A Horcrux's Fate

Chapter 11

Arthur sat hunched at his desk in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor. His eyes kept flicking to the clock on the wall, each second ticking by like a hammer to his nerves. The request he had sent to Kingsley weighed heavily on his mind, and the longer the silence stretched, the harder it became to sit still.

He tried to busy himself with scribbled notes and half-finished paperwork, but the words swam on the page, unreadable. He couldn't focus. The waiting gnawed at him. Kingsley had promised to follow up quickly. That had been nearly an hour ago.

With a sharp breath, Arthur shoved back his chair and stood. He couldn't bear the stillness anymore. Pacing the length of the small office, he rubbed his chin, the familiar motion doing little to ease his anxiety. His thoughts spun in frantic circles—who was Kingsley speaking to? Why was it taking so long? And, most of all, what news would he bring about Harry?

The boy's worsening condition haunted Arthur's thoughts, each passing hour a cruel reminder that they were running out of time.

He didn't even pause to grab his robe as he left the office. His footsteps echoed sharply in the corridor, cutting through the ministry's usual hum. People bustled past him, but Arthur barely registered them. His mind was fixed, laser-focused, driving him forward with purpose.

A crowd had formed outside Kingsley's office. Curious faces turned, voices whispered, but Arthur didn't stop. Whatever the commotion was, it could wait. He veered toward the lower levels instead—toward the courtrooms.

The deeper he went, the quieter it became. The ministry's underground corridors were eerily still, their silence pressing in on him like a weight. His footsteps grew faster, more urgent, as a growing sense of dread twisted in his gut.

Two Aurors stood outside the interrogation chamber. Arthur nodded curtly to them and stepped toward the heavy wooden door, raising his hand to knock—

The door swung open before he touched it.

Kingsley stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders tense, his expression drawn. His usually calm face showed signs of strain, and a flash of irritation burnt behind his eyes.

Behind him, Arthur caught a glimpse of pale blond hair—Lucius Malfoy. The sight made his stomach turn. Narcissa stood beside him, her face unreadable. Arthur's jaw clenched.

Kingsley stepped out, closing the door behind him. The two men looked at each other, silent for a beat.

"Kingsley," Arthur said, voice low. "You kept me waiting."

"I know," Kingsley sighed. "Lucius was being... difficult."

Arthur scoffed. "That's not news. Did he tell you anything actually useful, or was it all polished lies and posturing?"

"There was some truth," Kingsley said slowly. "Or at least something that felt close to it. He's scared, Arthur. Desperate."

"Desperate men lie," Arthur said flatly. "Lucius has never done a selfless thing in his life."

"I agree. But we may be able to use that desperation. He claims he wants to help. Said he'll name every Death Eater still in hiding, give us locations, connections—everything."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "And what does he want in return?"

"Full pardon," Kingsley said, voice tight. "For himself and his family. He wants their names cleared. Their reputation restored."

Arthur let out a bitter laugh. "He wants to rewrite history. Pretend he was never part of it."

Kingsley gave a tired nod. "He's playing a dangerous game. But I made sure he knew the stakes. I told him if he's lying, if he's holding anything back—I'll destroy whatever's left of his name. I'll freeze his accounts. Expose every secret he has. He knows I'll do it."