Chapter 1275 The Executor Who Lighted the Fire Barrel
Late at night, Malfoy Manor.
The once magnificent gallery, used to flaunt wealth and lineage, was now shrouded in darkness and looked utterly gloomy. The portraits of the Malfoy ancestors on both sides of the gallery all had their mouths tightly shut, their eyes filled with terror.
A chilling atmosphere permeated the manor, like despair or a plea.
The study door opened, and Luciusto, looking exhausted, walked toward the bedroom.
The eerie green fire burning in the fireplace stretched his shadow long and distorted. He tightened his coat, but the green light offered no warmth; its rays were like the winter wind, penetrating to the bone.
The luxurious crystal chandelier was covered with a thick layer of dust. Lucius quickly shook off the green light and returned to his bedroom in the darkness.
In the room, Narcissa finally loosened her tightly clenched hands.
Her voice trembled slightly with suppressed emotion. "His reply was just a simple 'I understand.' He should understand the current situation of the manor."
Lucius’s bloodless lips curled up slightly. “He didn’t complain, he didn’t ask any questions. He’s grown up, faster than we hoped.”
He turned around, and on the beechwood desk lay the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, the front page featuring Vincent Wayne's latest whereabouts and a picture of the extremely dry and hot Sahara Desert.
“The Dark Lord’s patience is wearing thin.” Lucius tapped the wanted poster photo on the newspaper with his finger. “Wayne has distracted him and damaged his prestige. He desperately needs an overwhelming victory to rekindle the fear.”
Narcissa unconsciously clenched her hands again. "What is it?"
Lucius shook his head. "It's not clear yet, but he's very interested in the news Severus brought last time."
Narcissa's face turned deathly pale. "That prophecy orb?"
Lucius looked out the pitch-black window. "He's always wanted to control his own destiny, his prophecy with Potter... and ever since the diary..."
Narcissa took his hands in hers. “We all know he never trusts anyone.”
Lucius held her tightly. "The Prophecy Orb is located deep within the Ministry of Magic, protected by ancient magic. It is common sense that only those involved in the prophecy can safely retrieve it."
His voice was calm. "Potter is under Dumbledore's tight protection. The only way for him to get the Prophecy Ball is to go there in person. So, he needs to create a chaotic situation that will allow him to safely get the Prophecy Ball."
Narcissa gasped sharply.
She thought of the Ministry of Magic's tight security, the public eye, and the inevitable intervention of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.
“If my guess is correct…” Lucius’s voice fell coldly, “he needs an event that is loud enough and terrifying enough to draw all attention and power to him.”
He twitched the corners of his mouth, as if mocking himself, "As the executor, he must have enough weight. He must ignite the fury of the entire British world, not just the magical community. Ideally, he should be someone with a criminal record, a motive, and someone who can be sacrificed."
“You mean…” Narcissa’s face paled further, and her voice tightened, “He wants you to do this? To be the one to light the powder keg…”
Lucius shook his head. "He didn't say it explicitly, but he started frequently mentioning those loyal servants who had already 'sacrificed' themselves—August Lukewood, Barty Crouch Jr., Rodolphus Lestrange, and that Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew. He was implying to me that true atonement requires sacrifices beyond the ordinary."
These loyal servants either died or were captured, each meeting a more tragic end than the last.
“As for that matter…” Lucius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “It’s quite logical that some important department of the Ministry of Magic orchestrated a horrific attack to draw the attention of all Aurors and wizards to the scene.”
He opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the newspaper on the table before settling on the photo of the wanted poster. "But this... isn't shocking enough."
Narcissa looked terrified.
Compared to what the person in the photo did, attacking the Ministry of Magic was indeed child's play.
They turned the Ministry of Magic upside down in front of a group of dignitaries, even setting the Minister's office on fire with Fiendfyre, and then left England unscathed.
Narcissa could not even imagine what would be more shocking than this.
Lucius helped her sit down. “I also thought of another possibility, something older, purer, and…more cruel and terrifying.”
His voice lowered, with a hint of instinctive resistance: "A large-scale, high-profile, and extremely bloody attack against Muggles, which could take place on a busy street, in a crowded train station, or at a festival where they gather to celebrate."
Narcissa gripped the armrests of the velvet chair tightly.
“Think about it,” Lucius’s voice became unusually calm again, as if it were none of his business, “how would the Ministry of Magic react if something like that happened? How would the International Confederation of Wizards be shaken? How would public opinion be in an uproar? Where would Dumbledore and his Phoenix Society be forced into?”
He asked and answered himself: "They will come out in full force, and all resources will be devoted to the investigation, rescue, and the hunt for the killer. The guards of the Bureau of Mysteries will be weakened and mobilized under that level of public panic and accountability pressure, and unprecedented gaps will appear."
He turned to face Narcissa's pale face. "And I, Lucius Malfoy, a former Death Eater who has just fallen out of favor due to 'gross negligence' and 'mission failure,' a pure-blood wizard known for his 'traditional views' on Muggle-borns, a madman who may 'harbor resentment' and 'intend to take revenge on society' because of the Dark Lord's punishment and the Ministry of Magic's ostracism..."
Lucius paused, his expression eerily calm. "Isn't such a person a perfect murderer? A madman who doesn't need to give orders himself, but only needs a hint or a little pressure to 'act on his own'?"
Narcissa's breath caught in her throat; this speculation was more terrifying than an attack on the Ministry of Magic.
Attacking the Ministry of Magic is an act of war, but a large-scale attack on Muggles is a thoroughly anti-social and inhumane act of evil, a crime that will be permanently nailed to the pillar of historical shame.
Once executed, regardless of success or failure, the executor and their family will be doomed, with no chance of redemption.
She finally understood why Lucius wanted her to contact Draco.
This is not just a simple sacrifice; it is about bearing eternal stigma and going to hell, using the last value of the Malfoy name to pave the way for Voldemort.
“He didn’t say it explicitly,” Lucius’s voice became a little hoarse, “but all the hints point to this. He’s been casually mentioning several dark magic disasters that have targeted Muggle communities in history lately, and he’s also asked me about the Ministry of Magic’s emergency procedures for large-scale Muggle attacks.”
He held Narcissa's cold hand tightly. "So Draco must not come back, not because the manor is in danger, but because of me. If I am really pushed down this path, then the heir of the Malfoy family must stay away from all of this from the very beginning. He must stay at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's nose, with a solid alibi."
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