Shades of Evil: Lucius

“Severus, I just don’t know what to do,” the blond man said, shaking his head as he spoke and pacing around, glancing at the books on the shelves of his library. “The Dark Lord has more plans for defeating Potter, but to tell the truth…I don’t think that any of them will succeed. There is too much protection around the boy for them to work, but He will not listen, not if all of us told him so.” Lucius dropped into one of the Victorian-era armchairs that were arranged around the table in the center of the room.

His haughtily superior expression was gone for once, replaced by an anxiety that belied the elegant garments that he always wore. The perfectly styled green, black, and silver robes were accented with a silver clip at the base of his neck that held his hair back in a low ponytail, and by the flawless silver brooch that held his cloak on, for he had not removed it when he entered the manor.

“I’ve told you before, Lucius, that Potter had only the protection that Dumbledore gave him, and that little bit given to him by his mother, which is gone now that his Muggle family is destroyed. There is nothing left to him except his own strength, and that of his friends.” Snape smirked, amusement showing in his dark eyes. He stood by the table, watching Lucius. “Of the two, I would fear the latter more, if I were the Dark Lord—the Mudblood Granger has a better chance of defeating a Death Eater than Potter himself, little as I like to say so. Unfortunately, the girl is intelligent, and with her help Potter and Weasley can do more than by themselves or together.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed with the trio of students. “However, all of this matters little. The Dark Lord has enough Death Eaters to take on all of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons without problem, so what the students can do has no affect on any plan of His.”

“But Severus, even with all that taken into consideration…isn’t there some way to defeat the Potter boy without killing all of the students? Some of them are purebloods, after all, and if they were killed, there would be even fewer marriageable purebloods.” Lucius stood up and walked over to one of the bookshelves, pulled down a thick tome, and walked back over to the table. Laying it down on the table, he opened it, scanning a page.

“Ah, here,” he said, finding the entry. “Families of Pure Blood: the Blacks, now deceased except for Bellatrix and Narcissa; the Nott’s; the Malfoy’s, the Parkinson’s, the Crabbe’s, the Goyle’s, the Lestrange’s…” he trailed off, a look of sheer distaste on his face. “…and the Weasley’s…though they do not count, blood traitors that they are.”

Snape grimaced. He had never liked the Weasley’s very much, either, though that exit that the twins had made when that idiot Umbridge was there had brightened up his day. Umbridge had been even worse than the Weasley’s…at least the Weasley’s didn’t talk in girly high-pitched voices.

“Well, what do you think will happen when we kill over half of the students at Hogwarts? Will their families join us in love as soon as we do so? Will the survivors be so grateful that they beg to become followers of the Dark Lord? I don’t think so, Severus, and I know that you do not, either. I have seen the look on your face when you are forced to do something you do not like, and that is the look that resides there permanently now.” Lucius closed the book silently, and sat back down, crossing his arms. Looking up at his ally, who was now in deep thought, he waited.

The dark eyes that never revealed any emotions but distaste and anger were troubled now, and turbulent emotion rolled through them. He thought through possible words carefully, then spoke. “I think that if the Dark Lord does attack Hogwarts again, to end this war by killing Potter, he will find much more disparity than he now expects. There are many who respected Dumbledore when we were in school, and many of those still respect his memory, secretly. He was a man who…imbued the characteristics that one wishes for in a leader, which the Dark Lord sometimes does not. However, he was weaker overall, because he was compassionate, and he could never have defeated the Dark Lord on his own.” He paused, contemplating.

“That is where the Golden Trio comes in,” he said curtly. “Potter is the strength, Granger is the brains, and Weasley is the heart of it. Together they can do things that Dumbledore could not, great wizard that he was, for they, combined, are much stronger and better than most of those on our side.”

Lucius tilted his head to one side. “Are you saying that we can be defeated by a group of teenagers?” He raised an eyebrow and allowed amusement to come into his eyes. “Surely not. You know how strong we are now, and those who came from Azkaban to join us have made us stronger.”

Shaking his head slowly, Snape met his friend’s eyes. “I’m afraid that those additions are not enough to help us defeat that ‘group of teenagers’. They have power that we do not, and are skilled beyond their years in magic.”

“Then we are doomed? Our cause is doomed?” The blond man held Snape’s gaze, his expression curiously empty of emotion. “Is there nothing that we can do?”

His friend hesitated. “Very little that I can think of, unless something happens.”

“Fine, then!” Lucius responded, his head uplifted, proud and strong, reminding Snape of one of the great nobles of the Wars of the Roses. “As the Americans said during their civil war, ‘Forget hell.’ This is a long war that shall end only in our defeat unless we find some way to separate each faction of the whole. The Order of the Phoenix must be split, the Golden Trio must never be side by side, and the Gryffindors must never be all together, for their bravery, though foolish, still holds great sway in a battle, for it uplifts the others.”

Snape sat down on a chair that faced Lucius’. “If we could but do that, then we would have a chance.” He put his head in his hands. “But so little, a wisp only...” he trailed off.

“Then there is hope, even if it be but little,” Lucius rejoined emphatically. “We can only persevere in our aims until we are all defeated, for what is life when the most noble of the wizarding race are pressed into the dirt? When the Pureblood houses are forced to give way to those of Mudbloods and blood traitors, and our children obligated to interact with theirs at all times? That is no life for such as noble as the Pureblood wizarding race, and we will not stand for it!” He stood up, an avenging angel of the night, exuding passion and commitment unsurpassed as he spoke his thoughts.

“If we can’t achieve our goal, fulfill our cause, then what use is there in living? I ask you, Severus—what pleasure is there in being dominated by such a plebeian people? None! To live in a world filled with them and ruled by them only decreases the vitality of life and the perfection of existence. If we lose, then we do so only because we have nothing else to aid us, not because we lacked the will to try!”

“Exactly so, Lucius. We shall try, and if in doing so we are defeated, it will not be for lack of perseverance.” Snape looked at his friend. He was not meant for this time or place—he should have been born in a time when duty and honor were the most important of all things. Much like those Southern rebels in the States, he was: full of pride and determination and fortitude, not meant for a time when it was not the right of one’s cause that mattered, but the public view of that cause.

A searing pain burned the mark on their arms black. “So it begins,” Snape murmured.

“And it shall end in time, with victory or with defeat,” Lucius added. “Malo mori quam foedari.”

As they Disapparated, Snape thought that the Latin phrase fit his friend very well.