Malfoy had just returned from a charity dinner in London—an annual fundraiser for St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, attended mostly by Ministry of Magic officials and representatives of wealthy pure-blood families.
The thought of Fudge's interminable speech at the event made Lucius want to throw up. Fudge had kept flaunting his "wise decisions" in the Black case. Merlin's flowery bedsheets, did that bastard have nothing else to show off about? He had brought it up at every sort of gathering over the past few months.
He hurried into the familiar, chilly room. At the heart of the darkness, two points of scarlet light appeared. They were eyes.
"Lucius." The voice came from the black mist, hoarse and cold, with an inhuman quality.
Lucius immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My master, you summoned me."
The black mist writhed slowly, a human silhouette barely visible within it, as though formed from pure darkness. Yet those scarlet eyes were exceptionally distinct, like blood-red flames burning in the dark.
"Rise," Voldemort commanded. "You have done well these past two years."
Lucius rose as instructed but maintained a respectful posture, his gaze lowered to the floor. Looking directly at his lord was disrespectful, even if he had yet to fully regain his physical form.
"Word has come from Durmstrang," Voldemort said. "The Triwizard Tournament will be held in the autumn."
He paused, seemingly considering something. "Contact Will. Have him come here during the summer holiday."
"Master, Mr. Behrens is still a student," Lucius said cautiously. "He may have some talent, but he is young and inexperienced. Entrusting him with such an important task..."
"Are you questioning my judgment, Lucius?" Voldemort's voice abruptly turned colder.
"No! Of course not!" Lucius hastily bowed his head. "I am merely concerned about