The Secret War | Dramione

Chapter 16

Malfoy Manor

Survive at all costs. Take what was before you, even if it wasn't yours to take.

That was the way of things.

Lucius breathed in deeply.

The manor's tables were polished, the marble floors were pristine, and the chandeliers glistened in the sunlight.

There was nothing out of place, but it was a stark contrast to the world outside. Only an hour away in London, riots and executions were taking place.

Muggles were killing wizards.

It won't be long until the mob arrives here, Lucius thought grimly.

The Dark Lord had failed to listen to reason.

"Why should we live in the shadows?" he had said. "We are superior. Let the muggles have their frail rebellion."

But the rebellion was far from frail. Countless wizards were dying. Muggle weapons were more advanced than the Dark Lord conceded.

The Magical Alliance was also gaining ground, slowly pushing their way out of Wales and back into Scotland.

How much time until they made it south, to London?

Voldemort's obsession with finding Potter consumed him. He believed that if killed Potter, everything else would fall into place.

But the tide was turning...it could pull them under.

Lucius flinched when Dolohov interrupted his thoughts.

"The rumors say they're bringing Potter back on the Bulgarian ship, the one the Granger girl fled on."

Lucius turned to him.

"There are more than thirty thousand freshwater lochs in Scotland...and when that blasted ship returns, as it inevitably will, it will emerge from one of them." Lucius paused, a satisfied expression on his face. "And now, thanks to Draco, we know which one."

Dolohov nodded at him.

Lucius looked down at his son's letter again, reading through the last few lines.

...I want the Dark Lord's assurance that he'll let mother live. I want to see her free of Edevane's grasp, and yours. I want to make it clear that I did none of this for you, I did it all for her. When the war is over, I'm taking her out of England.

D.M.

Lucius turned to Dolohov once more, his jaw tightening.

"Go to Greymoor Castle. Fetch the youngest Weasley boy. It's time."

***

600 Kilometers Away

The Magical Alliance watched as a massive ship emerged from the water.

The masts of the Dragomir appeared, then the quarterdeck and the forecastle. Cascades of water dripped down the galleon's sides as it broke through the surface.

Hermione and Draco peered over the railing of the ship. They hung on tightly as the Dragomir fought to steady itself, making large ripples in the water.

The majestic mountains of home greeted their eyes. It looked like it had rained for days on end.

There were tents as far as the eye could see.

There had to be over three thousand soldiers in the camp. It looked like many of them were wounded...

A wretched smell filled the air, and Hermione saw smoke rising in the distance. She was filled with dread as she realized the soldiers were burning the bodies of the dead.