Malfoy Manor smelled of polished wood and old incense, a scent I'd come to associate with power that had been left to grow fat and comfortable. Abraxas greeted me in the drawing room with the usual smile — the sort that said he enjoyed the idea of being useful, so long as usefulness came with privileges.
"You're early for dinner," he observed, pouring us both tea as if comfort could disguise intent.
"I have work to do," I said, taking the cup. Nagini draped herself across the back of a chair and watched the room with slow, feline interest. "The Ministerial election is soon. We should have a Minister willing to bend policy rather than be bent by it."
Abraxas set his cup down and leaned forward, the aristocratic mask slipping into something more attentive. "Do you have someone in mind?"
"I do," I said. "A candidate with the right public face and the correct private leanings. Someone malleable in the right places, ruthless in the right light. He will be our man — quietly placed, carefully supported, and indebted at every turn." I let the words hang a moment, tasting the possibilities. "But he needs structure. Money, influence, allies in the Department, and plausible deniability."
Abraxas smiled, slow and certain. "The Malfoys can provide introductions, social cover, and campaign funds. And I can place certain loyalists—apprentices who owe me favors—into ministry clerical positions. They'll be small things: permit approvals, access to dossiers, timing of hearings. Bureaucracy will do the rest."
"Good." I tapped a finger on the map between us. "We will not ram him into office with scandal or spectacle. That attracts the wrong kind of attention — heroics. Instead we build momentum: committees he quietly chairs, public appearances arranged by our allies, strategic endorsements that look organic."
Abraxas nodded. "What about the Aurors? They'll sniff out anything overt."
"We never go overt," I said. "We use patience. We sink roots: a donation to a struggling charity, a scholarship for a promising academic who will later praise our candidate, a piece penned in a respected journal by an editor we have quietly befriended. Influence is a thousand small favors that look like nothing when added together." I smiled, a thin and hungry thing. "And if anyone threatens our plans, we have other, quieter ways of persuasion."
Abraxas's eyes flickered. "You mean —"
"Yes." I let the thought finish. "Debt. Dependency. The right promise at the right time. A banker in our pocket. A committee vote delayed until the public eye has turned. A scandal deflected by a more sensational story that we seed." I named names mentally — a certain deputy who could be nudged into misplacing documents, an archivist whose curiosity could be rewarded, a Gazette columnist inclined to favor a certain narrative. "I will not risk open confrontation with Dumbledore's circle. We will move behind them like a tide."
Abraxas tapped ash into a crystal ashtray. "And the goblins? Gringotts could be useful for more than just funds."
"They will stay neutral publicly," I said. "But they will sell to us, and they will provide discreet logistics. Vanishing cabinet routes masked as antiquities shipments. Insurance in the form of contracts. They give us a practical advantage without having to be visibly involved." I pictured ledgers and coded contracts that would activate if pressure mounted on our candidate — a safety net that would make betrayal less appealing.
Abraxas looked pleased. "And what of endorsements? Who do we have who can vouch publicly without tearing the candidate to pieces if exposed?"
"Local heads of houses, a couple of well-placed academics, and a figure with a squeaky-clean reputation that we have groomed to speak on his behalf. People who will appear to have independent reasons to support him." I paused. "Itachi will run a charm program to nudge a few influential columnists' sentiments. He can plant illusions of consensus at the right moment. It will look like momentum. People follow the perceived majority."
Abraxas allowed a slow exhale. "And if the Aurors test him directly?"
"We ensure nothing traceable ties back to us," I said. "We move facts into public frameworks: committees, hearings, ballots. If Aurors sniff deeper, they find only the familiar maze of Ministry protocol — slow, bureaucratic, mundane. That is our ally. We will not be the loud hand; we will be the architecture."
He drank his tea, eyes glittering. "You're asking me to put Malfoy influence on the line."
"You're asked to be useful," I corrected calmly. "And you will be rewarded. Your family will have access to ministerial contracts, to the reshaping of educational funding, to the quiet redirection of resources where you please." I let the benefits show: opportunities for old estates, privileged positions for younger scions, financial levers. "Loyalty is purchased in the currency of advantage."
Abraxas considered this, the lines of his face softening into the expression that always accompanied decision. "Very well. I'll make the calls. We'll need a candidate who can smile under pressure and lie without shame. That profile is rarer than people think."
I nodded. "Find someone presentable. Someone whose past is manageable and whose future is negotiable. We will insert aides into the Department, offer discreet funding lines mediated through goblin contracts, and seed a parade of endorsements that will make the voting public think they are following a sensible choice rather than a carefully constructed one."
Outside, in the gardens, winter light broke across frost as if the world itself continued its polite business, ignorant of the architecture being wired six floors below, in parlors and bank ledgers and signed, inked favors. I set my cup down and rose, the movement slow and precise.
"One other thing," I added. "We'll need plausible scapegoats in case someone notices patterns — small-time opportunists who can be sacrificed without risk to the core. We do not burn the hearth to cook a single meal. Use the embers, not the home."
Abraxas smiled thinly. "Practical as always."
I turned to leave. "Do this quietly. Mobilize funds. Place friendly clerks. Itachi will prepare a psychological campaign that looks like spontaneous opinion. I will set the contracts with the goblins and arrange a few 'charitable' foundations to direct public goodwill." I paused at the door, Nagini following, a dark ribbon of life. "When the time comes, we pull a string. Nothing more. The rest follows."
Abraxas rose and extended his hand. He was not a man of violence; he was a man of leverage. I took his hand and felt the solid warmth of a bond formed. "Make the calls," I said. "And do not fail me."
He inclined his head. "I won't."
As I stepped back into the cold night, the manor's lights receded behind me like beacons of a comfortable world. The election would require patience, but patience was my instrument. I moved through the world like an architect — drawing lines, placing supports, and ensuring that when the weight came, it bent along my design.
In the quiet of the carriage back to Slytherin Manor, I thought of Dumbledore, of Aurors, of public opinion. I thought of the next five years and the children who would come of age in that shaped environment. Power need not always roar. Often it is the silent hand that changes the course of things forever.