Bait, Clues, and the Research Center

"Now," Madara said without the slightest inflection, "Dumbledore's eyes are on two places. One is the petrified bodies, searching for traces of the attacker. The other is Potter, judging whether the Golden Boy he chose can withstand the pressure. He suspects, but he does not dare be certain. He needs evidence, and evidence—we have not given him any yet."

Lucius lowered his head, not daring to respond.

"But soon, he will receive something." Madara's fingers tapped lightly against the tabletop, once after another. The sound was faint, yet in the silent room, every tap echoed through Lucius's chest like a bell.

"An owl will deliver anonymous letters to him. The letters will mention several names—names belonging to ancient pure-blood families, people who supported Voldemort during the first war but later bought back their innocence with Galleons and tears. Dumbledore will investigate those names, because he is someone who likes to seek truth in the darkness. He will dig up those names one by one, like turning through an old book covered in dust. He will spend a great deal of time on it. And while he is spending that time—"

He paused, his finger tracing a circle on the table.

"We need to divert his attention. Not to stop him from investigating, but to make him believe that the direction he is investigating is the right one. To make him believe those pure-blood families really are plotting something. To make him believe there really is a traitor inside the castle. To make him believe those petrified students really are part of some greater plan. The more certain he is that he is looking in the right direction, the less likely he will be to look elsewhere."

Lucius finally raised his head, but his gaze only dared settle on Madara's fingers.