A/N: Dedicated to everyone who reviewed 'The Hunt' and to my beta readers Dorothy, Ashes and Caitlin who picked up on so many nuances that entirely passed me by. A huge thank you to all.
The Gang of Four
By Incitatus
"Be merciful unto me, O Lord,
Be merciful unto me: For my soul trusteth in thee:
Yea in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge"
Psalms 57:1
The Auror cowered in the corner.
We had scoured the earth for months looking for a clue, any hint as to what had happened, and now, one rumour shone like a jewel from the darkness leading us here. We, the loyal, who had searched for so long. The promise of redemption was life to us.
Along with the thin man whose name I never knew, my husband Crouch and I, the last true followers of Lord Voldemort, followed every lead until we were finally led to congregate here. Over the months, our friends had melted one by one into the shadows; first Malfoy then MacNair, Goyle, and others, all disappearing seamlessly back into the fabric of society. But such duplicity leaves a mark, like blood on silk. They will never be pure. Some stayed true; Rosier for one, but by this time he was already dead. He had given his life rather than surrender. Others, however, were only too willing to tell lies when they found that, in the end, they doubted my Lord's power.
It was almost dark when we finally tracked the Auror down to the small cottage in Efaston, the clouds that hovered on the horizon dimming into purple. Great effort had been made to keep him hidden but we found him in the end, lodged comfortably with his wife in a Ministry safe house. Holding back our wrath for the time being, we planned the assault.
We were few, but still enough to inspire terror. While we pulled on our masks beneath the hoods of our robes, the foremost thought in our minds was of our fallen friends who had held off the Aurors as we searched for our lost Master. Though we longed to taste blood, we knew that at this time, vengeance must wait.
My husband was to lead us in; I held his hand in mine and gazed deep into his eyes before we parted. As he reached the door, I took a breath and raised my wand. Then with my silent cry of … "Obfuscata" …the house fell under a blanket of dark silence, even the crickets in the overgrown grass were hushed as if they knew this was our last chance for salvation.
Crouch guarded the front of the building while the stranger and I followed my husband through the door which was blasted inwards by the force of his spell. It took only minutes to subdue the couple, a simple curse we used at school was sufficient … "Petrificus Totalus" … and the Longbottoms were helpless, all they could move were their terrified eyes. They lay there vulnerable and we stood watching, aghast at the ease with which we took them. It was almost a year since the last attacks and people, even Aurors, were beginning to grow complacent. They needed reminding that the Dark Lord should still be feared.
"Where is he?" I asked, kneeling down beside our prey releasing the invisible bonds with a soft whisper. His limbs free, the man recoiled scrambling away from my touch.
"W-wh-where's who?" he stammered, looking not at me but at the woman still bound on the floor nearby. He moved toward her but I stopped him with a flick of my wand. "I-I don't know what you want with us."
"I want Lord Voldemort." He visibly winced as I said the name and I looked up at my companions, a wry smile hidden by the mask I wore. It was such a simple request that even this pathetic excuse for an Auror ought to have understood.
"Tell us where he is and we will let you go." Promised Crouch who had joined us the moment we were inside, so young and enthusiastic his wand already twitching in his hand.
"I don't know I tell you, please, don't …" The Auror protested begging on his knees, desperate to strike a bargain, swearing to keep us out of Azkaban if only we would release his wife. I sincerely believe that if the world had been within his gift he would have offered it to us yet he would not tell us what we wanted to know …
And of course, one cannot argue with faith.
We advanced on him from all sides and murmured, as one, a single word.
"Crucio." Our wands aimed in practiced unison.
He screamed.
After a few seconds we lowered our wands, we needed him conscious and there was no sense in overdoing it . . . not yet anyway.
We, the gang of four, did not need to discuss our action; we had broken resistance before using only this method. If the four of us had maintained our assault, Longbottom would very quickly have been dead, maintained for long, the curse was fatal but it had always proved a useful shock tactic to get the attention though too intense to do anything other than serious damage.
My husband and I stood back now as Crouch and our faceless friend went to work on Longbottom. Under their tender ministrations, his shrieks soon faded to an agonized rasp, his ravaged throat no longer able to sustain the note. My companions lowered their wands and he lay there twitching and jerking madly as he struggled to breathe.
I turned to the woman.
Her face was drenched with sweat and tears as she trembled when I approached.
"Perhaps," I said almost kindly, "You could persuade your husband to be reasonable?" and with a small gesture I released her from the curse that bound her.
"Frank." She gasped in desperation as soon as she regained use of her voice. "Frank, god, Frank . . . just tell them . . .please!"
She would have gone to him but Crouch and his friend turned to block her way; somewhere behind them her husband wept.
I wondered then, that if it were me, would I have done the same? Would I beg my husband to betray a secret rather than endure the agony of seeing him writhe in the dust?
I would not.
I understand pain and I understand fear. I have felt the touch of Cruciatus, burning hot, cold, lancing through my body, setting every nerve on fire, my sinew and bone stretched until it can take no more. One can live through that and be strong. One of the first lessons my master taught was that to control something one must first understand it, and to understand it, one must first experience it. It was both harsh and informative. I did not allow myself to scream but fought digging my nails in the loamy forest floor resisting for as long as I could, desperate not to succumb to the temptation to panic; the tendency to give in to fear when cringing in the mud, controlled by the whim of another is a great . . . but I digress. Suffice to say, it would take more than threats or pleas or promises or even silver to make me betray my oath.
Longbottom's wife continued to whimper to her husband. "Please Frank, please?"
"I don't know." Longbottom croaked to his wife. "I don't know where You Know Who is!" He reiterated with more strength than I thought he had left.
"What a pity," I said coldly. "That's the only thing that's been keeping you alive! You have a son, don't you?" I enquired casually, turning back to the woman. She saw, I think, the intent in my eyes.
"He's not here." she cried. I'm not certain if she was relieved because that meant her boy was safe or terrified because she thought we might go after him.
I shrugged. "You then. Crucio!"
"Please, not her." begged Longbottom.
I need hardly say that we ignored his plea.
Instead we took turns using the curse to break her, checking every now and then to see if Longbottom's memory had improved. But he just lay there sobbing. Sobbing and unable to tear his eyes away from our macabre tableau.
"You know." said Crouch eventually, "Perhaps they really do know nothing."
"In which case," replied my husband, "I can see no more use for them."
The quivering couple huddled together for comfort. We no longer bothered to restrain them, they were too far gone to even try to fight. I looked between them and my companions, we had come so far and this pair were our only remaining hope of finding Lord Voldemort; with the Longbottoms stubborness, that hope had died.
"We end it here." I said, moving to face my husband. I reached out and slowly drew down his hood then gently removed his mask from his strong thickset face. His expression was serious. We had discussed this measure in some depth and though he had reservations, he was willing to follow my plan. He extended his arms and took off my mask revealing an expression as grim as his own. I threw back my own hood shook my hair free, then masks in hand, we turned to face our allies.
"We swore an oath of eternal loyalty to Lord Voldemort and if we cannot find him we must share his exile, the Aurors will come for us wherever we try and hide and we know that we cannot count on the aid of old friends for shelter. We will continue to search for as long as we are free but the Aurors still have jurisdiction to fight us with Unforgivable Curses if we resist. We are no use to Lord Voldemort if we are dead."
Two sets of stony eyes gazed out at us from behind slitted masks. My husband and I stared back, daring them to prove their loyalty. The stranger removed his mask revealing a thin face set with a pair of nervous darting eyes. We did not ask his name. Turning then to Crouch, we watched as he hesitantly pulled down his hood and clumsily threw his mask at the Longbottoms. His hair as always fell untidily about his pale freckled face, making him look even younger than he was, and I think it is true to say that his blue eyes held just the slightest trace of fear.
"Now that we know each other." I explained calmly, "We have a little business to settle here, then I think we'll next meet in Azkaban."
To kill, or not to kill, that was the question? These people had kept us from our master and for that they deserved a greater suffering than death would bring. My mind worked quickly for I felt that time was growing short. How to repay that debt?
"I have it!" said the thin stranger, restless eyes flashing with malevolent glee. He could almost have read my mind. "Since they have kept the Dark Lord from us though he lives, we will keep them from their son though he too lives; in time, he will grow to fear our power, after all, he will have *them* as a living reminder of our work."
Our friend did not wait for our approval but instead jabbed his wand at the bewildered couple. Their bodies and minds were already in bad shape and his curse, a devilish little cross between a confundus and a powerful memory charm, was enough to put their minds beyond repair forever.
There was only one thing left to do if we were to end this chase on our terms.
"Right here?" I suggested, everyone nodded their agreement and we raised our wands together for the last time.
"MORSMORDRE" we yelled, the tips of our wands meeting in a peak.
The mark erupted in a sheet of green flame that blasted through the ceiling sending a shower of wood and plaster down on our heads, it traveled up through the next floor, overturning furniture before crashing to freedom through the roof. The blanket of silence, its purpose long outlived, that I had so carefully constructed to dampen the screams was shredded by the amplified summoning. We heard tiles and masonry clatter to the ground outside, then finally we basked in the misty glow as the mark spread out across the midnight sky in all its glory signaling the completion of our task.
We had claimed responsibility and would take the consequences.
In minutes this place would be swarming with Ministry Officials, Aurors, and an assortment of the merely curious. Crouch and our friend were already gone. It was time for us to be elsewhere. Sadly I wondered how long it would be before the Dark Mark rose again.
"Give my regards to your son, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom." I called, holding tight to my husband. We disapparated.
We were now the hunted.
~~~~~0~~~~~
The fury that grew from our last act of defiance was greater than we had imagined possible. In the days that followed, I wondered if we had been wrong. The backlash was so swift and intense that hiding until calm had returned was not an option as each day the cries for action grew. They grew louder and they grew nearer.
We four were not safe apart and not safe together. The gibbering Longbottoms had retained some vestige of memory, enough to identify us but in normal times not enough to convict. But the world wanted our blood. And that world was encouraged by our former friends who recognized a way to absolve themselves of guilt in the eyes of the populace.
Is it strange, when knowing my fate, I stood in the paneled hall with the front door open wide, breathing in the scent of air and dust and wood and polish as I watched the midday sun stream in through the high window.
I stood before a large vase part filled with water placed in the centre of an ancient carved chest worn smooth by the touch of countless hands across the years. My back was turned to the open door. Summer blooms were scattered on the chest, and one by one I picked them up and trimmed the stalks and placed each flower in the vase. The repetitive pointless task lifted my mind from what was ahead, taking me beyond the time of my passion, alone, in torment beyond the death that must follow before resurrection.
"They're coming." stated my husband, he would not leave my side.
"I know." I replied flatly, my eyes still focused on the vase. I could no longer look at him, not now that we were so close to the end. We had believed in something that was more than human and would now no doubt suffer for our faith. We had chosen this fate.
The first sign had come at dusk when a single rose appeared in our hearth. It was yellow, the petals parted and torn; we did not sleep that night. Then at dawn came the second, white, pristine. They had come first for our stranger and then for our souls, each flung into the fire before the end began. A prearranged warning sent with nothing more sinister than Floo powder, it signaled that two of our number had been taken.
A shadow crossed the doorway blocking out light. I turned, immaculate, robed in blue to face my husband, a white lily grasped between the fingers of my left hand. He took my right hand in his, it was shaking. As one, we turned to greet our guests.
Three Aurors, wands drawn, blocked the doorway and behind them lurked their Dementor friends already beginning to suck the life out of our home.
Somehow I found my voice; somehow I kept it steady.
"We've been waiting for you." I said with a forced smile. It was gratifying to see the disappointment; what they'd really wanted was a fight. I recognized the lust for vengeance in their eyes. A chance to get back at the Longbottoms' torturers, a chance we denied.
~~~~~0~~~~~
I don't remember the journey to Azkaban, I remember I cried out as they took my husband away, I remember the scent of the lilies, the warmth of the sunlight and the coldness of the Dementors' touch. I remember the darkness and the feeling that I might be on the brink of madness.
I remember the pain and the temptation to panic.
~~~~~0~~~~~
" … I think we'll next meet in Azkaban." My own words came back to me as we were led down a corridor, spoken the last time we four were together. This time we did not speak. A door opened and our guards ushered us into a vast dungeon, silent at first then filled with whispers that grew as we were secured. To my relief the Dementors, six of them, withdrew … for the first time in I don't know how long, I could think.
I sat, proud and aloof. Challenging the crowd with my confidence and letting my husband know that I was not going to be broken. He simply looked blankly at Crouch, the father not the son. Our own Crouch was part of the show, disheveled, shivering and afraid, no longer a fervent supporter of Lord Voldemort but reduced to a terrified teenage boy about to be admonished by the father he presumably loved.
"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law." Intoned Crouch glaring at us from his elevated position with such loathing. "- so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous –"
It was then that the boy began to plead, a sorry sound that left me torn between disgust and sympathy
The father ignored his son, raising his voice to block out the pitiful sound. "- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court. We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror – Frank Longbotttom – and subjecting him to the Cruciatus curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He Who Must Not Be Named –"
I reflected on those words, on would could have been if that fool Auror had complied. All lost dreams now, never more than dust.
"You are further accused of using the Cruciatus curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you that information. You planned to restore He Who Must Not Be Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury –"
The boy now denied it all, breaking his oath not only to us, his companions, but also to my Lord; yet, a part of me could not blame him.
"I now ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban."
A shiver coursed down my body as every witch and every wizard on the jury raised their hand, my jaw tightened as the crowd clapped, they had their little victory.
"No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!" screamed the boy.
I was defiant as our captors came to return us to our cells, I raised my head and looked directly at Crouch.
"The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban, we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!" I swept from the room leaving behind the boy who struggled against his destiny, the crowd which jeered and the husband who I loved.
- I would wait. I would remember as I entered the long night. Strengthened by the knowledge that we few shared his exile.
- We alone were true.
~~~~~Fin~~~~~
- A/N Yes, the title was deliberate. Perhaps you were expecting a different Gang of Four? Well, with so many fics one must take extreme measures to catch readers. Please R&R anyway ::G:: and if you haven't already done so take a look at the epilogue entitle 'The Prisoner' very short, very dark.
- Previously published incomplete as 'The Hunt'