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boy would not find the diadem...although Dumbledore's puppet had
come much farther than he ever expected...too far...
"My Lord," said a voice, desperate and cracked. He turned: there
was Lucius Malfoy sitting in the darkest corner, ragged and still
bearing the marks of the punishment he had received after the boy's
last escape. One of his eyes remained closed and puffy. "My
"Aren't--aren't you afraid, my Lord that Potter might die at another hand but yours?" asked Malfoy, his voice shaking. "Wouldn't it be...forgive me...more
Lord...please...my son..."
"If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come
and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has
decided to befriend Harry Potter?" "No--never," whispered Malfoy. "You must hope not."
prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and seek him y-yourself
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