Through the Doors
Title: Through the Doors
Rating: PG
Length: One-Shot
Pairings: Implied Lucius/Narcissa
Era: Hogwarts (fifth year)
Summary: The Dark Lord is losing his patience; he desperately wants the knowledge of the prophecy's exact location, and Lucius Malfoy can no longer put off searching the legendary Department of Mysteries.
~*~
He had purposely arrived early to the Ministry, and he was taking full advantage of such prudence. After all, his meeting with the Minister was not scheduled until three hours, and Lucius Malfoy was going to use every one of those one hundred and eighty minutes allotted to him.
As he walked briskly through the dimly lit, dark-stone corridors, he found himself grateful that the lower levels of the Ministry of Magic were not common areas of travel for wandering employees. It was far easier, after all, to explore secrets for the Dark Lord without having to explain oneself. Not that a simple Imperius Curse wouldn’t take care of it, he thought. But still, doing so took time - time he did not have to waste.
Only a few months had passed since the Dark Lord’s return, and Lucius had been trying to find the time to get down to the legendary and fabled corridors of the Department of Mysteries for at least three weeks.
At least, that was the tale he told the Dark Lord. But Lucius had also been a Death Eater long enough to know when the Dark Lord’s patience was beginning to wear a little too thin for comfort.
Which was precisely the reason why he was now down in the bowels of the Ministry, walking along halls whose layouts he was only vaguely aware of.
He knew, of course, the Dark Lord’s reasons for seeking out this particular department of the Ministry, and it was far from the guesses that he suspected could be found within the majority of wizards’ minds. Yes, it was true that the Department of Mysteries was purported to hold knowledge of the most obscure branches of magic - both the lightest of the Light and the darkest of the Dark - and other so-called “weapons.” Most would likely assume that it was these types of items that the Dark Lord sought - but they could not be more wrong.
Lost in his own thoughts, Lucius had barely realised when he had made it to a circular room of doors. Twelve, ordinary looking doors surrounded him, all closed save for the one at his back - the one he had just entered from.
It should be the one directly across from the entrance, he thought, his mind struggling to focus on his faint memories of Rookwood’s layouts of the deep, underground departments - It had been almost fifteen years, after all, since he had seen them. Lucius shut the door behind him, but he left a small gap to keep it from closing completely; he didn’t want the room to begin spinning just yet. He walked straight across the circular room, his boots barely making a sound as they hit the marble floor. Once he had made it to the door, he placed a gloved hand on the door’s ornate handle and, turning it slowly, pushed the door open.
Upon entering the room beyond, Lucius swore when the door slammed shut behind him, the handle ripping itself from his grip. He was instantly plunged into complete darkness - not even the eerie, blue-flamed candles of earlier were present in this room. Lucius did not immediately light his wand; he did not know if there were any other workers in the chamber, and he preferred not to draw any notice to himself. Instead, he just blinked repeatedly, trying to force his grey eyes to see through the thick darkness.
It was, however, to no avail.
As he stood for a moment, straining his ears to discover if anyone was present, Lucius also racked through his mind, trying to remember exactly which room he had entered. Because it’s obviously not the one that I wanted, he thought to himself angrily. He did not hear anything, and thus inferred that - astonishingly - he was alone in the room. Knowing such, he muttered, “Lumos,” and watched as his wand let off a little light, enough for him to see a few feet in front of him, at least.
It was not until he took another step forwards that a cold shiver ran down his spine. A feeling of icy coldness plunged over him, and his chest suddenly felt like it was being entwined in cold and despair. Lucius coughed slightly as he felt himself struggle for air - his mind making his body feel like breathing was nearly impossible.
Even in the midst of such feelings, though, Lucius grinned slightly in triumph. He knew, now, where he was in the dreaded Department of Mysteries. Most wizards knew of the Unspeakables’ studies in things like Time, Intelligence, Life, Death, and Prophecy, but few knew of this, ‘less-than-reputable’ pursuit of knowledge that the Unspeakables researched.
For years, a select group of Unspeakables was tasked with experimenting on and further understanding the not-so-pleasant sides of life, mainly those of Despair, Hopelessness, Depression, and the like. Such was easily accomplished, of course, when a government had a significant supply of Dementors on hand.
And such knowledge isn’t known to many outside the Unspeakables and Death Eaters, Lucius thought, smiling. He extinguished the light on his wand, once again plunging himself into darkness. The tell-tale signs of a Dementor’s presence became much more noticeable - mainly the cold and rattling breath - but Lucius didn’t wait long before he had muttered a spell - one rarely spoken by wizards of the present day - and placed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark on his arm.
Immediately, Lucius felt, more than saw, the Dementor cease its movement, frozen in place by the knowledge that it stood at the command of one of the Dark Lord’s chosen few. Ensured that the creature would trouble him no more, Lucius continued on his way.
Shortly after leaving the Dementor, Lucius came upon a tall, dark wooden door, its golden handle shining in the light of his wand. At first, he thought he had crossed the room too quickly - He had barely taken a few steps before encountering the Dementor, after all - but the elder Malfoy did not dwell on the thought for long. He had probably just forgotten that the room was as small as it was. Reaching out a hand, Lucius grasped the door’s handle and, swinging it inward, stepped through the opening.
The large, heavy door slammed shut right behind him, but Lucius did not notice anything odd until he took his second step inside the room. Glancing at his feet, he was slightly surprised to see his own reflection staring up at him; it was like the floor was made of glass, but Lucius could not remember either Rookwood or Bode detailing anything about a mirrored-floor room in this department. It was not until Lucius looked up at the ceiling, however, that he truly ‘saw’ the room.
The room was, for lack of a better explanation, upside down. Or, at least, that was how it seemed. Above the Death Eater was a wooden ‘floor,’ with rows of doors scattered along the walls, while he, himself, was standing on what would be deemed the ‘ceiling.’ With a growl of frustration, Lucius's grey eyes caught sight of the door that he sought . . . and it just so happened to be the one on the far opposite side of this strange room.
“Damn,” he muttered, and then barely suppressed a hiss of pain as the Mark on his arm burned briefly. For the briefest of seconds, he thought that the Dark Lord was actually aware of his current thoughts and sentiments, but Lucius quickly disregarded those notions as utterly ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about in terms of the Dark Lord at the present moment; he would simply have to explain why he couldn’t have come at the summons - no harm done.
The concern that he was running out of time in exploring the Department of Mysteries, however, was something to be slightly concerned about. He couldn’t miss the meeting with Fudge, he knew, but at the same time, Lucius knew the Dark Lord would accept explanations of ignoring a summons a lot better if there was some positive outcome - some reward - that came from the Death Eater's absence.
And finding that object’s exact location would be just that, thought Lucius as he contemplated how to reach a door that ‘stood’ as far from him as possible in that particular room.
There was something about the room, however, that struck a memory of Lucius's. He felt like he had been in such a situation like this before - either personally, or he had read about it - in which the room was upside down. At the same time as trying to recall this, he also tried to bring his mental image of the department’s layout into his mind, hoping to figure out where he was.
Finally, though, after several minutes had passed, Lucius felt like cursing himself for not remembering the answer right away. It was so obvious, after all, and he had known it since childhood, really. The whole thing was, in essence, nothing more sinister than an illusion.
The room was not, in reality, upside down; it just appeared and felt that way. Once a wizard or witch accepted such and believed the truth, then the room would ‘right’ itself, and one could go on one’s merry way. However, those foolish few who attempted to walk along the ‘ceiling’ while still believing the illusion, would, more than likely, plummet down - being seriously injured in the process.
With a smirk in place, Lucius broke through the enchantment and, as the room returned to normal, walked briskly across it and through the last door.
As Lucius’s gloved hand released the door’s handle, the dark, wooden door crept closed, its hinges creaking eerily, much unlike the last door that had slammed shut. But the Death Eater paid it no mind, and took a couple of steps forwards, halting suddenly, however, when the door clicked shut. Now, there was nothing odd or different about the door itself closing, but the fact that he heard the sound of a lock sliding into place was a bit to be concerned about.
That, of course, and the fact that there were no other doors in the room. What the - ? Lucius’s mind seemed to be working slowly as he stared at the three other walls in the room. There was no way out, other than the door he had entered from. “This can’t be the right way,” he muttered, and, believing he obviously had taken the wrong door, turned around to let himself back out.
Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t. The door he had just heard close shut was no where to be seen; Lucius found himself staring at - like the other three in the room - a blank, black wall. “This is ridiculous,” he hissed, placing his hands on the wall, in the foolish hope that perhaps the door would still be there by touch, if not by sight. “How can this possibly get any worse?”
The room seemed to hear Lucius and decided to answer his rhetorical question. For, barely two seconds after the words had left his aristocratic mouth, there was a low, rumbling noise, almost like a giant animal’s stomach growling. Slightly apprehensive about what he would see, Lucius turned slowly around, pushing a few stray strands of platinum blonde hair from his pale face. The sight that greeted his grey gaze, however, was not exactly welcome, and caused him to grasp his gloved fingers around the handle of his wand.
As he watched, the far wall started to shake and, ever so slowly, creep towards the Death Eater. It was, at least, several inches closer than it had been previously. Lucius shook his head in frustration, evidently thinking that he had imagined such occurrences. But he could no longer deny the events when the other three walls joined the first one and, rumbling and shaking, inched their way inwards, making the room grow smaller and smaller with each passing second.
Still holding his wand, Lucius felt his heart beat quicken as his mind struggled to come up with a way out. He knew, instinctively, that this was no illusion, unlike the room he had just left. For a fleeting second, the idea of Apparition entered his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly. After all, the Ministry of Magic in general had Anti-Apparition wards everywhere other than the Atrium, and there was no telling what the Unspeakables would have in their Department. It was best not to risk it.
Finally, though, as the walls had succeeded in shrinking the room down to a size that was about that of an Azkaban cell, Lucius’s frustration and anger won him over. “I don’t have time for this,” he hissed and, pointing the tip of his wand at the wall in front of him, muttered the darkest destructive spell he could think of. He watched the beam of dark light connect with the stone, and he barely managed to get a shield charm up in order to block the debris that went flying as the spell impacted. Stone fragments were hurled in every direction and dust converged on the scene.
Lucius, however, smirked as he stared at the wall. After the dust had cleared decently, he could see the large hole that had been made in the stone - a hole big enough for a grown man to stumble through. Replacing his wand in his cloak, he continued on his way.
Upon re-emerging from the hole, Lucius entered a narrow corridor, but as there were no doors or anything to lead him out through the sides, he just followed the path until he reached its conclusion. In front of him stood a massive wooden door, the top of it reaching towards the ceiling (even looking like it went beyond the ceiling, really), and he was struck for a brief moment on how a door of that size could be located in the Department of Mysteries, of all places in the Ministry. But then, he mentally berated himself for even wasting time thinking such thoughts. What did it matter if the door defied all logic? As long as it helped him to continue on towards his destination, he didn’t quite care.
So, reaching out, he grasped the silver, circular handle of the door and pushed it open. (The door required a great deal of effort to get open, due to its size.) But, eventually, Lucius succeeded, and he entered another room, this one looking only slightly different than the one he had left. Unlike the other room, this one did have a few doors that led out, and the walls didn’t immediately begin to encroach upon him.
There was, however, almost nothing in the room itself. The blank, black walls were bare of any documents or shelves, and the floor itself was not occupied with things like desks, shelves, or chairs. At least, that was mostly true. There were two chairs in the entire room, and both of which were ones that he wouldn’t necessarily expect to see in a department of the Ministry. (They might fit better in an office of a Department Head, but a department itself? Unlikely.)
Both chairs were overstuffed armchairs, and they looked quite comfortable just by appearance. The one closest to Lucius was a shimmering grey in colour, while the other was a deep, blood-red. As he stood there for a moment, he became oddly transfixed by the chairs. It was almost like they were enchanted or something; he couldn’t really think of anything other than how it would feel to relax for a moment. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a moment, he thought to himself. After all, he had been walking for what felt like hours, and what difference would five minutes in a chair make?
And so, walking over, Lucius approached the grey chair. A slight warning went off in his mind about sitting in it, but he didn’t pay any attention to it; the chair’s enchantment, it seemed, overpowered such warning. Leaning back, Lucius exhaled a sigh of relaxation as the chair conformed to his body. It was extremely comfortable, he had to admit, especially after the week he had had, and he really wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and drift off to sleep. I could probably stay here for weeks, he thought.
“What was I down here for?” he muttered as his breathing slowed into a simple rhythm, his eyes growing heavier and heavier as sleep tried to take him over. As he thought of the question, he realised he couldn’t quite come up with an answer, but for some reason, Lucius didn’t really care. Whatever his reasons for being here (and being in the hurry that he was), they were obviously not that important, if he couldn’t recall them.
The chair was so soft . . . so comfortable . . . He was just on the edge of sleep . . . of blissful unconsciousness . . .
When a sharp, intense pain shot up his left arm and jerked him awake. Lucius was unable to completely suppress a gasp and hiss of pain as the Mark burned, nor was he able to keep his right hand from grasping his left wrist. As he stared at the bold, black outline of the skull and snake, his mind instantly returned to normal; the enchantment of the chair had, apparently, been shattered by the Mark. Within seconds, Lucius recalled every reason why he was here - His search for the room, the Dark Lord’s urgency, his own meeting with Fudge, everything.
He - almost literally - jumped from the chair’s depths at these thoughts, and with that movement, the Mark seemed to (somewhat) dim in its intensity, though it still prickled rather uncomfortably, and, glancing down, Lucius saw a few trickles of blood running down his arm. With a grimace, he wiped it away, wondering for a second why the Mark had burned so intensely.
Lucius had to find the path to the room, he knew; returning to the Dark Lord without such knowledge, after ignoring two summons, would not very prudent.
When Lucius entered the next room, he gave a sigh of exasperated relief. Finally, he had come upon an area that he recognised . . . or so he thought. Upon entering the room, Lucius immediately recognised the stone benches that descended in steps towards the floor, and that gave the chamber a coliseum-like feel. The single, stone archway was also recognisable, as was the tattered veil that hung from it. With a smirk, Lucius knew where he was.
This was the Death Chamber, he remembered. And if he recalled the layout in his mind correctly, then he could also make his way through a couple more doors and be in the room that he sought. But as the Death Eater started descending the steps, approaching the level where the veil was located, he realised that the room was not exactly identical to how he remembered the Death Chamber.
Colours were slightly altered, for one. The veil looked more like a charcoal grey in colour, while Lucius clearly recalled it being a black like that of deepest night. Everything in the chamber had a sort of muted appearance in its colour, really; it was all lighter, he supposed, than how he remembered it being. Not only that, but the stone archway itself also had a change in its appearance. The stone seemed to be made up of swirling, rainbow colours - almost like the magic that had been weaved into the stone millennia ago was actually capable of being seen by the naked, human, eye, whereas normally, certain spells would have had to be cast upon it to make such intricacies visible.
Something’s not right, he thought to himself as he walked closer to the veil. The thought, however, did not have a long time to grasp a hold in his mind before it was dislodged by the voices coming from the archway. The sudden start of the voices, though, caused the elder Malfoy to grasp the handle of his wand, withdrawing it cautiously from his robes. He had been in the Death Chamber before, had even approached the archway and heard a bit of what sounded like whispering coming from beyond the tattered veil, but never had the voices been so distinct; never had one of them, especially, been as clear as if Lucius was speaking to someone who stood directly next to him.
“Come,” the voice hissed. “Walk through, Lucius, and come.” Lucius didn’t move right away. He expected warnings to go off in his mind, awaited the inevitable qualities of self-preservation to tell him not to listen to the odd voice, but as the seconds ticked by, nothing came. No protest arose within the Death Eater on why he shouldn’t do what the voice said, and walk through the swirling, dark grey curtain.
“Another illusion?” he muttered to himself. It was possible, indeed, that an illusion was the cause for the differences between this veil room and the one he remembered. If that was the case, then walking through this veil would result in the same outcome that going through the other one would - death. However, though the idea was possible, it wasn’t exactly probable. What was (and Lucius believed this to be the correct interpretation) was that this room acted like a mirror of the other one - the real Death Chamber.
He had encountered forms of such enchantments before, as a matter of fact, and as he thought more about the situation, Lucius realised that such was, more than likely, the case here. As such, if he walked through this veil, then he should turn up in the actual Death Chamber, just outside of its veil and on the raised stone dais. But did he dare to risk his life on the matter?
Finally, Lucius came to a decision. Waving his wand, he conjured up a few small stones and tossed them through the gateway. He brought his face as close to the veil as he could without actually touching it, and strained his ears for any sound of the rocks hitting a stone floor on the other end. “Come on,” he hissed, and after what felt like hours (though in reality, was barely three seconds) a string of light tapping sounded faintly from ‘within’ the veil.
And so, ensured that his theory was correct, Lucius smirked and walked through the veil, re-emerging on the other side.
Lucius quickly crossed the length of the veil room and eventually made it to one of the doors on the far side of the room. There were several close by to choose from, and he knew that at least one of them would lead him to where he desperately wanted to go. The other four would, at least, get him close. After all, he was this close; surely he couldn’t get lost too many more times. Could he?
He grasped the handle of the door directly in front of him and, wrenching it open, entered the dark, unlit room beyond. Barely a second passed before Lucius fell, his foot not finding the solid ground he had hoped for, but instead, plunging into ice cold water. He gave a hiss and shiver as the water came to his chest before he was able to mutter a spell to keep him from descending. (It wasn’t that he couldn’t swim the normal way, it was just that this way prevented any exertion on his part. He would just simply float there.) A few curses escaped from his mouth, however, when he thought of the expensive robes that had just been drenched. Not to mention the fact that his left sleeve had been torn in the sudden fall.
“Damn it,” he muttered, though for the briefest of moments, Lucius was unsure whether he was swearing at the situation in general or at the Dark Lord. After all, it was on his ‘request’ that Lucius was even in this cursed department of the Ministry. But cursing a Dark Lord who was not even present would not help him get out of his current predicament, and so, looking around, Lucius searched for a way to escape the lake - Who has a lake in the middle of a government building, anyway? - and to continue on his quest. Not long passed before his grey gaze caught sight of a single door that stood in a far corner of the room, almost opposite of the one he had entered from.
Beside this single door was a curvy and sharp silver hook, which had a thin, golden key hanging from it. As Lucius looked at the door once again, he saw an iron lock that hung near the handle, signalling the obvious reason for the key. He started to make his way towards the door when his mind made him stop.
There was something far too simple about the entire situation. After everything else in this blasted department, it didn’t make sense that they would leave the key to a locked door hanging directly next to the door it unlocked. No, there had to either be another door, or another key. But where?
Lucius looked around himself for a bit more, and he saw the answers. There were not any more doors in the room, but there were two more keys - a small, silver one that was located near the bottom of the lake that he was currently floating in, and a large bronze one attached to the end of a thin ribbon that hung from a hook on the ceiling, directly above the Death Eater's head. And now, he had a decision to make. Which key would he go after?
He thought about the situation for all of the time that it deserved - about seven seconds - before making his choice. It was, more than likely, that the key hanging from the ceiling would be the only one that unlocked his exit. After all, the other two were just far too obvious, far too easy, for them to be the correct choice. But how to get at the bloody key? he thought. (He had, of course, already tried to simply summon it, but that was to no avail.)
Several swear words, spells, and curses later, Lucius was losing the little patience that he still retained. Nothing had worked, and the key still hung resolutely from the ceiling, far out of the Death Eater's reach. But suddenly, an idea occurred to him, and he was surprised that he didn’t think of it earlier. “Of course, it may not work,” he muttered to himself, “but it’s still worth attempting.”
And so, waving his wand, he summoned Mipsy, his wife’s house-elf who, thankfully, was usually extremely terrified of him and had never disappointed either of them, unlike that other elf. Lucius growled slightly at the thought of Dobby, but quickly put the memories out of his mind as he turned to face Mipsy, who floated beside him, her large brown eyes open in surprise.
“Master summoned Mipsy?” she squeaked.
“Of course I did,” he said, glaring at the elf as she twisted her long hands in the toga-like towel that clothed her small form. “I need you to do something here.”
“Mipsy always does was Master says.”
“Good. Now, get the key from the ceiling” - he pointed at it, and Mipsy followed the direction of his hand - “and bring it to me. . . . Now, Mipsy.” Lucius's voice had taken on a slightly harder edge as he said the elf’s name, and Mipsy recognised the anger coming from him.
Nodding her little head repeatedly so that it shook like a child’s toy, she snapped her fingers and, disappearing from Lucius's side, reappeared instantly above him. Mipsy walked slowly along the wooden beams that made up the intricate woodwork of the room’s ceiling, careful not to fall from the edge and plummet down. It was slow going as she inched along towards the key, and Lucius was growing impatient.
“Hurry up, Mipsy,” he said, and Mipsy jumped at her Master’s voice, almost losing her balance on one of the beams. Luckily, though, she caught herself and, finally, made it to where the key hung from the hook. Reaching out gingerly, she wrapped her long fingers around the ribbon that held it in place and pulled, unhooking the key and bringing it to her chest. Mipsy wore a grin of accomplishment as she disappeared from the ceiling in a pop and reappeared at Lucius's side.
“Mipsy got the key, just as Master said,” she squeaked, holding it out. Lucius took the key from the elf and made his way across the lake, finally making it to the door. Placing the tip of the key into the lock, he turned . . . and smiled as the lock clicked open and the door swung outward. He pocketed the key and turned back around to face the elf.
“Go back to the Manor, Mipsy,” he said. Mipsy nodded once again, and disappeared. And with that, Lucius went on his way.
Once the door had closed behind him, Lucius found himself in a giant room that resembled, for the most part, one of the coliseums of the ancient Wizarding World, most notably those of the Roman Empire. (Many ignorant Muggles believed the structures of the old empires to have been assembled by themselves, when, in reality, it was the wizards of those times that created such lasting greatness.) But, history aside, that was precisely what the room looked like, and as such, it bore a slight resemblance to other rooms in the Department of Mysteries.
Stone seating surrounded the room, the seats rising in tiers from floor to ceiling all along the four walls. There were, however, no doors along the paths above the seats, which at first struck Lucius as a bit odd, until he noticed that the only other door was located almost directly across from him. It appeared that he had entered on the bottom level, and he seemed to be absolutely alone. And so, he strode confidently across the stones lining the floor, hoping to reach the door and continue on his way before too much time had managed to pass; he had no idea, after all, how long he had been down in this department, but he thought he was approaching the two hour mark.
Unfortunately, fortune was not smiling on Lucius Malfoy today.
He had barely taken ten steps from his starting position before there was a flash of brilliant white light that lit up the entire room, like an explosion had gone off. Lucius shielded his own eyes with his arm, though he still squeezed his eyes shut to help guard them from the brightness. There was no sound to accompany the light, however, which led one to believe that it wasn’t really a spell, in essence, but something else. And when Lucius opened his eyes again, blinking them so as to readjust to the sudden dimness after the light, he saw a gleaming silver creature in the middle of the room. Looking closer at it, he discovered that it looked uncannily like his own Patronus, though he knew he had not cast the spell himself.
Lucius took a few steps closer in an effort to more closely identity the creature. It was gleaming silver and around ten feet in length, its long body thick and wrapped around what appeared, at first glance, to be a piece of wood. Upon closer inspection, however, that ‘wood’ turned out to be a dead rat, its fat grey body held limp in the creature’s grasp. The creature - a powerful serpent - looked almost identical to his Patronus.
What is going on here? he thought to himself, and he was so consumed in the thoughts raging around his mind that Lucius almost missed the point where the serpent’s fangs lunged at his ankle. Lucius jerked away from the serpent, giving it a look of deepest anger, his wand already in his gloved hand. No matter how many times he racked his brain, however, he could come up with no conclusion as to what exactly this creature was - because it was apparently no Patronus, however much it may appear like one.
Now what? Lucius thought, glancing all around the room for any sort of clue as to what to do. He knew he had to get out of the room, but the question at the moment was, “How?” As his eyes took their fourth sweep of the room, however, Lucius wanted to curse himself when he saw the answer staring him right in the face. Glaring intently at the door he wanted to get out of, he noticed the long, iron-linked chain attached to its door handle and on the end of said chain was the gleaming silver serpent that lay hissing in the centre of the stone room. Upon noticing the chain on the door in front of him, Lucius turned around quickly to see the same sort of restraint on the door handle of the one he had just entered from, though this had no creature attached to its end.
The answer, Lucius knew, was obvious. He glared at the silver serpent, knowing he had to get it from being attached to his exit to being attached to the other door. But how? That thing’s hostile. (He had already tried to walk past it, but it continuously lunged at him.) Half-heartedly, and not really expecting it to work, Lucius cast a simple summoning charm on the serpent and was unsurprised when it didn’t result in bringing the creature to him. And for the first time in his life, Lucius wished he could speak Parseltongue, knowing it would be much easier to just tell the snake where it should go.
After the summoning spell failed, however, Lucius realised that, perhaps, the situation was easier than he was expecting it to be. Yes, summoning the thing wouldn’t work, but if he just froze it, for instance, that should work. Right? Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to at least give it a try, Lucius pointed the tip of his wand at the gleaming silver serpent in the centre of the room and muttered a spell. He watched the thin flame of blue light connect directly with the snake and, smirking, saw the creature cease all movement. It just lay still on the stone.
Lucius approached the serpent and stood directly over its limp form. The creature still did not make any more movement or threaten to attack Lucius again. Reaching down a hand, he gingerly touched the scaly body of the snake - which still lay limp - and, grinning, walked over to the door he had entered from and attached the snake to its chain, removing the one to the door that was the exit as he did so.
Leaving the limp and gleaming serpent where he had put it, Lucius headed towards the other door, opening up the exit and walking through.
Lucius shut the door behind him, hearing the lock click as it closed. The room he had entered was very dimly lit, the only light being provided by a few thin candles that were dotted along the walls. From what he could tell, the room itself seemed circular and, luckily, there appeared to be only one door, which meant that there was no way he could go down a path that he didn’t want to be. Finally, he thought to himself. And he took a step forwards, but it was then that everything changed.
Barely a second after his booted feet had hit the floor on the final step, Lucius suddenly got a feeling of incredible lightness, the same sort that one usually experiences the first time riding a broom or flying on a Thestral. “What the -” he muttered to himself. He looked down, expecting to see the floor, but instead, Lucius found himself looking at the top of his own head.
Apparently, he was floating outside of his body.
“Fantastic,” he mumbled, the sarcastic edge to his voice impossible to miss, even for the densest person. Curious, he glanced down at his hands. A part of him sort of expected to see them appear translucent, like a ghost’s, but that was not the case. They still wore the leather gloves, just like his actual body did. Tentatively, he reached out towards his body, going to grasp himself on the shoulder (and the entire time thinking just how odd the situation was) when he jerked his hand back in surprise. He had received quite a shock - literally - when he attempted just such a move.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” said Lucius as he looked up at the ceiling. “Surely there has to be something that can help,” he whispered, squinting his grey eyes in an attempt to see through the blackness. In the dim candlelight, he could barely make it out, but he caught a glimpse of some writing up on the upper levels of the wall. Lucius flew up there - such a strange feeling, that - and read along the border. The same words and letters were repeated over and over. In large letters was the single word ‘CHARMS.’ Following it and in smaller letters, were strings of letters that didn’t make any sense; they just appeared as a jumbled form of scrambled letters - a, v, e, i, r, m, s, i, o, u, n, n, e.
The string repeated after each occurrence of ‘CHARMS’ along the wall. As Lucius stared at the letters for awhile, the answer suddenly arrived in gleaming glory. ‘CHARMS’ was the most obvious hint to this problem, he knew, and he suddenly remembered reading about an experience just like the one he was dealing with at the moment. And he also clearly recalled reading about the counter spell. But what was it? Now, there was the question.
“Outer, Body . . . ‘outer body’ is like an essence, a soul . . .” The words were mumbled low from Lucius as he thought through the dilemma in his mind. “What needs to be accomplished is returning to the body . . . So, a ‘Return’ and ‘Body,’ maybe?” And then, Lucius looked closer at the mix of jumbled letters. Suddenly, he realised their importance - They were the counter spell; he just had to unscramble them.
“‘Body’ wouldn’t work,” he said, thinking through the letters. “But ‘soul’ would be ‘animus,’” he muttered, in his mind eliminating the letters from the strand. “That leaves v, e, r, i, o, n, and e.” He thought on the letters a bit more until he figured it out. “‘Return’ would work, becoming ‘revenio.’ And that’s the incantation - Revenio Animus.”
All of a sudden, there was a whooshing sound, like a fierce wind had tore through the room, and Lucius felt himself being pulled back towards the ground. With a final yank, like he had grabbed a Portkey, he came down to the floor, stumbling as he returned to his body.
Finally, he thought as he headed towards the door, hoping that he was almost finished.
A slight gasp of surprise had to be repressed when Lucius entered the next room, closing the door behind him. For a brief moment, he thought he was underwater again - or at least, surrounded by water. The walls seemed to shimmer and ripple, like they were not solid.
“That cannot be right,” he muttered to himself as he walked over closer to the walls. His steps were slightly hesitant - not fearful or cowardly in any way . . . just . . . cautious. When he approached the nearest wall, however, he was slightly surprised.
It was not made of water or liquid of any kind, but it did hold a quality like water - Lucius could see his reflection, for he was staring into a shimmering glass mirror. The only difference between this mirror and any of the numerous ones that would be considered ‘normal,’ however, was the fact that Lucius saw other people with him, regardless of the fact that he had entered alone.
Several people surrounded him as he looked around the room of shimmering walls. He could not make any of them out right away, but when they started to move and come out of the wall, walking towards him until they were close enough to reach out and touch, Lucius could recognise every last individual in the room.
There was a boy of nineteen years old, long brown hair falling into his tanned face, a few strands obstructing his blue eyes. He was thin, yet not sickly so, and he reached out a hand upon seeing Lucius.
“Lucius,” the boy said. “Do you remember me?”
This can’t be happening, thought Lucius. He can’t be here. “Julius?” he said, staring at the boy. “Julius Faustus?”
The boy smiled and nodded. “How have you been?” he asked.
“How are you here, Julius?” hissed Lucius. He just stared at his old friend, the boy he had known like a brother for years . . . the boy he had killed when he joined the Dark Lord at seventeen. “You died almost twenty years ago . . .”
But the boy did not respond. Instead, he stepped back, making way for another man. This man was older, closer to forty or fifty years old. His mostly-grey hair still held several stubborn strands of deepest black, though, and his angular face was impossible to mistake for anyone else. “It has been awhile, Lucius.”
“Orion?” the Death Eater asked, thinking all the time how it was possible these people were here. “What are you - How is this -” But Lucius’s questions broke off when two other men approached him. And these two, proud men, Lucius knew very well.
“Father?” he whispered, staring at the man on the right. Abraxas Malfoy had silver hair that fell to his shoulders, and his grey eyes - eyes that had been inherited by his son - still held the pride and coldness that they had through his life. The man on the left, however, was less cold than the senior Malfoy was, and his hair was cut short, not a strand out of place.
“Cygnus?”
Narcissa’s late father smiled. “Lucius, it is good to see you, my son,” he said quietly, placing a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. His father, however, still said nothing.
“How is this possible?” muttered Lucius, looking between Orion and Cygnus, hoping that either of them might provide an answer. “You’ve all been dead for years . . . How are you here, now?”
“You called us here, Lucius,” said Orion, his grey gaze focussed intently on the Death Eater. “This room, these walls . . . That is what they do.”
“But -”
“You should stay with us.” The voice of Julius Faustus jumped onto Lucius’s statement. “It has been far too long since we’ve all been together . . . So stay here.”
An objection was on the tip of Lucius’s tongue when he suddenly muted it. If he was honest with himself, a part of him did want to stay. Orion and Cygnus - they had been fathers to him, much more than his own had been, anyway, and they had left the world far too soon, as far as Lucius was concerned. But now, he didn’t have to leave them. He could stay here . . .
And Julius. Julius didn’t know he had been the one to kill him. He didn’t know of the guilt that Lucius had spent years trying to get rid of, thinking he had succeeded, only to realise that he hadn’t. Perhaps things could be better, here, if he stayed. I want to stay, he thought. I could stay . . . There’s no reason why I couldn’t.
But as Lucius looked into the eyes of his father, he saw disappointment reflected there. Somehow, his father knew of the Dark Lord’s desire and the reason Lucius was in the Department of Mysteries. Abraxas knew what his son desired - to stay here - but Lucius saw his father’s expression; he was disappointed his son would leave the Dark Lord, betray him by not returning. His father wanted him to go on, to finish what he came here to do.
“I raised you better than that,” his expression said. “You will not disappoint me, son.”
“I cannot stay,” said Lucius, staring directly at his father as he spoke. “There are things I need to take care of.” His face tightened as Orion and Cygnus said their farewells, wishing him luck, and requesting he continue taking care of Narcissa.
“She cares deeply for you and Draco,” whispered Cygnus.
“Yes, she does . . .” Orion’s own words trailed off as Lucius turned away from the group, heading towards the exit.
Before he left, however, he took one last look behind him. Everyone had gone, save for one individual, and Lucius stared at the face of his father. You’re right, Father . . . I never wanted to disappoint you . . . Even now. And he walked out of the door.
The rows and rows of towering shelves filled to the max with small, glass spheres that greeted Lucius’s eyes when he entered the room made the Death Eater smile. He had finally made it to the correct room after hours of wandering through the Department of Mysteries.
“Row 97,” he muttered quietly, remembering what Bode had said in terms of the prophecy that he sought. He had to figure out the precise location of it, for the Dark Lord wanted something more specific than ‘Row 97.’
And so he walked along the narrow aisles until making it to the one that he sought. Being sure to look at every glass sphere on the row, he searched for the long-sought-after prophecy. A smirk appeared on his face when he finally found it at the end of the long row.
21 June 1980
S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D
Dark Lord
and (?) Harry Potter
The yellowing and tearing label was affixed to the dusty sphere, but the spidery writing was still able to be clearly read, regardless of the almost sixteen years that had passed.
Lucius looked around him, being sure to memorise the exact location of this single prophecy so as to report it to the Dark Lord. Now, to get out of here, he thought.
He left the row and headed towards a far door at the end of the room. Upon opening it, he saw that he was in the circular room of twelve doors that signalled the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.
“Exit,” he said, his voice distinct and clear. He grinned when the door directly opposite him creaked open, revealing the dark stone corridor of the Ministry. Finally, he thought as he left the blasted department behind.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucius Malfoy found himself entering the lush office of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, who looked up at him upon his entrance.
“Ah, Lucius, right on time, as always.”
“Of course, Minister,” said Lucius silkily. And he shut the door to Fudge’s office behind him.
~*~
Whew. That concludes another.
~Megan
Rating: PG
Length: One-Shot
Pairings: Implied Lucius/Narcissa
Era: Hogwarts (fifth year)
Summary: The Dark Lord is losing his patience; he desperately wants the knowledge of the prophecy's exact location, and Lucius Malfoy can no longer put off searching the legendary Department of Mysteries.
~*~
He had purposely arrived early to the Ministry, and he was taking full advantage of such prudence. After all, his meeting with the Minister was not scheduled until three hours, and Lucius Malfoy was going to use every one of those one hundred and eighty minutes allotted to him.
As he walked briskly through the dimly lit, dark-stone corridors, he found himself grateful that the lower levels of the Ministry of Magic were not common areas of travel for wandering employees. It was far easier, after all, to explore secrets for the Dark Lord without having to explain oneself. Not that a simple Imperius Curse wouldn’t take care of it, he thought. But still, doing so took time - time he did not have to waste.
Only a few months had passed since the Dark Lord’s return, and Lucius had been trying to find the time to get down to the legendary and fabled corridors of the Department of Mysteries for at least three weeks.
At least, that was the tale he told the Dark Lord. But Lucius had also been a Death Eater long enough to know when the Dark Lord’s patience was beginning to wear a little too thin for comfort.
Which was precisely the reason why he was now down in the bowels of the Ministry, walking along halls whose layouts he was only vaguely aware of.
He knew, of course, the Dark Lord’s reasons for seeking out this particular department of the Ministry, and it was far from the guesses that he suspected could be found within the majority of wizards’ minds. Yes, it was true that the Department of Mysteries was purported to hold knowledge of the most obscure branches of magic - both the lightest of the Light and the darkest of the Dark - and other so-called “weapons.” Most would likely assume that it was these types of items that the Dark Lord sought - but they could not be more wrong.
Lost in his own thoughts, Lucius had barely realised when he had made it to a circular room of doors. Twelve, ordinary looking doors surrounded him, all closed save for the one at his back - the one he had just entered from.
It should be the one directly across from the entrance, he thought, his mind struggling to focus on his faint memories of Rookwood’s layouts of the deep, underground departments - It had been almost fifteen years, after all, since he had seen them. Lucius shut the door behind him, but he left a small gap to keep it from closing completely; he didn’t want the room to begin spinning just yet. He walked straight across the circular room, his boots barely making a sound as they hit the marble floor. Once he had made it to the door, he placed a gloved hand on the door’s ornate handle and, turning it slowly, pushed the door open.
Upon entering the room beyond, Lucius swore when the door slammed shut behind him, the handle ripping itself from his grip. He was instantly plunged into complete darkness - not even the eerie, blue-flamed candles of earlier were present in this room. Lucius did not immediately light his wand; he did not know if there were any other workers in the chamber, and he preferred not to draw any notice to himself. Instead, he just blinked repeatedly, trying to force his grey eyes to see through the thick darkness.
It was, however, to no avail.
As he stood for a moment, straining his ears to discover if anyone was present, Lucius also racked through his mind, trying to remember exactly which room he had entered. Because it’s obviously not the one that I wanted, he thought to himself angrily. He did not hear anything, and thus inferred that - astonishingly - he was alone in the room. Knowing such, he muttered, “Lumos,” and watched as his wand let off a little light, enough for him to see a few feet in front of him, at least.
It was not until he took another step forwards that a cold shiver ran down his spine. A feeling of icy coldness plunged over him, and his chest suddenly felt like it was being entwined in cold and despair. Lucius coughed slightly as he felt himself struggle for air - his mind making his body feel like breathing was nearly impossible.
Even in the midst of such feelings, though, Lucius grinned slightly in triumph. He knew, now, where he was in the dreaded Department of Mysteries. Most wizards knew of the Unspeakables’ studies in things like Time, Intelligence, Life, Death, and Prophecy, but few knew of this, ‘less-than-reputable’ pursuit of knowledge that the Unspeakables researched.
For years, a select group of Unspeakables was tasked with experimenting on and further understanding the not-so-pleasant sides of life, mainly those of Despair, Hopelessness, Depression, and the like. Such was easily accomplished, of course, when a government had a significant supply of Dementors on hand.
And such knowledge isn’t known to many outside the Unspeakables and Death Eaters, Lucius thought, smiling. He extinguished the light on his wand, once again plunging himself into darkness. The tell-tale signs of a Dementor’s presence became much more noticeable - mainly the cold and rattling breath - but Lucius didn’t wait long before he had muttered a spell - one rarely spoken by wizards of the present day - and placed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark on his arm.
Immediately, Lucius felt, more than saw, the Dementor cease its movement, frozen in place by the knowledge that it stood at the command of one of the Dark Lord’s chosen few. Ensured that the creature would trouble him no more, Lucius continued on his way.
Shortly after leaving the Dementor, Lucius came upon a tall, dark wooden door, its golden handle shining in the light of his wand. At first, he thought he had crossed the room too quickly - He had barely taken a few steps before encountering the Dementor, after all - but the elder Malfoy did not dwell on the thought for long. He had probably just forgotten that the room was as small as it was. Reaching out a hand, Lucius grasped the door’s handle and, swinging it inward, stepped through the opening.
The large, heavy door slammed shut right behind him, but Lucius did not notice anything odd until he took his second step inside the room. Glancing at his feet, he was slightly surprised to see his own reflection staring up at him; it was like the floor was made of glass, but Lucius could not remember either Rookwood or Bode detailing anything about a mirrored-floor room in this department. It was not until Lucius looked up at the ceiling, however, that he truly ‘saw’ the room.
The room was, for lack of a better explanation, upside down. Or, at least, that was how it seemed. Above the Death Eater was a wooden ‘floor,’ with rows of doors scattered along the walls, while he, himself, was standing on what would be deemed the ‘ceiling.’ With a growl of frustration, Lucius's grey eyes caught sight of the door that he sought . . . and it just so happened to be the one on the far opposite side of this strange room.
“Damn,” he muttered, and then barely suppressed a hiss of pain as the Mark on his arm burned briefly. For the briefest of seconds, he thought that the Dark Lord was actually aware of his current thoughts and sentiments, but Lucius quickly disregarded those notions as utterly ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about in terms of the Dark Lord at the present moment; he would simply have to explain why he couldn’t have come at the summons - no harm done.
The concern that he was running out of time in exploring the Department of Mysteries, however, was something to be slightly concerned about. He couldn’t miss the meeting with Fudge, he knew, but at the same time, Lucius knew the Dark Lord would accept explanations of ignoring a summons a lot better if there was some positive outcome - some reward - that came from the Death Eater's absence.
And finding that object’s exact location would be just that, thought Lucius as he contemplated how to reach a door that ‘stood’ as far from him as possible in that particular room.
There was something about the room, however, that struck a memory of Lucius's. He felt like he had been in such a situation like this before - either personally, or he had read about it - in which the room was upside down. At the same time as trying to recall this, he also tried to bring his mental image of the department’s layout into his mind, hoping to figure out where he was.
Finally, though, after several minutes had passed, Lucius felt like cursing himself for not remembering the answer right away. It was so obvious, after all, and he had known it since childhood, really. The whole thing was, in essence, nothing more sinister than an illusion.
The room was not, in reality, upside down; it just appeared and felt that way. Once a wizard or witch accepted such and believed the truth, then the room would ‘right’ itself, and one could go on one’s merry way. However, those foolish few who attempted to walk along the ‘ceiling’ while still believing the illusion, would, more than likely, plummet down - being seriously injured in the process.
With a smirk in place, Lucius broke through the enchantment and, as the room returned to normal, walked briskly across it and through the last door.
As Lucius’s gloved hand released the door’s handle, the dark, wooden door crept closed, its hinges creaking eerily, much unlike the last door that had slammed shut. But the Death Eater paid it no mind, and took a couple of steps forwards, halting suddenly, however, when the door clicked shut. Now, there was nothing odd or different about the door itself closing, but the fact that he heard the sound of a lock sliding into place was a bit to be concerned about.
That, of course, and the fact that there were no other doors in the room. What the - ? Lucius’s mind seemed to be working slowly as he stared at the three other walls in the room. There was no way out, other than the door he had entered from. “This can’t be the right way,” he muttered, and, believing he obviously had taken the wrong door, turned around to let himself back out.
Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t. The door he had just heard close shut was no where to be seen; Lucius found himself staring at - like the other three in the room - a blank, black wall. “This is ridiculous,” he hissed, placing his hands on the wall, in the foolish hope that perhaps the door would still be there by touch, if not by sight. “How can this possibly get any worse?”
The room seemed to hear Lucius and decided to answer his rhetorical question. For, barely two seconds after the words had left his aristocratic mouth, there was a low, rumbling noise, almost like a giant animal’s stomach growling. Slightly apprehensive about what he would see, Lucius turned slowly around, pushing a few stray strands of platinum blonde hair from his pale face. The sight that greeted his grey gaze, however, was not exactly welcome, and caused him to grasp his gloved fingers around the handle of his wand.
As he watched, the far wall started to shake and, ever so slowly, creep towards the Death Eater. It was, at least, several inches closer than it had been previously. Lucius shook his head in frustration, evidently thinking that he had imagined such occurrences. But he could no longer deny the events when the other three walls joined the first one and, rumbling and shaking, inched their way inwards, making the room grow smaller and smaller with each passing second.
Still holding his wand, Lucius felt his heart beat quicken as his mind struggled to come up with a way out. He knew, instinctively, that this was no illusion, unlike the room he had just left. For a fleeting second, the idea of Apparition entered his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly. After all, the Ministry of Magic in general had Anti-Apparition wards everywhere other than the Atrium, and there was no telling what the Unspeakables would have in their Department. It was best not to risk it.
Finally, though, as the walls had succeeded in shrinking the room down to a size that was about that of an Azkaban cell, Lucius’s frustration and anger won him over. “I don’t have time for this,” he hissed and, pointing the tip of his wand at the wall in front of him, muttered the darkest destructive spell he could think of. He watched the beam of dark light connect with the stone, and he barely managed to get a shield charm up in order to block the debris that went flying as the spell impacted. Stone fragments were hurled in every direction and dust converged on the scene.
Lucius, however, smirked as he stared at the wall. After the dust had cleared decently, he could see the large hole that had been made in the stone - a hole big enough for a grown man to stumble through. Replacing his wand in his cloak, he continued on his way.
Upon re-emerging from the hole, Lucius entered a narrow corridor, but as there were no doors or anything to lead him out through the sides, he just followed the path until he reached its conclusion. In front of him stood a massive wooden door, the top of it reaching towards the ceiling (even looking like it went beyond the ceiling, really), and he was struck for a brief moment on how a door of that size could be located in the Department of Mysteries, of all places in the Ministry. But then, he mentally berated himself for even wasting time thinking such thoughts. What did it matter if the door defied all logic? As long as it helped him to continue on towards his destination, he didn’t quite care.
So, reaching out, he grasped the silver, circular handle of the door and pushed it open. (The door required a great deal of effort to get open, due to its size.) But, eventually, Lucius succeeded, and he entered another room, this one looking only slightly different than the one he had left. Unlike the other room, this one did have a few doors that led out, and the walls didn’t immediately begin to encroach upon him.
There was, however, almost nothing in the room itself. The blank, black walls were bare of any documents or shelves, and the floor itself was not occupied with things like desks, shelves, or chairs. At least, that was mostly true. There were two chairs in the entire room, and both of which were ones that he wouldn’t necessarily expect to see in a department of the Ministry. (They might fit better in an office of a Department Head, but a department itself? Unlikely.)
Both chairs were overstuffed armchairs, and they looked quite comfortable just by appearance. The one closest to Lucius was a shimmering grey in colour, while the other was a deep, blood-red. As he stood there for a moment, he became oddly transfixed by the chairs. It was almost like they were enchanted or something; he couldn’t really think of anything other than how it would feel to relax for a moment. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a moment, he thought to himself. After all, he had been walking for what felt like hours, and what difference would five minutes in a chair make?
And so, walking over, Lucius approached the grey chair. A slight warning went off in his mind about sitting in it, but he didn’t pay any attention to it; the chair’s enchantment, it seemed, overpowered such warning. Leaning back, Lucius exhaled a sigh of relaxation as the chair conformed to his body. It was extremely comfortable, he had to admit, especially after the week he had had, and he really wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and drift off to sleep. I could probably stay here for weeks, he thought.
“What was I down here for?” he muttered as his breathing slowed into a simple rhythm, his eyes growing heavier and heavier as sleep tried to take him over. As he thought of the question, he realised he couldn’t quite come up with an answer, but for some reason, Lucius didn’t really care. Whatever his reasons for being here (and being in the hurry that he was), they were obviously not that important, if he couldn’t recall them.
The chair was so soft . . . so comfortable . . . He was just on the edge of sleep . . . of blissful unconsciousness . . .
When a sharp, intense pain shot up his left arm and jerked him awake. Lucius was unable to completely suppress a gasp and hiss of pain as the Mark burned, nor was he able to keep his right hand from grasping his left wrist. As he stared at the bold, black outline of the skull and snake, his mind instantly returned to normal; the enchantment of the chair had, apparently, been shattered by the Mark. Within seconds, Lucius recalled every reason why he was here - His search for the room, the Dark Lord’s urgency, his own meeting with Fudge, everything.
He - almost literally - jumped from the chair’s depths at these thoughts, and with that movement, the Mark seemed to (somewhat) dim in its intensity, though it still prickled rather uncomfortably, and, glancing down, Lucius saw a few trickles of blood running down his arm. With a grimace, he wiped it away, wondering for a second why the Mark had burned so intensely.
Lucius had to find the path to the room, he knew; returning to the Dark Lord without such knowledge, after ignoring two summons, would not very prudent.
When Lucius entered the next room, he gave a sigh of exasperated relief. Finally, he had come upon an area that he recognised . . . or so he thought. Upon entering the room, Lucius immediately recognised the stone benches that descended in steps towards the floor, and that gave the chamber a coliseum-like feel. The single, stone archway was also recognisable, as was the tattered veil that hung from it. With a smirk, Lucius knew where he was.
This was the Death Chamber, he remembered. And if he recalled the layout in his mind correctly, then he could also make his way through a couple more doors and be in the room that he sought. But as the Death Eater started descending the steps, approaching the level where the veil was located, he realised that the room was not exactly identical to how he remembered the Death Chamber.
Colours were slightly altered, for one. The veil looked more like a charcoal grey in colour, while Lucius clearly recalled it being a black like that of deepest night. Everything in the chamber had a sort of muted appearance in its colour, really; it was all lighter, he supposed, than how he remembered it being. Not only that, but the stone archway itself also had a change in its appearance. The stone seemed to be made up of swirling, rainbow colours - almost like the magic that had been weaved into the stone millennia ago was actually capable of being seen by the naked, human, eye, whereas normally, certain spells would have had to be cast upon it to make such intricacies visible.
Something’s not right, he thought to himself as he walked closer to the veil. The thought, however, did not have a long time to grasp a hold in his mind before it was dislodged by the voices coming from the archway. The sudden start of the voices, though, caused the elder Malfoy to grasp the handle of his wand, withdrawing it cautiously from his robes. He had been in the Death Chamber before, had even approached the archway and heard a bit of what sounded like whispering coming from beyond the tattered veil, but never had the voices been so distinct; never had one of them, especially, been as clear as if Lucius was speaking to someone who stood directly next to him.
“Come,” the voice hissed. “Walk through, Lucius, and come.” Lucius didn’t move right away. He expected warnings to go off in his mind, awaited the inevitable qualities of self-preservation to tell him not to listen to the odd voice, but as the seconds ticked by, nothing came. No protest arose within the Death Eater on why he shouldn’t do what the voice said, and walk through the swirling, dark grey curtain.
“Another illusion?” he muttered to himself. It was possible, indeed, that an illusion was the cause for the differences between this veil room and the one he remembered. If that was the case, then walking through this veil would result in the same outcome that going through the other one would - death. However, though the idea was possible, it wasn’t exactly probable. What was (and Lucius believed this to be the correct interpretation) was that this room acted like a mirror of the other one - the real Death Chamber.
He had encountered forms of such enchantments before, as a matter of fact, and as he thought more about the situation, Lucius realised that such was, more than likely, the case here. As such, if he walked through this veil, then he should turn up in the actual Death Chamber, just outside of its veil and on the raised stone dais. But did he dare to risk his life on the matter?
Finally, Lucius came to a decision. Waving his wand, he conjured up a few small stones and tossed them through the gateway. He brought his face as close to the veil as he could without actually touching it, and strained his ears for any sound of the rocks hitting a stone floor on the other end. “Come on,” he hissed, and after what felt like hours (though in reality, was barely three seconds) a string of light tapping sounded faintly from ‘within’ the veil.
And so, ensured that his theory was correct, Lucius smirked and walked through the veil, re-emerging on the other side.
Lucius quickly crossed the length of the veil room and eventually made it to one of the doors on the far side of the room. There were several close by to choose from, and he knew that at least one of them would lead him to where he desperately wanted to go. The other four would, at least, get him close. After all, he was this close; surely he couldn’t get lost too many more times. Could he?
He grasped the handle of the door directly in front of him and, wrenching it open, entered the dark, unlit room beyond. Barely a second passed before Lucius fell, his foot not finding the solid ground he had hoped for, but instead, plunging into ice cold water. He gave a hiss and shiver as the water came to his chest before he was able to mutter a spell to keep him from descending. (It wasn’t that he couldn’t swim the normal way, it was just that this way prevented any exertion on his part. He would just simply float there.) A few curses escaped from his mouth, however, when he thought of the expensive robes that had just been drenched. Not to mention the fact that his left sleeve had been torn in the sudden fall.
“Damn it,” he muttered, though for the briefest of moments, Lucius was unsure whether he was swearing at the situation in general or at the Dark Lord. After all, it was on his ‘request’ that Lucius was even in this cursed department of the Ministry. But cursing a Dark Lord who was not even present would not help him get out of his current predicament, and so, looking around, Lucius searched for a way to escape the lake - Who has a lake in the middle of a government building, anyway? - and to continue on his quest. Not long passed before his grey gaze caught sight of a single door that stood in a far corner of the room, almost opposite of the one he had entered from.
Beside this single door was a curvy and sharp silver hook, which had a thin, golden key hanging from it. As Lucius looked at the door once again, he saw an iron lock that hung near the handle, signalling the obvious reason for the key. He started to make his way towards the door when his mind made him stop.
There was something far too simple about the entire situation. After everything else in this blasted department, it didn’t make sense that they would leave the key to a locked door hanging directly next to the door it unlocked. No, there had to either be another door, or another key. But where?
Lucius looked around himself for a bit more, and he saw the answers. There were not any more doors in the room, but there were two more keys - a small, silver one that was located near the bottom of the lake that he was currently floating in, and a large bronze one attached to the end of a thin ribbon that hung from a hook on the ceiling, directly above the Death Eater's head. And now, he had a decision to make. Which key would he go after?
He thought about the situation for all of the time that it deserved - about seven seconds - before making his choice. It was, more than likely, that the key hanging from the ceiling would be the only one that unlocked his exit. After all, the other two were just far too obvious, far too easy, for them to be the correct choice. But how to get at the bloody key? he thought. (He had, of course, already tried to simply summon it, but that was to no avail.)
Several swear words, spells, and curses later, Lucius was losing the little patience that he still retained. Nothing had worked, and the key still hung resolutely from the ceiling, far out of the Death Eater's reach. But suddenly, an idea occurred to him, and he was surprised that he didn’t think of it earlier. “Of course, it may not work,” he muttered to himself, “but it’s still worth attempting.”
And so, waving his wand, he summoned Mipsy, his wife’s house-elf who, thankfully, was usually extremely terrified of him and had never disappointed either of them, unlike that other elf. Lucius growled slightly at the thought of Dobby, but quickly put the memories out of his mind as he turned to face Mipsy, who floated beside him, her large brown eyes open in surprise.
“Master summoned Mipsy?” she squeaked.
“Of course I did,” he said, glaring at the elf as she twisted her long hands in the toga-like towel that clothed her small form. “I need you to do something here.”
“Mipsy always does was Master says.”
“Good. Now, get the key from the ceiling” - he pointed at it, and Mipsy followed the direction of his hand - “and bring it to me. . . . Now, Mipsy.” Lucius's voice had taken on a slightly harder edge as he said the elf’s name, and Mipsy recognised the anger coming from him.
Nodding her little head repeatedly so that it shook like a child’s toy, she snapped her fingers and, disappearing from Lucius's side, reappeared instantly above him. Mipsy walked slowly along the wooden beams that made up the intricate woodwork of the room’s ceiling, careful not to fall from the edge and plummet down. It was slow going as she inched along towards the key, and Lucius was growing impatient.
“Hurry up, Mipsy,” he said, and Mipsy jumped at her Master’s voice, almost losing her balance on one of the beams. Luckily, though, she caught herself and, finally, made it to where the key hung from the hook. Reaching out gingerly, she wrapped her long fingers around the ribbon that held it in place and pulled, unhooking the key and bringing it to her chest. Mipsy wore a grin of accomplishment as she disappeared from the ceiling in a pop and reappeared at Lucius's side.
“Mipsy got the key, just as Master said,” she squeaked, holding it out. Lucius took the key from the elf and made his way across the lake, finally making it to the door. Placing the tip of the key into the lock, he turned . . . and smiled as the lock clicked open and the door swung outward. He pocketed the key and turned back around to face the elf.
“Go back to the Manor, Mipsy,” he said. Mipsy nodded once again, and disappeared. And with that, Lucius went on his way.
Once the door had closed behind him, Lucius found himself in a giant room that resembled, for the most part, one of the coliseums of the ancient Wizarding World, most notably those of the Roman Empire. (Many ignorant Muggles believed the structures of the old empires to have been assembled by themselves, when, in reality, it was the wizards of those times that created such lasting greatness.) But, history aside, that was precisely what the room looked like, and as such, it bore a slight resemblance to other rooms in the Department of Mysteries.
Stone seating surrounded the room, the seats rising in tiers from floor to ceiling all along the four walls. There were, however, no doors along the paths above the seats, which at first struck Lucius as a bit odd, until he noticed that the only other door was located almost directly across from him. It appeared that he had entered on the bottom level, and he seemed to be absolutely alone. And so, he strode confidently across the stones lining the floor, hoping to reach the door and continue on his way before too much time had managed to pass; he had no idea, after all, how long he had been down in this department, but he thought he was approaching the two hour mark.
Unfortunately, fortune was not smiling on Lucius Malfoy today.
He had barely taken ten steps from his starting position before there was a flash of brilliant white light that lit up the entire room, like an explosion had gone off. Lucius shielded his own eyes with his arm, though he still squeezed his eyes shut to help guard them from the brightness. There was no sound to accompany the light, however, which led one to believe that it wasn’t really a spell, in essence, but something else. And when Lucius opened his eyes again, blinking them so as to readjust to the sudden dimness after the light, he saw a gleaming silver creature in the middle of the room. Looking closer at it, he discovered that it looked uncannily like his own Patronus, though he knew he had not cast the spell himself.
Lucius took a few steps closer in an effort to more closely identity the creature. It was gleaming silver and around ten feet in length, its long body thick and wrapped around what appeared, at first glance, to be a piece of wood. Upon closer inspection, however, that ‘wood’ turned out to be a dead rat, its fat grey body held limp in the creature’s grasp. The creature - a powerful serpent - looked almost identical to his Patronus.
What is going on here? he thought to himself, and he was so consumed in the thoughts raging around his mind that Lucius almost missed the point where the serpent’s fangs lunged at his ankle. Lucius jerked away from the serpent, giving it a look of deepest anger, his wand already in his gloved hand. No matter how many times he racked his brain, however, he could come up with no conclusion as to what exactly this creature was - because it was apparently no Patronus, however much it may appear like one.
Now what? Lucius thought, glancing all around the room for any sort of clue as to what to do. He knew he had to get out of the room, but the question at the moment was, “How?” As his eyes took their fourth sweep of the room, however, Lucius wanted to curse himself when he saw the answer staring him right in the face. Glaring intently at the door he wanted to get out of, he noticed the long, iron-linked chain attached to its door handle and on the end of said chain was the gleaming silver serpent that lay hissing in the centre of the stone room. Upon noticing the chain on the door in front of him, Lucius turned around quickly to see the same sort of restraint on the door handle of the one he had just entered from, though this had no creature attached to its end.
The answer, Lucius knew, was obvious. He glared at the silver serpent, knowing he had to get it from being attached to his exit to being attached to the other door. But how? That thing’s hostile. (He had already tried to walk past it, but it continuously lunged at him.) Half-heartedly, and not really expecting it to work, Lucius cast a simple summoning charm on the serpent and was unsurprised when it didn’t result in bringing the creature to him. And for the first time in his life, Lucius wished he could speak Parseltongue, knowing it would be much easier to just tell the snake where it should go.
After the summoning spell failed, however, Lucius realised that, perhaps, the situation was easier than he was expecting it to be. Yes, summoning the thing wouldn’t work, but if he just froze it, for instance, that should work. Right? Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to at least give it a try, Lucius pointed the tip of his wand at the gleaming silver serpent in the centre of the room and muttered a spell. He watched the thin flame of blue light connect directly with the snake and, smirking, saw the creature cease all movement. It just lay still on the stone.
Lucius approached the serpent and stood directly over its limp form. The creature still did not make any more movement or threaten to attack Lucius again. Reaching down a hand, he gingerly touched the scaly body of the snake - which still lay limp - and, grinning, walked over to the door he had entered from and attached the snake to its chain, removing the one to the door that was the exit as he did so.
Leaving the limp and gleaming serpent where he had put it, Lucius headed towards the other door, opening up the exit and walking through.
Lucius shut the door behind him, hearing the lock click as it closed. The room he had entered was very dimly lit, the only light being provided by a few thin candles that were dotted along the walls. From what he could tell, the room itself seemed circular and, luckily, there appeared to be only one door, which meant that there was no way he could go down a path that he didn’t want to be. Finally, he thought to himself. And he took a step forwards, but it was then that everything changed.
Barely a second after his booted feet had hit the floor on the final step, Lucius suddenly got a feeling of incredible lightness, the same sort that one usually experiences the first time riding a broom or flying on a Thestral. “What the -” he muttered to himself. He looked down, expecting to see the floor, but instead, Lucius found himself looking at the top of his own head.
Apparently, he was floating outside of his body.
“Fantastic,” he mumbled, the sarcastic edge to his voice impossible to miss, even for the densest person. Curious, he glanced down at his hands. A part of him sort of expected to see them appear translucent, like a ghost’s, but that was not the case. They still wore the leather gloves, just like his actual body did. Tentatively, he reached out towards his body, going to grasp himself on the shoulder (and the entire time thinking just how odd the situation was) when he jerked his hand back in surprise. He had received quite a shock - literally - when he attempted just such a move.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” said Lucius as he looked up at the ceiling. “Surely there has to be something that can help,” he whispered, squinting his grey eyes in an attempt to see through the blackness. In the dim candlelight, he could barely make it out, but he caught a glimpse of some writing up on the upper levels of the wall. Lucius flew up there - such a strange feeling, that - and read along the border. The same words and letters were repeated over and over. In large letters was the single word ‘CHARMS.’ Following it and in smaller letters, were strings of letters that didn’t make any sense; they just appeared as a jumbled form of scrambled letters - a, v, e, i, r, m, s, i, o, u, n, n, e.
The string repeated after each occurrence of ‘CHARMS’ along the wall. As Lucius stared at the letters for awhile, the answer suddenly arrived in gleaming glory. ‘CHARMS’ was the most obvious hint to this problem, he knew, and he suddenly remembered reading about an experience just like the one he was dealing with at the moment. And he also clearly recalled reading about the counter spell. But what was it? Now, there was the question.
“Outer, Body . . . ‘outer body’ is like an essence, a soul . . .” The words were mumbled low from Lucius as he thought through the dilemma in his mind. “What needs to be accomplished is returning to the body . . . So, a ‘Return’ and ‘Body,’ maybe?” And then, Lucius looked closer at the mix of jumbled letters. Suddenly, he realised their importance - They were the counter spell; he just had to unscramble them.
“‘Body’ wouldn’t work,” he said, thinking through the letters. “But ‘soul’ would be ‘animus,’” he muttered, in his mind eliminating the letters from the strand. “That leaves v, e, r, i, o, n, and e.” He thought on the letters a bit more until he figured it out. “‘Return’ would work, becoming ‘revenio.’ And that’s the incantation - Revenio Animus.”
All of a sudden, there was a whooshing sound, like a fierce wind had tore through the room, and Lucius felt himself being pulled back towards the ground. With a final yank, like he had grabbed a Portkey, he came down to the floor, stumbling as he returned to his body.
Finally, he thought as he headed towards the door, hoping that he was almost finished.
A slight gasp of surprise had to be repressed when Lucius entered the next room, closing the door behind him. For a brief moment, he thought he was underwater again - or at least, surrounded by water. The walls seemed to shimmer and ripple, like they were not solid.
“That cannot be right,” he muttered to himself as he walked over closer to the walls. His steps were slightly hesitant - not fearful or cowardly in any way . . . just . . . cautious. When he approached the nearest wall, however, he was slightly surprised.
It was not made of water or liquid of any kind, but it did hold a quality like water - Lucius could see his reflection, for he was staring into a shimmering glass mirror. The only difference between this mirror and any of the numerous ones that would be considered ‘normal,’ however, was the fact that Lucius saw other people with him, regardless of the fact that he had entered alone.
Several people surrounded him as he looked around the room of shimmering walls. He could not make any of them out right away, but when they started to move and come out of the wall, walking towards him until they were close enough to reach out and touch, Lucius could recognise every last individual in the room.
There was a boy of nineteen years old, long brown hair falling into his tanned face, a few strands obstructing his blue eyes. He was thin, yet not sickly so, and he reached out a hand upon seeing Lucius.
“Lucius,” the boy said. “Do you remember me?”
This can’t be happening, thought Lucius. He can’t be here. “Julius?” he said, staring at the boy. “Julius Faustus?”
The boy smiled and nodded. “How have you been?” he asked.
“How are you here, Julius?” hissed Lucius. He just stared at his old friend, the boy he had known like a brother for years . . . the boy he had killed when he joined the Dark Lord at seventeen. “You died almost twenty years ago . . .”
But the boy did not respond. Instead, he stepped back, making way for another man. This man was older, closer to forty or fifty years old. His mostly-grey hair still held several stubborn strands of deepest black, though, and his angular face was impossible to mistake for anyone else. “It has been awhile, Lucius.”
“Orion?” the Death Eater asked, thinking all the time how it was possible these people were here. “What are you - How is this -” But Lucius’s questions broke off when two other men approached him. And these two, proud men, Lucius knew very well.
“Father?” he whispered, staring at the man on the right. Abraxas Malfoy had silver hair that fell to his shoulders, and his grey eyes - eyes that had been inherited by his son - still held the pride and coldness that they had through his life. The man on the left, however, was less cold than the senior Malfoy was, and his hair was cut short, not a strand out of place.
“Cygnus?”
Narcissa’s late father smiled. “Lucius, it is good to see you, my son,” he said quietly, placing a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. His father, however, still said nothing.
“How is this possible?” muttered Lucius, looking between Orion and Cygnus, hoping that either of them might provide an answer. “You’ve all been dead for years . . . How are you here, now?”
“You called us here, Lucius,” said Orion, his grey gaze focussed intently on the Death Eater. “This room, these walls . . . That is what they do.”
“But -”
“You should stay with us.” The voice of Julius Faustus jumped onto Lucius’s statement. “It has been far too long since we’ve all been together . . . So stay here.”
An objection was on the tip of Lucius’s tongue when he suddenly muted it. If he was honest with himself, a part of him did want to stay. Orion and Cygnus - they had been fathers to him, much more than his own had been, anyway, and they had left the world far too soon, as far as Lucius was concerned. But now, he didn’t have to leave them. He could stay here . . .
And Julius. Julius didn’t know he had been the one to kill him. He didn’t know of the guilt that Lucius had spent years trying to get rid of, thinking he had succeeded, only to realise that he hadn’t. Perhaps things could be better, here, if he stayed. I want to stay, he thought. I could stay . . . There’s no reason why I couldn’t.
But as Lucius looked into the eyes of his father, he saw disappointment reflected there. Somehow, his father knew of the Dark Lord’s desire and the reason Lucius was in the Department of Mysteries. Abraxas knew what his son desired - to stay here - but Lucius saw his father’s expression; he was disappointed his son would leave the Dark Lord, betray him by not returning. His father wanted him to go on, to finish what he came here to do.
“I raised you better than that,” his expression said. “You will not disappoint me, son.”
“I cannot stay,” said Lucius, staring directly at his father as he spoke. “There are things I need to take care of.” His face tightened as Orion and Cygnus said their farewells, wishing him luck, and requesting he continue taking care of Narcissa.
“She cares deeply for you and Draco,” whispered Cygnus.
“Yes, she does . . .” Orion’s own words trailed off as Lucius turned away from the group, heading towards the exit.
Before he left, however, he took one last look behind him. Everyone had gone, save for one individual, and Lucius stared at the face of his father. You’re right, Father . . . I never wanted to disappoint you . . . Even now. And he walked out of the door.
The rows and rows of towering shelves filled to the max with small, glass spheres that greeted Lucius’s eyes when he entered the room made the Death Eater smile. He had finally made it to the correct room after hours of wandering through the Department of Mysteries.
“Row 97,” he muttered quietly, remembering what Bode had said in terms of the prophecy that he sought. He had to figure out the precise location of it, for the Dark Lord wanted something more specific than ‘Row 97.’
And so he walked along the narrow aisles until making it to the one that he sought. Being sure to look at every glass sphere on the row, he searched for the long-sought-after prophecy. A smirk appeared on his face when he finally found it at the end of the long row.
21 June 1980
S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D
Dark Lord
and (?) Harry Potter
The yellowing and tearing label was affixed to the dusty sphere, but the spidery writing was still able to be clearly read, regardless of the almost sixteen years that had passed.
Lucius looked around him, being sure to memorise the exact location of this single prophecy so as to report it to the Dark Lord. Now, to get out of here, he thought.
He left the row and headed towards a far door at the end of the room. Upon opening it, he saw that he was in the circular room of twelve doors that signalled the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.
“Exit,” he said, his voice distinct and clear. He grinned when the door directly opposite him creaked open, revealing the dark stone corridor of the Ministry. Finally, he thought as he left the blasted department behind.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucius Malfoy found himself entering the lush office of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, who looked up at him upon his entrance.
“Ah, Lucius, right on time, as always.”
“Of course, Minister,” said Lucius silkily. And he shut the door to Fudge’s office behind him.
~*~
Whew. That concludes another.
~Megan