A/N: Part I was inspired by this bizarre little device. Part II was a response to rikibeth's request for more.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Percy Weasley, Lucius Malfoy, and all their associates are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow. The other guy who shows up here belongs to someone else entirely.

New Lord In Town

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I

"I wish to speak to the Minister of Magic."

Something about the imposing, white-haired gentleman--something apart from his bizarre manner of dress--compelled Percy to sit up and take notice, though at first he couldn't have said what it was. "I'm very sorry, sir, but the Minister is unavailable at the moment. I would be happy to take a message for you."

The tall gentleman's eyes narrowed, and Percy fought not to squirm under his cool, penetrating gaze. It reminded him uncomfortably of Lucius Malfoy's (though Malfoy, aristocratic pureblood though he might be, couldn't hold a candle to this chap when it came to regality of bearing.) "Very well," he said after a long moment. "Inform your Minister that I wish to meet with him at the earliest possible opportunity to discuss matters of mutual importance."

Percy gulped. He didn't wish to question the man, but Mr. Fudge would never bother to answer such a vaguely-worded message. "Ah...intending no disrespect, sir, but could you possibly be a bit more...specific? The Minister receives so many requests, it would be helpful in prioritizing..." He trailed off, unconsciously leaning back slightly in his chair as the gentleman placed both hands flat on his desk and peered intently into his eyes--taking the young man's measure, and making no attempt to disguise the fact.

Percy summoned up all the Gryffindor courage at his disposal and met the man's gaze levelly, trying to reciprocate. Though clearly marked both with age and with suffering, the face before him was strikingly attractive--and extraordinarily difficult to read. The blue-gray eyes seemed to bore right into him, laying bare every secret, every resentment, every painful revelation of his young life--and somehow, while giving nothing back, they made clear to Percy the petty childishness of his own grudges and ambitions.

After an endless, excruciating pause, the man smiled suddenly, and Percy felt his heart stop dead in his chest. "You really have no idea to whom you're speaking, do you?"

Percy shook his head, certain he would have remembered if he had ever seen or heard of such an extraordinary person before.

"Well. We shall have to remedy that oversight at once." The visitor straightened up, and--without the use of a wand, or any incantation or gesture--levitated his strangely-shaped helmet up from the desk where he had set it upon entering. "I shall allot five minutes for your Minister to be informed of my arrival, and for his afternoon schedule to be cleared. After that, I shall cease to be polite about it. Do I make myself understood?"

The helmet settled onto the man's head as he spoke, framing that compelling face with cold metal, and adding a sinister touch to his strange, otherworldly ensemble--all reds and purples, tightly fitted over a lean but muscular frame, and trailed by a long billowing cape that would have made Professor Snape weep with envy.

Percy could have sworn that the man's eyes were glowing faintly.

"Y-yes Sir," he squeaked, knocking his chair over as he leaped up to deliver the ultimatum personally. Halfway to the door, he stopped, acutely aware of the seconds ticking away, and asked haltingly, "Your pardon, but--may I give the Minister a name?"

The visitor smiled again, and sketched the slightest of bows. "Of course--do forgive me. My proper name is Erik Magnus Lehnsherr. But most know me simply as--Magneto."

II

"So. This...Voldemort," Magnus said, his manner deceptively casual as he paced about the room, admiring the classic architecture of the Malfoy residence and the fine artistry of its accoutrements, "He is accounted powerful among you wizards?"

Lucius repressed a sneer. Clearly this "mutant" considered himself a man not to be trifled with. There was, of course, always the possibility that this might be true, and so the Death Eater replied with a semblance of courtesy, "Lord Voldemort is, arguably, the most powerful wizard ever to walk this Earth."

"Hmm." Magneto seemed less than impressed. "And this despite the fact that he has been repeatedly vanquished by a young boy, not yet fully trained in magic?" He raised his eyebrows, inviting Lucius' rejoinder.

The latter reddened, and said stiffly, "The Potter brat is an anomaly, and will be dealt with in due course. There is a prophecy--"

"A prophecy?" Magnus smiled--a cold, cunning smile worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself. "My dear Lucius, I am disappointed. Your reputation led me to believe that you were a man not only of great resourcefulness and high ambition, but also one who might appreciate the difference between destiny and inevitability." His unhurried steps carried him back in Lucius' direction as he spoke. "Surely you understand that it is we who are masters of our fates, and not the other way around?"

Lucius took an involuntary step backward, his steel-silver eyes caught in the irresistible pull of the other man's blue-grey regard. "There is only one master," he retorted automatically, though the words lacked their usual ring of arrogant certitude. "And when his time comes, he will take his rightful place over wizard, Muggle, and mutant alike."

"Such conviction." Magneto assumed a thoughtful expression. "You know, Malfoy--there may be something to what you say."

Too much the Slytherin not to see it coming, Lucius reached for the wand concealed inside his cane--but too late; the ostentatious weapon was wrenched from his grasp by a force he could neither see nor counter, and he watched with slack-jawed disbelief as it sailed gracefully into Magneto's hand.

With a shriek of protesting metal, the snake-shaped handle crumpled into a shapeless mass. Magnus casually tossed it over his shoulder. It clattered loudly against the marble floor.

"Yes, I believe you have convinced me," he went on, seemingly oblivious as Lucius backpedaled frantically toward the door. "Until I learned of this enchanting little world of yours--pardon the pun--I had believed that Mutants were the only beings worthy of my attention. But now I see that my empire can never be complete until I have brought all of you, our long-lost cousins, into the fold as well."

A chain fixed to the far wall wrenched loose from the ring that held it, and the vast wrought-iron chandelier which graced the center of the room lunged downward, snapping around Malfoy like the jaws of some great predator. An instant later he was hoisted into the air, caged like a disobedient owl in the heart of his own ancestral home.

"So," the Master of Magnetism concluded mildly, strolling to the center of the room to gaze impassively up at his captive, "What is it to be, Lucius? Every Lord needs his right-hand man, and your resum� suits you admirably to the job."

Lucius hesitated, caught between fear of the devil he knew and the one he did not.

"Perhaps I should add," Magneto noted helpfully, "that your alternative is a very short, very...uncomfortable...stint of unemployment."

Sharp metal biting cruelly into his limbs at a dozen points, Lucius looked again into the strangely luminous eyes of Magneto, and knew that it was no idle boast. Voldemort was going down.

Never let it be said that a Malfoy failed to grasp opportunity when it was offered.

He forced a smile. "How may I be of service to you--My Lord?"

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