Lucius Malfoy glared out the window, oblivious to the lovely view from his manor, and moodily swirled the fire whiskey in his glass. It had been months since Snape had visited and tasked him with bringing down Fudge’s government, and the hook-nosed half-blood hadn’t so much as owled him since then.

He was unaccustomed to being on the fringe of things, and he bitterly resented the fact that his new allies clearly didn’t trust him. Even his heritage didn't prompt any admiring glances. After all, while the Malfoys were an old family, the Blacks – let alone the Dumbledores – were ancient. And in addition to being mistrusted and a bit of a Johnny-come-lately in the ancestry stakes, he was also derided by the idiots on the Light side for his past.

The crowning insult had been when he had realized that Sirius Black felt morally superior to him, to the point of calling him a pervert because he had certain ...tastes. Why did no one point out that Black had an identical history? Hadn’t he spent seven years tormenting Snape? James Potter’s pursuit of Lily Evans hadn’t been nearly as single minded as Black’s focus on Snape, yet suddenly Black was professing outrage because Malfoy had tortured a few Muggles. It wasn't even as if Black's attacks on Snape had been at the behest of the Dark Lord; Malfoy at least had that dubious excuse, not that anyone was crediting it.

Why did they have to take exception to his history? Snape himself had been a Death Eater!

Lucius gritted his teeth when he thought of Snape. Talk about the heights of hypocrisy. Even ignoring the man’s past allegiance to Voldemort, the greasy haired nobody was legendary among past and present Hogwarts students for his delight in reducing children to tears with his vicious tongue. His relentless persecution of all things Gryffindor was, even to other Slytherins, rather excessive. How dare he revile Malfoy? What gave him the right to lay claim to the moral high ground like some kindly and well-balanced Father Christmas?

Stupid Dark Lord. If only He hadn’t allowed Himself to be vanquished by an infant, none of this would be happening. Though, to be fair, if Snape was right and He had made horcruxes, then life as one of His minions would probably have been a lot less pleasant than Lucius had anticipated.

Malfoy sighed. Joining the Dark Lord had been a very bad idea. He could admit that now, when he no longer feared His ever-ready Crucio or the incessant backbiting and shifting allegiances among the Death Eaters. Oh, he had thrived in that environment as one of the Dark Lord’s richer and more aristrocratic followers, as well as being a thorough bastard, but it had also helped that he had – at the time – no children of his own. He had to admit that after Draco’s birth, he’d begun to have his doubts as to whether Voldemort was really the best thing that could happen to his family. It had made claiming the Imperius defense that much easier, though his natural caution had prevented him from formally breaking away from the missing Dark Lord until now.

Now, though, the die was cast. Even if Voldemort did rise again, Snape would never permit him to return to the Dark Lord. He’d reveal Malfoy’s promise of loyalty if Lucius showed any inclination to backsliding, and Malfoy had seen how the Dark Lord dealt with even presumed traitors, let alone confirmed ones. He shivered. No, there was no going back for him.

That meant that it was all the more critical for him to – ugh – ingratiate himself into this new group.

Unlike Fudge, Snape wasn’t impressed with Malfoy for, well, just being a Malfoy, and to Lucius’ annoyance, he hadn’t been asked by Snape to bankroll anything either, which would have provided him with a hold over the man. No, for the first time in his life Lucius needed the good opinion of a motley assortment of Gryffindors, mudbloods, and blood traitors – people who, for most of his life, he had considered more on a par with house elves than his equals. And worse, they regarded him with contempt. The sheer effrontery of it made him furious, and he was tempted to stay behind his manor’s wards and enjoy his wine cellar while the idiots killed each other.

Yet he knew that that would never do. He had neither the personality nor the wish to slide into powerless obscurity, let alone leave Draco with no exalted position into which he could step as a matter of birthright. No, he had to do something to show his worth to this undistinguished lot.

He wasn’t even sure just who was in Snape’s camp; the ugly bastard played things too close to his vest. But it was good odds that the brat’s godfather was an ally, along with the impecunious werewolf, and even if – as Snape claimed – he was no longer in Dumbledore’s pocket, the Potion Master must, at the very least, consider the old man as more friend than foe.

So what could he, Lucius Malfoy, do that would prove once and for all his loyalty and value to his new side? What would cement his position among them and elevate him to a member of their inner circle, rather than leaving him to languish as a much-doubted turncoat whose loyalty shifted out of self-interest and not some stupid Gryffindorish ideals?

Lucius considered the question carefully. What skills did he have that the Light was likely to lack? Surely Snape couldn’t have wooed too many other Slytherins to his side, and that meant that there was likely a distinct shortage of ruthlessness among Snape’s allies. Oh, Snape was cold-blooded enough for anyone – of that Lucius was certain – but as someone who had personally benefited from Dumbledore’s misguided belief in the goodness of others, he was willing to bet that most of the other nitwits on his new side would be too squeamish for proactive measures. Even during the last war, those morons in the Order of the Phoenix had avoided Unforgiveables, preferring disarming and stunning spells. As a result, he was still enjoying his freedom and the LeStranges were gibbering at Dementors instead of having spent the last decade as worm food or floating Beyond the Veil.

Hm. Now that was an idea.

If – or rather when – the Dark Lord rose again, one of his first tasks would surely be to gather his most faithful supporters around him. Now that he and Snape were no longer in that category, who else would qualify? The LeStranges, of course, and the Carrows, not to mention a few others like Greyback and Dolohov… But if something were to happen to those staunch few, Voldemort’s power base would be severely weakened, and it would be that much harder and take that much longer for him to reestablish himself.

Tracking down the Carrows and other Death Eaters-at-large was likely to be a long and dangerous process, but the LeStranges were easy prey. Chained in Azkaban, weakened by Dementors… how hard would it be to do away with them? It would practically be a mercy killing.

What’s more, Bella’s continued existence was detrimental to Lucius and his family. Even if Potter's defeat of the Dark Lord had been foretold by some prophecy or batty Seer, having a criminally insane aunt in Azkaban could only hinder Draco’s advancement in future years. Since Bella had refused to fulfill her familial obligations by dying quietly in custody, he should assist her along the way. He had never liked the bitch, anyway.

It would be reasonably easy to get himself quietly smuggled onto the island, then a few judiciously placed smothering spells, and hey presto! Three fewer Death Eaters. He couldn’t imagine that Amelia Bones would look too deeply into the matter – it wasn’t as if she had launched a full investigation into Pettigrew’s demise – and even if she did, it would be easy to bribe the requisite guards or perhaps obliviate a few on his way out.

Then, when the news broke, he could quietly let Snape in on the real story. He had no illusions that the Potion Master would be anything other than grimly pleased. Snape’s handling of Fudge had proven that he did not share Dumbledore’s daft notion that it was unsporting to act pre-emptively. And from what Draco had told him about the rat’s death, he rather suspected that Snape was not inexperienced at arranging “convenient” accidents when it suited his purposes. Indeed, Malfoy had been very interested to learn of the Undersecretary's disappearance last term, after – according to Draco – she had threatened Potter.

No, Snape was a Slytherin and unlikely to cavil at the means Lucius employed, so long as the ends suited his plans. And by carrying out his plans quietly and successfully, Lucius would prove he could be trusted to handle such "delicate" matters. He quirked an eyebrow. He might even become Snape’s chief enforcer, to use a rather crude term. But really, who else could Snape trust to carry out his less salubrious plans? Oh, the Gryffindors and mudbloods would line up to throw themselves between Potter and an AK in the heat of battle, if it came to that, but who among them would be willing to slit a few throats before the battle had officially begun?

Lucius grinned and sipped his drink, well pleased with himself. This was a wonderful plan. In one fell swoop, he would rid himself of some unwelcome relatives and simultaneously secure his position among his new allies. What could go wrong?

##

Exactly as he had anticipated, Lucius had no difficulty getting into Azkaban a few days later. Although the new administration would barely return his fire calls, he still knew plenty of people from his time hobnobbing with Fudge. The lead guard at Azkaban was gratifyingly eager to please a Malfoy, and it was simple to convince the imbecile that he was there on a secret “fact finding” mission for the new Minister. That got him a private escort onto the island, bypassing all the other guards. Lucius grinned to himself – a quick spell before parting, and no one would ever know he’d been there.

“Perhaps before we get on with the official tour, I could ask a favor of you,” he said suavely, tugging at his fine leather gloves. “As you know, my wife has some… relatives… here, and when she learned I’d be visiting, she begged that I look in on them.” Lucius barely managed to get the words out without sneering. Narcissa would no more ask after Bellatrix’s welfare than she would bake a cake for the Malfoy house elves.

Growing up with a sociopathic sister had not been fun, and the hormonal surges of adolescence had wreaked havoc with dear Bella’s mental health. Narcissa loathed and feared her sister, and she only regretted the woman – and her spouse and brother-in-law – had not been Kissed years ago.

“Oh, naturally,” the warden gushed sympathetically. “It must be very hard on the poor little woman to have her dear sister here.”

Lucius smiled thinly. If Narcissa ever heard this lowborn twit refer to her as a “poor little woman”, she’d hex the man’s bollocks off. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

A few minutes walk, and they were outside Bellatrix’s cell. The warden unlocked the heavy door and gestured invitingly.

“You are too kind,” Lucius murmured. Then, “Stupefy!”

The warden dropped like a rock and with a disdainful shake of his head, Lucius stepped over the man’s prone form and into the cell.

Wild, matted black hair, rolling eyes, deathly pallor. Lucius sighed. Yes, she was a Black all right. “Bellatrix, my dear, you’re looking… unwell,” he smirked.

The witch stopped drooling long enough to fasten her crazed eyes on his. “Lucius? Coward! Traitor! Apostate! The Dark Lord will have you drawn and quartered for your treachery! Claiming the Imperius when you should have proudly proclaimed His might?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Fanaticism is so bourgeois, dear sister-in-law,” he retorted. “Pragmatism is a much more effective survival skill, albeit one that is too late for you to learn.”

“You can still repent, Lucius!” Bellatrix panted, pulling at her bonds. “Free me, and your past sins can be forgiven before the Dark Lord returns to us.”

“Free you?” he scoffed. “I hardly think so. You seem a bit out of touch over here, Bella. You must not have heard that your beloved Lord has already made an attempt to return.”

Bella stiffened to attention, her expression becoming more focused. “What? He is Risen?”

“Well, in a fashion,” Lucius admitted. “He possessed a Hogwarts professor in an attempt to become fully corporeal again. Unfortunately, he was once again defeated by the Potter brat and is – as best anyone can tell – currently floating around as some insubstantial shade. Oh, and Potter also managed to kill off his familiar.”

“Nagini is dead?” Bella gasped.

“At the hands of a child,” Lucius agreed contemptuously. “And Pettigrew is gone as well. The new Minister is Amelia Bones, a hard nosed Auror who is about as paranoid as they come. Things are not looking up for your Master, Bella.”

“He is your Master too!” she shrieked in outrage.

“Not anymore,” he sneered. “I’ve found a better option for myself and the family. You may have chosen to cling to a lost dream, but the rest of us have moved on. The Dark Lord has no real hope any longer, and I have ensured that the Malfoy name will recover from the blot that our past affiliation has caused.”

“How dare you!” Bellatrix’s glare was nearly enough to ignite steel. “You shall pay for this, Lucius.”

“Yes, yes,” he waved a hand dismissively. “So you say.” He glanced around the cell. “I must admit that your surroundings add little to your credibility.” He shook himself. It was fun to gloat, but he had things to do. “Well, dear Bella, I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but really it hasn’t. Your demise will be the best thing you’ve done for the family.”

Bella’s face twisted, but to Lucius’ surprise, it wasn’t an expression of hate that she wore, but one of regret. “I – I never meant to hurt Cissy,” she half-whispered.

Lucius raised his eyebrows. “Having heard stories of your childhood, I find that rather hard to believe, Bella. Neither my wife nor my son will mourn your passing.”

“Draco – my nephew…” Bella’s eyes clouded over. “I only saw him the once.”

“Yes, well, what did you expect? You decapitated all of Narcissa’s dolls. Did you really think she would ask you to babysit?” Lucius raised his wand. “Goodbye, Bel-“

“Wait!” She flung a hand up as far as her shackles would allow. “You’re right. I have been blind. I allowed my devotion to the Dark Lord to outweigh my family obligations. I can see that now.”

“Yes,” Lucius agreed drily, “being at wandpoint does lead to the most amazing epiphanies.”

“Let me make it up to little Draco,” Bellatrix begged. “I’m still a wealthy woman, you know.”

A tendril of greed asserted itself in Lucius’ brain. He knew the truth of Bella’s words. “What are you saying?” he demanded, not lowering his wand.

“I left no will when I was captured,” Bella said quickly. “If you kill me now, my fortune will revert to the LeStranges and go to some distant relative of theirs in Australia or Canada or some place like that. Let me write a will, naming Draco as my sole heir, and then all of my fortune will come to him.” She gave him a knowing look. “If my husband and brother-in-law should predecease me, then Draco will inherit not only my own wealth, but the entire LeStrange fortune as well.”

Lucius considered. He was already wealthy, but you could never be too rich. And the Lestranges were rumored to have almost as many Dark artifacts as the Malfoys themselves. If Draco inherited the lot, he would have an unparalleled collection, and the knowledge therein would cement his power base.

Lucius eyed the witch before him. She really was pathetic. A decade of Dementors had not been kind to Bella, and he supposed that unrelenting exposure to their effects might well have led the woman to experience remorse for the first time. Merlin knew there was plenty in her past life for the Dementors to torture her with, and perhaps they had managed to have an impact. As unlikely as it seemed, it was hard to imagine anyone – even Bella – remaining untouched by ten years of constant exposure.

And what was the risk? Yes, at one time Bella had been known as a top dueler, but she hadn’t even held a wand in a decade, and the way she now shook and trembled, it was hard to believe her name alone had once been enough to strike dread into the heart of every Auror in the country.

And her making a will would only help convince everyone that her death was self-inflicted, presumably brought about by Dementor-inspired guilt… Lucius nodded to himself. It was worth the delay.

A quick flick of his wand and a quill and parchment appeared on the grimy bed next to the witch. “Thank you,” she breathed gratefully.

Lucius grimaced. Pathos always disgusted him. “Hurry up.”

“What is Draco’s full name? Draco Lucius Malfoy? I don’t want anyone to be able to prevent my nephew from getting his inheritance,” Bella babbled, picking up the quill. She started to write, but the heavy chains defeated her. She looked over to Lucius helplessly.

He sneered. How the mighty had fallen. This was the pride of Voldemort? His most devoted servant? Now unable to figure out how to write a complete sentence and sign her name. Contemptiously, he Vanished the shackles from her wrists. “Do you need me to dictate the words to you?” he demanded.

He never saw her launch herself from the bed.

The next thing he knew, he was down on the ground, a screaming, spitting, clawing fury atop him. She had his wand before he really understood what was happening, and then it was digging into the soft flesh under his chin, Bella’s cold eyes burning into his from mere inches away.

“You were always such an arrogant fool, Lucius,” Bella spat. Her breath was as foul as a Dementor’s. “Thinking yourself more clever than anyone else. Always poncing about, reluctant to get your hands dirty, so fastidious about cleaning spells and making sure than no one bled on your shoes. You never understood real power. You despised anything but magic. You used to sneer at poor McNair for his fondness for knives and you mocked Rastaban for using his bare hands. You never understood that sheer power is both magical and physical. You assumed that I was weak without my wand. That you could easily best me if I didn’t use my magic. You are a blind fool, Lucius, and I will make that a reality by plucking out your eyes the moment we are free of this cursed place.”

“You – you’ll never get off this island,” Lucius gasped. “Too many guards –“

Bella cackled and rubbed her cheek against his. “Oh, but my lovely brother-in-law will rescue me,” she cooed. “And when I take the wand off this fool of an Auror whom you so kindly stunned, then both Rodolphus and I will be armed. Since you made it clear you came here to kill all of us, I rather doubt you alerted too many people to your presence here today. It will be easy, very very easy, Lucius… And then we will find My Lord and you shall see what punishments he reserves for traitors.”

##

The next morning, Snape and Flitwick called the other Heads of Houses to a meeting. “Has everyone seen today's Prophet?” Flitwick asked, his tone for once somber as he brandished the paper.

FIRE AND DEATH AT AZKABAN screamed the headline. “We spoke with the Minister early this morning,” Snape continued, “rather than rely upon the newspaper accounts. Unfortunately, it does appear that there is some truth to the story. A fire broke out in one of the cells and spread quite quickly. The warden and another Auror were killed, presumably trying to contain the blaze, and three prisoners were immolated in their cells. Auror Shacklebolt says that they are still trying to piece together what happened, but given the extent of the damage, it may never be fully understood.”

“Oh, dear,” Sprout shook her head. “This is terrible.”

“The auror who was killed is the uncle of a Hufflepuff third year,” Flitwick said gently. “Emma Foster’s parents contacted me this morning. They’d like her to floo home later today.”

“The poor thing,” Sprout mourned. “I’ll go break the news to her.”

“As best we can tell, the warden had no immediate ties to Hogwarts, but the prisoners…” Flitwick trailed off.

“Who were they?” Remus asked.

“The three Lestranges,” Snape answered shortly. “The Longbottom boy is likely to react to the news, whether positively or negatively remains to be seen.”

Remus nodded. “I’ll take him aside before it becomes public knowledge.”

“His grandmother is probably dancing a jig,” Flitwick commented wryly. “It will be interesting to see how the boy takes it, but given his, ah, high strung nature, he may need a day or two to cope with the news.”

“From what we understand, the fire completely consumed the cells,” Snape continued. “The bodies were essentially cremated; there aren’t enough remains for Augusta Longbottom to spit upon.”

Sprout looked green. “Really, Severus!”

“I’ll let Sirius know as well. There’s no telling how this might affect him either,” Remus pointed out. “For all I know, his cell might have been nearby the affected ones. He might have had a lucky escape.”

“Isn’t Draco Malfoy the nephew of Bellatrix LeStrange?” Sprout asked. “I know Narcissa was never close to her sister, but will this news affect him?”

Snape inclined his head. “I will speak with him, but since Bellatrix was imprisoned before the boy was two, it’s unlikely he feels any affection for her.”

“It’s sad to say, but in some ways this might be for the best,” Sprout said, her normally kind face distressed. “Life in Azkaban must have been a torment for them, and perhaps their deaths can bring some closure to their victims and their families. What a great loss when someone’s death brings only happiness and relief.” She shook her head. “Such a wicked waste of potential.”

“I’d sooner mourn over the death of a mandrake that is sacrificed for my potion,” Snape retorted snarkily. “These were hardly misguided souls, Pomona. They were You-Know-Who’s creatures and they enjoyed themselves thoroughly.”

The Hufflepuff glared at him. “It is still sad, Severus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

##

When Remus gently broke the news to Neville, the werewolf was taken aback by the smile that lit the boy’s face. “Good!” he said fiercely. “I hope they suffered and burned slow.”

“Now, Neville,” a flustered Remus remonstrated, “I’m sure you don’t really mean that.”

Neville looked at him curiously. “Don’t you know what they did to my parents, Professor? If they had been the ones to kill Harry’s mum and dad, how would you feel?”

Remus felt the wolf in him surge at the question, and he sighed. “I’d have wanted to watch them writhe in their death agonies,” he admitted. “But I’m not proud of myself for feeling that way.”

“I’m not sure I’m proud either,” Neville said slowly. “But I’m still glad they’re dead.”

Remus didn’t reply, he just pulled the boy into an embrace and the two of them sat that way for a long time.

##

“Thank Merlin!” Draco let out his breath in a long whoosh of relief. “Are you sure? Barmy Aunt Bella’s really gone?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I see you are devastated by the news, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco looked a little embarrassed. “Well, it’s just that I’d overheard some stories that Mother used to tell Father… And we had a house elf who used to tell me when I was bad that I was lucky Mother wasn’t like Aunt Bella. It was enough to give me nightmares when I was little that she’d come for me.”

Snape mused that in a contest between the bogey man and Bellatrix Black LeStrange, any sensible child would beg to be abducted by the bogey man.

“But your parents didn’t openly speak of her to you?”

Draco looked insulted. “We would hardly boast of having a relation in Azkaban, Professor!”

Snape smirked. “Of course not.”

Abruptly a thoughtful look came over Draco’s face. “Though… she is family,” he said slowly. “Or was, I mean. And a really close relation too.”

“What do you want, Mr Malfoy?” Snape drawled. He could recognize the signs of Slytherin plotting.

“Well, given my grief over my poor Auntie’s death, I might need an extension or even an excuse for some of my upcoming work,” Draco said hopefully.

“You may have one extra day’s grace on all essays due this week. No extensions on examinations and no excused absences,” Snape replied. He eyed his little snake shrewdly. He did want to reward such cunning, after all... “And, I suppose, that if you feel too prostrated to eat dinner in the Great Hall this evening, you may instead go to the kitchens with a few close friends who can support you in your time of grief.”

Draco grinned as he headed out to class. “Thanks! Can you ask the elves to make a special cake for us?”

“Draco, we may be Slytherins, but we are not crass. Make do with the usual pudding,” Snape scolded.

“I’ll get Harry to ask,” Draco muttered rebelliously as he left the office.

##

Lucius glanced around the cemetery and knew he was a dead man. Bellatrix had stunned him in her cell, and when he was revived, flames were already licking the corridor walls, and Rastaban and Rodolphus were by his side, each bearing a wand of his own. One of them had cast an Imperius at him, and the next thing he knew, he was showing them his own escape route off the island, taking them to one of the Malfoy properties where they were able to wash and dress, and filling them in on the events of the last ten years. Then Bellatrix had used her Dark Mark to contact Lord Voldemort, and the next thing he knew, he was here, his mind once again his own and his death staring him in the face.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Bellatrix groaned in pleasure and satisfaction as a black and green cloud enveloped her. The mist swirled around her for several moments, then gradually faded, leaving her features oddly distorted.

She looked around the graveyard, and Lucius’ heart stopped as her eyes – now a crimson color – passed over him. “Sssssso, Lucius,” she whispered, and her voice now held a hissing note. “You have joined the traitor Sssnape and forsssaken me.”

Lucius struggled not to lose control of his bladder. He knew that voice. He knew those eyes. And as much as Bella had scared him, that terror was nothing compared to what he felt now, for this was no longer Bella who stood before him.

“Yessss,” the creature laughed at him. “I ssee you have realized the truth. I am Lord Voldemort. My loyal servant has offered her body to me, and a fine body it is, with much magical skill. It will serve me well in the short time until I am reborn.”

Lucius looked wildly about the circle, but he saw nothing but delight and relief on the two dozen faces that ringed the clearing. The elite of the Death Eaters were here – all people who had suffered much since Voldemort’s disappearance and who had longed for his return. He would find no allies here.

“Please, My Lord, may I put out his eyes as I promised?” begged Bella’s voice. “There is so much we should do to punish him.”

“Now, now, patience, my pet,” Voldemort answered himself in an eerie soliloquy. “I might yet have some use for Lucius.”

“Please, my lord,” Malfoy gasped. “Forgive me! It was a momentary madness. Snape must have put something in my drink! I would never have chosen to –“

“Ssilence, Lucius!” the Dark Lord snapped. “Do not imagine me a fool. You know how I punish those who would stand against me.”

“Allow me to start, Master,” Alecto Carrow purred. She had never cared for the elegant pureblood’s thinly veiled contempt of her and her brother.

“No,” Voldemort snapped. “I have plans for Lucius. He can be useful.”

“I will, Master! I will,” Malfoy swore frantically. “Tell me what you would, and I will prove myself to you.”

Voldemort laughed softly. “Ah, Lucius, you have grown soft in the years since we last met. Do you truly imagine I will entrust you with anything? No, I hear you disavowed me, claiming to be under Imperius. I think it is very fitting that now you will be under Imperius when you carry out my orders.”

“Master, I swear to you – you need not curse me. I worship you and wish only to repent of my –“

“Really, Lucius? Then you would willingly deliver your son and heir to me as forfeit for your crimes?” Voldemort burst into raucous laughter at the look on Lucius’ face. “I thought not,” he smirked. “Imperio!”