Squibbed

My Lord has given me this journal, to help me process things. He says I may write freely about the events of the day, my thoughts and feelings, and things that are troubling me. I cannot think what reason he has to be so patient and generous with me, but it is not my place to question it.

I do not have adequate words to describe today’s events, or my thoughts and feelings about them. And even if I did, it doesn’t seem right to reduce what occurred today to mere words on a page.

However, I do have a matter that has been troubling me. My Lord and I seem to be having a difference of opinion. I told him, amongst other things, that he had been the anchor to my sanity during my incarceration. There is every possibility I misread his reaction, but I continue to get the impression he does not agree that my sanity remains intact.

I have considered it at great length and I am quite certain that my cognitive capacities have not diminished in any significant way. If it is indeed true that he believes me to be insane, then I can only conclude that have been insane all along. I know I behave differently with him now, but that is only because I am less inhibited.

In any case, my Lord does not seem displeased with my new behaviour, and that is what matters. If it is insane to feel as I do about him, then I am glad to be insane.

Voldemort almost throws the journal across the room. Because, by Salazar, he’d been in the boy’s mind before failing to kill Potter. And yet Lord Voldemort had somehow never noticed Bartemius Crouch Junior. He’d just been one of many.

When Voldemort’s gaze lands on his servant’s sleeping form, he feels an overwhelming urge to drag him to his knees and demand more information. He slaps the urge down. As long as he’s loyal, why does he care what the boy’s reasons are? Especially when he has much more pressing matters to deal with.

So far, he’s completely ignored Lucius. And Lucius needs a lot of work before Lord Voldemort can consider him anything other than a potential threat. So, with a level of difficulty that vexes him, Voldemort drags his thoughts away from Bartemius Crouch.

Downstairs, Lucius Malfoy takes in his surroundings again. It is not just a kitchen. It is a muggle kitchen. Of course, he’s never seen one before – he’s not even seen many wizarding kitchens – but he’s able to work it out from the bowl of fruit he sees, and the oddly shaped cauldron placed on top of some strange contraption that he imagines would make Arthur Weasley drool.

It isn’t a coincidence that the Dark Lord has told him to wait here specifically, but he knows better than to consider it a punishment. This isn’t even a warm up. He thinks back to the day he was marked, and wonders who the Dark Lord would have sent to hunt him down, if he’d gone on the run.

As if summoned by his treacherous thoughts, the Dark Lord bursts through the door. Lucius kneels with practised ease, despite the many years he’s spent a free man. A Death Eater never forgets.

“Bartemius is hungry. He asks that you make him something to eat.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius replies, trying to convey as much willingness as he can with the only three words he currently trusts himself to say.

“You will be missed at the Ministry today, Lucius,” the Dark Lord says tonelessly. “See that Bartemius eats properly and continues to rest, then join me in the sitting room.”

The door has slammed shut before Lucius can reply. He waits for his Lord’s footsteps recede, and then waits some more, just to be certain. Then he moves as quickly and quietly as possible, methodically searching the cupboards and drawers. He finds them to be well stocked and carefully labelled, and there’s plenty of things he recognises – including foods that don’t require any cooking.

As he works, he shudders as he considers the lengths his Lord is willing to go to, just to remind him of his place. Waiting with him on a muggle street for almost an hour. Giving up his own wand, even for a moment (because no doubt he has since collected it). And now, personally visiting him – in a muggle kitchen, no less – to give a basic instruction that could easily be sent by quicker means.

Well, his Lord has had thirteen years to plot and scheme, and has all of eternity to achieve his goals. Perhaps he’s already set all kinds of plans in motion without Lucius? Maybe he has no intention of allowing Lucius to serve him, and this is all for the purposes of revenge?

The part of him that dares to be hopeful supplies him with another option. Because he doesn’t think it’s in the Dark Lord’s character to invest so much into subjugating someone he doesn’t intend to use thoroughly.

Maybe his Lord still wants him?