A War at the End of the World

Yeah I know I don’t Own Harry Potter, but I like to play with the characters.

Also I’d like to say thanks for reviewing. I know this fic is starting out a little slow, but I wanted it to be a little more than just your average suck and –stick naughty word here-so I hope you guys stay with me it will get some fun stuff in here soon. I just needed a couple of chapters to get there. And I promise a good show next chapter.

Chapter 2: An Amputated Future



Lucius walked up the tiny hunting path slowly, cautiously; watching the dark places where the moonlight didn’t reach for danger. It had been strange walking into Hogsmeade unopposed, the shops deserted, and the homes dark. The Darklord had told him it would be so, but experiencing it left a strange tenseness shifting along his shoulders and down his arm, to his hand that hovered over his wand constantly. This was not the war he thought he would be fighting.

He was a general in his Lord’s army, a major player in the power games at the ministry, and didn’t have a bad hand at the wizarding chess, so when the Darklord had called his most trusted Deatheaters to him, he had not been surprised that the Lord has planned to make a move against the ministry. What had surprised him was Albus Dumbledore standing next to the Darklord as commands had been issued, the friendly camaraderie between the two, and the headmaster’s eventual departure, but with a promise of a return with aide.

Lucius had not seen that one coming.

Reaching the cliff top, Lucius took a moment to look at the night sky, following the line of the stars to the castle that was just visible a scant few miles off. Lucius remembered a time when he had run along its halls without a care for any wars or sides, simply interested in the rumored secret entrance to the Slytherin girls dormitory. Narcissa had promised such great things if he ever found it. Promises she had kept and still brought a smile to his face when he thought about them.

“Good memories, Lucius?” The shadows asked not unkindly.

It was only through years of dedicated service that the man didn’t jump at the sudden nearness of the voice. “Fond school times my Lord.”

The shadows wavered near the edge of the cliff and then unwrapped themselves from around the Darklord. “Hogwarts has the power to dredge those times out, even after all these years.” The Darklord continued to stare out at the school, not bothering to turn to his general. “I think it’s built into the wards.”

“My lord,” Lucius began without preamble, knowing that his Lord was expecting his report. “Hogsmeade is as you said it would be, deserted. I have dispatched your Deatheaters in pairs in the various homes. I thought you would like to know that none of the houses looked to have been left in a hurry. They were all emptied out and left in useable condition.”

“Of course they were,” Voldermort said more to himself than to Lucius. “They want the people to be able to come back to their homes after they are through slaughtering the future Lucius.”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean my Lord.”

Voldermort sighed. A sound that for him seemed alien and for Lucius made the man both more human and quite a bit more frightening. “Did the platform seem less crowded to you when you put Draco on the train today Lucius?”

The Lord Malfoy was silent a moment thinking back to that morning when he and Narcissa had taken Draco to the train station. “Well, yes, but it always is when the children return to school after Christmas Holiday.” It had become fashionable recently for the students to stay at school over the winter instead of returning home as was tradition. Snape blamed it on what he called the Potter influence since many of the students that stayed were muggle born, but seeing as even he had spent the holidays with the Weasely family, Lucius was more inclined to say that it was simply that muggle borns were less inclined to return to their drab lives after experiencing the wizarding world.

That and poor upbringing.

Still it hadn’t seemed odd to him that the train had been filled with mostly Slytherins, with smatterings from the other houses.

“No one stayed at Hogwarts this winter Lucius. No one. The rest of the students will be returning this next week as the special letters that they received over the break instructed them to.”

“What letter?” Lucius asked indignantly. “We received no such letter.”

“None of the families with students on the train this morning did Lucius. They were not meant to.”

“But why my Lord. What is that point of having the students all come a week later?” Lucius asked before it all clicked. The Darklord had told him of the Ministry’s decision to kill Potter. And while he could not readily disagree with the decision the revelation of Potter’s fae heritage made it clear that the plan could not be allowed to go through. But now with the knowledge that only select families had been allowed to return to Hogwarts with potter…

“They’re weeding us out,” he breathed into the darkness.

“More like amputating the future as the headmaster put it. Though it seems like a twisted kind of culling: with the strong killed and the weak allowed to breed on. Either way you think about it fits.”

Lucius shook his head in disbelief. “But what about the Weaselys and the Granger girl. Surely they cannot mean to wipe them out as well.”

“It wouldn’tsay that it would actually wipe the Weaselys out even with the twins returning to finish out their last year. There are still the two older boys, though how long they would last after this slaughter is a question only Albus knows, I’m sure. Besides they have one of the redheads firmly in their pocket. As for the Granger girl,” Voldermort shrugged, “this Shacklebolt seems to understand that sacrifices must be made. Had he been on our side things may have gone differently the first time.”

Lucius didn’t bother to respond, too wrapped up in his own plans to retrieve his son before he was put in harms way. The only thing he had ever wanted for his son was to have a life that was as normal as a Malfoy could possibly expect. And from the onset of his time at Hogwarts it was one thing after another. After Draco’s sixth year, Lucius had promised himself that he would do everything in his power to ensure that his son was not placed in any further harm, even going so far as to defy his Lord when he had been ordered to bring the boy to receive his dark mark. It had cost him, but it had been well worth it.

The idea that he may have placed his son in immanent danger did not sit well with the silver haired man. Not well at all.

“Calm yourself Lucius,” Darklord spoke softly, as if reading his general’s mind, his head turned to look at his most trusted Deatheater. “There is a plan. The children will be safe. All the children will be safe.” Voldermort was less than happy about having to save all of the students residing in Hogwarts, but had given his word to Dumbledore and Voldermort was nothing if not a man of his word.

Lucius took in a fortifying breath and let it out slowly. “May I ask what the plan is my Lord?”

“No,” Voldermort said simply turning back out to the castle in the background. “That is between myself and Dumbledore. When the time comes you shall be informed, but not before that.”

Lucius looked away from the Darklord for a moment before nodding his head. He had trusted the Darklord this far, he would just have to trust him just this much further.

“What do I tell your other followers my Lord?”


“Nothing Lucius. Tell them nothing. The plan rests on their reactions. You only needed to know since I know that your wife feels her blood a bit more strongly than you do and the last thing I need is an enraged veela trying to tear out my throat,” the Darklord said in a droll manner.

“At least not again,” he added with glance to Lucius out of the corner of his eye who had the grace to blush even though it couldn’t be seen in the cold light.

“A one time disgrace my Lord. It will not happen again.”

Voldermort made a noise that may have been rude if the man didn’t spend so much time talking to snakes. “Make sure there are scouts posted around the school. When the ministry makes it move I don’t want to be far behind them.”

“Understood my Lord.”

Voldermort continued to watch the night sky for a while before he realized that Lucius was still standing there.

“Is there something else you wanted to talk about Lucius?” Voldermort asked turning to the man.

Lucius cleared his throat and then looked up from where he had been staring at the ground. “It’s about Draco my Lord. About his mating season.”

“Ah,” the man almost hissed. “Is it that time already? I had forgotten all about it.”

“Yes and I understand that the situation at present takes precedent, but—”

“You want to know if Serverus would be available to brew the suppression potion,” the Darklord finished.

“Yes.”

“The answer is no,” Voldermort answered simply. “Serverus’s current mission is too important to pull him away just to make the potion. Draco will just have to make due.”

“But my Lord.”

“I said no Lucius.” Voldermort’s eyes flared for a moment and stained the inside of his hood with a blood colored light.

“Of course my lord,” Lucius groveled, his head bowed, and his eyes focused on the ground. “Forgive me.”

The Darklord held his gaze on Lucius for a second more before turning away. “Do not worry Lucius. I understand. Family is important, but what Serverus does now ensures that you will still have one when the ministry is through with us all.”

“I understand my Lord.”

“When does the boy’s season begin anyway?”

“Yesterday,” Lucius said calmly though the man was anything but. The idea of leaving his son in the kind of agony that he knew, from experience, came with an unmated veela’s mating season was almost intolerable. Not that the Darklord understood such things.

Though if Lucius didn’t know better he would have sworn he saw the Darklords shoulders dip slightly at his answer.

“Who knows,” the man said softly, his tone almost hopeful. “Maybe Draco will find his mate if he is not under the effects of the potion during his season.”

“You are of course right my Lord.”

There was a pause. “Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow though does it?” And without another word Voldermort was gone with a crack, a pop, and a swirling of air.