CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: PLOTTING, AND SUCH

Chambers of the Wizengamot

Ministry of Magic, London, England

30 April 1993

"Lord Flitwick, you have been recognized for a speaking time that shall not exceed one minute and thirty seconds."

Thomas ignored Felton Flitwick as the old wizard slowly made his way to the speaker stand. The Wizengamot session was nearly over, with only Lords Hufflepuff, Gamp, and Burke remaining in the moderated caucus. Bartholomew Smith, the current Lord Hufflepuff, was a terrible bore, and Thomas was certainly better served by ignoring the entirety of his speech as well, especially since it was regarding a rather minor resolution on the budget of the Auror corps. Cygnus Greengrass was sponsoring the paper, and Thomas had already read it over and determined it was satisfactory.

"Lord Hufflepuff, you have been recognized for a speaking time that shall not exceed one minute and thirty seconds."

Bartholomew Smith strutted over to the podium and began nattering on about the

importance of saving Galleons where ever possible. Thomas resisted his urge to roll his eyes. The man was quite clearly an idiot, and had no true understanding of the innermost workings of the Ministry and the economics of the Wizarding World. The remaining speeches passed quickly, with Lord Gamp emphasizing the need for more accountability within the Auror Corps, and Lord Burke offering vague support for the resolution.

"Are there any points or motions on the floor?" the Moderator asked.

Thomas lit his wand tip.

"Lord Gaunt?"

"Motion to adjourn," Thomas said smoothly.

"The motion is accepted. Are there any more points or motions at this time? Seeing none, we will vote. All those in favor, light your wands."

Each active Lord and each of the seven appointed positions raised their wands.

"All those opposed?" the Moderator asked as a formality. "The motion has passed. The session is adjourned." The Moderator rapped his gavel sharply, and everyone stood. Thomas stretched for a moment, then made his way over to Lucius.

"Scintillating debate today, eh?" the blond wizard said wryly.

Thomas smirked. "Indeed. Would you care for tea, Lucius? There is a matter I wish to

discuss with you."

"Should I alert Thaddeus?"

"No, Lord Nott's presence will not be necessary today. There are some things that must be kept...secret."

"Ah."

They walked in silence up to the Atrium before Floo'ing to the Gaunt House. Thomas snapped his fingers. "Mimsy!"

A house elf popped into view and bowed. "Mimsy is here. What would sirs be needing today?"

"The usual tea service shall suffice. We will take it in my office."

The elf disappeared.

"You are going to be delighted with the information I recently stumbled upon," Thomas began as they ascended the stairs.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Is it about the location of our Lord?"

"Some of it."

"Some of it?"

"Well, I suppose one can say that I have done more than my usual share of investigating lately."

"I see."

Thomas motioned to the door. "After you."

They settled themselves into the office, Thomas taking a seat behind his desk and Lucius settling into his favorite green armchair. Seconds later, a tea tray popped into existence.

"Earl Grey for me, I see, and chai tea for you," Thomas mused, taking his mug. "Brewed to perfection."

Lucius accepted his mug. "So you were telling me…"

Thomas sipped his tea. "About the information I received, yes. Tell me Lucius," he began, steepling his fingers. "What would you say if I told you I knew how to liberate Travers, Rookwood, Mulciber, and Dolohov from Azkaban?"

Lucius stared. "What?"

Thomas leaned back, savouring the other man's startled expression. "Of course, this is all hypothetical, but what would you say if I told you I knew how to liberate Travers, Rookwood, Mulciber, and Dolohov from Azkaban?"

"I would say it was impossible; however, I am always willing to be enlightened."

Thomas smiled sharply. "Did you know Travers didn't have a trial? Rookwood, Mulciber, and Dolohov technically did, but proper legal proceedings weren't followed."

"I see, and certainly the new trials may be...persuaded to rule in our favour."

Thomas shrugged elegantly. "Perhaps. But first, I will increase the public's sympathy for our cause."

"And how will you manage that?"

"Simple. Your wife's cousin, Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black?"

"Indeed. The man had no trial, and is innocent. I can't imagine the public will be too pleased about our legal system after that particular detail comes to light."

Lucius frowned. "There's no hope for Pettigrew, then?"

"Yes. He's outlived his usefulness."

"Ah, he found the Dark Lord."

Thomas nodded. "Yes, in Andorra. I cannot fathom how or why he went there, but Pettigrew found him nonetheless."

"Are they coming back by Portkey?"

"No. The Dark Lord isn't stable enough for that sort of travel, so Pettigrew will have to

smuggle him in over the border. Once the Dark Lord is back in our presence, we can start making motions towards freeing our brethren."

"Travers will be useful," Lucius mused. "Our side will benefit from an additional Wizengamot vote. It's a pity that the Lestranges cannot be freed - as psychotic and vile I find them, we'd be granted yet another vote if they were outside of Azkaban's walls."

"Mm. You went to school with Sirius Black?"

"Yes. He was several years behind me."

"What was he like?"

Lucius thought for a moment. "He was intelligent enough, although much of that was

mitigated by his impulsivity. He was quick to form a grudge against those who opposed him - Severus crossed wands against Black and his little gang countless times during their years at Hogwarts."

"Charming. Now, tell me Lucius, how do you think Black will feel about Dumbledore after spending thirteen years falsely imprisoned after the man was one of the key figures preventing him from having a trial?"

Lucius smiled. "You think we can recruit him?"

"It's a distinct possibility. If anything, we can ensure that he won't support Dumbledore. The man conspired with Barty Crouch Sr. to pull numerous strings to ensure that Black didn't get a trial. Given Dumbledore's politics and what he thought of Black at the time, it wasn't a terrible decision. If Black had truly been the Dark Lord's right hand man, he could have easily bought himself a lighter sentence or escaped judgement entirely.

"However, as we know, that was not the case. You and Narcissa will be key to bringing Black back into the fold - act concerned, provide him with aid, support, a secure room in St. Mungo's if that's required. Make him at least grudgingly grateful to you. We can keep our knowledge of the Dark Lord to ourselves for now, no need to scare Black off or let the information out before He is fully corporal."

Lucius nodded. "Understood. There's another wonderful detail about Sirius Black."

"Pray tell."

"He's Harry Potter's godfather."

Thomas took a moment to digest that particular tidbit. "That makes keeping Black out of Dumbledore's camp of paramount importance. If Potter can be kept away from Dumbledore...well, you know how the Dark Lord and I feel about Potter."

"Of course. If we can use Potter to further our goals, then more power to us. If not...school age boys are often accident-prone."

"Indeed. And as for Black, if he is not conducive to our goals, well, an unfortunate, tragic accident can be arranged. Hector Mulciber and Antonin Dolohov have never been the most stable of individuals, even before Azkaban, and Pettigrew could be out for revenge. Your son is next in line for the Black seat, so regardless of what Black does, we will have that vote firmly back under our control."

"I will work with Draco on that. His behavior has been less than ideal of late."

"So you have told me."

"Narcissa and I are working on contingency plans."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"I hope I will not have to implement them, but should the cause require them, I will be ready."

Thomas smiled, shark-like, and raised his tea mug. "To the Dark Lord."

"May we ever prosper, and may His wisdom light our path."

They clinked their mugs together.

"For the brethren."

Great Hall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

30 May 1993

"So Weasley," Malfoy sneered, clearly still bitter about Ron's epic win during the quarterfinals of the Hogwarts Chess Tournament, "are you still slaving away at that pathetic pub job of yours this summer?"

Ron blinked, trying to figure out how in the name of Merlin Malfoy figured out about his job at the Muddy Hippogriff. "No, I'm not."

Malfoy looked surprised. "Did your stupid fat mother finally get to work?"

Ron stared at him coldly. "You will not speak of my mother that way," he said tightly.

"Or you'll do what?" Malfoy challenged.

"For starters, I'll make sure you never play on the Slytherin House team," Ron said. "I'll continue to prove you to be an idiot, and I'll accomplish whatever other petty vengeances I can think of. If you aren't intimidated by that, just imagine what Fred and George will do when I tell them about what you said." Ron raised an eyebrow cockily. "And, if that's not enough, I'll get Percy to tell your father you were slandering a member of an Ancient and Noble House."

Malfoy paled, then pasted a pretentious expression back onto his face. "Like you're going to prove me an idiot."

"I seem to be doing that now."

Silence hung in the air for a moment. "Well, then," Malfoy sniffed. "Did your stupid pub job kick you out?"

Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Really, Malfoy was going to harp on the fact that Ron worked again?

"No, they didn't," he said shortly. "Not that there's any shame in working, anyway. At least I'm helping my family, while you only bring disgrace to yours. If you really must know, I applied for and was accepted into Gringotts' Junior Cursebreaking Program."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You cheated."

"You'll find I didn't."

"You -"

"Just shut up," Ron said irritably. "I'm tired of talking to you."

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but Blaise beat him to it.

"Yeah, Draco, we're tired of hearing the sound of your voice. Do be quiet."

Ron grinned. "So, Harry, what are you up to this summer?"

"Well, in August I'm going to a Quidditch training camp…"

Office of Albus Dumbledore

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

30 May 1993

Albus sighed. Another year, gone. Another DADA professor to replace. The Board of Governors was sure to crack down harder on Albus' selection process this year, and he would need to make sure that everything was done by the book. Putting the issue to the side for the moment, Albus summoned the prefect nomination letters. Each Head of House nominated one or two students for each prefect position, and Albus made the final decision. Looking briefly through the letters now, it appeared that three out of the four new male prefects would be a shoo-in - Cedric Diggory would do great things for Hufflepuff, Euan McGonagall would lead well in Gryffindor, and Barclay Urquhart would be more than an adequate choice for Slytherin. Ravenclaw had two good candidates who Albus would have to evaluate later on. On the ladies' side, there were only two shoo-ins - Hestia Carrow for Slytherin and Aoife Moran for Ravenclaw. The rest of the prefects would need to be closely reviewed, and Albus placed the nomination letters to the side. He had more pressing information to deal with at the moment.

Albus summoned his Pensieve and withdrew a small bottle from his robes. Tipping the memories into the carved stone dish, he plunged his face in, and fell.

It was dark in the alleyway, and rats skittered in the corners. Rubbish littered the ground, and was disturbed when a man appeared with a slight pop. The rats scattered, and a shadow peeled himself off a wall.

"Ralph."

"Mundungus. What the bloody hell do you want?"

The shadowy figure shrugged, and coins clinked. "The usual."

'Ralph' shifted. "There are rumors of Mulciber."

"Mulciber?"

'Ralph' nodded. "I won't say more here, but consider yourself warned."

"Where did you hear that?" Mundungus demanded, but 'Ralph' had already disapparated. Mundungus swore prolifically, then the scene faded away.

Albus spiraled gently upward before arriving back at his desk, a frown firmly in place. The only Muciber he knew of was safely ensconced in Azkaban - and for a very good reason. Hector Mulciber had been one of Lord Voldemort's most ardent followers, and a truly disgusting specimen of humanity who delighted in the torture and murder of muggles. With numerous connections to the criminal underworld, Mulciber was a dangerous man and one who absolutely deserved his life sentence. Since there was no way to break out of Azkaban, Albus was confident that Dung's informant had been mistaken.

Although…

Albus froze, mind jumping ahead. Mulciber had been one of the Death Eaters who hadn't had a trial. There was certainly enough evidence to convict him, but he had been one of the many wizards rushed into prison. Come to think of it, several other Death Eaters had met similar fates - Edwin Travers, Augustus Rookwood, Antonin Dolohov, and Sirius Black, to name a few. A shiver ran down Albus' spine. If there were talks in the criminal underworld about Mulciber, then there must be a plan in the works to release him from Azkaban.

Who could stand to benefit? The question circled around Albus' mind. Who in their right mind would release Mulciber, along with several other loathsome Death Eaters? Only one man's name came to mind, one that had troubled Albus for several years now: the enigmatic, and increasingly concerning Lord Thomas Gaunt.

A/N: And that concludes volume two!

A huge thanks goes out to my beta readers, Scintilla of Myself and Aima D. Duragon! Without their help, this fic would not have been nearly as polished.

Also, thanks to all those who review, favorite, or follow this series. You inspire me to continue writing.

Mushy stuff aside, the first chapter of volume three, The Chessmaster: Black Bishop, has just been posted! Be sure to re-subscribe :)