Canon: Was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself, sold out by Karkaroff and was the only name Igor could give them, had a network of spies within the Ministry.
Post:
The third man, the smaller one, was the oldest of the trio. White, short, well-styled hair was kept slicked back. A white mustache, thicker than the second man's, sat underneath a pointed nose. The side of his mouth indicated a slight twinge of kindness and, perhaps, he was the only one at the table capable of showing any. He was dressed conservatively, wearing shoes instead of boots. His own trousers were tailored but nothing custom-made. They had been altered to suit his preferences, having a stripe of satin running up the sides of each leg to move around the waistband. He wore a white shirt, a tie, and a jacket. Muggle clothes that were fairly indistinguishable and looked well on him, though he despised having to wear them in the first place. The clothes did not make the man, he knew, but he might as well wear them to suit his best tastes. His eyes were small and beady and darted between the two men, as though trying to seek out weaknesses. His body was thick and big-boned, but could not be construed as fatness. There was a hidden strength in the man, despite his age and general appearance. His hands were gloveless, nor was he inclined to wear anything to cover up the ridges and calluses that had formed over his appendages throughout the years. His fingertips seemed to be forever tipped with black ink, indicative of the paperwork he had thrown at him every day.
Macnair had just risen and pushed his chair hastily back. "Listen!"
he nearly cried. "There is only one thing of importance. The fall of
Voldemort! I am only loyal to one thing, to aid in his rise and keep
him from the enemy. To accomplish that, all means are fair! When I
have to deal with a combination of dangers, I have access to
everything that could aid me in any way. We should not take half
measures this time around. No more squeamishness, no more games. I
would rather see us be terrible in the eyes of many, but useful
throughout." He sneered, "does the elephant stop to look where he
sets his foot? We must crush the enemy!"
Lucius replied mildly, "I should very much like that. The question is
to know where the enemy is."
"It is outside and I have chased it there," Macnair retorted,
gesturing to the map that lay in front of them.
"It is within, and I watch it," said Lucius.
"And I will continue to pursue it!"
"One does not drive away an internal enemy."
"What do you do?"
"Exterminate it."
Macnair went silent, regarding this answer, then nodded. "I tell you,
Lucius, it is without."
"Walden, I tell you it is within."
"Lucius, it is in the other countries."
"Walden, it is in the very heart of England."
"Calm yourself," said the third voice. "It is everywhere and both of
you are lost." It was Rookwood who spoke.
Lucius glanced at him and answered calmly, "Perhaps we should cease
then with the general information and move into the heart of the
matter. I shall lay out my facts."
Rookwood nodded his approval for the man to go on.
Lucius placed his hand on the papers spread before him. "I have just
read you the notes from the Daily Prophet, of the Ministry's
ineptness, and the disregards of our Lord's rising. Walden, listen!
The foreign lands are nothing! This civil war is what is important. I
will concede the fact that there are many truces that must be made
outside the borders of this land, but first we must deal with the
interior. If we cannot set an example amongst ourselves, then what
right do we have to go for other lands? A foreign war will is a
scratch, but a war between us will be cancerous. This is the result
of what I have been reading. The Ministry has been divided between
itself, but it has been trying to pull itself together under a common
idea."
"Which is that Voldemort has, indeed, risen."
"Yes. But Cornelius Fudge will end up being scrutinized for his
ignorance and covering up of the facts as to the Dark Lord's
resurrection. He will be called upon to answer for himself and when
he cannot, a new leader must emerge. I continue my summing up of the
reports from the Ministry. While the Ministry needs a new leader, we
face threats from elsewhere within our own homeland. Hogwarts,
itself, is no safe haven for anyone."
"You know something." That was Macnair.
"I know a lot."
"Lucius!"
"I know that Dumbledore is missing in action, as is his puppet
Potter. But I also know that striking Hogwarts now would be an
admission of guilt. Placing blame on us when it is not needed.
Voldemort has nothing to do with this. I am sure of it. He would not
waste my time so. We have threats still to deal with. The Ministry
officials, the Aurors, the Order. They answer to Dumbledore and the
Ministry. Should the Ministry come together under the sign that
Voldemort is around, we will have a unification of the two threats
instead of this general mass confusion. I would rather have mass
confusion than be at the wrong end of Azkaban."
"The Ministry will find fault with Fudge sooner or later. The mass
confusion, while in our favor, cannot go on forever," Macnair
countered.
"I do not want forever. I want as long as our Lord needs in order to
get everything together. Hogwarts. The Ministry. These are our two
biggest threats, as they have always been. If we cannot eliminate
them, then we are forever held in second-guessing and speculating
what they will do next."
"Then what would you have us do?"
"Only what we would need to do to survive. I would have us keep
turning the two threats against each other. They can battle it out
together and leave us alone. Confusing paperwork, keeping documents,
hiding away evidence, we have done much but it is still not enough.
Hogwarts will try to keep their blows aimed at us, and we must not
allow them to strike a central vein. If the Ministry has one shred of
proof that what Dumbledore has claimed is true, then they shall unite
and we shall be lost. With Dumbledore's absence, we have gained some
time. Time in which we must allocate towards the destruction of the
Ministry. Once one of these threats falls, the other will be left
without some form of saving grace. Should the Ministry crumble,
Hogwarts will lose most of their Aurors and officials. Should
Hogwarts fall, they have lost the Order. We have a two-headed serpent
on our hands and we strike at nothing but their tails. We need one to
bite off the other, and then the Dark Lord shall take all."
Macnair, who had reseated himself, leaned his elbows on the table and
rested his head in his hands. His expression grew thoughtful.
"You see the peril," Lucius continued. "The Ministry can either aid
in the new fall of Voldemort, or it can push him forwards."
Macnair raised his head and struck his two clenched fists onto the
map of England. "Lucius, did not the Ministry once require help from
other countries?"
"Yes."
"Then we must still focus on the other countries so they cannot
interfere with the Ministry this time around," Macnair said, rising
once again.
Lucius laid a gloved hand on the heated fist of Macnair. "Walden, to
counter the effects of the other Ministries of the world would be
inviting suspicion into our own little part. To shove down other
Ministries would mean a foreign war. To shove down our own would mean
a civil war." His tone went cold and dry. "A serious difference. Sit
down again, Macnair, and look at the map instead of hitting it with
your fist."
But Macnair had not yet given up his idea. "That is madness! We
should not look for a catastrophe in our own incompetent Ministry
when the seriousness lies in the efficiency of the others in the
world! Lucius, I grant you that Hogwarts is a serious threat, but the
Ministries of France, Spain, Italy, and Germany are rising on the
horizon. They shall sense trouble once again and they know the sign
to look for. They know what they must do now! They will unite and
either drive us out of existence, or they will arm their countries
with their own Aurors and Hit Wizards! It is impossible to take over
only one spare country when the world awaits us either to greet us
with open arms and no suspicion or be ready with the killing curse as
soon as we set foot on their shores. There are armies out there,
Lucius, just waiting for us to give a sign of Voldemort's return. He
was feared everywhere and most people do not want him to return. The
Ministries have no been under pressure like ours has been. When an
animal is cornered, it will bite. It will defend. It will even beg
for us to release it. That is what the Ministry intends to do when
pushed far enough. It shall call on others for help and then Hogwarts
will not be the only grave problem that stands in our way. You may
have your Hogwarts and Ministry vendetta, but I see the world!"
Macnair burst into a horrendous laugh. His laugh made Rookwood smile.
"You each have your own hobby," he started. "Walden, yours is the
countries outside England. Lucius, yours is Hogwarts and the
Ministry. I am going to state my own facts. Neither of you perceive
the real peril. It is the individuals. They are the ones who make up
this entire world we live in. The individual who makes contributions
to the cat houses, the gambling estates, this one is for Voldemort,
the other does not know of him just yet. These are the people who
elect Ministers, who run the other Ministries, who enter into
Hogwarts, Durmstrangs, and all the other schools of the world. These
are the people we must confer with."
Macnair was no longer laughing but Rookwood was still smiling.
"Are you sneering at yourself, Augustus?" Macnair all but growled.
Rookwood gave a convulsive movement of his lip. His smile died. "I
recognize you, Macnair. It is you who nearly spoke out against me at
the end of the first war. You who nearly said my name but instead
referred to me as the 'individualist' who 'intended to run the
Ministry myself.' You who nearly sold me to the Dark Lord by forcing
him to think that I wanted power over the loyalty I had pledged to
him. I denounced the Ministry when I took the stand. I denounced
Dumbledore. I denounced Alastor Moody. I denounced the Aurors. I
denounced the Order. I denounced even you. Was I mistaken? I can
smell treason a mile away, and I find it best to denounce a person
before he can commit the crime. I say things before they are done. I
see things before they can be seen. I am always a day ahead. I have
remained so in the Ministry and in our Lord's order. I have reclaimed
much of the Ministry for our Lord. I have spies all about me. I have
given him countless amounts of information. I keep the Ministry at
bay by controlling the admissions left by others. I am the one who
has managed to deflect Aurors and help the general confusion from
growing hysterical within the Ministry and this land. I am doing the
same as before and regret it now even less. For this I am branded as
being the Ministry's puppet. For this, I am denounced by the
Ministry! For this, I am given a dishonorable discharge and picked up
again when they needed me. I have suffered humiliation, but what have
you two suffered? Very little. Not even the loss of property. I am
the one who controls from the sidelines in favour of our Dark Lord.
If not for me, there would be an anarchy of wills.."
"An anarchy!" Macnair interrupted. "Who causes that, if not you?"
Rookwood did not pause. "Lucius, Walden, the danger is in this heap
of civilization. It is within the lack of knowledge that goes into
the history books. It is within the mind and soul of every wizard and
witch to walk this planet. We have a slew of unfavorites that we must
make way for. The Muggles. The Mudbloods. The Half Breeds. The ones
that are pure are trampled upon and yet you look to the governments
to help? No, we must look to the people. They are the ones in
desperate need. They are the ones who will make a difference in the
years to come. They are the ones who look to us now as they can no
longer look to the ones in charge. If we talk to them, in their own
language, they will see our light. They will see our glory. They will
see the way out. Talk to enough people inside England, and we can
infiltrate Hogwarts. We can infiltrate the Ministry even more so than
we are doing now. Talk to still more others, and we can infiltrate
other Ministries, other governments, other schools, other
figureheads. The Purebloods are, and have always been and always will
be, the aristocracy. We govern. We make the rules. We already have a
high enough stakes to gain the grounds we need in this country as
well as others. So long as we control the individual, we control the
power. It is the individual who control the wealth, the popularity,
the convictions. We simply need to use it as our own and find what we
need in other people. A slow takeover is imminent. One that starts
from the inside is the most damning and near impossible to get rid
of. We must see ourselves at ground level and continue to rise until
we have spread. Cancer? Hah! It has nothing on us! We are the disease
for now, but we shall let others see us as the cure. I tell you,
friends, look to the individual for power and you shall receive it
ten fold!"
"Yes, yes," said Macnair.
Lucius attentively studied the map.
"What is needed," Rookwood stated, fearing he was losing his
audience, "is a dictator. Lucius, you know that I want a dictator."
Lucius raised his head. "I know, Augustus. You or me."
"Me or you."
Macnair grumbled to himself. "A dictatorship. I'd like to see you try
it."
Rookwood caught Macnair's frown. "Shall we make on last effort at
some agreement here? The situation is worth the trouble. Did we not
come to some sort of agreement concerning the election day of the
next year? The day when Fudge may or may not be kicked out of office?
There is some safety for us until that day, but after, we must watch
ourselves closely. Many things can happen in a year. We must prepare
for it now and we can only do this by working accordingly. All three
of us control the Ministry. We must work on the Ministry, Hogwarts,
and the surrounding countries. I grant you this, Walden. I shall
grant you that, Lucius. So be it. But the only conclusion is a
dictatorship. I say we seize the control, we three who steady the
Ministry. We are the heads of Cerberus. Of these three heads, one
talks, that is you, Lucius. One roars, that is you, Walden.."
"The other bites," added Macnair. "That is you, Augustus."
"All three bite," said Lucius.
There was a silence. Then the dialogue, still full of dark threats
resumed itself.
"Listen, Augustus. Before assuming a role in this unique partnership
the three of us share, I do believe we must know each other well. How
did you learn what I had said yesterday to Fudge?"
"That is my affair, Lucius."
"Augustus.."
"It is my duty to enlighten myself, and my business to keep myself
heavily informed."
"Augustus."
"Like you, I like to know things."
"Augustus!"
"Lucius, I know what you say to Fudge just as I know what Walden says
to the young Percival Weasley, as I know what passes on an average
day at the park during election times. And I know of the cat houses,
the gambling estates, and the seedy pubs that someone goes once a
week." In saying 'someone,' Rookwood gave Macnair a significant look.
Macnair glowered. "If I had more power, this would be intolerable."
Rookwood continued. "I know what I am saying to you, Lucius, just as
I knew what was going on during those arduous trials of the
Ministry's justice system after the first war. I saw the Aurors eat,
and knew them to be wolves. I saw them kill, and knew them to be
murderers. I saw them be rewarded with riches beyond their wildest
dreams, and knew them to be us. During that time, our kind sat in
their cells and starved and died of malnutrition or suicide. I know I
have seen our kind, also, turn traitorous towards the Dark Lord,
calling out names, calling out dates. I have seen how they are
rewarded and they are no different from the Aurors. Sins upon sins.
Dirt upon dirt. Worse than the filth we tried to cleanse from the
systems. I have also seen you with your friend, Severus Snape."
"Mere words," Lucius muttered. "Severus is not my friend." He was
occasionally, something a bit more. "In the meanwhile, there are
eighteen false Death Eaters in the Dark Lord's service, under the
jurisdiction of one."
Rookwood went on in a voice that stayed level, though there was a
slight tremor in his tone that could easily take on a threatening
note. "You are high up in Voldemort's favor! Yet, I know of
everything despite your own vow of silence when the Dark Lord speaks
of his latest plan." Rookwood emphasized these last words and
continued looking at Lucius while speaking. "I know what is said in
your household! I know what you tell Snape. I know what goes on
behind closed doors, and I know you. I see, I hear, I know! I know
you have your little hobbies, your little games. I know that you have
your vanity, your own personal attire. You in your velvet, your
unscrupulous attitude, your pristine looks. You, Lucius Malfoy, have
your portrait hanging on every single wall of your Manor.."
Lucius interrupted him with a voice that was more composed than
Rookwood's. "And you, Augustus, have yours in all the sewers."
They continued in this manner, the easy going lilt of their tones
emphasized the violence and brutality of their attacks and retorts.
"Lucius, you have called those who desire the rising of
Voldemort 'the Fudges of the human race.'"
"And you, Augustus, after the trials of the Death Eaters, said that
all Aurors should have their rewards given to them by the Ministry
and justice department. You also said a Death Eater is only a Death
Eater."
"Lucius, in the eve of those trials, you defended a Weasley against
one of our own."
"Just as I defended you, Augustus, when you were attacked by
Karkaroff. What does that prove? Nothing!"
"Lucius, I know of when you were serving Voldemort during the first
war, you said to Mulciber, 'I am tired of the Cause.'"
"Rookwood, it was here in this pub that you embraced Crouch the
elder."
"Lucius, after the war, you said to that same Weasley, 'The Cause!
What is that?'"
"Augustus, it was also in this tavern that you invited Ludo Bagman to
keep you company."
"Lucius, you have been seen with Severus Snape, the known traitor."
"And you, Augustus, during the first war, you asked Avery to help you
flee to Germany disguised as a Muggle."
"During the prosecutions of the Death Eaters you hid yourself,
Lucius."
"And you, Augustus, showed yourself."
"Lucius, you fled from the Dark Mark."
"Yes, when a fool set it off. That which decorates the Ministry
sullies a Malfoy."
"Lucius, you refused Voldemort's orders to blindfold the Auror as
they were led through the ranks of the Death Eaters."
"I did better than blindfold him. I cut off his head."
Macnair thought it best to interrupt them now, but his intervention
was like throwing gasoline onto a fire. "Lucius, Augustus, calm
yourselves."
Rookwood didn't care to be named second. He turned on Macnair. "And
just how does Walden meddle?"
Macnair, fearing an attack on his own person, quickly took the
defensive. "I meddle with this! We should not be arguing amongst
ourselves, there shouldn't be any strife between us three. We serve
the Ministry, we serve ourselves, and we serve Voldemort. Not all in
that order. We cannot risk our positions by clawing at each other's
throats. We need some sort of mutual ground here. I helped start this
new world order and I won't permit it to be spoiled once again. Now
you know what I am meddling with."
Rookwood replied in his laconic drawl, "You had better meddle with
getting your own life together."
"My life," retorted Macnair, now getting angry. "Go ask about it
wherever you see blood shed in the service of our Lord, in the
Ministry where they saw fit to put me after watching me go through
their hoops and being accounted for in the war. I have already
offered my loyalty to Voldemort, just as I have helped him through
one war, so will I a second. Ask about my life to my victims, to my
peers, to the ones who know me. I am the Executioner. The one who
would rather lead with the ax borne from the sharpness of the
outdated guillotine.."
"The guillotine is a virgin, Walden," Rookwood countered. "She does
not give birth."
"Are you so sure?" Lucius spoke up again. "I will make her fruitful."
"We shall see," was all Rookwood said and then smiled.
Macnair saw the smile and growled. "Augustus, you are the one who
hides. I am always the one out in the open. In the sun and the bright
of day. I would hate the life of a reptile. Your life is a wooden
house would not suit me. While you can live in the cave, I'd rather
live in the street. Whereas you are untouchable, people may come to
speak with me."
"Aren't you just debonair?" Rookwood snarled. "I wonder if you'd be
worth where I live." His smile disappeared and he continued in his
usual tone of voice. "Walden, give me an account of the sums of money
that Voldemort left for you upon his first death that should have
been used for his return."
"I used some on the Daily Prophet to keep them quiet," Macnair
responded haughtily.
"And the rest?"
"The Minister and much of the jury had to be bought. For Voldemort to
return, we had to be free men."
"And the thefts of the Muggle houses you pillaged?"
"All went to Azkaban to insure the Lestranges were placed under a
careful and watchful eye."
"And what of the arsenal you purchased for yourself, made up of the
galleons of the Dark Lord?"
"I made sure we would have enough weapons to go to war once he arose
again."
"And the secret funds of the Dark Lord he had transferred to your
account, hoping that you would use it to find him?"
"All went towards the recruiting of the new Death Eaters, which
doubles in number through each passing day."
"And the money you embezzle from the Ministry?"
"I used that money to buy us the ones needed to stop the anti-Death
Eater measures made up by several pro-Mudblood parties. Not to
mention using the money to pay for more weapons, Death Eaters, and,
to this very day, I keep getting money to go into the Dark Lord's
safety measures, making sure no one suspects and hosting the cover-
ups."
"Prostitute," Rookwood scowled.
Macnair once again rose from his seat. "If I sold myself, I saved the
world!"
Lucius would have gone back to his old habit of biting his nails if
not for the leather gloves blocking his teeth from the elongated
tips. He instead brushed his hand through his hair. The laugh of
Macnair may as well have been lightning while Rookwood's smile was
the sting of a wasp, but they were both lacking to him.
Macnair continued on. "I would rather be like the ocean in regard to
my service to the Lord. At times, I will draw back into the sea. At
others, I will crush the Aurors with my wrath. It means safety."
"You foam," Rookwood replied calmly.
"A tempest," Macnair said, not to be outdone or mocked.
Rookwood had risen from his own seat at the same time as Macnair. He
had had it with these two creatures sitting before him. "Lucius,
Walden, you will not listen to me. You are both lost. Your policies
end in impossibilities until the both of you can see the larger,
broader picture. One day, neither of you will have an outlet which to
give your hostility. Both of you name places, things while I name
people. My strife is tangible, yours is nonexistent. All you both
will do is shut yourselves away, closing each door." He then added
with a snarl, "Save for the one to your coffin."
Macnair shrugged, used to Rookwood's tirades. "If that is our fate."
Rookwood went on. "Macnair, be careful. The world is a wide,
expansive place and you will, one day, be lost in it should you
choose to make it your enemy. You shrug, but sometimes a shrug can
make the head fall. Macnair, I will tell you this. Your dirt, your
rumpled look, your own sense of style, all of these things concern
Voldemort and his tastes. And as for you, Lucius, you are a
traditionalist, but that will not serve you anything. You serve
nothing, save your own ends. Play your twisted games and see where it
gets you. One day, Voldemort shall grow tired of your nature, your
unpredictable ways. Your own slipperiness shall be your undoing. Fine
as you are, Lucius, you too will be dragged down into the dirt like a
lowly commoner once the Dark Lord falls again."
"I hear an echo of a lost, desperate man," Lucius responded back
through gritted teeth.
"I am the echo of nothing. I am the damned cry, Lucius. You're young.
As are you, Walden. How old are you, really? Forty? Fifty? Ah, not
quite there just yet. And you, Lucius? Your eyes area hundred but
you've yet to see anything. Whereas I, I have lived through
everything. I represent the old human suffering. I might as well be
six thousand years old."
"That is true." Macnair, feeling as though it was his turn to reply,
spoke up. "For six thousand years, the Purebloods have suffered and
the annoyance and hatred of Muggles has been preserved. Like a toad's
bones in a rock. The rock breaks and out springs the toad and he is
called Augustus."
"Walden!" Rookwood cried out, shooting a glare at the other man, his
eyes lighting up like firecrackers.
"What?"
And so, these three men continued on well into the next hour. Three
conflicting thunderbolts.
You know you can't be hurt,
You gotta believe in your star,
They'll always treat you like dirt,
They can only push you so far,
They can't take it away,
If they've got something to say,
They might try and fence you in,
But you've only gotta Live To Win
I know it's hard, a natural drag,
It's a hassle to fight,
If you don't wanna be a slag,
If you believe you're right,
They've got the power now,
But soon it's our hour now,
We all know where we been,
All we do is Live To Win
You mustn't shout it out loud,
Don't create a scene,
It's no good being proud
That only feeds the scheme,
Break down the wall,
Live it up it's their time to fall,
Anarchy is coming in,
If you know we Live To Win