ᴅɪsᴘᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ | ᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇᴜʀs' ᴇʀᴀ

Chapter 46: Plans for Holidays

Malfoy Manor

Lucius called Mulciber into his house early in the morning, interrogating him about what had happened on that ill-fated night. Mulciber hinted in every way that Peter Pettigrew was to blame. Malfoy, to be honest, suspected Mulciber so the conversation didn't go well.

"Do I look like a clown, Tony?" Malfoy was pale, cold and very, very angry.

"No, Lucius."

"Then why my words amuse you?"

Mulciber swallowed, tried to smile.

"They just sound strange, Lucius," he clarified. "You say that you walked along the corridor, entered your room, felt someone stick wand in your back, and then nothing. But Peter Pettigrew, of course, is not to blame for anything. It's odd, don't you think?"

"Pettigrew is our only source among the whole herd of Gryffindor sheep who obeys Dumbledore unconditionally. We carefully selected all possible candidates. Pettigrew is a loyal friend of Marauders, but without support he's weak. He will break. And he won't have the strength to play a double game."

Anthony was quiet, staring skeptically behind Malfoy's shoulder. He didn't need to argue because he didn't care about the common success; being a Death Eater was just entertaining, he didn't pursue a great goal.

"Do they call themselves the Order of the Phoenix?" Mulciber smirked, changing the subject.

"You think 'the Death Eaters' sounds better?"

"At least our actions─"

"Leave grand rhetoric for newcomers."

"At least we're doing something," Mulciber corrected himself. "Our performance is higher."

"Then why I don't see the results?"

Mulciber scowled.

"Because we need time. Everybody sure was glad that the potion works, but as it turned out, it's not perfect. It turned out that its effect is extremely short. Large doses work without fail, but the signs are too obvious already at the first stage. And the headmaster is on the alert."

"So, Snape is not as good as they say?"

It sounded too joyful and Mulciber pretended not to notice.

"Apparently," he answered flatly. "But no one believed that he would cope with this task. Now he rose even higher."

Mulciber with polite interest looked around the room. He didn't quite understand what they had left to discuss and began to suspect the hidden goal of this conversation. But Malfoy kept silence, absently tapping fingers on the armrest, and Anthony could only humbly wait.

"I need Emily," Lucius finally said.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Parker, dammit!" Malfoy exploded. "Emily Parker from Ravenclaw!"

Mulciber pondered for a long time, wrinkling his forehead and staring at distorted with malice face of his rival. Malfoy's discontent didn't bother him at all, none of the purebloods is obliged to remember by name all the mudbloods he ever met.

"That lass?" he drawled, "The one we chased in the forest?"

"Yes."

"Do you need her? Or the Lord?"

The silence was long. Malfoy shifted his grey eyes to Mulciber and said nothing.

"I'll bring the girly to you," Mulciber responded reluctantly. "Do whatever you want. I won't tell anyone."