Prologue

August 25, 1994

Lucius Malfoy felt on top of the world.

Screams of terror pervaded the air as he marched through the crowded Quidditch World Cup campsite, a pack of former Death Eaters behind him and people fleeing from his path like the parting of the Red Sea. Fires had erupted without his prompting, and the chaos he—he—had instigated was now a wild animal, slithering its way among the nervous stampeding of scared campers and biting at their ankles. A breath in and the slight ashiness of the air was like the taste of Felix Felicis—no, not Felix Felicis. It was power incarnate, a golden elixir that separated him from the Earth itself. For, no, he was not a part of the Earth, he was above it, above everything on it, and for a second in the heady exhilaration Lucius felt as though he was the Dark Lord, superior to all else. As though soon the crowd of Death Eaters would select him to be their new leader, as though soon all of the Wizarding World would not only know the name Lucius Malfoy but know him to be the most powerful, feared wizard in existence.

Yes, he was on top of the world and behind the carefully placed Death Eater mask his face could safely fall into a maniacally joyful grin. Every moment in his life had merely been a stepping stone to now, and now, now nothing could stop him. No one could understand the unstoppable exhilaration that soared through his veins.

"Well, Malfoy, where should we go next?" one of the masked faces panted.

Lucius turned towards the intently listening Death Eaters and thoughtfully ran a lone finger down his wand in contemplation. The very image of a true leader. Perhaps he should insist on being called "Lord Malfoy"—that did have so a ring to it. A moment of exaggerated thought later before a motivational bellow issued from his mouth, sure to stir every man to action from tips of their toes to the ends of their wands: "We go onward!" With a lit wand he pointed away from the forest edge by which they had conglomerated and towards the endless hills of yet-to-be-disturbed campers.

"Onward!" The masked mob reiterated his command, mindlessly turning towards the sites of yet-to-be-wrecked havoc.

Lucius waited until every last one had commenced the destructive march; almost a dozen, more than a dozen men were following him and his every word. Yes, perhaps "Lord Malfoy" would be a fitting title for one in such a position of power—modeled after the Dark Lord himself, of course.

"Onward, Lucius?" a quiet whisper reached his ear, one that was rhetorical and sarcastic, one that knew it did not have to demand attention in order to receive it. Lucius did not even have to turn around to recognize the voice, to know the only person who would refer to him by his first name in such a situation as this.

Lucius exhaled a collecting breath, one which seemed to shake the boughs of the trees themselves before he turned to face the squat wizard behind him. "Hello, Amycus." As soon as the last word left his mouth he bit his lip. Carrow. He should have referred to him as Carrow. Even if the boy—man—standing in front of him would always be Amycus he should have stubbornly denied this by calling him Carrow. "I didn't know you were a Death Eater," Lucius attempted in as conversational a tone as he could manage, gesturing to Amycus's robes and removed mask. "Or are you just now joining for a taste of glory?"

Amycus stepped closer and gave no sign if he had noticed Lucius flinching and taking a step backwards. "Oh, no, I've been a Death Eater for a long while. I was wavering whether to join or not, and then Alecto told me you were one, which sealed the deal."

"Well, as grand as it is catching up with an old Slytherin house-mate, I'm afraid I do have slightly—ah—more important matters to deal with." Lucius used a well-rehearsed disinterested tone before indicating the pack of Death Eaters in the distance.

"Almost two decades and you're still avoiding me?" The slight hurt and disbelief on Amycus's face showed clearly and Lucius silently thanked his mask for concealing his own emotions.

"I really ought to be leaving to fulfill my position as leader, you see." With a melodramatic bellow of his robes, Lucius turned on his heel without a further word.

"Lucius! Answer me this!" Amycus's pleading words pursued the retreating figure. "Do you regret it yet?"

"Regret what?" the blonde-haired man replied, flashing eyes daring Amycus to say a further word.

"You know very well what I mean. Have you started regretting the—the decision you made?"

"Amycus, I'm on top of the world. No, I don't regret my decision." With a final gleeful smirk at his position of power, Lucius turned and left Amycus far behind him.

...

A/N: Following chapters will be longer than this; I just always make prologues a bit on the short side. In case you're wondering, this is going to end up being a short story of approximately ten chapters. I'm going to be jumping around a bit, time-wise, so each section will start with the date. Constructive criticism is always appreciated

Disclaimer for this and all following chapters: I don't own Lucius Malfoy, Amycus Carrow, etc.