A Few Conversations
A standard disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this story, and it is being used for entertainment purposes only.
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Augustus Rookwood stood in the Revolving Room, staring at the haze of the doors spinning by him. It painted a pretty picture — the blue flames streaking sideways to contrast with the black stolidity of the doors, and the marbled floor showing a reflection.
He barely noticed anymore.
He glanced at the Unspeakable next to him. This man, McGarritty, worked in the Hall of Prophecies. He opened his mouth to speak and froze when the door stopped.
Glancing at the candles all around the room, he found the one with the engraving of an arch. That was his door — he needed to go into the Death Room. He would talk to McGarrity later.
As he walked through the door, Rookwood winced. His Dark Mark tugged at his skin, pulling him towards the veil. Knowing about the project as he did, he knew better than to go near it. The voices were like a fwooper — they would drive you insane if you listened too long.
He sighed in frustration. He had work to do today in other Rooms, but when he had told the Dark Lord about this room, the Dark Lord had been fascinated. He had ordered Rookwood to do some exploration.
The Dark Lord could be unreasonable, sometimes. He only dared to think such rebellious thoughts when he was far away from the man, though. He had no idea how "exploring" would help him — he already knew all about this project from Jones and Roberts, two of the Unspeakables who worked here.
If he was found here, suspicion would be raised. The situation was tricky after that huge deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures — he had exchanged 3,000 galleons in funding so that the Department would overlook the presence of dementors in a wizarding residence.
If anyone caught him doing these things, he would lose the Minister's trust and the respect of the rest of the Ministry. So far, he had been able to get whatever information he needed or favors he wanted by cloaking them under the excuse of a Department of Ministries project.
If anyone figured out the truth, they would have to die. Glancing at the archway perfunctorily, Rookwood stopped. There were runes engraved into the stone. Glancing at them, Rookwood quickly stored the appropriate information.
Perthro. Mystery.
Thursiaz. Defense.
Ansuz. Communication.
Raidho. Travel.
Dagaz. Awakening.
Gebo. Exchange.
Rookwood frowned. These runes didn't translate well…didn't make any sense to him. Nevertheless, he stored it in his thoughts so that when the Dark Lord looked into his mind, he could sift over the meanings himself.
He turned and began to walk away, but stopped quickly and plastered a smile upon his face. Jones stood in front of him, her eyes suspicious.
"What are you doing, Augustus?" she asked quietly.
Augustus smiled confidently. Act with confidence and people will step out of your way. He struggled for her first name for a moment.
"Gwyneth, I was simply checking on the reports of damage to the archway. Administrative business, something we all have to deal with. I did, however, make sure to not disturb the veil."
Jones shifted hesitantly. "That veil has been sitting up there for hundreds of years, and no one has checked on it."
Augustus nodded, and said smoothly, "All the more reason for us to start now. Old things do break — but this simply cannot."
Gwyneth smiled thinly. "Fine. Shall I show you out?"
Augustus hid a gasp. "No, I wouldn't dream of bothering you in your work. Carry on. I know where the door is."
As he left behind Jones, Augustus breathed a sigh of relief. He was lucky these Unspeakables were so naïve about the outside world. Despite going out and reading the newspapers of a betrayal here and a betrayal there, they never imagined that a Death Eater could be one of their own.
Rookwood smiled. Now, he had to do what he had come here to do. He shook off passing irritation with the Dark Lord. His master had been right — there had been something to discover. Now that he had found it, he could go and complete the work he needed to do.
He had a network — a strong one — within the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries. It had taken months to develop it. It had helped that he worked in the Brain Room alone. No one could watch him because he had no partners to work with. Besides, all the other Unspeakables held him in high regard because the Brain Room was a difficult position to snare. It also gave him a direct line of communication with the Minister so that he could talk about his research…and other things, of course.
He slowly worked out friendships with at least one person with every room. Over the year, he had found the people who were isolated in their own team, and befriended them. He was now their confidante, and he got information from every corner of the Department of Mysteries.
But that was not enough. Voldemort wanted him to spread his network of contacts beyond the Department of Mysteries. Rookwood stifled another surge of irritation. The Dark Lord wanted his demands met unconditionally, but he usually failed to realize how much time and effort these connections required. Expanding it beyond the cloak of secrecy the Department of Mysteries risked revealing the entire network to the eyes of Bartemius Crouch of Magical Law Enforcement.
Rookwood gulped nervously. You didn't want to reckon with that madman. He would send you to Azkaban whether you were innocent or guilty. Rookwood took the lift up to Level Five. He was meeting Cornelius Fudge, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, to see if Fudge was one of those types of people who would trust him.
Fudge was a fool who stuck to precedent and policy in all cases, and Rookwood had a feeling that he would be an open target to pump for information. The lift doors opened and Rookwood strode out and into the hallway. He walked down the hallway and found Fudge looking over papers.
"Cornelius," he said ingratiatingly, "how was your day?"
Fudge glanced up. "Oh, Augustus," he simpered, "it's busy as always. The work never ends for a Head of Department."
Rookwood plastered a smile on his face. "Do you have the time for me?"
Fudge beamed. "Of course. Come into my office."
The fool was practically overjoyed to show off his territory. It was sickening how materialistic and boring this man was. Rookwood clenched his teeth and bit down a sniping remark. The Dark Lord would not be pleased if he failed. Masking a shudder, Rookwood sat.
Fudge frowned at the lack of respect shown by Rookwood, but Rookwood smiled. Fudge thought he was too influential, too powerful to anger, and he was right.
"So, my friend, what brings you to Level Five?"
Rookwood smiled. "I just needed to know about all recent international events within the past six months."
This was only a ruse to set up further meetings and an eventual friendship of sorts, but the report would also come into use. The Dark Lord was planning to use this history to find which area of the world would be most vulnerable to his upcoming attacks.
Fudge smiled. "I'll need an information release form filled out and signed —" Rookwood handed over the necessary document, and Fudge looked at it. "I should have known you would have it ready. Well, you're certainly a trustworthy person, and I'm always ready to help the Department of Mysteries."
Rookwood waited patiently, and finally Fudge handed over a report. "Is this all?"
"Yes, it is, Augustus. Now I have a favor to ask of you. Would you mind sending over 1000 galleons our way? We need to buy one more cauldron from Bulgaria to meet our requirements this term —"
Rookwood didn't need to hear it. "Of course, Cornelius, I would do anything for a friend." He waved a hand dismissively. "I will send over the funding tomorrow." He smirked. "No forms are needed."
Fudge looked half-elated at getting the money, and half-disgruntled at being interrupted so abruptly. "All right. Thank you, Augustus."
"No, thank you. Cornelius, how about we meet for lunch sometime? I have matters to discuss and I feel the head of the International Magical Cooperation Department would be ideal to speak with." Rookwood knew that Fudge would melt at the flattery. He was always so simple, so obvious to read.
Cornelius beamed. "Why, of course, Augustus. I would be happy to listen to your thoughts."
Rookwood smiled. He, of course, would not be talking…Fudge would be. This was merely a pretense. He quickly said his goodbyes and walked out of the Department, shuddering to himself. He felt filthy. He hated fawning over anyone, or acting like he was an equal to them.
Nevertheless, the Dark Lord would be pleased. The seeds had been laid for a Ministry-wide network. Rookwood felt his Dark Mark sear and he barely hid a wince. Rushing to the Atrium and the Apparition point, he moved to Apparate, thinking of the Dark Lord's masked face and his voice.
Self-hatred quelled up within him. He was inferior to his master, the Dark Lord. He hated that. The Dark Lord has promised you power, and you must serve him until you get it. Once you do, then you can stop serving him.
He thought of Regulus Black, the latest Death Eater to try to escape the servitude to which he was bound. He had lasted seven days. He was dead.
Rookwood pushed away the dread pooling in his stomach. He was smarter, older, and more cunning than that innocent Regulus Black. He had killed men, while Black ran at the thought of murder.
He would survive. It was just a matter of a few conversations with choice Ministry officials, a few bits of crucial information, and he would gain the Dark Lord's trust.
Once he had power, he would be able to escape the Dark Lord.
Just a few more conversations...
The world squeezed in around him for a moment as he Apparated away to attend to his master.
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A/N: Cornelius Fudge managed to weasel himself out of an Azkaban trial even though he helped Rookwood like Ludo Bagman did. The reason Ludo got charged was because he did not have paperwork to justify his release of information to Rookwood. Since Fudge did have paperwork, he was excused from an Azkaban trial.