In the dark room, Lucius stood to one side, delight on his face, waiting for an answer from the deeper darkness.
"Well done." The voice from the darkness was as cold as ever, but the almost pleased tremor in it eased Lucius Malfoy's taut nerves a little.
Bringing this news had pleased his master after all.
"The Daily Prophet has confirmed it, Master." Lucius bowed slightly, his tone growing more respectful.
"Will... Will..." Voldemort murmured the name. "My student has proved his worth, and his loyalty."
Lucius caught the difference in his master's tone when he spoke of Will. Of course, he had long noticed that his master's attitude toward Will was unusual—he was the Dark Lord's disciple, after all.
"He's more useful than many of you, Lucius." Voldemort's voice returned to its customary chill. "After all these years, how many Death Eaters have failed to kill Potter?"
Cold sweat broke out on Lucius's forehead. Easy for him to say. Who would provoke Dumbledore for a Dark Lord who had already fallen?
The Death Eaters? They had scattered the moment their Dark Lord fell. Now only a handful remained; some were dead, some had fled, and others had been sent to Azkaban.
Those who had escaped prosecution had paid dearly for it.
How much had he himself slipped those vampires at the Ministry of Magic to avoid punishment?
And now they were supposed to kill the Chosen One?
Who would do it?
Despite his private complaints, Lucius barely dared to breathe.
"As for you, Lucius..." Voldemort changed tack, making Lucius's heart leap again. "I've seen your recent contributions. Those Potions... have worked well."
The mention of them made Lucius wince inwardly. Those rare Potions had cost him a great many Galleons, but he showed none of it. He kept his