The fire crackled in the hearth.
Abou and Lucius sat some distance apart, both gazing absentmindedly out at the night.
They had just learned from Draco about the Dark Lord's talk of "the scepter, the torch, and the scythe."
"We'll be the foundation of the Scepter, won't we, Father?"
Lucius turned his head toward his father, whose features had regained their steely resolve.
After the curse disappeared, Abou had changed considerably. The handsome features unique to the Malfoy family had returned to his face.
But unlike Lucius's refined good looks, Abou's features were sharply defined, giving him a handsome, rugged appearance.
"If we do well enough, we'll become the foundation."
Lucius drew his gaze from the early-spring night beyond the window and frowned at his son. "That depends on the choice you make."
"Does it?"
Lucius murmured as if asking himself, then avoided his father's gaze.
Abou did not put any more pressure on him. He looked away and gazed out the window.
Just as he had told Voldemort, every member of the Malfoy family obeyed its head.
He had long since relinquished that position, and had no intention of taking it back.
"I'd like to hear your advice, Father," Lucius said quietly.
Abou paused. That sounded awfully familiar.
Twenty years ago, when Voldemort had just begun his rise and Abou was busy fighting for influence in the Ministry of Magic, Lucius had come to him and asked the same thing.
"You'll have to make that choice yourself."
Abou smiled as he spoke, and Lucius smiled too when he heard him.
"But I need you to offer me some advice. An analysis would do as well."
Lucius looked at his father and repeated the same words he had said twenty years ago.
He still remembered how his father had hesitated