Covered in Crimson

Eight Months Ago

Hermione felt like pounding her head against the cold stone wall. She and Neville had been researching for months, since their secret benefactor had confirmed for them that Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem was the final unknown Horcrux, to locate the missing item. The search had taken them all over Great Britain, into tiny hovels and hidden caves, and to meetings with odd characters, both of the nefarious and squirrely sorts.

Now that it had finally been located – and destroyed – Hermione couldn’t help but feel that all of that effort, and all of that time, had been wasted. The damned thing had been right under their noses inside the Hogwarts castle the entire time. She’d relived the day they’d finally figured it out in her dreams every night for the past week. How could I have been so blind? She wondered over and over again, but it was a question that would have no answer. Her sense of responsibility refused to take notice of the fact that she had not been alone in her efforts, and thus the blame - and credit - was shared.

It was especially ironic to Hermione that the final clue to the diadem’s location had come from a house-elf. She could have flogged herself for not thinking to ask Hogwarts’ resident facilities staff what they knew about the object. When one of the older creatures had asked simply whether Miss had thought to look in the Come and Go Room, she’d nearly choked on the pumpkin juice she’d been drinking. From there, it had been a simple matter of entering the room and using a standard summoning spell. It had been destroyed by Harry the next morning when he’d returned from a mission outside the castle.

How utterly anticlimactic, she thought. Her hardest work was done. Now, she was itching to get into the fight. The planning for the final offensive could begin in earnest with this milestone met. Dumbledore’s Army believed they had an advantage in that they felt quite certain that Voldemort knew nothing of their quest to destroy all the vile pieces of his soul that he’d left lying around Great Britain and the European continent. If he believed that he still had seven chances at rebirth, he’d either be too cocky or too lax. Either posture could prove fatal in a war. That’s what the Light side was counting on as their ace in the hole.

Crafting a final battle strategy would not be a quick nor easy proposition. Voldemort’s Death Eaters had been joined in the battle by werewolves and at least one contingent of giants. Vampires were less predictable; they’d not declared any allegiance as a group, but there was a sizable cadre of the dark beings who had aligned themselves with the Dark Lord. That Voldemort had no compunction against using Inferi was one more obstacle for the DA to overcome, as the supply was nearly unlimited.

Stage One of the strategy would involve mapping out their logistics. What did they have available for resources in both personnel and materiel? The weaponry at their disposal would need to go far beyond the usual wand-with-spell repertoire. They had procured Muggle military goods which had been particularly effective against the magical creatures that did not wield wands or respond readily to cast spells, giants and Inferi in particular. The assessment would also need to include as thorough an accounting as possible of their enemy’s resources. That would be a daunting challenge to overcome.

Stage Two was terrain mapping. Where were their resources in relation to Voldemort’s? How would they move their teams to more strategic and tactical locations without detection? Where could they develop additional intelligence on movements of Voldemort’s troops? They hoped that their long-term undercover asset would be of aid in this effort.

Stage Three was planning for the final tactical offensive, including how to dispose of Nagini – the final Horcrux – as early in the fight as possible. Dumbledore and Harry had agreed that they wanted to take the battle to Voldemort rather than assume a defensive posture. This was one area where they would be lost without the information provided by Lucius Malfoy, who was still only known to Dumbledore and Minerva as one of their own.

Stage Four, the ultimate goal, was the permanent destruction of Voldemort himself, which according to prophecy, could only be carried out by Harry alone. The elite group that had been his battle companions for years had one mission: make sure Harry survives to that point at all costs.

They were still working through Stage One issues, and anticipated at least two more months before they’d be ready to move to Stage Two. It made the planning more difficult when key players continued to fall in skirmishes and to ambush. They would go on, because the alternative was unthinkable, but every loss made the task more challenging.

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Deep in the Slytherin dungeon, the mysterious woman who toiled day and night over cauldrons and burners was making slow but steady progress. As far as the other castle residents could tell, she had no visitors and spoke only with the former Headmaster. Whatever she was working on was clearly important, whether to her alone or to the war effort at large, no one could say. Her unflagging devotion to her mission was nearly the stuff of legend.
Narcissa, as she was now called by only two people, was getting close to a solution to her problem, and that was driving her. She would not rest until she found a way to reclaim her son from the horror that had been forced upon him for so long. That her sister and brother-in-law had almost certainly been behind it all had sickened and infuriated her. She would have her revenge. As soon as Lucius could conclusively prove what they both knew in their hearts, they would know the wrath of Malfoys harmed.

Good news had been delivered a couple of days earlier by her protector and friend, Albus Dumbledore. True to his word, he had taken on the task she’d been unable to complete when her attention was demanded by the antidote she believed she was so close to finishing. It had taken months and every one of the considerable skills at the formidable wizard’s disposal to unravel the shields and protections on the truffles’ packaging. Her sister, she assumed, had gone to unprecedented lengths to avoid detection of her scheme.

His work had revealed heavy doses of compulsion spells, akin to the Imperius but less specific in nature, and memory charms. These were particularly nasty. They forced the target to forget his or her actions and layered in a graduated pain-inducing hex that caused excruciating headaches when any attempt was made at recalling what he or she had done. The only bit of good news about the spells was that they would wear off more quickly than the effects of the potions because they needed frequent reinforcement, and they could be halted with the simple casting of Finite Incantatem.

Dumbledore’s discoveries had evoked mixed emotions in Narcissa. She was as grateful to know exactly what they were up against and as she was incensed at the depth and breadth of the manipulation that had been forced upon her son. It was no wonder that his behavior and personality had changed so fundamentally and dramatically; they had deliberately and skillfully crafted a killing machine with their potions and spells. She and Albus had come to the conclusion that the young man’s life was probably salvageable, but the key would be in the antidote more than in reversing the spells. She had more work to do.

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Lucius was determined to keep his promise to his wife. They would know beyond a single doubt who had been responsible for their son’s horrific transformation. And the perpetrator would pay. He and Narcissa felt certain they knew exactly who to blame, but evidence was required. Vengeance was one thing, vigilantism was another. They’d not make that mistake.

Lucius had a plan to gather the proof they needed, and it would be executed late tonight.The Dark Lord had planned another revel to celebrate a recent battle victory, and the head of the Malfoy family would be there, not to join in the festivities, but to capture his quarry.

Rodolphus was infamous for his enthusiastic participation in these raucous events, and that would be Lucius’ key to ensnaring the man. A drunken Lestrange was easy to manipulate. The only unknown factor was Bella’s presence. If she was nearby, it would be dicey to remove her husband without her knowledge. Lucius hoped that the Dark Lord’s hunger for the woman would appear, as it typically did during the debauchery that accompanied the evening’s events. They’d be occupied for quite some time, if that were the case, and Lucius’ plan could proceed. He chuckled at the odd juxtaposition. While the Dark Lord fucked the man’s wife, Lucius would be fucking with his brain.

With his wife’s assistance in procuring the increasingly rare ingredients, Lucius had brewed a version of Veritaserum that was particularly difficult to subvert, even for those who had been trained in the practice, and doubly so for one in his cups. That, in conjunction with his exceptional skill in Legilimency, would be Lord Malfoy’s line of attack to gain the substantiation he needed. Now, all he had to do was wait for the “festivities” to begin in earnest. He was grateful that he was still viewed as a man in mourning; it exempted him from many activities that he found particularly distasteful. All he needed to do was wear his well-practiced mask of grief and loss, not terribly difficult to do when he missed his wife’s constant presence.

The Dark Lord had cast his mark in the sky above the clearing in which they’d gathered, signaling the start of their perverse celebration. Lucius cast his eyes downward as his former compatriots tortured and raped their quota of captives for the night. He ached at not being able to stop the pain these defenseless Muggles were forced to endure. His sneer of disgust was interpreted as being against the dirty-blooded creatures, a misunderstanding he was glad to allow.

The heavy drinking and potion-imbibing began shortly after the last of the bodies was dragged away for disposal. Who wanted to see that filth while they were having fun?

Rodolphus was first in line for the strong concoction of Firewhisky laced with a light hallucinogenic. It wouldn’t be long before his intoxication level would allow Lucius to make his move. The one other variable, Bella’s disappearance with the Dark Lord, had yet to occur. Maybe a little nudge would be in order.

“Quite an evening, my Lord,” Lucius drawled as he sidled up to the half-blood’s makeshift throne.

“Yesss, quite,” the Dark leader hissed in agreement. “Our friends appear to be having an enjoyable evening. You should join in the revel, Lucius. I’m… concerned for you.”

“I’m not yet feeling up to much celebrating, my Lord, Narcissa is still so much on my mind,” he confessed, truthfully.

“There will come a time when your mourning will need to cease, Luciusss,” he warned.

“And I feel that time will be soon, but not just yet.”

“I’m sssure you know what’s bessst for you, but a man has needsss,” he reminded his supposed minion.

“That desire has not been an issue for me, Lord. I am fine. But you must not ignore your own, if you are to continue to guide us. Bella is looking most… fetching tonight, is she not?” he prodded, seizing the opportunity that the conversation had presented.

“Ssshe isss indeed. It would be sssuch a wassste to let her go…untapped,” Voldemort chuckled, a most disturbing sound.

“Then I will leave you to your pleasure, my Lord,” Lucius answered, tilting his head in what the Dark wizard certainly interpreted as a respectful bow.

Seconds later, he heard Voldemort call out for his sex toy and watched keenly as she hurried to his side. They disappeared from the clearing moments later. It seemed that the Dark Lord had no issue in watching others engaged in the most depraved of sexual activity, but he demanded privacy for his own bedding.

Lucius snorted, thinking, Who’d want to see that freak in his twisted practices, anyway?

His opportunity had arrived, and he would not let it slip away.

He hurried to where he’d seen his brother-in-law last imbibing great quantities of alcohol and found that the man had seated himself on the ground, no longer able to stand upright in his inebriated state. He used his wand and cast a spell that allowed him to easily lift the incapacitated wizard, saying for any witnesses, “Come with me, Rodolphus, and we’ll find some entertainment.”

He Apparated both of them back to the dungeons at Malfoy Manor and stunned the man so that he could complete his final preparations. First, he’d need to sober him up just enough that he wasn’t speaking in gibberish or gobbledygook. Second, he’d feed him the appropriate dosage of Veritaserum and allow it the two or three minutes it required to take effect. Finally, he would bind the man and remove his wand to ensure that no counterattack could be launched once he cast his Legilimency spell. These steps were accomplished in quick precision, and he had an angry, unwilling, but totally compliant wizard in his grasp.

“We have a few things to discuss, Rodolphus,” Lucius announced, his stare menacing and penetrating. “You will answer my questions thoroughly and truthfully, and you may survive the night. Past that, there are no guarantees, my friend.”

“What is your problem, Malfoy? Why are we here, and why did you take me away from the revel?” Lestrange demanded.

“You will be the one answering questions tonight. Shut up or I’ll add the Imperius curse to my repertoire for the evening,” he warned, thinking that he’d like nothing better than to tack on a Crucio or two.

The bound wizard seemed to recognize the implied threat, and being a master of self-preservation, thought it better to keep his mouth closed and see what developed. He didn’t have long to wait.

“Have you or your wife done anything to drug or spell Draco?” Lucius asked directly in his opening salvo.

The tall blond could see the dark man struggle mightily against answering, but knew it would be of no use. He was rewarded seconds later with the reply he’d anticipated.

“Yes.”

“Exactly what have you been giving him?” Lucius seethed, intent on getting every detail now that he had the fundamental answer.

“A brew of our own making, infused into chocolate truffles.”

“What does this brew do?”

“It’s a liquid form of Imperio, and it reduces inhibitions,” the man replied, fighting mightily against revealing more.

“What else?” Lucius asked between clenched teeth.

“It has powerful addictives, some derived from Muggle cocaine.”

“Everything!” Lucius bellowed, not willing to allow any detail to escape.

“The packaging had spells that activated when he opened the box.”

“What spells?” Lucius pressed, barely containing his temper.

“Compulsions to murder, rape, and follow any order given by myself or Bella.”

“There’s more; what is it?”

“Memory charms to forget what he’s done, and pain hexes to discourage him from trying to remember.”

“What about his… sadistic tendencies?”

“That was Bella’s conditioning.”

“What did she do? How?” he demanded to know.

“She cast Felliato spells on him whenever he tortured or killed people so that he’d have orgasms. Didn’t take long for them to happen spontaneously.”

Lucius felt like throwing up at hearing the lengths of depravity his wife’s sister had achieved.

“Why?” he croaked.

“She thought it would encourage him to kill and torture more often, for the thrill of it.”

“Did she do that to him on the night he took the mark?” he wondered aloud, having suspected that something odd had happened during that ceremony.

“Yes.”

“Oh Merlin,” Lucius breathed. He needed a moment to compose himself before he could continue his interrogation, and cast a stunning spell on his prisoner to keep him from disturbing his train of thought. He wondered if anything could be salvaged from this information, and as an idea came to him, he revived the stupefied wizard.

“Did you create an antidote for the potions?” he asked, hoping to spare his wife some effort.

“No.”

It had been unlikely, but he’d had to try.

“Is what you’ve done to him reversible?”

“The spells are easily removed. The potions are long term. It would require an antidote, which does not exist.”

“Not yet,” Lucius whispered under his breath. “When did you begin doing this?”

“Years ago, when he was still at Hogwarts.”

“How did you deliver them to him?”

“We had one of your house-elves under our control. She would add the boxes to care packages that came from Narcissa, and kept a supply at the Manor to be given to him whenever he was home.”

“Why was I unable to open the cabinet where they were kept?”

“You didn’t have the right blood.”

“What was the right blood?”

“Bella’s.”

So that’s why Narcissa was able to open the cabinet when I could not, he realized. She and her sister shared Black blood. And as another Black family descendant, Draco would have been able to open the cabinet to get what he wanted, too.

“Why? Why my son?”

“For me, it was because you refused to give him to the Dark Lord in service. I won’t be refused. He won’t be refused. You needed to be taught a lesson, so we took him from under your very nose using the one thing we knew he had a weakness for. It was a great coup against the invincible Lucius Malfoy, in my opinion. If Bella had another reason, you’d have to ask her. I don’t know.”

“What else?” he pressed once again.

“I’m not sorry we did it. He’s been a most effective tool. I’d do it again.”

At this pronouncement, Lucius roared his anger, and struck the bound man across the temple with his cane, unable to contain his need to hurt the bastard any longer. He was only marginally satisfied to see blood pour from the gash he’d caused. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to suffice for now. He also realized in that moment that he would not be able to keep the man much longer. The Veritaserum would wear off in just a few minutes, and what he’d seen in Legilimency had confirmed what the man had said.

He stunned Lestrange once more, releasing his bonds and Apparating them back to the edge of the clearing where the revel continued in full swing. He tucked the man’s wand into his pocket, cast one more spell – “Obliviate” – and took the man’s arm as he swayed under the force of that combined with the revival from his earlier Stupefy.

“What are we doing out here?” Lestrange asked, disoriented. He touched a hand to his aching head and saw blood.

“I came out here to take a piss, and found you wandering around. Sounds like you had too much to drink again. You must have stumbled into something,” Lucius lied smoothly.

“Oh, well, thanks, I guess.”

Lucius nodded an acknowledgment and left the man to fend for himself. He had other things to attend to now, and a visit to Hogwarts was top on his list.

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The owl Lucius had sent to Albus had only had three words on it, but the message was unmistakable. “Proof. Coming now.” The elder wizard had opened his Floo to receive the visitor that he knew would be arriving any moment. By the time he’d sent a quick note to Narcissa, the roar of green flame heralded her husband’s appearance.

There had been little in the way of preamble, he had so much to share and so much anger to relinquish, at least until they’d determined exactly how they’d extract their payment from the two people who had been members of their own family. Lucius was trembling as he told his wife and their protector what he’d learned from his questioning of Rodolphus. She had gasped more than once at the revelations, even though they’d deduced much of it from their own research. It was another thing entirely to hear the testimony. When Albus had offered the use of his Pensieve as a way to spare Lucius from having to speak the horrors he’d learned, the overwhelmed man had agreed. Seeing the events unfold this way was a bit harder on Narcissa, but it would allow them to easily replay what had happened. That could be important in their efforts to finalize the antidote, so she withstood the anguish.

When the viewing was complete, both Malfoys were shaken and livid, but not surprised. They’d received the confirmation they’d been after. There would be discussions of how to proceed, but they would come later. There was still so much to process, and the higher priority of finishing the antidote. The need to save their son from this insidious manipulation had redoubled, now that they knew for certain that his behavior had not been of his own volition.

Albus was less personally affected, but no less disgusted by what he’d seen and heard. It was unspeakable that someone would deliberately choose to so fundamentally manipulate and subvert the life of a young man, one who had so much potential. It explained everything that had happened in the boy’s fifth and sixth years, and had absolved the young man of direct responsibility for his acts. He had been played, most skillfully.

Dumbledore, as a member of the Wizengamot, was grateful that Lucius had not used an Unforgiveable curse on his son’s tormentor. That would have made court proceedings significantly more difficult. He doubted, however, that Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange would ever see the inside of a courtroom. For all that Lucius had done to aid the Light against Voldemort, there was still a degree of darkness about the man. He had no doubt that justice would be meted out, but not by a Ministry court. After everything that had happened, he would not feel one bit of guilty for looking the other way on this matter. Where the memory would more likely be helpful was when Draco was inevitably called to account for his crimes. He removed the memory from his Pensieve and made a copy. The original, he bottled, labeled, and tucked away in the hope that it would help to salvage what was left of a young man’s life. The copy, he returned to the Pensieve to watch again. He hoped he would see something that the emotional parents might have missed - something that would aid in ensuring the successful brewing of an antidote for Draco.

In the dungeon several floors below Dumbledore’s office, the Malfoys paced the floor, still fuming over what they’d learned. They had been utterly betrayed by members of their own family, people who they had welcomed into their home and with whom they shared meals and holidays. The subtle attack on their family had been so malicious, so deliberate, and so unwarranted that they were nearly paralyzed with the shock of it. While Draco had paid the highest price in the stripping of his humanity, Narcissa and Lucius had also been victimized. Draco’s attack on his mother months before could firmly be laid at her sister’s feet. Lucius’ separation from his wife had been driven by her need to find a way to reclaim her son. They’d all suffered, and payback would not be pretty.

“How close are you to completing the antidote, Cissy?”

“I’ve made significant progress, but I’m not there yet. I’d guess that I need about four or five more months, then another couple of weeks for efficacy testing.”

“Is there anything in the information I extracted from Rodolphus that could be helpful?”

She shrugged with uncertainty. “I’ll need to see the memory again. It was too upsetting the first time through to really glean anything of analytical value. I’ll need to calm myself for a couple of days before I’m ready to hear that man’s voice again.”

“I can understand that. I would love nothing better than to rip his limbs from his body.”

“I know, and I have plenty of my own scores to settle too. But it wouldn’t be wise to take any drastic action against them now. What if there’s something more that we need to know? Something else that we can get only from them? I’m not ready to risk our only source of information just to see them pay for what they’ve done. There will be time for that when we’ve figured out how to help Draco.”

Lucius sighed, reluctantly agreeing with his wife’s conclusion. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to be in the same room with either of them ever again without wanting to Avada them,” he confessed.

“We must be strong, for each other and for our boy. If we succumb to the need for vengeance too soon, we could still lose everything. I won’t risk it, and I won’t allow you to do that either,” she told him firmly.

“Then you may need to have me make an Unbreakable Vow to refrain from raining my fury on them. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hold my wand at bay.”

“You are strong enough, Lucius. Just remember that what’s at stake here is the future of our family. That will sustain you, as it has me for all these months,” she told him, stopping her pacing to draw her husband into her arms. “Remember the goal, and that will guide your actions.”

He sighed again and dropped his head to rest atop hers, taking some measure of comfort in her embrace. “You are an amazing woman, Narcissa. You are strong enough for the both of us. If only I know that you are here, doing your part, I will do mine,” he promised. “But the minute we’ve successfully completed Draco’s antidote, there will be no holding me back. Your sister and her husband will pay for what they’ve done to us.”

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Two more months passed with incremental progress on Narcissa’s antidote. She had isolated and developed reversals for all but one of the compounds that her testing had revealed. The last piece was moving well, and all that was left was the integration of all the separate elements into one suspension, and final testing. For the first time, she really believed that their goal was in reach. She would reclaim her son, reclaim her husband, and reclaim her life in just a few short months. Then, heaven help the Lestranges, because no one else could.