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crossoverficTitle: A Proper Wizard
Author: rat_hospital
Fandoms: Harry Potter; Angel
Rating: pg
Character(s): Lucius Malfoy; Cyvus Vail
Summary: March 1980: During the height of Voldemort’s 1st rise to power, he sends Lucius Malfoy to L.A. as a special envoy to Cyvus Vail. But Vail isn’t what they expected, and he may not take too kindly to Voldemort’s demands. One-Shot
March 1980
“He is some of my finest work…”
Cyvus Vail “Origin”
This was not what he expected. Lucius Malfoy resisted the urge to tap his staff against the floor impatiently. He was Lord Voldemort’s personal envoy, and he had already apparated across an ocean today. He should not be kept waiting like some common muggle. He glanced around nervously. Tall red skinned demons lined the halls, Vail’s praetorian guard. Cyvus Vail was widely considered to be the most powerful warlock in North America, but Malfoy hadn’t expected the man to have such a large following of dark creatures.
Lucius fingered his wand. He was a Malfoy. His blood was as pure as pure could be. He would not be treated in this manner. It was a deliberate insult, not only to him but also to the Dark Lord. Such insolence should be punished, but he had strict orders from Voldemort himself. They could not afford to offend as powerful a man as Vail, at least not yet. One day Death Eaters would swarm out across the globe, but events in Britain were still at a critical stage. Foreign Ministries had already declared their neutrality, but powerful individuals could still choose to take matters into their own hands.
Of all the possible meddlers, Vail was by far the most dangerous. He essentially ran the West Coast magical community, but not much was known about him. He seemed to be primarily concerned with maintaining his little fiefdom. Malfoy’s job then was to convince him that Lord Voldemort was not a threat to his interests or failing that, assassinate him. This would be infinitely easier if he could actually meet the man.
Finally, seemingly in apropos of nothing, one of the guards headed down the corridor gesturing for him to follow. It led Malfoy down a series of corridors, opening into the heart of the house. There in the center of the vast room in a red plush chair sat a man who could only be Cyvus Vail. It took all of Malfoy’s icy self-control not to gape in shock. Vail’s eyes were closed shut. His face was wrinkled and careworn, a few straggly strands of white hair adorned his head. He was dressed in elegant robes, but most importantly of all his skin was as red as his servants. Cyvus Vail was a demon.
As Malfoy took a moment to compose himself, Vail’s eyes snapped open. He fixed a cold stare on Malfoy, almost as piercing as Voldemort’s. Malfoy suppressed a shudder of distaste. The demon’s eyes were yellow. Demon or not, the reasons for this mission still stood.
“I, Lucius Malfoy, request parlay in name of he whom I serve,” he said formally. Vail studied him for a long moment.
Accepted,” Vail said at length. “Please be seated.” Malfoy glanced around. There was no other chair in the room. He would have to conjure one, a simple spell to be sure, but irritating. The old demon was testing him, and it was insulting. Malfoy drew his wand with a flourish and one contemptuous flick later there was another chair.
Vail leaned forward curiously to observe the spellcraft. “Who do you serve, wand-waver?”
“The Dark Lord,” Malfoy answered.
“Which one?” Vail asked as a deep hacking cough erupted from his chest. Malfoy seemed nonplussed by the question.
“The Dark Lord,” he repeated, when Vail’s coughs had subsided. “the Heir of Slytherin.”
“Ah,” Vail said. “The self-styled Lord Voldemort.” His tone was dismissive.
“You should show more respect,” Lucius said springing to his feet.
“Respect, boy? I was old when Grindelwald was young.” Vail gazed up at Malfoy unperturbed. “What does your master want?”
Malfoy sat slowly, reluctantly. “He wishes to come to an agreement.”
“An agreement?” Vail leaned back amused.
“My Lord assures you that he holds you no malice. His interests lie solely in Britain. He is no threat to you or your interests, and desires that you make a similar pledge.”
Vail smiled darkly. “Voldemort gets ahead of himself. He has yet to subdue those within his own borders.”
“It is only a matter of time.”
“Yes,” Vail agreed. Malfoy’s skin crawled from having to speak civilly to this creature. If it were up to him, he would just curse him now and be done with it. “but much changes with time,” Vail continued. “Promises made in time of need are broken, and Dark Lords, once victorious, are seldom satisfied. They tend to attempt increasing their domains, and that can get…nasty. What assurance can you offer, Mr. Malfoy, that your master will keep his word?”
“My word,” Malfoy said.
“Your word bus far less then your coin. I see more than you know. With one hand Voldemort plans his conquest, and with the other he seeks to appease his potential enemies, coax them into inaction. A valid, if transparent strategy.” Malfoy’s hand itched for his wand. It seemed less and less likely that Vail would agree to the terms. “I had word of your coming, Mr. Malfoy. I know of at least twenty envoys sent out in the last month, but you are the only inner circle member. I feel…honored.” He rose slowly. “I’m not what you expected,” Vail stated, changing the subject.
“No,” Malfoy agreed also standing.
“You thought I was another wand-waver,” He sneered. “Such arrogance…” He was interrupted by a coughing fit. Malfoy took the opportunity to surreptitiously draw his wand. “I have my answer,” Vail said at last. “While I appreciate his assurance that he is no threat to me, such assurances are unnecessary. He and his servants are not welcome in my city.” He paused thoughtfully. “Do you think it would be more effective if I just mailed you to him in pieces?” Malfoy snapped instantly into a perfect dueling stance. “Put that away boy. Your parlor tricks are inconsequential to me.”
Malfoy snarled. “It’s time you learned what a proper wizard can do. Avada Kedavra,” he cried. The fatal green bolt of magic flew from his wand. Few among the Dark Lord’s followers were better at this particular curse. Then almost casually, Vail reached out and caught the curse holding it in the palm of his hand. Yellow eyes taunted silver. Then Vail made a fist crushing the magic into nothing.
“Yes Lucius,” he said. “I suppose you’re right.” He gestured angrily. Malfoy couldn’t see the spell, but he could feel it--ancient and powerful. He desperately prepared a shield charm, but he wasn’t the target. Malfoy’s wand shattered, turning to sawdust in his hand. The force sent him flying. He lay slumped on the floor. He felt weak, his magic felt raw.
“Amateur,” Vail muttered in disgust. With a casual flick of the wrist he sent Malfoy sprawling into the far wall. He collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Vail nodded to the waiting guards and watched as they half dragged, half carried Malfoy out. Taking a deep labored breath, Vail sunk back into his chair.
Voldemort was becoming increasingly militant. Sending Malfoy to strong arm him into an agreement was laughable, but the implications were more troublesome. Voldemort felt secure enough to mount an assassination attempt, for that was what this had been. The parlay was just a cover, and Voldemort had sent one of his most trusted servants. Vail had been singled out and that was telling. Rumors had already reached him that Voldemort was preparing to make a seventh and final Horcrux. Vail frowned. On principal, he objected to enemies you couldn’t kill. If you can’ even trust them to die when you kill them…well what is the world coming to?
The Circle of the Black Thorn would not interfere. “Wizard’s inhumanity to wizard” fell firmly under the category of "man's inhumanity to man." Besides Voldemort seemed to amuse Archduke Sebassis. Still, Vail hadn’t survived this long by being purely reactionary. Something would have to be done, a pre-emptive strike that couldn’t possibly be traced back to him. Sebassis would never know. It would have to be done subtly, but Vail specialized in subtle. I can bend the very fabric of reality to my will. A prophecy…yes that would do nicely. It would take a few months to gather the necessary manpower, but that just gave him more time to plan. Born as the seventh month dies... Cyvus Vail smiled, even as his body was wracked with violent coughs, he still smiled.
Author: rat_hospital
Fandoms: Harry Potter; Angel
Rating: pg
Character(s): Lucius Malfoy; Cyvus Vail
Summary: March 1980: During the height of Voldemort’s 1st rise to power, he sends Lucius Malfoy to L.A. as a special envoy to Cyvus Vail. But Vail isn’t what they expected, and he may not take too kindly to Voldemort’s demands. One-Shot
“He is some of my finest work…”
Cyvus Vail “Origin”
This was not what he expected. Lucius Malfoy resisted the urge to tap his staff against the floor impatiently. He was Lord Voldemort’s personal envoy, and he had already apparated across an ocean today. He should not be kept waiting like some common muggle. He glanced around nervously. Tall red skinned demons lined the halls, Vail’s praetorian guard. Cyvus Vail was widely considered to be the most powerful warlock in North America, but Malfoy hadn’t expected the man to have such a large following of dark creatures.
Lucius fingered his wand. He was a Malfoy. His blood was as pure as pure could be. He would not be treated in this manner. It was a deliberate insult, not only to him but also to the Dark Lord. Such insolence should be punished, but he had strict orders from Voldemort himself. They could not afford to offend as powerful a man as Vail, at least not yet. One day Death Eaters would swarm out across the globe, but events in Britain were still at a critical stage. Foreign Ministries had already declared their neutrality, but powerful individuals could still choose to take matters into their own hands.
Of all the possible meddlers, Vail was by far the most dangerous. He essentially ran the West Coast magical community, but not much was known about him. He seemed to be primarily concerned with maintaining his little fiefdom. Malfoy’s job then was to convince him that Lord Voldemort was not a threat to his interests or failing that, assassinate him. This would be infinitely easier if he could actually meet the man.
Finally, seemingly in apropos of nothing, one of the guards headed down the corridor gesturing for him to follow. It led Malfoy down a series of corridors, opening into the heart of the house. There in the center of the vast room in a red plush chair sat a man who could only be Cyvus Vail. It took all of Malfoy’s icy self-control not to gape in shock. Vail’s eyes were closed shut. His face was wrinkled and careworn, a few straggly strands of white hair adorned his head. He was dressed in elegant robes, but most importantly of all his skin was as red as his servants. Cyvus Vail was a demon.
As Malfoy took a moment to compose himself, Vail’s eyes snapped open. He fixed a cold stare on Malfoy, almost as piercing as Voldemort’s. Malfoy suppressed a shudder of distaste. The demon’s eyes were yellow. Demon or not, the reasons for this mission still stood.
“I, Lucius Malfoy, request parlay in name of he whom I serve,” he said formally. Vail studied him for a long moment.
Accepted,” Vail said at length. “Please be seated.” Malfoy glanced around. There was no other chair in the room. He would have to conjure one, a simple spell to be sure, but irritating. The old demon was testing him, and it was insulting. Malfoy drew his wand with a flourish and one contemptuous flick later there was another chair.
Vail leaned forward curiously to observe the spellcraft. “Who do you serve, wand-waver?”
“The Dark Lord,” Malfoy answered.
“Which one?” Vail asked as a deep hacking cough erupted from his chest. Malfoy seemed nonplussed by the question.
“The Dark Lord,” he repeated, when Vail’s coughs had subsided. “the Heir of Slytherin.”
“Ah,” Vail said. “The self-styled Lord Voldemort.” His tone was dismissive.
“You should show more respect,” Lucius said springing to his feet.
“Respect, boy? I was old when Grindelwald was young.” Vail gazed up at Malfoy unperturbed. “What does your master want?”
Malfoy sat slowly, reluctantly. “He wishes to come to an agreement.”
“An agreement?” Vail leaned back amused.
“My Lord assures you that he holds you no malice. His interests lie solely in Britain. He is no threat to you or your interests, and desires that you make a similar pledge.”
Vail smiled darkly. “Voldemort gets ahead of himself. He has yet to subdue those within his own borders.”
“It is only a matter of time.”
“Yes,” Vail agreed. Malfoy’s skin crawled from having to speak civilly to this creature. If it were up to him, he would just curse him now and be done with it. “but much changes with time,” Vail continued. “Promises made in time of need are broken, and Dark Lords, once victorious, are seldom satisfied. They tend to attempt increasing their domains, and that can get…nasty. What assurance can you offer, Mr. Malfoy, that your master will keep his word?”
“My word,” Malfoy said.
“Your word bus far less then your coin. I see more than you know. With one hand Voldemort plans his conquest, and with the other he seeks to appease his potential enemies, coax them into inaction. A valid, if transparent strategy.” Malfoy’s hand itched for his wand. It seemed less and less likely that Vail would agree to the terms. “I had word of your coming, Mr. Malfoy. I know of at least twenty envoys sent out in the last month, but you are the only inner circle member. I feel…honored.” He rose slowly. “I’m not what you expected,” Vail stated, changing the subject.
“No,” Malfoy agreed also standing.
“You thought I was another wand-waver,” He sneered. “Such arrogance…” He was interrupted by a coughing fit. Malfoy took the opportunity to surreptitiously draw his wand. “I have my answer,” Vail said at last. “While I appreciate his assurance that he is no threat to me, such assurances are unnecessary. He and his servants are not welcome in my city.” He paused thoughtfully. “Do you think it would be more effective if I just mailed you to him in pieces?” Malfoy snapped instantly into a perfect dueling stance. “Put that away boy. Your parlor tricks are inconsequential to me.”
Malfoy snarled. “It’s time you learned what a proper wizard can do. Avada Kedavra,” he cried. The fatal green bolt of magic flew from his wand. Few among the Dark Lord’s followers were better at this particular curse. Then almost casually, Vail reached out and caught the curse holding it in the palm of his hand. Yellow eyes taunted silver. Then Vail made a fist crushing the magic into nothing.
“Yes Lucius,” he said. “I suppose you’re right.” He gestured angrily. Malfoy couldn’t see the spell, but he could feel it--ancient and powerful. He desperately prepared a shield charm, but he wasn’t the target. Malfoy’s wand shattered, turning to sawdust in his hand. The force sent him flying. He lay slumped on the floor. He felt weak, his magic felt raw.
“Amateur,” Vail muttered in disgust. With a casual flick of the wrist he sent Malfoy sprawling into the far wall. He collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Vail nodded to the waiting guards and watched as they half dragged, half carried Malfoy out. Taking a deep labored breath, Vail sunk back into his chair.
Voldemort was becoming increasingly militant. Sending Malfoy to strong arm him into an agreement was laughable, but the implications were more troublesome. Voldemort felt secure enough to mount an assassination attempt, for that was what this had been. The parlay was just a cover, and Voldemort had sent one of his most trusted servants. Vail had been singled out and that was telling. Rumors had already reached him that Voldemort was preparing to make a seventh and final Horcrux. Vail frowned. On principal, he objected to enemies you couldn’t kill. If you can’ even trust them to die when you kill them…well what is the world coming to?
The Circle of the Black Thorn would not interfere. “Wizard’s inhumanity to wizard” fell firmly under the category of "man's inhumanity to man." Besides Voldemort seemed to amuse Archduke Sebassis. Still, Vail hadn’t survived this long by being purely reactionary. Something would have to be done, a pre-emptive strike that couldn’t possibly be traced back to him. Sebassis would never know. It would have to be done subtly, but Vail specialized in subtle. I can bend the very fabric of reality to my will. A prophecy…yes that would do nicely. It would take a few months to gather the necessary manpower, but that just gave him more time to plan. Born as the seventh month dies... Cyvus Vail smiled, even as his body was wracked with violent coughs, he still smiled.
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