Chapter Text
The wind outside howled as Robert Mulciber shivered uncomfortably in Lord Voldemort's sitting room in the Tintagel fortress. It was a cold and overall unpleasant night of All Hallows Eve in the year 1981, a night when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was as thin as it could be. A night good for dark deeds.
The sitting room was pretty much designed to cause discomfort to the Dark Lord's guests. Robert, one of its architects, knew the reasoning behind this decision: anxiety and general sense of dread made minds easier to read, and Lord Voldemort liked his mind magic almost above all else. With a Dark Lord capable of seeing into his followers’ most private thoughts, it wasn't hard to keep them loyal and honest. Unless of course said followers had their own skills... but that was a wholly different topic.
Mulciber mumbled another warming charm and longingly thought about the comforts of his own drawing room; the roaring fireplace and a gaggle of house elves ready with hot tea and perfectly buttery scones. Was it up to him, Mulciber would be sitting there, sprawled in the superbly comfortable armchair, reading an article in "The Potioneer" on the new uses of manticore blood in strengthening solutions or some other mildly interesting topic. He only had a chance to briefly see the contents of the latest issue and was quite pleased to see an article penned by Severus Snape, one of their own young and brilliant minds. This is what we should have always been about, he thought grimly, promoting Slytherin excellence and showing superiority over Muggles in ways that truly mattered.
But that was just a dream, as was a nice, quiet evening in his own home.
Robert Mulciber held a lone vigil, awaiting his Lord's return.
Somewhere out there his friend was dying. A friend he has known since he was an eleven year old boy and they sat at the Slytherin table for the first time; a boy he shared mischief and adventures and secrets with. A young man who supported him in his research and who helped him face the disapproval of the scientific community once his less savoury experiments came to light. A Knight. A Death Eater. A good, loyal man whose only fault was loving a bit too unwisely, and being surrounded by disloyal cowards. Somewhere out there Aldric Lestrange was probably already dead and the only thing Mulciber could still do for his friend was to make sure that his body will be buried with dignity and that his testament finds its way into the rightful hands. What else was there? After all, Robert was one of the disloyal cowards.
He moved to stand up and stretch his legs when the door suddenly opened - but it wasn't the Dark Lord, no, the night was still too young and Tom would go about murdering one of his first supporters with ceremony that required time. The mute house elf let Lucius Malfoy in and shut the door again after the Death Eater.
"Ah, master Mulciber…" The younger man sat down on the small sofa, wrapping himself in the thick black robes, and nodded to Robert. "Wretched night, isn't it?"
"Yes, I've been listening to the wind for the last couple of minutes," Mulciber replied absent-mindedly, brow furrowed a bit. He was not expecting any company and truth be told, he was not happy for having it. The matter at hand seemed better suited to be kept private, within a small group of old friends. "Or maybe it's the sea's roar, I'm not sure anymore. Have you been summoned?"
Malfoy rubbed his hands together, carefully finding his next words.
"Yes, and instructions were left for me to await the Dark Lord's return. What exactly are we waiting for, do you know?"
"Yes, I do happen to know," he admitted with a sigh. Malfoy waited patiently for him to continue, by now quite used to the older wizard talking slowly, thinking before formulating sentences that could be so easily misunderstood otherwise. "Two things, really. The Dark Lord decided to relieve Aldric Lestrange of his duties. Permanently."
Robert watched the younger wizard as he mulled over this information. Yes, Voldemort went to kill one of his oldest followers, one of his closest friends. Yes, this meant no one was safe. Yes, this meant Robert knew, and despite decades of close partnership he did nothing to warn Aldric. After all they were Slytherins and survival was more important than loyalty.
As Mulciber watched him, Malfoy thought all of this through and eventually nodded.
"May he finally find rest, and Merlin guide him through the paths of the afterlife, then." Malfoy looked the older Death Eater straight in the eye. Robert felt a brief moment of grim satisfaction for choosing his younger allies well. But he had no illusions, Lucius would say the same thing if it was Mulciber facing the Dark Lord out there and Aldric here in the uncomfortable seat. "And the other reason?"
"I suppose you are aware of the prophecy. How much have you been told by our Lord?"
"Not much."
"I have to admit I'm surprised, it was your little protegee who brought it to our attention. It says that a child able to defeat the Dark Lord was born in July to parents from Dumbledore's lot. Tonight, a spy brought us their location. The Dark Lord went to deal with the issue."
"Alone? Is this wise?"
Mulciber was silent for a long while, staring into the cold and empty fireplace. He was perfectly aware that in the layer of spells laid over this room, spying ones were quite prominent. Words had power these days - power to kill as much as power to keep one alive. And now more than ever Robert felt the weight of his age on his shoulders.
"What is not wise is to question the Dark Lord's reasons, Lucius, as he probably has perfectly good ones that neither of us is aware of. However, between the two of us, I share your concerns. With the Ministry still not put in its place and Dumbledore's rabid little club of Gryffindors at large, I am a paranoid old wizard."
"I did not mean any disrespect, of course."
"Of course." Mulciber sighed. "You see, Lucius, this night may be our greatest triumph yet. With the last obstacle removed, there will be nothing standing in our way to establish the Ministry that would share our values and believe in the old ways. Dumbledore's people will lose whatever hope they might still hold on to, and eventually we'll round them all up thanks to our spies and informants. In a year or two, my young friend, the Dark Lord will rule England without even a whisper of opposition. Your son will be raised in a new, safe society. Won't you agree that it is worth the Dark Lord's time to see the events of this night through?"
Judging from the calculating look on Lucius' face, and the brief look towards the ceiling, the younger Slytherin understood what was left unsaid - as well as the weight of every word.
"The vision of wizarding children thriving in a world under the Dark Lord's rule is a pleasant one," he allowed, with a nod. The smile that bloomed on his face when Robert asked about the young Malfoy heir was genuine, and filled with the fatherly pride that made Mulciber miss the simpler times. It was a nice distraction, he decided.
"Draco is just fine, thank you for asking. I have bought him one of those little children's broomsticks, you see, he has taken to flying like a mermaid to water."
"Ah, I imagine Narcissa was not too pleased."
"Indeed, she was not."
Mulciber was just about to share a bit of his methods of dealing with angry wives when the door to the draughty sitting room opened and Aldric Lestrange sauntered in, very much alive and looking rather peeved, his robe in disarray and long hair escaping the neat ribbon that tied them at the nape of his neck.
"Malfoy, Mulciber," he muttered, barely acknowledging them in favour of making his way straight to the small glass table where glasses and slightly dusty decanters stood. "At least it's not the full blasted gathering of the Inner Circle."
Robert got to his feet and in three big steps got to his friend's side, hesitant hand touching the man's arm as if to make sure it was indeed Lestrange alive and well, and not some ghost. Halloween night made for strange visions, sometimes.
"I assure you I'm very much alive," said Aldric coldly. The 'not thanks to you' was left unsaid for now, and Lucius had a strong suspicion the two Death Eaters would resolve their differences later and in a more private setting. He decided to keep quiet, even if he was strangely relieved to see the other man unharmed.
"I am glad to see it, old friend," said Mulciber, hands still tight on Lestrange's arms. "But I have to ask: how?"
Only from this close he could see that Aldric's eyes were bright with a strange wildfire, an excitement not seen since the days of their youth. The wizard in question politely shrugged off Mulciber's hold and handed him a glass of Firewhiskey instead. He took the other two glasses and moved to sit near Malfoy, also handing him a drink.
"Well, gentlemen", started Aldric when Robert followed him in haste. "I've been prepared to die tonight when the strangest person came through my wards. A girl not much younger than master Malfoy here, a girl who is yet to be and spoke of things that may never come to pass."
"Stop talking in fucking riddles, Lestrange."
"Always the impatient, Robert, but fine then, I'll speak plainly. A girl claiming to be from the future told me that the Dark Lord falls tonight, defeated by Lily Potter's love for her son and the sacrifice she was willing to make. Gave me memories of his second return and subsequent fall by the hand of the prophesied child, the Potter boy, and of all the mistakes you idiots have made. And after she left, our Lord visited me and I relayed the message of his little time-traveller."
"And here you stand, " said Tom Riddle from the doorway, leaning on the frame casually. He waved for them to sit when Lucius made an aborted move to stand up in respect. "In full grace again."
"Yes."
"And I am glad to welcome you home."
Riddle closed the door and moved to sit in the only comfortable armchair in the room, on the way picking up his own glass of liquor. With a wave of his hand the room grew significantly warmer, and Robert could have sworn that the roar of the waves he kept hearing throughout the evening finally calmed down into a faraway hum of the sea.
"As we speak," Voldemort said with visible satisfaction on his face, "Peter Pettigrew is going to a village where the Potter house is located. He's their Secret Keeper so he'll be granted entrance without a question, just a friend dropping by to see how they are faring. Our little rat should be able to get James Potter, from behind, I have no doubt. And once he does, a small group of Death Eaters led by our magnificent Bellatrix will deal with the child."
"And the woman, my Lord?" asked Lucius, forehead creased. Riddle smiled lazily and shrugged.
"Bella knows that if she harms Lily Potter I will be most displeased. She is to be given as a reward to Severus Snape, for his tireless work. Poor boy deserves some recognition, don't you think? And I feel rather generous tonight."
An incentive, thought Lucius while nodding slightly. A leash to make sure Severus doesn't try and do something stupid, like going to Dumbledore. Clever.
"They will be martyrs," muttered Mulciber, swilling his drink in its glass. "James and Harry Potter, murdered by the Dark Lord. Lily Potter, innocent victim of violence and rape from dirty Death Eater hands."
"Let them have their saints," answered Aldric softly. "After the Potters are gone, the Order is done. Giving them names to pray to is the least we could do, really."
Robert looked at his friend for a long while, cataloguing every change - the glint of madness in his eyes, the adrenaline rush after near-miss with Tom's Avada, the dark circles under his eyes, as well as the pronounced lines of worry and pain etched deep into his face. Mulciber didn't like what he saw but this wasn't the time nor the place.
"Well then, my faithful gentlemen!" Riddle clapped once, his face suggesting he was clearly satisfied by the world his Death Eaters were putting at his feet. "Time to get to work.”