Lucky

A Meeting, a Letter and a Plot

Far out in the secluded countryside of Northern Wales stood a crumbling, dilapidated old house. It had once been grand, but now only a small portion of one wing remained inhabitable. Vines clambered up each and every wall, and many of the floorboards were rotting with dampness. There was very little furniture, merely a few moth-eaten old chairs left to rot, a musty sofa and a broken four-poster bed. A small kitchenette was still functional, containing a gas oven, a sink and a workbench. No one had lived in the house for at least twenty years. Until now, that is.

After a number of household spells had been used to repair the remaining acceptable wing, a few camp beds set up in each of the bedrooms, and a long table lined with chairs set up in what had once been a drawing room. This secluded, crumbling manor had become the headquarters of the remaining Death Eaters.

A meeting was taking place, with no fear of being discovered due to the countless charms cast over the site. Rodolphus Lestrange sat at the head of the long table, tapping his fingers impatiently. Sitting to his right was Ivy Shafiq, who was right in the middle of complaining about something. On his left, three more male Death Eaters listening intently to what was being said. And at the other end of the table sat Narcissa Malfoy, gripping her nephew's wrist tightly as he sat beside her, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut.

"Incase you had forgotten, Rodolphus, my fiancé is locked up in Azkaban prison!" Ivy Shafiq was ranting in an almost hysterical tone. "And I do believe you had made me a promise to -"

"Incase you had forgotten, Miss Shafiq, my brother and many of my most faithful allies are also in Azkaban!" Rodolphus cut her off with a snarl. "All of them will be liberated, and subsequently avenged, you need not fear. Now, Mr Malfoy.." Lestrange's glare snapped down the table to rest of Abraxas. "Do you have any updates?"

Abraxas felt his palms begin to sweat slightly. "I, uh - I visited my uncle just last week, and he is doing well. There are no updates from his side."

"Really?" Lestrange raised an eyebrow. "Because I heard that your uncle has entrusted you with a task."

"And where might you have heard that?" Abraxas inquired, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Next to him, Narcissa flushed pink. Abraxas released a defeated sigh.

"Yes, Lestrange, I can confirm that my uncle has given me a task. What that task is, I'm afraid I am not able to divulge."

"And why might that be, Abraxas?" Lestrange demanded, his voice sleek and quiet, yet deadly.

"My uncle personally requested that our business stays between us."

"Well, Abraxas, I personally request that you tell me. Promptly." Rodolphus's dark grey eyes glittered menacingly and his voice was sharp.

Abraxas looked down at the table top and said nothing.

Ivy Shafiq was growing bored. "I think there are more pressing matters at hand!" She cried shrilly. "Such as how we break our own out of Azkaban, how we avenge them, how we take back all we have lost!"

Lestrange smirked and nodded. "Well, Ivy, perhaps if Mr Malfoy was to share this oh so important secret of his, it could bring us all one step closer to our goal.."

Abraxas sighed, knowing that he had no choice. "My uncle has asked that I personally kill Harry Potter." He blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.

Lestrange cackled. "Not a bad idea. But, Abraxas..." he stood up, stalked down the table until he was behind Abraxas, and placed his hands heavily on the young man's shoulders. "You are a terrible liar."