Chapter 21: The Devonshire Conspiracy

Devon.

People living in the South Hams still refer to this estate as the "Eccentric Manor." Although they occasionally catch glimpses of mysterious travelers passing through the dense forest, the estate’s name has never been erased by the passage of time—Malfoy Manor.

According to ancestral records, the manor has stood there since the time of William the Conqueror.

Situated at the highest point deep within the forest, the entire structure appears embedded in thick, green vegetation. Looking out from the windows atop its grey spires, one can see the distant coastline. At sunset, the horizon is stained a warm, golden orange, as if the distant sea were aflame.

Few dare to approach this place; even the most astute hunters prefer to take a detour. Whenever they draw near the manor, they find themselves inexplicably disoriented, falling into a loop of endless, confusing paths.

The manor is clearly right there, yet no one has ever entered it.

At this moment, however, the atmosphere in the grand hall of Malfoy Manor is as oppressive as the air before a storm.

The black marble floor reflects the dim candlelight, while a massive crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, looking slightly dull with age. The surrounding walls are covered in portraits of ancestors, their painted eyes watching everything in the hall with cold detachment.

In the center of the hall, a group of figures in black robes sits around a long table, the atmosphere thick with tension.

Each face is hidden beneath a hood, with only voices and eyes—some angry, some indifferent—to distinguish them.

"He has returned," a voice breaks the silence, filled with disgust and wariness.

"I know he has returned," another voice immediately retorts, this time laced with mockery. "Byrne Morris... Azkaban could not hold him. Shouldn't this force us to re-evaluate the threat he once posed?"

"A threat?" a gravelly voice sneers. "He is nothing but a failure, a prisoner tossed into a cell by the Ministry of Magic! His reputation has long since crumbled; what more can he do?"

"Do not underestimate him," a black-robed figure standing by the table says coldly. "Has Morris’s reputation crumbled? No. He has returned, and that alone says everything. He spent a year in Azkaban only to be bailed out by Dumbledore and reappear in the wizarding world... Do you think that is merely a coincidence?"

"So what?" a younger voice says impatiently. "What can his return change? We hold the resources; we control the situation. More than half of the Ministry is ours. Public opinion may be a bit troublesome, but it is not enough to truly threaten us. What is a man who has just crawled out of a prison cell?"

"Foolish," the gloomy voice chuckles, eyes shifting among the others as if mocking their shortsightedness. "Do you even realize what Morris's return means for our plans?"

A silence descends upon the hall, broken only by the faint crackling of the fireplace at the wall.

The figure in the center of the group slowly lifts their head and says coldly, "Regardless of anything else, his return will cause fluctuations in our previous arrangements. Byrne Morris, no matter how you view him, is like a stone thrown into a lake—he will create ripples. The question is how far those ripples will spread."

"So, you mean... we should eliminate him?" asks another, older voice.

"Perhaps that is the best choice," the cold, sharp voice replies without hesitation. "Before he has found his footing, before he has regained his influence, before he can deliver his damned speeches to the masses—we should strike. We must end his threat once and for all."

"You are too impatient," the older voice speaks again. "Morris is a smart man. He will keep himself in the public eye. If any accident occurs, the public will cast suspicious eyes toward us. I guarantee that would trigger an even greater conflict."

"Besides," he shifts his tone, "Morris has already decided to take a position at Hogwarts. Under Dumbledore's watchful eye, who could move against him? Me? You? Or you?"

"Then we do nothing?" the young man asks again, clearly dissatisfied. "Sit and wait for him to expose everything we have to the public? Or watch him rise again, preaching his foolish ideas, leading a mob of Mudbloods and Squibs to storm every one of our manors and pick us off one by one?"

The oppressive atmosphere fills the hall, firelight dancing on the faces of the cloaked figures. No one speaks.

"Calm down," a new voice comes from the back of the group, carrying a hint of mockery. "We will not do nothing, but we should not be driven by panic to act like headless chickens. Morris's existence is indeed a threat, but that does not mean he is invulnerable. Before he fully regains his influence, we have plenty of time to formulate a plan."

The young man turns sharply toward the speaker, his tone still filled with deep resentment. "Formulate a plan? We haven't taken any action for a year! Even the Squibs in my basement are from a year ago! We did nothing during the year of Morris's absence! And the result? He is back, and he even found a job at Hogwarts! Are we just going to sit by and watch him become the new hero of the wizarding world?"

"Shut up!" a burly black-robed figure barks. "The more impatient you are, the more you expose our weaknesses. Morris is a dangerous man, but he is by no means uncontrollable. Don't forget, he wasn't invincible before, either. When he was imprisoned, we were already well-prepared."

"So what?" the young man counters mockingly. "He got out of Azkaban. Do you really think someone like him will be sent back by us again?"

"That is enough," the older voice rings out again. "We will not sit idly by, but we will not act rashly."

He pauses, his gaze sweeping over everyone, his tone turning more sinister. "Morris has indeed returned; that is an undeniable fact. But his choice to go to Hogwarts, whether by coincidence or design, proves one thing: he does not intend to confront us head-on for now."

The atmosphere in the hall eases slightly, though it is clear many are not satisfied with this answer.

"Then," a black-robed figure who had been silent until now speaks slowly, "do you mean... we should wait for him to strike first?"

"No, certainly not," the older voice says coldly. "We will set our plans in advance, but we will not move against him while everyone is watching Hogwarts. That would be no different from seeking our own destruction."

"Then what is your plan?" another voice asks, with a hint of caution.

"It is simple," the older voice says after a pause. "Before Hogwarts begins, we will create opportunities to try and eliminate him in a place where no one is looking, keeping the fallout to a minimum. If that cannot be done, or if we are forced to abandon it for some reason, then the second step: win him over."

"Win him over?" The young man jumps up again, his tone full of disdain. "Are you serious? Wooing Morris? Do you think he would stand on the same side as us? This man has always been our greatest opponent. He is a traitor to pure-blood families; he even publicly advocates for breaking the authority of pure-blood wizards!"

"Young man, your shortsightedness saddens me," the older voice responds coldly. "Morris does oppose us, but he is not a man who ignores his own interests. He is a realist. If we can show him the benefits of standing with us, he will be willing to cooperate."

"And if he refuses?" someone asks coldly.

"Then we continue to make him a target for everyone," the older voice says with a touch of chill. "Morris's existence is a double-edged sword. His ideals and views are destined not to be accepted by all wizards. As long as we are clever enough, we can make him a divider of the wizarding world, rather than its savior."

A low murmur of discussion fills the hall.

This plan sparks significant debate; some seem to accept the logic, while others remain deeply hostile toward Morris.

"What if he can neither be won over nor isolated?" the young man asks with a final provocation.

The older voice lets out a cold laugh and says slowly, "Then we wait for him to make a mistake. Morris is not a god; his ideals are too radical, and they will eventually lead him into trouble. When that happens, we will deliver the final blow."

The young man tries to say more, but the burly wizard beside him pulls him back.

He grinds his teeth and, in the end, says nothing more.

"Very well," the older voice decides. "This is our plan: before the term begins, we will attempt to eliminate him. If that fails, we wait and watch for the right moment. Remember, under no circumstances should any of us reveal our identities."

"Nott, you will handle this. After all... the source began with you; you share the same bloodline. The others will provide support."

"Yes," the black-robed figures in the hall respond in low tones.

One by one, the figures vanish into the shadows of the hall, as if they had never existed at all.

When the last one departs, the hall falls back into a deathly silence, with only the faint glow of the fireplace remaining.