Aurors: The Fist of Mars

The Malfoy Manor

Draco Malfoy sat in a green velvet wing-backed chair reading from a leather-bound book by the light of a flickering torch. He was in the Malfoy library, an enormous room with floor-to-ceiling shelves covered in books, busts, and magical instruments. Some of the shelves were looking sparse these days, as the Ministry of Magic had confiscated a good deal of his father's books for containing material about dark magics. The ladder was parked at a shelf by the door, where Draco had moved it to browse for the book he was looking at now, Enchanting Espionage: Sorcerous Spycraft.

The library was upstairs. Adjacent to his chair was a big picture window that looked out over the laws behind the house. Draco finished the end of a chapter and rose to look out the window. He stretched, pushing his hands into his lower back. Draco was getting cabin fever, even in the drafty old manor. He didn't dare go out except on essential errands: public opinion was against his family. Still, he dressed himself every morning and made a list of things to do. He had read quite a few books on his to-read list and written to the few classmates he had that weren't in prison and didn't detest him. His parents were not much for company: Draco blamed his father for steering their family to the losing side of of history, and Lucius blamed Narcissa for Harry's survival and Voldemort's defeat. He had quickly forgotten that he was already out of The Dark Lord's favor long before The Battle of Hogwarts. But at least none of them were in Azkaban.

Draco ran a hand through his silvery blonde hair and began to turn from the window. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black shape move across the perfectly manicured lawn. Draco turned back to the glass as the shadow slipped behind a hedge. He was certain he had seen it.

His heart raced. He bolted from the room and ran down the dark damask hallway to the walnut staircase that emptied out into the foyer. Perhaps it was an animal, but Draco wasn't taking any chances. The Malfoys had all read that Fist of Mars manifesto, though they would never discuss it. They had all received nasty letters and threats.

Lucius Malfoy came into the foyer as Draco landed on the first floor. His wand was flashing. Something had triggered an alarm he had set. Lucius, his face gaunt, his eyes dark, was dressed for bed in a long night robe, his long white hair unbound. "I saw it," Draco said. "Out back."

Both men had their wands drawn. They stood back-to-back, father and son. They waited, listening. The wind howled outside, but there was no sign of an attacker. "Do you think it may have been an animal?" Draco asked, his voice cracking from the tension in his throat. He focused on the end of his wand and saw that it was shaking.

"You were the one who saw it," Lucius said with an annoyed edge on his drawling voice. "Did it look like an animal?"

Draco lowered his wand and looked back at his shoulder. Was he going to be blamed for this? It wasn't his alarm! If Draco had set the perimeter, he'd have used a more complex charm that read the intent of the intruder. "Out of the corner of my eye," he snapped.

Their argument was interrupted by a shattering of glass. The stained glass window above the door—a colorful image of of a dragon—was smashed as a fist-size object hurtled inside. It landed on the flagstone floor and exploded into pieces. It was a potion, and from the splattering green fluid, fumes arose. They expanded quickly, filling the air. Draco realized what was happening and drew his sweater up over his face.

Draco and Lucius ran through the large double-doors that lead to the lower levels of the manor. Lucius went straight down the hall and out the back door onto the patio. Draco glanced back and saw the green haze filling the foyer and beginning to drift into the hall. He hurtled around the corner into the dining room and beyond to the family room. Narcissa was sitting on a sofa with silver upholstery. "Draco?" she asked, alarmed by Draco's state of panic.

There was no time to explain. Draco grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. He pulled her towards the door to the garden and threw his shoulder into it, splitting the wood around the latch and cracking the glass panes. There was no time to fiddle with doorknobs.

The Malfoy family ran out onto the grass and kept moving until they were far away from the house. Lucius, sweat on his brow and his hair tousled, spun around in furious circles, aiming his wand at the darkness.

"What was that?" Narcissa asked, watching the green gas seep out of the windows and doors and diffuse into the night air.

"Poison," Draco said. He was sure of it.

Last year, playing host to death eaters at his home, Draco had been spared from death eater outings. Still, isolated at the Malfoy Manor, he had seen a few of his superiors cast The Dark Mark: a skull and serpent formed from pinpricks of green light. As Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa slowly crept around the side of the house to see if their attacker had left, Draco saw something that reminded him of this. Burned into the gravel of their front drive, a picture made of glowing, red-hot stones, was an image of a fist.

"We need to call the ministry," Narcissa said, clinging to Draco.

Draco agreed. This was very bad. The Fist of Mars was either a real organization, or they had inspired followers. Draco was certain now that the gas was meant to murder them all. Whoever had done this saw their deaths as a necessary execution: justice. Narcissa was right. They needed the protection of the Ministry that had shown them mercy. He just hoped they wouldn't send Harry Potter.