Could it be... the Dark Lord?
Could the Dark Lord never have truly trusted me from the very beginning?
On the surface, he sent me to the North Sea to break them out of prison, but in secret, he dispatched another mysterious force that even I knew nothing about to move all the Dementors and Death Eaters ahead of time?
Yes... that must be it.
If so, everything that happened on the North Sea tonight was not merely a test, but a warning.
The Dark Lord was telling me: Lucius, you are not irreplaceable.
As for the Ministry of Magic staging the whole thing itself?
Don't make me laugh.
If that idiot Fudge, who knew nothing but eating crystallized pineapple, had the brains and the nerve for that, pigs could ride flying broomsticks in the Quidditch World Cup.
So there was only one conclusion: a group of extremely dangerous criminals really was roaming some corner of the United Kingdom like ghosts at this very moment.
No matter whose hands they were in now, this world was no longer safe.
"Father?"
Draco called out tentatively.
That call abruptly dragged Lucius out of his chilling deductions and back to reality.
He raised his head, a nearly frenzied flame of survival burning in his gray eyes.
"Quick!"
Lucius roared at Draco, then turned and rushed toward the study.
"Wipe that pitiful, terrified look off your face! We're standing on the edge of a cliff!"
Draco... Lucius charged into the study, roughly shoved aside several books, and pulled a palm-sized metal core shaped like a regular dodecahedron from a hidden compartment.
Complex golden runes flowed across its surface, and at its center was engraved a symbol that every pure-blood family both loved and hated-
"MPC"
Marauders Power Company.
"Full defenses! Activate 'Ironclad Fortress' mode!"