Aequitas et Veritas
Chapter One
"Close the door."
"Why?"
"Because, you idiot, do you want people to see her bloody body?"
"Oh right." He turned to the third person. "Close the door."
"Why should I?"
"Because! Do you want people to see her bloody body?"
"Well, no, but… why should I close the door? Dr—" The door slammed before the third man could finish his sentence, and the two men immediately ceased to argue. Quickly picking up the limp body of the young woman in question as though they'd been ordered to do so, the third man grunted in his low tenor voice, "Where do you want us to put her?"
"Gently place her on that sofa." The man who appeared to the other two as the leader of the pack turned his body to the door and softly opened it.
Letting go of the woman with slightly more force than gentleness, the third man shouted, "Why the ruddy hell are you opening the door? Do you want people to see her body?"
"Would. You. Shut. Up!" The tall blonde man at the door yelled in a whisper.
"Well sorry Sir, but you said to close the door."
"Keep your voice down." The blonde whispered. "I was checking to see if the hallway is clear."
"Where are we going Sir?" The other man dropped the rest of the woman on the couch.
"Don't call me Sir, and for Christ's sake you morons, I told you to place her on the sofa gently. You idiots are going to give her a concussion!" The blonde angrily turned around, ignoring the man's question, and quietly re-opened the door.
The two men looked down at the lifeless body lying on the sofa, and then back up at each other in confusion. There was a mutual decision against arguing with each other signaled by a slight shrug of their shoulders and the second man restated his question. "Uh… so where are we going?"
"We aren't going anywhere. You are going to leave." He whispered without taking his attention away from the hallway he was investigating.
"Us? Leave! But why?"
"I have no use for you here. Besides it isn't safe for all four of us here. I'll come find you again."
"Why aren't you leaving?"
"Because, you fool, someone needs to take care of this, and God knows I can't let you two handle it."
"But she's dead!"
"Shh! What?"
"The girl. She's kicked it."
"You ass! She isn't dead!"
"She isn't?"
The tall blonde man of about twenty-five opened the door quickly. "Leave."
"What?"
"Do I need to spell it out for you? You heard me. Leave."
"But Sir we—"
"Don't! Leave now. I will find you when it's over." The two just looked at him. "Get. Out."
"Fine." The two men grumbled as they proceeded to push their way out of the room like four year olds.
"And for God's sake, be quiet!" The blonde man shut the door quietly and turned to look at the woman lying on the sofa in front of him. "Now… what am I going to do with you?" He walked in a quick stride to the side of the couch where he kneeled down to check the girl's pulse. She was about his age, but her colour had completely abandoned her. Apart from the slight beat of her heart, the woman was virtually dead. A huge gash accessorized her bland face making it practically impossible for him to identify her, but thankfully the blood had begun to clot. The blonde stood up and looked around the small room. It reminded him of an oversized cleaning supply closet. The sofa was unexplainable, but he wasn't questioning the girl's luck in that if it weren't in the room she'd be lying on the cold hard concrete. "Fuck. When did this ever sound like a good idea to me?" He had nothing; no supplies, no form of communication with the outside world, no food, and he had no idea how to help the vulnerable woman currently dying on the sofa.
The light began to flicker. He looked up at the loose light bulb hanging from the ceiling and reached up to twist it. Felling the insignificant burn on his fingers, the blub continued to flicker, and in a heavy rush of fury he punched it with every ounce of energy he had in him causing the bulb to explode and shatter throughout the room. "Great. That's just bloody brilliant."
To what should have been the man's great surprise, but came off as an uninteresting expectation, he heard the woman groan. "Well thank God for that." He kneeled down next to the sofa, feeling broken glass pierce into his knees, and gently felt up the girl's arm towards her neck to check her pulse again. He finally reached her slender neck and found that her pulse had indeed picked up its pace. He looked up towards the ceiling and spoke very clearly towards a higher being, "It's about bloody time."
Quickly standing up, crushing the lasting larger pieces of glass beneath his black boots, the man moved towards the door. He opened it slightly letting in a ray of light from the hallway and stuck his head out slightly. The coast was clear. Slowly and while putting great force on the door so as to keep it from squeaking, he opened the door completely allowing the light to poor in entirely.
He returned to the side of the young woman, and saw that she was covered in glass. Figuring that this was actually the cause of her sudden moan, he gently removed as much glass from the surface of her body as he could. Whilst in the process of doing this he could hear running footsteps from above. "Fuck," he whispered. "All right, time to go." He picked up her light body, and walked out the door and to the right. "You better be worth this. I'll have none of your damn mood after this is all over, you hear me?" Her lifeless body didn't respond, to which he commented, "yeah… I seem to get that a lot," and when he heard steps coming down the stairwell behind him, he broke into an effortless sprint.
He could see the red telephone booth ahead of him, but arrows were already flying past him from his enemies behind him. "Spiculum, eh?" The spell that sent flying arrows out of a dueler's wand had long been outlawed, but there were always those who thought it necessary to bring back the dead. Unfortunately these men lacked the necessary skill of aim. The blonde man reached the phone booth and set the woman quickly on the ground. He turned around and spoke clearly with an unforgettable smirk, "When are you lot going to learn… it's the Unforgivables you want to use against someone like me… " The two men who had been chasing him for almost two hours now, stopped running. "Farewell gentlemen… may you take heed of my advice. Until next time…" he shut the door, tipped off his imaginary hat to the men, and shot his wand into the air causing the telephone booth to lift off through the ceiling and out of sight. He emitted a proud chuckle, and shook his head. "Tossers."
The girl moaned again, and his attention immediately turned back towards her. "You missy, are a lucky one." He kneeled down next to her as the phone booth continued to rise its way out of the building. "Now… what sort of damsel am I dealing with this time?" Her white face covered in blood made it very hard to make any connections towards her identity so he resorted to his least favorite part of the job. He began to search her body for any form of identity, though he doubted the fiends he'd stolen her from had left her with any. When he thought he'd guessed right, he found a small chain bracelet around her wrist. "What's this?" He looked at the tiny engraved plaque and found something he'd never expected to find in all his time working with the ministry. He unclasped the bracelet to make sure he wasn't going blind, and to his verification the engraving stated the most simple, yet horrifying words he'd ever expect to come across in an assignment.
Hermione J. Granger
Member of the Order of the Phoenix
Since 1998
"Fuck."