Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

The two of them stared at each other, as though locked in a silent battle of wills, the air between them heavy enough to crush breath.

Perhaps it was the heavy atmosphere, perhaps it was the wand in Evan’s hand, or perhaps it was his increasingly chaotic thoughts, but finally Lucius Malfoy couldn’t hold back any longer. He looked up and asked, “What do you want to know here?”

“Everything … of course, that largely depends on how much you know,” Evan said, looking directly at him. “I hope you realize, Mr. Malfoy, that we may not be enemies. In some ways, our goals are aligned.”

“That’s ridiculous…”

“No, it’s not ridiculous at all. There’s quite a lot we can cooperate on,” said Evan firmly. “For example, protecting your wife and son from the Dark Lord — that’s something we can work on together.”

“I don’t understand what you’re implying. The Dark Lord —”

“He doesn’t trust you!” Evan cut in bluntly. “Of course, he’s never trusted anyone; he only trusts himself. But his attitude towards your family now isn’t just simple distrust; it’s hatred. And that, Mr. Malfoy, is dangerous…”

“Empty fearmongering. A Malfoy is always the Dark Lord’s most valued, most trusted servant.”

“I told you, Mr. Malfoy, your lies are utterly unwise, and unlike the Malfoy style,” said Evan, his left thumb slamming upwards along the edge of the serpent-headed cane, causing the wand concealed inside to spring out. “Is this your new wand? Is it any better than the old one? He took it — because he ‘trusted’ you, did he?”

This time, Lucius didn’t answer immediately. He stared intently at Evan, lost in thought, his expression tightening.

During the operation to stop Harry’s transfer a few days earlier, Voldemort had taken his wand and never returned it.

Lucius didn’t know why Voldemort had done it, but he knew he might need a new wand. He soon got a new one, just as ornate as the old one, but he didn’t like it.

He had lost more than just a wand; he had lost the power and prestige of the Malfoy family.

Merlin knew how many were waiting to watch the Malfoys fall!

“This time, he took your wand. What will he take next? What do the Malfoys have left that can satisfy him?” Evan asked quietly, answering his own question. “To be honest, I never believed Draco had the wit or the strength to complete the task he was given at Hogwarts last year. The job was impossible. And Professor Dumbledore knew his intentions — knew every move he made. If he hadn’t been helping Draco in the shadows… by the time you were freed from Azkaban, the only thing left for you to do would have been to bury your son.”

“In the end, Dumbledore died!” Lucius spat each word through clenched teeth, his face gone pale with fury.

“That’s because, in his plan, he needed to leave this world. There were things only he could do beyond it,” said Evan. He noticed a flicker of interest cross Malfoy’s face, but it vanished in an instant and was quickly concealed.

“You mean … Dumbledore is not dead?”

“You may think of it that way. Death is not an ending — not to anyone except a wizard like the Dark Lord, who fears it. Dumbledore never feared death,” said Evan. “In fact, whether he’s really dead or not is not the point. But if knowing he still lives gives you a sliver of confidence in working with us… then I can tell you plainly: Dumbledore will return.”

“You’re lying, boy!” Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes, pondering the meaning of Evan’s words. “You came here trying to turn me against the Dark Lord, to make me your spy. You must be out of your mind…”

“No, Mr. Malfoy, I’ve always been very confident in my actions. I don’t want you to be our spy, and frankly, I don’t trust you nearly enough for that. This is cooperation — nothing more. We work toward a shared goal,” Evan continued. “After all, after that incident, you and your family simply happen to stand on the same side as us.”

“What incident? Speak plainly!”

“I thought you already knew. The Dark Lord flew into a rage here last night over yet another item gone missing. I heard many died — loyal Death Eaters, every one,” Evan said. “Think about it, how did he react after you lost that other item? Do you imagine he forgave you because you’re a Malfoy? We all know the answer is no. He didn’t … He never will. And now that he knows the things he forged to preserve his life are dwindling… his hatred for your family will only grow. The fact he hasn’t killed you already is the greatest mercy he’ll ever show you. No one — no matter who — survives losing a Horcrux. Isn’t that right?”

The moment Evan spoke the word Horcrux, Lucius went dead white. He stared at Evan with wide eyes.

“Horcrux…” Lucius murmured, “So that diary really was a Horcrux.”

And suddenly, everything clicked — the Dark Lord’s shifting attitude, his commands, every cruel demand and humiliation that had followed.

Losing a Horcrux was equivalent to killing Voldemort once, or even more serious.

Just as Evan had said, the fact Lucius was still alive could only be attributed to Voldemort’s mercy.

“The wizards killed here last night were utterly worthless to him; they paid with their lives because of the loss of a Horcrux. But believe me, Horcruxes aren’t the entirety of his evil,” said Evan. “Soon, once the Dark Lord’s magic succeeds, the Death Eaters’ support will be meaningless to him; all he needs is death and destruction.”

Damn it, Lucius realized he was starting to overthink again. He was being led by the nose by this boy, but he couldn’t push back, because he had no right to push back.

Just as Evan had said, the wizards who died here last night had died for the slightest connection. And he — the man responsible for losing an entire Horcrux…

“What do you want? My allegiance?” he asked slowly.

“No, you still don’t understand, Mr. Malfoy,” said Evan. “Let me repeat myself: we have a common goal, and how much you contribute to achieving it is entirely up to you. Of course, the final outcome — what you ultimately gain or lose — depends entirely on your own efforts. Fair enough, isn’t it? I’m not asking you to swear allegiance to anyone. You may continue carrying out the tasks he gives you. But when it comes to the goal we share… you make certain adjustments. Small ones. Subtle ones. Sounds very Malfoy, doesn’t it?”