Written for the Columbus House of Scribes prompt "Evil Triumphant"
There were many things Artemis didn't understand about muggles but the one that confused him the most, more than their "science" and "technology", was trash. Even without magic to disappear their trash, they didn't make any effort to get rid of it. Instead they kept it throughout their homes, stored outside their homes and in large, green metal boxes throughout London.
Right now, though, crouching down behind one of these large metal trash boxes in a wet alley and praying that it hid him, he was very thankful for just that trait.
Artemis was an Auror. That meant he should be actively hunting the criminals he was assigned to capture, not cowering being a muggle trash box, terrified that the criminal might find him.
This was no ordinary criminal, though. Artemis didn't know who he actually was but he'd ambushed the group of three Aurors, killing two of them … and Artemis wasn't sure that number wasn't going to change in the next few minutes.
"Communicato Phaeton!" he cast, in a whisper.
"Who is this?" he heard Phaeton, his superior snap, even though Phaeton was in his office deep in the Ministry of Magic."
"It's Artemis!" he whispered. "We were ambushed, Marcus and Cole are dead."
Phaeton cursed. "Who?!"
"I don't know!" he answered in an anguished whisper. "I haven't been able to see his face yet but …"
"But what?"
"He's powerful. More than anyone I've seen in … in a long time."
"Where are you?"
"London. I need help! He's still after me and – "
The muggle trash box exploded in a massive fireball, throwing Artemis ten meters through the air and raining twisted metal and burning garbage over the alley. He hit the brick wall, hard, and slid the ground. Fighting to remain conscious, he had a terrifying realization. I've lost my wand.
He saw a cloaked figure walking calmly through the burning debris toward him.
"Who … who are you?" he croaked. The figure slid back his hood.
It all made sense then. The ambush, the ruthless and cold-blooded killing of Aurors. The magical power he could bring to bear.
The cloaked figure raised his wand and pointed it at Artemis.
"Expelliarmus!" Three bolts of magical energy hit the cloaked figure simultaneously, crippling his hand and destroying the wand it held. He spun around and faced the newcomers.
Phaeton stood there, his wand ready, flanked by the only two other Aurors that were within yelling distance when he'd lost his connection with Artemis. He, too, was shocked to see the man facing him.
"I suppose I should thank you." He smiled, unexpectedly, but his wand didn't waver.
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"
"You've just given me a bigger promotion than I could ever hope for." His smile turned into a feral grin.
The cloaked figure spun and made a break for the other end of the alley. He took two steps and then dropped to the ground, dead, the target of a trio of Cruatious Curses.
Phaeton walked over and looked at the red-haired body on the ground. He had brought down the last of the Big Three. His career was made.
"Ronald Weasley, by the granted me by Lord Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, I find you guilty of the crime of Treason Against the Wizarding Community and …