Maybe this imposter is one of his… old servants, but he’s obviously not working for him.” Besides, that did not make sense. If this imposter was connected to his father’s old circles, then why would he single out the Slytherins?
“We don’t know that,” Yao insisted. As he turned, Draco swore he saw a glint of purple in his half-lidded eyes, but it was gone before he could blink. “All of you are idiots for not at least entertaining the idea! Because what if Voldemort-” Draco couldn’t help but flinch, “is somehow back? Do any of you know what that means for us? It means our world is about to be plunged into war!”
Some of the younger ones trembled. Draco hated how much of an influence Yao had on them, the stories of his triumph over a basilisk and the international importance of his title slowly proliferating into Slytherin lore. He was tarnishing the good reputation of their noble house!
Draco scoffed. “Alright, then, what if he is back? Is that so bad? The mudbloods and the blood traitors will finally know their place. The Dark Lord rewards those who are loyal to him.”
Draco saw that Theo tilted his head in a silent nod, while Vincent and Gregory both chuckled through mouthfuls of snacks. They were in the same boat. Their fathers had told them the stories before. Their families had a place at the Dark Lord’s side as loyal followers, and they were treated well. In the event that the old status quo returned, it would simply go back to how it always was.
Yao glowered at them. “No, he wouldn’t. People like him have no regard for others, no matter what kind of loyalty they’ve sworn to him.”
“Of course you’d say that, blood traitor,” Draco sneered, finally having enough. “Should have considered where your loyalties lie earlier, then you might’ve had a chance. But everyone knows the kind of person you are now. Bet you’ll be one of the first to go.”
It was dangerous to openly taunt and threaten the son of an important official, but Draco did not care for building international relations with blood traitors. He waited to see how Yao would respond, if he would show any fear or remorse, if he would display the slightest bit of hesitancy over the beliefs that would mark him a traitor in the Dark Lord’s world.
And Yao… Yao grinned. His eyes were definitely glinting purple now, his teeth were bared and his posture hunched. Draco instinctively reached for his wand, because he looked poised for a fight.
“I’d like to see him try.”
Said with such confidence, as if taking on the Dark Lord - who had hypothetically returned - would be child’s play, even though he had spent the last minute fearmongering the younger students with this idea. Draco couldn’t help but feel unnerved. Sure, Yao had - allegedly - taken on a basilisk as a twelve year old, but he was grasping at delusions if he thought he could fight the Dark Lord and win.
Before anyone could say anything back, the entrance to the common room opened. Instead of Professor Snape, an entirely different, but no less imposing figure entered. An Auror, probably an associate of that other one, if their matching blue robes were anything to go on. Draco didn’t recognize her, but her hawk-like eyes were already searching the common room. Draco noticed a few of his housemates back away.
The Auror surveyed the room, ignoring the whispers that accompanied her entrance, before she focused in on Yao. “Ling, with me,” she ordered. “There’s no time to pack, you’ll get your belongings delivered to you later.”
And instantly the whispers started up. The younger ones looked at the Auror with fright, and even those above Draco in years had their interest piqued. Yao was the son of China’s Minister for Magic, already considered one of the most accomplished students in their cohort, and he was on a first name basis with one of their Ministry’s Aurors? Just how convoluted did this rabbithole get?
“What’s going on, Hawkeye?” Yao asked, turning away from Draco. “What about Harry, did you-”
“There’s no time,” Hawkeye said sternly. “This concerns your family.”
Draco watched in real time, almost slow motion, as the color drained from Yao’s face, the way his gloved hand trembled, the quiet snarl slithering out between his teeth. He didn’t question Hawkeye further, just following her out of the common room, Davis and Greengrass’s concerned calls going unanswered.
“What was that about?” Blaise questioned, looking the most puzzled Draco had ever seen him. Davis and Greengrass exchanged worried looks, though they said nothing.
“Who knows and who cares?” Draco decided. Yao was the least of his concerns. If he wanted to defy the proper world order and die for it, who was Draco to stop him? They just needed to wait for Professor Snape to return and properly explain things to them.
Professor Snape did not come back that night. The rumors and the letters beat him to it.
It did not take long for the stories to start circulating. Potter and Diggory made it back alive from wherever they were sent. Diggory was missing an arm. Potter told anyone that would listen that the Dark Lord had returned. It had to be a falsehood, another ploy for attention. That was the most reasonable explanation.
And now, at breakfast, Draco spied Diggory sitting at the Hufflepuff table, no one saying a word about the Ravenclaw girlfriend at his side. Diggory’s left sleeve was knotted, and something uncomfortable stirred in Draco’s stomach. He tried to distract himself with the arriving mail. Mother didn’t have anything for him today, but owls descended to Theo, Vincent, and Gregory.
Theo was the first to open his. For a moment, he was silent. Then, he clenched his fist, crumpling the letter, and pushed away from the table. He left the Great Hall without a word.
“What’s his deal?” Millicent asked. At this, Vincent and Gregory tore open their own letters. Draco tried to peek over Vincent’s shoulder, but he couldn’t get a good angle.
“What does it say?” he asked. Vincent didn’t answer. Instead, in a similar fashion to Theo, both he and Gregory rushed out of the Great Hall, with expressions that told Draco they were going to punch the first person who looked at them wrong.
“Seriously, what’s up with that?” Pansy asked as Draco reached over and picked up Vincent’s letter, left behind on the Slytherin table.
The words on it made his stomach drop.
Vincent,
Your father is dead. He died on June 24th. You should realize what this means. There will be a closed-casket funeral on July 5th. Keep your head down.
Your mother
Draco could see Pansy and Millicent trying to gleam the words through the gaps in his fingers, but he pocketed the letter. Was it reasonable to assume that Gregory and Theo’s letters contained similar messages? Did they all… on the same night… The night of the task…
Draco was almost scared he was going to get the same sort of letter, though fortunately none arrived.
Gregory and Vincent’s attempt to kill Potter did not go as planned, as Professor Snape requested they not give him additional paperwork, and Weasley and Granger hovered over Potter like hawks in the days that followed. Though, Draco surveyed that Elric was not with Potter and Granger and Weasley, as he usually was. In fact, Yao’s bodyguard had seemingly vanished alongside him, as did Chang, and Rockbell, and the younger Elric.
That group of six, the center of their own little conspiracy - Amestris or whatever Potter had called it that one time - gone without a trace, only the knowledge of Hawkeye’s late-night visit to Slytherin serving as any evidence that they were here recently, at all.
Dumbledore openly announcing the Dark Lord’s return at the Closing Feast was unexpected. Draco knew his words to be true, but he also knew that few would believe him. The only witness to the Dark Lord’s resurrection was Potter, and his words had begun to lose legitimacy amongst the public. Still, something about this felt… disconcerting.
Perhaps disconcerting was the word he had been searching for all this time, he thought as the Hogwarts Express drew closer to King’s Cross. The end of each year at Hogwarts so far had been a mixture of disappointment and frustration. And yet, Draco couldn’t help the pit of anxiety that settled in his stomach.
His family were loyal followers of the Dark Lord, he should be overjoyed that he had returned and would soon put the Wizarding World back on the right track. And yet, he felt… disconcerted.
The train came to a stop, though Draco took his time getting out. He wanted to avoid the initial rush. It gave him time to settle his thoughts.
There was nothing to worry about. The Malfoy family was powerful, and now that the Dark Lord was back, they were untouchable. Soon, Draco would be on top of the Hogwarts hierarchy, as was always meant to be.
He bid Pansy and Blaise goodbye as they left the compartment. Vincent and Gregory left without a word, save for grunts. Neither of them were good at conversation before, but they were especially uncommunicative now. Draco didn’t bother trying to talk to them.
This left just him and Theo in the compartment. “What are you going to do?” Draco asked in mild interest. He knew that Theo’s mother had died before he started Hogwarts, and he was left with no immediate family in Britain. It’d be a shame if he needed to transfer, he was the only semblance of intellectual company in his House.
Theo had taken the news of his father’s death quieter than Vincent and Gregory. He had always preferred his own company, but in the last few days, Draco didn’t think he’d heard him say a single word.
“Lord Malfoy reached out to me,” Theo said after a moment of silence, brandishing a new letter. “Offered me housing for the summer.”
Draco frowned. “Don’t you have cousins on the mainland?” He didn’t want Theo to have to leave the country, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put up with being his roommate for another two months.
Theo gave a noncommittal shrug. “I do, but your father says it’s too far. My father… entrusted Lord Malfoy with my care before- well, before. Besides, those cousins have… let’s say different political inclinations.”
Ah, well, that explained it. “Yeah, it’d be a shame if you came back talking like Yao,” Draco said, getting to his feet.
Something dark passed through Theo’s eyes. “I have more spine than that, believe me.”
The two of them left the cabin together, heading towards the same destination. The crowds had thinned considerably, and Draco could already see his mother, perfect and poised, waiting for him - or rather, them - as she did every year. It was the one part of the start-of-summer ritual that he enjoyed. She would Apparate them back to the Manor and indulge in his complaints about Potter and Elric and Yao, until his father came home from work and they enjoyed dinner together like a proper family.
Except there it was again, that… disconcertion. Mother’s face was tighter than usual, she did not smile when they made eye contact. Instead, she grabbed Draco’s hand so tightly it almost hurt, and pulled him alongside her towards one of the smaller nooks of the station, away from prying eyes. Theo followed after them.
“Mother,” Draco hissed, pulling his wrist from her grasp. He looked down at her, he had eclipsed her in height at some point this year.
“Draco,” his mother said coolly, her eyes then passing over Theo. “And Theodore… You really shouldn’t have taken my husband’s offer.”
Draco blinked, confused. He saw Theo bristle out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean, Mother? If Father requested it-”
And all the sudden, his mother gripped his shoulders hard. “Listen to me, very carefully,” she said. “We have guests staying at the Manor for the foreseeable future. Powerful guests. They claim to be servants of our shared Lord, but they are not. They’re- They’re not to be trifled with.”
Draco felt an uptick in his pulse, a gathering of sweat near his brow. It didn’t sound like his mother was talking about the Dark Lord. And… was his mother afraid? The powerful, daunting Narcissa Malfoy, from the noble Black family line, afraid?
“When they speak to you - either of you - answer their questions honestly, but do not say more than is necessary. Do not put attention on yourself. They will- they will kill us if we step out of line. No matter what, you must not step out of line. Do you understand, Draco?”
“Y-yes, I understand,” Draco forced out. At his side, Theo gave a similarly concerned nod. The disconcertion had turned into fully-fledged fear. What did his mother mean? How was she so sure they’d be punished with death? What confirmation did she have? Was it… was it connected to Theo’s father and the others?
Something told him there would be no indulging in complaints or shared dinner tonight.
His mother pulled away, her face taut in a tight web of perfect composure and grace. “I will give you a few minutes to compose yourselves. Then, we will return home.”
What should have been the familiar and comforting sight of his family Manor was tarnished the second they Apparated in. Draco almost lost his lunch at the vision of the… thing in his father’s esteemed garden. It was a man of some sort, but weirdly grotesque, and it was making these gross chewing noises as it bit into- oh Merlin, was that a person-
Draco felt his mother’s gaze boring into him, and he forced the discomfort aside, as if it was perfectly normal to witness someone eating a human corpse in his family garden. He didn’t even dare to turn his head to look at Theo, but he couldn’t imagine him taking this any better.
“Gluttony, it appears our hosts have returned. Show some manners.”
The speaker was a woman sauntering down the entrance stairs. She patted the man’s head as she passed by him, who immediately stopped eating and toddled after her. Draco thought she looked like the old photos of Aunt Bellatrix, but this one carried herself with more poise. Without meaning to, Draco’s eyes trailed over her chest, and the strange, circular tattoo that resembled a dragon swallowing its own tail.
“Lust,” his mother said, her voice stilted in a way that made it clear she was forcing herself to be cordial. “Does he have to do… that?” She made a sweeping motion towards the mess of a corpse by the rosebushes.
The man - Gluttony, was it? - let out a low whine and fiddled with his fingers, while the woman regarded Draco’s mother like she was totally beneath her. “You’ve already forbidden him from eating inside the Manor because it would mess up the carpets. We’re extending you a courtesy.”
His mother’s mouth twisted. “Still, if the Ministry was to come-”
“That wouldn’t be an issue.” Lust held up her hand, and her nails seemed to elongate ever slightly.
“Ooh, would I get to eat them, too?” Gluttony perked up.
Lust patted his head. “Down to the bone.”
Gluttony let out a childish scream of joy, and Draco forced himself to look away, eyes landing back on the body in their garden. Somehow that sight was easier to swallow.
“Let us head inside,” his mother said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “My son is tired after such a long journey. Theodore, you do recall where the guest room is, do you not?”
Maybe Theo nodded, maybe he didn’t. Draco didn’t see. He let his mother lead them up the Manor steps. Lust and Gluttony went up ahead of them, as if they were the hosts and he was a mere guest. He should have been furious at the insolence of this outsider, Mother and Father should have thrown her and the both of them out, but power marked deference. And Lust… whoever she was, she commanded mortal fear.
So, Draco kept the disloyal thoughts to himself as he was treated as a stranger in his house. He only focused on the approaching figure of his father. A powerful, shining light of authority, even with the invaders. Of course, his father was powerful, he could still defer to him.
But, as the figure of Lucius Malfoy stepped closer, the anxiety returned. Something about him looked… wrong.
“Draco,” the doppelganger said coolly. “How was your year at school?”
Draco couldn’t bring himself to answer. He could feel Theo shift uncomfortably by his side. He could tell something was wrong, too. The mimic couldn’t perfectly match his father’s tone, or the type of language that he used.
“Answer your father when he’s speaking to you.”
Draco’s mother had remained silent, Draco could tell she wasn’t pleased with the mockery. Another thought began to bubble inside Draco, and he had to resist the urge to scream in rage and fear. Was his father dead, and this monster simply wearing his skin? No, Mother would have warned him if that was the case. But, that still didn’t explain how-
“Almost,” Lust said. “His hair is a few shades lighter, and the accent isn’t quite there.”
The figure masquerading as Lucius Malfoy melted away, a young adult standing in its place. Their hair was black, glinting an almost green in the chandelier’s light. Their robes were odd, showcasing a bare midriff and uncovered legs, and their smile looked downright cruel.
“Man, and I thought I was so close,” the newcomer said, their eyes the same violet as Lust’s. So, they were a Metamorphmagus? That explained the disguise. Had the faux Lucius Malfoy appeared to anyone but Draco and his mother, it likely would have fooled them.
“Then I suggest you keep at it, Envy,” Lust said. “If you had that power fully mastered, we could’ve had you infiltrate Hogwarts instead of needing to rely on Crouch.”
Envy scowled. “Can’t. Those brats would have recognized me instantly.” Lust only smirked.
What in the world was going on? Draco couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He could see his mother giving him a stern look, and Theo’s expression was carefully blank. This was bad. Something told Draco that he should be employing Occlumency right now, hiding away even his thoughts, but… he’d never really gotten the hang of it, much to his mother’s disappointment. The most he could do was hope he could get away from this interaction soon.
Mother tried to help. “We can save introductions for later. Draco, if you would help Theodore settle in the guest room-”
But her attempt to get them away from prying eyes was cut short. A high-pitched, cold voice came from the direction of the Manor’s main dining hall. “Ah, Narcissa. Bring the boys to me. I wish to see them.”
His mother froze, but she couldn’t disobey a direct order from… Draco had an inkling he knew exactly who that was. With her hand on his shoulder once again, his mother led him into the dining hall, Theo trailing at their side. The click of high heel boots behind them indicated Lust and the others followed.
Draco was almost relieved to see his father in the dining room, though not sitting in his usual chair at the head of the table. His father seemed to have aged a decade since he saw him last, but at least he was alive. He made eye contact with his father, who wordlessly passed on the same message his mother had given him.
“Don’t give them a reason to kill us.”
Draco wouldn’t.
It was the other guests at the table that made his blood run cold, though he desperately fought not to show it. The Dark Lord - Draco didn’t need to guess or to ask for the man’s identity - sat at the head of the table, regarding the entire room like it was beneath him. Because it was, Draco could feel the raw power.
“Welcome, Draco,” the Dark Lord said, in a tone that could almost sound inviting. “Lucius has told me much about you. Come, join us.”
Draco did, bowing at the waist before taking a seat. the Dark Lord respected proper manners, and he could not give him a reason to suspect disloyalty- because there wasn’t any! He could only handle looking at the Dark Lord out of the corner of his eye.
“And Theodore Nott…” Theo did a similar bow, head dipping even lower than Draco could muster.
“It really is a shame about your father.” And Theo couldn’t help the flinch. “The spillage of magical blood is always a great shame, and your family line is one of the eldest.”
Draco looked away as the Dark Lord continued to scrutinize Theo. His eyes landed on the other man at the table. He was wearing a large coat that Draco had seen before, and eyeing the exchange between Theo and the Dark Lord with undistilled glee. His left hand was cast in silver.
“I trust you will serve me more… faithfully than he did, Theodore.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Theodore said in a low, measured tone.
“Have a seat, Theodore,” the Dark Lord gestured to the many empty spots. Theo took one a considerable distance away from Draco.
“My Lord,” Draco’s father spoke up. “We are to discuss important plans, those are not for the ears of chi-”
“Do not question me, Lucius,” the Dark Lord hissed, with enough anger to make them all flinch. “It is a shame for magical blood to spill, but you are on your last straw. You did not search for me, and then I come to find that you lost one of my most valuable possessions in my absence…”
His father practically withered. “Perhaps it should have been you instead of Nott.”
Theo said and did nothing.
The Dark Lord turned away, facing Draco and Theo once more. “These children may very well be the backbone of the next generation of Death Eaters. They need to be instructed in the ways of the world.”
“My Lord, if I may,” the man with the silver hand said. “I doubt they have what it takes. Neither of them impressed me when I observed them at that school. Nott, maybe, but the Malfoy son is as spineless as his father. A filthy, cowardly, backstabbing little runt-”
“I will be the judge of that, Crouch,” the Dark Lord said coldly.
Crouch… observed at the school… the oversized coat that Draco had seen before, worn by his least favorite Defense teacher-
The Dark Lord’s smile widened. “I believe you have already met my most loyal servant, Draco, Theodore. This is Bartemius Crouch Jr., though you might know him better as the man who impersonated Alastor Moody.”
Draco forced a tiny nod. He didn’t like the way Crouch was looking at him.
“Well now, since we’ve all been properly introduced,” the Dark Lord said in his icy voice. He snapped, and a banquet of food appeared before them. Only Envy and Gluttony appeared interested in eating, with the latter taking a plate to the corner of the room and loudly smacking down on the roasted chicken. “Please, tell me more about your proposal, Lust.”
“The next solar eclipse will soon arrive,” Lust said. “And with it, a more secure method to obtain immortality. The Philosopher’s Stone.”
The Philosopher’s Stone? Supposedly, that was the thing Potter and Elric were trying to protect in their first year. A powerful object, his own interests in alchemy led to him reading up on it. But, Flamel’s was the only one in existence, wasn’t it?
The Dark Lord also appeared displeased. “You mean that measly pebble that you created in the graveyard?” These people were capable of creating Philosopher’s Stones? How did they even have that knowledge? “It is only the size of a pebble, and you had me sacrifice five of my followers for it.” Theo looked to the side and poked at the roasted vegetables on his plate.
Envy grinned, their steak knife bloody. “That’s because we only used five humans for it. The power of the Stone is proportional to how much life is sacrificed to create it. It’s the Law of Equivalent Exchange.”
Law of Equivalent Exchange. Draco was sure he’d heard one of the Elric brothers mention something like that before. Did the Elrics know how to make a Stone? How?!
Draco forced himself to breathe. He couldn’t let his mind wander and give something away. Not with his father and mother staring intently at him. He knew what was at stake. Envy made it clear that the Philosopher’s Stone was created through human sacrifice. That’s what happened to Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Avery, and Nott. That was how Theo’s father died, not a heart attack like what the letter suggested. That was the fate that awaited Draco, Theo, and his parents if any of them stepped out of line.
Fuel for the fire.
“With the power of the eclipse,” Lust continued, “we will be able to sacrifice thousands of people, however many you wish. Their sacrifice will fuel the new Stone. A powerful Stone, not only boosting magic power but granting immortality.”
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at the group. “And you chose to come to me with these plans? By the sounds of it, you have it all figured out. So, why do you propose this to me? That has always puzzled me.”
Lust sighed. “While the magic used to enact the Promised Day is ancient, it isn’t… unknown. If certain people were to become aware of our plans, it could ruin everything.”
“Which is why you tipping off Mustang was just about the worst thing you could have done,” Envy snapped in Crouch’s direction, who scowled in turn. “No doubt he’s already working to counteract us.”
“And again you bring up Mustang,” the Dark Lord said. “If he is this fearsome, we can arrange for… something to happen.”
“No!” Envy yelled, face twisted in a mix of fury and… fear. “We can’t, not yet. We need him alive for now.”
“Keeping him alive so he can die at the right moment?” the Dark Lord questioned. “Positively conniving.”
Draco tried to not think of Hawkeye at the entrance of the Slytherin common room, and her taking Yao away. Was that somehow connected? Was that part of the plan to counteract the Promised Day, or whatever it was? He couldn’t think of it, he couldn’t let the others know he knew.
Perhaps there may have been a time when the Malfoys could have been protected under the Dark Lord’s reign, but he instinctively knew not to expect it from these newcomers.
“For now, we need time,” Lust said. “We need time to finish our preparations and for the eclipse to arrive. Just keep us out of the spotlight for now. You command much fear throughout this land, use that to your advantage. Let us and our allies prepare for the Promised Day, and each of us will be bestowed a powerful Philosopher’s Stone.”
“Ah yes, your allies,” the Dark Lord said, eyeing them all carefully. “The seven deadly sins, the seven humanly desires. A poetic set of names for those who intend to encase the world in blood. Lust. Gluttony. Envy. Still, that’s three missing from the full set. I do not like incomplete sets. Tell me, can we expect Wrath, Pride, Sloth, and Greed to be joining us?”
The atmosphere almost seemed to change. Lust narrowed her eyes. Envy gripped their knife tighter. Gluttony whimpered in the corner.
“We have not spoken to any of them in some years,” Lust said carefully. “We have located Wrath and Pride, though. Envy and I will make contact soo- what is it, Gluttony?”
At the mention of Pride, Gluttony had abandoned his food and rushed to Lust’s side. He whimpered. “Pride- Pride is- he will-”
At this, Lust’s expression became much more warm as she caressed Gluttony’s head. “Don’t you worry, Gluttony. I’ll be sure to give Pride a reminder about playing nice.”
Her words were venomous, and even Envy seemed a bit unnerved by the exchange. Whoever Wrath and Pride were, there seemed to be some bad blood.
Good. Good, Draco decided. If there was infighting, he and his family had a better chance to get through all of this.
“Sloth will be joining us in due time,” Envy continued. “He has his own role to play in this plan.” A grin came over their face. “Bastard’s gonna hate us for that.”
“As if he’ll have the energy to hate,” Lust said, still patting Gluttony on the head.
“That’s still one short. What about Greed?” the Dark Lord demanded.
And Envy’s schadenfreude glee at Sloth’s misery evaporated, and they glared at the Dark Lord. “Yeah, what about him?”
Whatever reservations they had about Wrath and Pride, they were even greater for Greed, it seemed. Draco couldn’t help a flitter of hope. Their group was less composed than he expected, if they had a defector amongst them. There was hope, yet.
Then, he caught a glimpse of Crouch’s expression. A manic smile had overcome his face. “Are you keeping secrets from the Dark Lord now?” he asked, leaning forward. “Not only do you not reveal the truth of what your plans entail, but you won’t even tell him the true whereabouts of your allies.”
“Whatever do you mean-”
“I know exactly who Greed is,” Crouch snarled. “During my time at Hogwarts, I happened upon a special map that displayed the names of everyone in the castle. And I saw Greed on it. Intersecting with the name of Ling Yao.”
Draco felt a knot form in his throat, taking in the others in his view, and across the table, Theo similarly startled.
Yao was… with this group? No, it couldn’t be. He hated everything the Dark Lord stood for, and these people seemed even more vile. But, if this Greed thing was somehow connected with Yao… Did Theo’s old vampire theory actually have some weight?
“And who is Yao?” the Dark Lord asked, uncaring for Envy’s trembling shoulders.
Crouch pointed across the table at Draco. “His yearmate. Son of China’s Minister for Magic, too. Very friendly with the Potter boy.”
Suddenly, Envy reached over and grabbed Draco by the collar of his shirt. He tried to squirm out of their reach, but they held fast. He could see his mother and shift, but they made no move to rush to his side.
“Tell me, does that brat have this-” Envy pointed at their thigh, displaying the same tattoo Lust had on her chest, “mark on his body?”
Draco couldn’t bring himself to answer. He didn’t like Yao, and the past several uncomfortable minutes hadn’t changed that, but it was clear this group had malicious intentions for him. He couldn’t just set him up like that.
“N-no, not that I can remember.”
“On his hand, perhaps?” Envy seethed.
Draco’s eyes flickered over to his mother. She looked at him with her hands folded, eyes boring into him. He had no choice. He had to tell the truth without casting attention on himself. It was his only way to survive. He tried to think.
“No- well, actually,” Draco swallowed, ice in his veins, “he always wears a glove on his left hand.”
Envy swore, letting Draco go. They picked up their knife and slammed it through the steak, plate, and table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. Theo flinched, and Draco scooted his chair further away. The two of them locked eyes.
Just what was all coming to?
“What is the meaning of this?” the Dark Lord demanded.
“Ling Yao and Greed are one and the same,” Envy seethed, glaring at the table. “Or rather, they share the same vessel. Greed doesn’t work with us, he’s a lousy traitor.”
Draco wasn’t even sure how to begin to process what he just heard. One of his dormmates was apparently possessed by one of these monsters?! Though, could he (they?) really be called associates, with Envy calling Greed a traitor, and Hawkeye contacting Yao to - presumably - begin counteracting the Promised Day.
No, he couldn’t think of that, now more than ever.
Theo’s expression was blank, and Draco tried to match it. His half-baked Occlumency shields flickered to life. His thoughts would not be welcome at this meeting, he needed to keep them guarded.
So, he sat stone-faced through the rest of the meeting, keeping his thoughts in check. Lust and the Dark Lord went over some logistics, a few key locations that needed to be targeted for their plan, the giants’ role, which prisoners in Azkaban would return to Death Eater service should the prison fall…
The Dark Lord and this new group could not guarantee his family’s safety. They were not worthy of being followed.
For now, he just needed to survive the summer. Then… when he was back within the security of Hogwarts’s walls, he could figure out what to do with the information he gained.