Montrose Magpies: Chaser 2
Word count: 2993 on Google Docs
Optional Prompts: (word) Print, (dialogue) "You got a package for me?", (quote) "The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else." - John Blake
Disclaimer : I do not own the Harry Potter universe. I am simply borrowing it for a fic. Enjoy!
Amelia hurried down the stairs, forsaking the usually cramped lifts, knowing it'd take longer with all the stops, twists and turns than simply using her legs. Besides, many would question why the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was going to the Auror Department when she had plenty of assistants to acquire any papers she required. It would certainly cause a stir, and when no major case presented itself in the following weeks, suspicion would arise.
Speculation and suspicion weren't things she could afford—not when it came to something so important.
Entering the Auror Department, Amelia caught a few curious stares, but otherwise, there were no whispers or questions. She strode straight over to Nymphadora Tonks' desk, where the man she was looking for seemed to be attempting to explain something, to no avail, to the young woman he was mentoring.
"Alastor," she greeted with a smile.
The man in question turned to face her, his magical eye fixed firmly on her face—having the attention of the usually-spinning orb was almost unnerving.
"Amelia," he responded, checking his watch, "perfectly on time—unlike some."
Nymphadora spluttered. "How many times do I have to apologise?"
Alastor rolled his eye, the magical one not following, and gestured for Amelia to follow him as he made his way to his office.
Once they entered the closed off office, Amelia spoke. "You got a package for me?"
Alastor turned serious. "It's good you came down here; I wouldn't trust any assistant with these. I'm sure you've heard, but the rumours of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's spies residing within the Ministry are not unfounded. We must employ—"
"Constant vigilance," finished off Amelia.
Alastor chuckled, and Amelia grinned, taking a seat in front of his desk; it felt like being a trainee Auror again.
"Right," he said, taking his own seat behind the desk. "This package."
Amelia leaned forward, her eyes focused intently on Alastor's right arm, which she knew was moving to a locked drawer in his desk.
"It contains the largest amount of intelligence we've gathered on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return—from both Wizarding officials, documents, and rumours, and Muggle ones. I believe the wave of recent attacks are connected, and I believe they all lead back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I have, personally, picked out many names that are recurring, or fit the description of those mentioned in the articles. And, of course, there are my personal investigations…"
Amelia's mouth formed an 'o' shape. "The Order?" she whispered.
Alastor nodded, a smiling grimly, and pushed over a small envelope. "Undetectable Extension, before you ask," he said. "If you have any questions regarding this, then don't hesitate to ask."
Amelia nodded. "I won't hesitate in the slightest; this is far too important to go ahead with anything whilst being unsure."
"Right then, I'll see you out," said Alastor, standing up.
The two of them walked in silence until they reached Nymphadora's desk again.
"I hope to be seeing you soon, Alastor," she said, and inclined her head to the young woman still seated at her desk.
"See you later, Madam Bones," said Nymphadora with a smile.
"See you later, Nymph—Tonks," she replied, catching herself just in time.
She caught Nymphadora's grin as she turned to leave the Auror Department. She smiled, appreciating the fact such a young lady was so strong-minded. Reaching the stairs again, Amelia lightly jogged up them, keeping a firm grip on the envelope in her hand, eyes trained on the hem of her robes. As she neared the top of the stairs, a large object—well, someone—collided with her, and a stack of papers fell to the ground.
"Madam Bones," said Goyle, frowning at her.
"I apologise, Goyle; I should have been watching where I was going. Let me help you with those," she said, crouching to gather them, but Goyle removed his wand from his robes hastily and waved it, summoning them to his arms before she could even touch a piece of paper.
She straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from her robes.
"There's no need for you to pick them up," he said. There was something almost panicked in his smile. "You certainly kept a good grip on your envelope," he chuckled.
Amelia smiled, instinctively drawing the envelope in question closer to her side. Goyle raised an eyebrow at the movement.
"Something important?" he asked.
Amelia chuckled, moving to continue ascending the stairs. Her time as an Auror had taught her that, sometimes, silence was the best response. Anything else would risk giving something away.
"You do know I'll find out anyway; you might as well tell me now, Madam Bones," said Goyle.
"I assure you, you will not find out," said Amelia with a forced smile.
"And now, I make it my mission to find out," he said. From the way his lips curved up, she assumed that he was attempting a light tone, but it came out as threatening. "Should be easy enough."
Amelia arched her eyebrows, used to sexist barbs being spoken outright. Although Goyle hadn't said what he was thinking directly out loud, the unspoken from a woman was made clear enough by his disgusted up and down assessment of her person—and it was more than enough to make her temper flare.
"The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else, Goyle," she said with a wink. She walked past him before turning back to call out: "I can't see why you would be so interested in a woman's business anyway."
As she made her way up the remaining steps and through the long corridors to finally reach her office, she wondered: why had Goyle been taking the stairs, and why had he been so fast to gather up those papers?
Whatever the reason was, it couldn't be good—and although Amelia prided herself on being fair and unbiased, she couldn't help but cast her mind back to when he'd been put on trial for being a Death Eater. He'd been cleared, though… She shook her head, closed her office door behind her, and got to work on the contents of the envelope, dismissing any suspicions for the time being.
Well, that was until she reached Alastor's list of suspected Death Eaters. She knew to take the information with a pinch of salt; he could be overly suspicious, and if they imprisoned everyone he suspected of subterfuge, the entirety of Wizarding Britain would be behind bars. But the second she saw the name Goyle in Alastor's spidery print, Amelia's doubts pushed themselves to the forefront of her mind all over again.
Evidently, she needed a pair of eyes on the wizard—and she needed to see Alastor again.
It was late in the evening when she finished work, tucking the envelope into her pocket for fear that someone should come across it if she left it in her office. Taking the lift down to the Atrium, Amelia's eyes widened as the doors opened and her gaze landed straight on Goyle, who was whispering furiously to Nott by one of the black-tiled fireplaces. Again, Alastor's carefully hand-printed lettering flashed into her head.
Nott had been on the list.
Amelia straightened her shoulders and exited the lift, nodding at Goyle and Nott when they cut off their discussion to glance at her—well, Nott glanced; Goyle glared. She already knew Alastor wouldn't be in his office, and visiting the man's home was out of the question—although she was one of the trusted few who knew its location, the amount of wards and protective spells cast around the building edged on being dangerous, even for her. The only other place he could be was the Order headquarters, but she hadn't been made privy to the address, and she knew, or at least hoped, that the members had been smart enough to cast a Fidelius Charm on their meeting place. With Alastor amongst their ranks, it was unthinkable for them not to.
Regardless of where he was, Amelia knew that speaking to him about this important development was going to have to wait until tomorrow. It'd be the first thing she'd do in the morning, however; although she was operating largely on instinct and 'gut feelings', the pieces simply fit together too well to be dismissed.
A week later, while she was sitting at home with a hot cup of tea in her hands, Amelia thought back over the events of the past week. As planned, she had taken her observations to Alastor the day after her run-ins with Goyle. He'd been very interested in the incidents, as she'd expected, and had promised to investigate the mysterious papers. Nothing had turned up yet, as far as she was aware. She had seen Goyle lurking around her office on a number of occasions, but since she'd already moved the envelope to a safe place, his intimidation tactics didn't bother her.
Her fireplace flared green momentarily before her niece's face appeared within the smouldering logs. Despite the distortion that the flickering flames cast over her face, it was evident that the young Hufflepuff was distressed.
"Aunt Amelia?" she called out, and the fear in her voice caused Amelia's heart to race.
Without hesitation, she set her cup aside and, dropping to her knees before the fireplace, said: "I'm here, Susan. What happened?"
"Oh, thank Morgana," breathed Susan, before only sobs could be heard from the other end of the Floo connection. "I thought—I thought something had happened to y—you."
Amelia frowned. "Nothing has happened to me, Susan. Please don't be upset," she said gently, although she desperately wanted to ask why her niece was so fearful. It was like her earlier days as an Auror, where she interrogated suspects with too much enthusiasm and vigour, failing to get substantial evidence against them.
"I'm sorry for worrying you at this time of the night, but I had to know that you were okay," said Susan, taking a few deep breaths.
"There's absolutely no need to apologise. Evidently, something has frightened you; it's perfectly understandable. Could I ask what that is?"
Susan let out a hiccup, and from the flurry of flames, Amelia guessed that her niece had nodded. "Well, these two boys—well, one of them said it, but he said that his father called you a troublemaker, and that someone was going to—to teach you a lesson, and they're in Slytherin—"
"Hush now, Susan," said Amelia, attempting to stop her niece's panicked rambling. "It's okay; I'm fine. Do you know who the boy was?"
"He's called Gregory—Gregory Goyle."
Her heart dropped.
"Right," she said, keeping a calm exterior. "I want you to go to the kitchens with a friend and ask for a hot drink. You're in your common room, I presume?"
There was another flurry of flames and Amelia continued. "Then, go back to your dorms, drink it, and get a good night's rest. All I ask of you going forward is to not worry so much about me; I understand it's difficult, but you need to be focussing on your studies and keeping yourself safe; understand?"
"I understand," said Susan, and there was a weary smile on her face that Amelia could just about make out.
"Brilliant. Now, get yourself a nice hot drink," she said with a small laugh, and Susan cut off the Floo connection with a tired 'goodnight'.
As soon as her niece disappeared from view, Amelia's facade dropped. She didn't put much stock in the ramblings of teenage boys; they were more bark than bite. However, it did concern her that the news had reached Hogwarts so quickly. The timing was too convenient for it not to be related to the envelope she'd received, and she doubted that Goyle would've mentioned her to his son if he wasn't serious. It was possible that it was just a casual aside, of course, but that seemed like an incredible coincidence. She'd learned not to trust coincidences.
Well, she thought glumly as she returned to her chair and her tea, I suppose I'll be making another visit to Alastor's office.
She reached his office at exactly six in the morning. Moody's reaction when he saw her made it clear that the lack of sleep on her face was evident.
"Come in," he said, ushering her inside and closing the door. Most of the Auror Department—in fact, most Ministry workers—weren't yet at their desks. Most started work at the designated eight o'clock written on their rotas. Early birds were rare, but she'd known Alastor to be one from the day she'd met him.
"Susan called me by Floo last night," she began, taking a seat.
"Did something happen to her?" asked Alastor, leaning forward in his own seat with a frown.
"Well, she was shaken up over something somebody said."
At Alastor's deepening frown, she hastened to explain. When she completed her narration of last night's events and laid out the connections she'd made, Alastor sat back, shaking his head.
"You need Order protection," he stated simply.
"Alastor, I'm the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I cannot be joining a vigilante group."
"I don't ask that you join—simply that you allow us to give you the security and protection that you need," he countered.
Amelia shook her head with a fond smile. "You're a generous man, Alastor, but I will have to think on it. I'll come to a decision by the end of the day, I think. What time will you be here until?"
Alastor sighed. "I wish you would just say yes outright so I could get straight to assembling a group. I'll be here as long as you need me to be, though," he grunted.
Amelia laughed as the two of them stood up and Alastor led her out. "Thank you; it really does mean a lot."
"Just be vigilant," he warned.
"I promise; I will be."
Finishing her shift, she made her way down to the Auror Department, yet again. As the doors to the lift closed, she let herself fall back against the wall. It wasn't often that one got to be the sole occupant of a Ministry lift, and it allowed her racing mind to steady. She'd only worked alongside the Order twice before, and they'd been during truly desperate times—when she hadn't held the position she did today—but Susan's worry was permeating into her very bones, and the way things were tying together made her feel… uncomfortable. If protection from the Order would placate her frayed nerves, she'd take it.
The lift doors opened onto the familiar view of the Auror Department and she strode straight to Alastor's office, feeling her heart rate accelerate as her footsteps echoed around the empty floor. Reaching Alastor's office door, she knocked and was surprised when it swung open at her touch. Pulling her wand out of its holster, she entered, tentatively looking around the room before her eyes landed on a sheet of paper on the desk. It said:
Madam Bones,
Meet me at the Thames Docks Offices; you will know where to go once you reach there. I don't believe it's safe for us to discuss our business here.
- Alastor Moody
Amelia frowned at the note, written in the same print she was so used to seeing on the list of suspects she looked over everyday. It didn't sit well with her that it hadn't been brought up to her. Briefly, the thought that he'd left the door open so she could see the note occurred to her, but she knew Alastor never left his door unlocked. Perhaps he'd been in the middle of writing it before being called out for urgent business? Thinking quickly, she decided to make her way to the docks and wait for Alastor, but wrote a hurried note beneath, confirming she'd read it and was waiting.
It took less than two minutes to Apparate to the docks and enter the building. Alastor was correct; as soon as she entered, Amelia felt she knew exactly where to go. Her feet led her to a stairwell at the end of a well-lit corridor, and she descended them until she reached a door that led into another, near-identical corridor. The only difference was a flickering light at the end of this one.
She'd noticed the absence of people in the building, of course, but knew that Alastor was smart enough to choose a location with heightened secrecy. She continued going straight; when she was directly beneath the flickering light, she turned to her left to see an office that had yet another flickering light.
The moment she stepped inside, it stopped. She looked around the room, but there was no one occupying it. She would have to wait.
Then, the door swung shut.
Amelia spun around immediately, her wand at the ready, and assumed a duelling stance. She reeled backwards at what she saw. It was him; it could only be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
There had been rumour of his transformation—fearful whispers from the first time he'd attempted to take over—that he looked… reptilian. Now, with the man, or whatever he could be called, stood before her, she could see that they were as accurate as any description was going to get.
"Amelia… Bones." The almost-hiss caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.
"Voldemort," she said, pushing past the impulse to paralyse with fear. She was so relieved she could actually get the word out that she wasn't angry at her voice shaking.
"You have caused me… many problems… over the years," he said, gliding towards her. "It will be a pleasure… to deal with you."
Tears sprang to her eyes and, lifting one shaking hand, she screamed: "Confringo!"
Countless reports to the police would be made about flashing lights coming from the office building—until a blinding green one halted the display.
Amelia Bones was found dead three days later, and the Wizarding World mourned the loss of one of the most talented witches of her time.