Vaughn Humphries frowned at the tiny speck that had appeared on the horizon, frowned down at the list on the clipboard in his hands, and then frowned at the young man standing next to him. The young man squirmed slightly under the gaze.
Vaughn sighed and turned away from the window. Dominic Thornton was a new guy. He wasn't the only one. There was one other in the same small building and many more just a short walk away. The problem with new people in this line of work is that they tended to be a bit jittery. The Ministry said they were necessary, Vaughn said they were a nuisance.
"It's just the seven-thirty supply run," Vaughn said finally, throwing the clipboard onto a nearby desk, "probably just chatted a little longer than usual before setting off".
"But sir," Thornton began and Vaughn stifled another sigh at the rookie's prim tone, "Ministry security protocol makes it clear that if a boat is to be delayed in its departure then it must contact us in advance, otherwise we are not to let it dock".
"Listen Thornton," Vaughn said irritably, "If I had a galleon for every time one of those boats turned up a little bit late I wouldn't be standing here talking with you. You've been here all of two days, whereas I've been here seven years. Trust me when I say that being late is the norm around here".
"But the Ministry made it clear in training that now more than ever we should be following the regs, what with You-Know-Who being back and all the Dementors joining him".
"Just get down to the wharf and let them through the wards," Vaughn snapped, "You can file a formal complaint with the DMLE if it turns out You-Know-Who is actually on the boat, until then however, I'm going back to bed".
And so Vaughn did, muttering all the while about incompetent newbie's and an even more incompetent Ministry. Unfortunately, although he did go back to bed, it was soon apparent that sleep would not come again that morning, and after ten minutes of tossing and turning, Vaughn gave it up as a lost cause and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed, his feet found his slippers and he stood up to stretch.
Vaughn's room, like the rest of the building, was simple yet comfortable. It held the single bed he had just got up from, a plain wooden armoire and a writing desk complete with chair. The desk was littered with parchment; unfinished reports and behind schedule requisition requests. At one corner of the desk though was a photo frame. His wife and two children smiled and waved up at him from amongst a plethora of wrapping paper. Christmas at the Humphries household, two years ago. He had had to work last Christmas.
The writing desk sat beneath a small window with a similar view as those in the observation room. His room was next door to it. As the senior warden, it was important that whoever was on duty was able to reach him at any moment and so his door opened out directly into it. Vaughn lowered himself onto the muggle inspired revolving office chair and gazed out the window. The seven-thirty was just approaching the wharf.
Vaughn watched as Thornton shouted something at the incoming boat, hopefully the day's password request. What he did not expect was the reply; a flash of green light lit the wharf briefly and Thornton's body crumpled to the ground.
It only took a couple of seconds for Vaughn to snap out of his shock, but that second had seen six figures in black leap from the boat and onto the wharf, four pointing their wands skyward and the other two sprinting towards the building in which he now stood, faces concealed by masks.
Vaughn crashed through his door into the observation room and almost snapped his wand as he hammered at a glass ball on a raised pedestal in front of the windows. The ball exploded in a shockwave that sent Vaughn flying to the floor, landing in a heap several meters away. For a moment he thought he tapped the ball a little too hard in his panic, but then he remembered the duro-charms on the 'tough as steel' ball and realised that the alarm was being jammed somehow. Picking himself up, Vaughn burst through the only other door in the room, emerging into a cramped hallway. Bypassing the kitchen on his left, Vaughn took the first door on the right, shouting at the top of his lungs for the occupants of the room to get up as he did so.
The sleeping man and woman tumbled out of their bunks, wrestling with their sheets as they tried to orientate themselves after being jerked awake so abruptly.
"Death Eaters are attacking!" Vaughn started without preamble, "They're jamming the alarm, Thornton's dead. I want you two to warn the others, I'll hold them here as long as I can. CONFRINGO!"
Vaughn had pointed his wand at what he knew t be an outside wall and roared the blasting curse, creating a good sized hole in a deafening explosion of stone and dust.
"Bert there's two on their way here now," Vaughn said, looking at the older man who had been doing this job almost as long as he had himself, "four more are trying to bring down some of the wards. I need you to take Milton and go now".
As if to punctuate his words, an explosion was heard from the other side of the building. Vaughn ran to the door and peered down the corridor, when he glanced back Bert and Milton had gone. Vaughn prayed that they'd have enough time to warn the others and call in some reinforcements. Focusing on the present however, Vaughn peered around the door frame again and then edged out into the corridor.
Vaughn had always wanted to be an Auror, Bert too for that matter. When NEWT results had not gone their way however, they had been guided into the same department anyway. There were many other careers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Vaughn had been a rookie in the petty crimes division on the day Sirius Black had showed his true colours. Stretched thin as the Department had been in those days, he was one of the first on the scene of that particular incident…thirteen Muggles and poor Petigrew…incredible. Though he was not an Auror, Vaughn, like everyone else in the Department, was fully trained in the handling of dark wizards.
Reaching the observation room, only seconds had passed since the explosion and the dust was still settling. Vaughn ran into the room, overturning a desk and diving behind it for cover. Wand held in front of him, Vaughn peered over the top of the desk and took aim at the oversized hole in the wall where stone and window had been just seconds before. Catching sight of a shoe on the right hand side of the hole, Vaughn quickly whipped his wand in that direction and the third blasting curse of the morning rocked the building, quickly followed by a man's scream. One down.
Through the dust, Vaughn made out the outline of the other Death Eater hurrying through the gap and quickly cast a stunner which was deflected back at him, punching into the desk before him. Seeing the Death Eater in front of him, Vaughn banished the desk at him, sweeping the legs out from under The Death Eater and sending him crashing to the floor with a curse. Quickly following up with a stunner, Vaughn stood up and rushed to the hole in the wall.
Peering outside, Vaughn caught a glimpse of the other fallen Death Eater and quickly looked away. Dead. Squinting instead at the wharf below, Vaughn watched in horror as more and more black robed figures began apparating in. The wards were down then, at least, the ones on the wharf were. The cracks of apparition eased off and Vaughn was able to estimate between twenty and thirty Death Eaters on the wharf.
Realising that he had done all he could here, Vaughn knew he needed to get this update to the others. Backing away slowly from the hole in the wall, he only saw a
flash of green light before darkness overtook him.
Lord Voldemort barely glanced at the body sprawled on the ground as he stepped through the gaping hole in the wall of the stone building. He instead fixed his gaze on the man standing next to a door that led further into the building.
"Did you succeed?" He asked him coldly, implying the severe consequences if the man had not.
"Yes, my Lord," The man said, falling to his knees at Voldemort's feet, "I jinxed the alarm ball last night, and killed Milton and Humphries before they could contact anyone, it's possible of course though, that they heard the explosions -"
"If you succeeded Blake," Voldemort interrupted, "Why then is one of my Death Eaters lying dead outside?"
Blake's mouth opened and closed repeatedly a few times before he started to speak.
"My Lord…Humphries…he sent me away. I had to pretend to go with Milton and kill her before I could come back for Humphries. I was too late to intervene!"
"You were supposed to incapacitate both of them and then give the all clear signal," Voldemort spoke softly, but his tone concealed an anger that was buried just beneath the surface, "Instead, three explosions have now most likely alerted the guard that something is amiss".
"My Lord! There was nothing I -"
"Silencio!" Voldemort hissed coldly, "Crucio!"
Voldemort watched the man, Robert, or Bert Blake, writhe on the floor in agony for only a few long seconds before lifting the curse.
"We do not have time to waste," Voldemort announced, "Blake, you may apparate back to the manor. We will finish our discussion later". Having dismissed Blake, Voldemort turned back to the bulk of his followers standing behind him, "It won't be long before more Aurors arrive. We must be quick".
With a swish of his cloak, Voldemort turned and swept through the door that led into the corridor. Striding down it, the door at the end blew outwards off its hinges, exposing the building in yet another place to the crisp summer morning.
Lord Voldemort strode through the doorframe with his followers close on his heels, and, as he came into view of the immense building looming unyieldingly before him, he did not break stride. Voldemort smiled. Today, he would free his servants. Today, he would show the ministry yet again, the power of Lord Voldemort
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin, First Class, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, hummed quietly to himself as Auror Toby Birch methodically unlocked the high security spells on the door to cell number one hundred and sixteen.
"Would you like me to come in with you Sir?" The young Auror asked, hands on the heavy locking bar that only needed to be slid across to allow access, "Since we have your wand, the prisoner could overpower you…"
As if realising who he was speaking to, Birch trailed off, of course, it was well documented that Dumbledore was quite capable of wandless magic.
"That's quite alright Toby, thank you," Dumbledore smiled benignly at the Auror, "He did ask to see me after all. If you could wait outside, I will knock four times when I am finished".
"Yes Professor," Birch replied, "Here you go then".
And with that, Birch completed the opening of the cell door, stepping aside to allow Dumbledore entry, and then closing it behind him.
Dumbledore stood tall as the door swung shut behind him, turning his gaze on the sole occupant of the cell, and quietly thinking he had seen better days.
The man wore no shoes, although, this was not immediately obvious due to the colour of his unwashed feet. The grey prison uniform, whilst filthy, had not yet turned into the rags that long term inmates usually wore. The look was completed by the man's hair. Once a platinum blonde colour, it now look matted and as if the colour would never be anything more pure than dirty blonde again.
"Thank you for coming Dumbledore," Lucius Malfoy said quietly from his place on the floor, "Late tough you may be".
"My pleasure Lucius," Dumbledore replied pleasantly, conjuring a cosy looking armchair and sinking gratefully into it, "You will have to forgive my tardiness I'm afraid. Opposing your Master is becoming a full time job once again".
"I will get straight to the point then," Malfoy said imperiously, "I want my freedom and am prepared to offer information in exchange for your help in getting it".
Dumbledore peered at Malfoy intently over the top of his half-moon spectacles for several seconds before answering.
"Why come to me?" Dumbledore asked curiously, "You know that during the aftermath of Riddle's defeat, I strongly opposed the granting of immunity to several Death Eaters who were prepared, as you are, to offer up information. Why not go straight to the Ministry?"
"There is no Ministry at the moment Dumbledore," Malfoy sneered, "Even I can tell that from in here. They are in chaos trying to find a replacement for that idiot Fudge. And besides that, what I have to offer is valuable to you more than them".
Dumbledore leaned forward in his armchair slightly.
"What I am going to show you, it is my belief, is the reason my master thinks himself immortal. Although I do not have all the pieces of the puzzle, I believe I know enough to set you down the right path".
"You would betray Riddle in this way?" Dumbledore asked suspiciously, "Betray his deepest confidence in order to secure your freedom, which, I might add, will be short lived if he ever finds out".
"If the Dark Lord out about even a hint that we had a conversation about Quidditch, I would be a dead man," Malfoy answered, "I may as well continue".
"I do not believe that you are being entirely honest about your reasons for telling me all this," Dumbledore said shrewdly, "Let us stop playing games with each other. You know as well as I do that Riddle will be trying to break you out very soon; the defection of the Dementors was the first step. I will ask you only once. What did you hope to gain by giving up this information?"
Malfoy considered Dumbledore for many seconds and Dumbledore gazed back serenely. As the two wizards sized each other up, Dumbledore considered the possibility that Malfoy was indeed sincere in what he offered. The chance to take Tom's immortality away from him was far too good to pass up.
"Very well Dumbledore," Malfoy said at last, "I am a Malfoy. A Malfoy is raised with three ideals; the acquisition of power, the generation of wealth and the purity of blood. We already have money. We are also as pure of blood as it's possible to be. The Dark Lord is a way of ensuring the purity of blood for all wizard kind. However, the Dark Lord is in conflict with two of the Malfoy ideals; he is not himself a pureblood, and serving under him, it is impossible to gain more power than I had just a few long months ago. This means that eventually, he will need to be…removed. I must admit that I do not expect I will be able to accomplish this on my own, but it would be far easier to persuade others to aid me if he were…mortal again".
"If you pass this information to me," Dumbledore said calmly, "I will do my best to ensure he is vulnerable again".
Malfoy started to speak but instead hissed in pain and clutched at his left forearm.
"Did you bring it?" Malfoy asked through clenched teeth, "We must hurry now".
"He is here?" Dumbledore asked softly, knowing the answer before Malfoy nodded. Reaching deep into his robes, Dumbledore withdrew the shrunken Pensive and with a wave of his hand, enlarged it and conjured a stand for it.
Malfoy got up from his position on the floor against the wall and touched his finger to his temple, depositing the silvery substance he withdrew into the Pensive.
"That is all I have on the matter," Malfoy said, "Go now, before the Dark Lord catches you in this part of the prison".
Dumbledore stood up, storing the Pensive and vanishing the conjured items. As he opened his mouth to speak, Malfoy held up a hand to forestall him.
"Do not thank me Dumbledore," Malfoy sneered, "Do not forget that you are also standing in the way of two of the Malfoy ideals. If I ever have the opportunity, I will kill you without hesitation".
"Then I pray you never get that opportunity Lucius," Dumbledore said happily, "Good day".
Dumbledore knocked four times on the cell door and it was opened by the Auror, who now looked a little flustered.
"Professor! We've just had reports of explosions being heard down at the wharf," Birch said without preamble, automatically re-locking the cell door, "It's probably an attack. If they came in by boat there can't be more than six of them but if they manage to bring down the wards…"
"The situation would appear dire Toby," Dumbledore said, as if Birch had just told him Azkaban was forecasted for rain later this afternoon, "Perhaps our first act should be to re-unite me with my wand".
"Yes Sir," Birch said, much more calmly, taking his example from the aged wizard, "This way Sir".
Dumbledore followed on after Birch, humming to himself once more.