A/N: I'm going to establish right off the bat that my update schedule is likely to be erratic - I am currently in school, and that has to be the priority. That being said, I will do my best to have some kind of consistency.
This weird brainchild started last summer, and has been simmering on the back burner ever since. I am happy to finally present the first installment of what is for me a merging of my two favorite fandoms. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
CHAPTER ONE
The Sunday upon which Jean Valjean was rearrested was a quiet one. It was early morning still when the Auror called Javert caught up with him in a little hamlet outside Montreuil-sur-Mer; the sky was grey and overcast, and the old convict had hoped that the low-hanging fog would provide him cover. It did, after a fashion, but the long and short of it was that Javert had a wand, and Valjean did not. He surrendered easily, hopelessly, aware that to run would only earn him a jinx in the back.
It was two days since Arras, two days since the Mayor of Montreuil, Madeleine, had confessed before the local court that he was, in fact, the escapee from Azkaban, Jean Valjean. He had turned over his wand to the presiding magistrate before going back once more to Montreuil, leaving the courtroom in a state of shock. Since then, Valjean had managed to evade Javert at the hospital; he did not believe he would be so lucky a second time.
Javert, for his part, was taking no chances. When at last he had Valjean cornered at the end of a deserted alley, he kept his wand trained on him closely.
"Valjean, you are under arrest and will appear in the Palais de Justice to answer to a list of charges, not the least of which includes absconding from Azkaban Prison," he said. "You are advised to cooperate."
The Auror regarded him coldly as he removed a set of spelled handcuffs from within his deep navy robes. It came in two pieces, like small pillory boards, only made of bronze and with holes which shrunk to hold fast the wrist of the offender. Valjean watched apprehensively as Javert gave a flick of his wand, and the two pieces sailed over to clamp Valjean's hands tight behind his back. Then the two pieces fused into one, leaving him no way to pry the thing off. Valjean knew from experience that if he tried, it would only squeeze him tighter.
"Come," Javert ordered. "There may be Muggles about; we will not Disapparate here."
The Auror gestured emphatically with his wand, and Muggles or no Muggles, Valjean did not doubt that Javert would use magical force if he thought his prisoner likely to make a break for it. Bowing his head, Valjean walked with resignation in the direction the Auror indicated.
They turned right onto the main street, which was as empty of passersby as the alley had been. The tiled roofs of the village houses loomed through the mist, casting eerie shadows over the silent pair. A prickling sensation caressed the back of Valjean's neck.
They had gone perhaps a block when he spoke.
"How far do you intend to walk?" asked Valjean.
"Be still," Javert returned shortly.
Valjean closed his mouth, but the feeling of uneasiness continued. Perhaps the occupants of the hamlet were simply engaged with their morning Mass, but surely there ought to have been someone out and about, or a sign of life through any one of the windows. Instead, there was nothing, only stillness, the cars parked along the curb equally empty and unmoving.
The street down which they passed led under a stone arch into a central courtyard. In the middle was an old well, while a series of shops lined the perimeter of the plaza, and at the opposite end was a second, identical arch. As with the street preceding it, the shops were dark, and the plaza abandoned. Valjean paused at the first archway, but Javert gave him an impatient prod in the back and so he continued walking. He had made it a few steps beyond the well before a flash of motion caught his eye and he turned to look.
When the explosion happened, it shook the very stones beneath his feet.
The force of the blast threw Valjean across the courtyard, where he collided with a stone wall and collapsed. Ears ringing, bruised and battered, he struggled to sit up, a proposition made all the more difficult by the handcuffs holding his wrists tight behind his back.
What happened? he wondered. One moment, he had been trudging along quietly, and the next... Through the settling dust, Valjean could make out two figures, both of them quick and lean. They were bending over something in the middle of the street.
A breeze passed through the courtyard, clearing the air enough to reveal the subject of their attention, and Valjean sucked in a breath. There was a small crater in the center of the plaza, and within it, the form of Javert was lying prone. Evidently, he had caught the greater portion of the explosion's shock. Perhaps he was dead, struck down by whatever force had rent the ground apart. Valjean's eyes darted to the side. With the ruthless Auror incapacitated, he had the chance to escape. The two by the crater seemed entirely disinterested in him; it was a miracle he could not afford to waste.
Rolling onto his knees, Valjean stood shakily, pressing his back against the wall until he caught his breath. He was about to sidle around the corner and bolt when the taller of the two turned, their robe swishing around their ankles, and Valjean caught a glimpse of a skeletal mask. His blood ran cold as the implications caught up with him.
Death Eaters, he realized. No wonder the courtyard was so empty of villagers. In his haste to put Valjean behind bars, Javert had walked straight into a trap. It was all the more reason to get out of there, for Valjean was both bound and defenseless, but in the crater, Javert was stirring. Not dead, then, merely concussed.
The second, shorter figure knelt and grabbed a thin rod from the edge of the shattered pavers - they had confiscated the Auror's wand. Valjean swallowed. He should run, he thought. He should run while they were still distracted. The idea looped through his head again and again in a panicked litany as he stood rooted to the spot.
Javert's fingers twitched in a grasping motion, looking for a wand which was not there. The taller Death Eater laughed coldly, drawing their own wand from within their robe.
"Crucio!" they spat, gesturing in the Auror's direction.
Javert's back arched, but before he could scream, the second Death Eater made a slashing motion with their wand.
"Silencio!"
No one would hear him cry out and come to the Auror's rescue, provided that there was even anyone left alive in the village to raise the alarm. Valjean trembled, and again he eyed the archway in the courtyard wall which would take him to the main road and away from danger, but he was quite incapable of flight. He could not abandon someone to such a horrible end, even if that someone would be happier for him to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.
The Death Eater had broken off their curse, and even at that distance, it was clear Javert was in no fit state to fight back. Valjean sized the pair up; it was doubtless that he was stronger, but they had wands. If he attacked, they could stop him easily with magic, and torture was not an idea Valjean relished.
The convict grit his teeth. He would just have to hope he could surprise them.
Lowering his head, Valjean charged as fast as his legs would carry him. He barreled head-first into the taller Death Eater before they could turn, and together they fell on top of the other one. Valjean hit the ground in a writhing pile of bodies. Someone spat out a curse; he felt the hiss of heat as the spell rocketed past his ear. Striking out with knees and elbows, Valjean did his utmost to keep the wizards occupied.
Then, providence - the shorter one dropped their wand, and Valjean's fingers scraped across broken stone until they met smooth wood. Twisting, aiming blindly, Valjean gasped, "Stupefy!" as a hand grabbed him around the throat. The hand went slack, and he twisted again, trying to angle his back towards the second Death Eater long enough for his trapped hands to point the wand in the right direction.
"Stupefy," he repeated, but the red light of the spell missed its target. Jerking his wrist against the handcuffs, he tried again. "Stupefy! Stupef-"
The Death Eater struck him across the face and grabbed for the wand, but Valjean would not relinquish his weapon that easily. He thrust his knee forward and the Death Eater choked on an exclamation as bone connected with a tender spot. Valjean shoved them again and they fell.
"Stupefy," Valjean managed, and this time the red light found its mark.
Mercifully, the courtyard was quiet again.
With his foot, Valjean nudged aside the Death Eaters' masks. The shorter of the two was a man, and the other a woman. Even in unconsciousness, both had a sneer of superiority plastered across their features. The woman had a mole just below her nose.
Valjean bit his lip. This was a bad business all around. Kneeling beside the man, Valjean searched haphazardly through the pockets of his robe until he found Javert's wand. The woman's had clattered to the street nearby, and so Valjean collected that one as well. Then he stood again and turned.
In the crater, Javert appeared to have been rendered similarly senseless. His eyes were shut and his breathing was ragged. A nasty cut across his temple was bleeding, but that worried Valjean less than the tremor racking the Auror's narrow frame. They needed shelter, and quickly.
Frowning, Valjean tried to turn a borrowed wand against the bronze shackling his wrists.
"Alohomora," he hazarded. No lock sprung, nor did the fused metal break back into two. "Finite. Finite Incantatem." The cuffs remained stubbornly closed, and he sighed. No doubt they were enchanted to resist such basic attempts to open them. If he could not carry Javert, spellwork would have to do. It was not difficult to levitate him, though Valjean felt distinctly conspicuous making his way through the plaza with a body drifting alongside.
On the other side of the wall, the streets were no less empty. Doors hung open on their hinges, and many of the windows were broken. At the end of the street was a house which seemed at least to be somewhat more intact, and so Valjean pushed his way inside.
Having first checked that the place was unoccupied, Valjean floated Javert up the stairs, trying not to scrape the tall Auror's head on the ceiling. At the end of the hall was a ransacked bedroom. The mattress had been ripped from the bedstead and lay in the corner, a mess of springs and foam.
Dropping Javert to the floor as gently as he could, Valjean muttered, "Reparo," and the mattress knit itself back together. It was not as clean a job as Valjean would have liked, but, he reflected wryly, Javert would not be pleased by his help had he managed to take them to the finest hotel in France.
Levitating the Auror again, Valjean deposited him on the mattress. Then, he knelt on the floorboards and allowed the handful of wands he clutched to drop where he could examine them. There was Javert's, which he knew well enough to recognize on sight. It was a long hornbeam wand, so light in color as to be almost white, and was perfectly straight. The wood itself was as unyielding as the man who had its allegiance. The other two were shorter, closer to the length of Valjean's forearm. The one belonging to the woman Death Eater looked to be blackthorn in its make, while the man's had the distinct coloration of cherry.
Valjean sighed and sat back on his haunches. He would have given a great many things to have his own English oak wand back in his hand - its absence left an ache in his chest - but there was no help for it. Nudging the cherry wand to the side, he kicked at the other two until they rolled against the wall. Then he grabbed hold of the cherry and stood, praying that it would consent to work with him. Less temperamental than blackthorn, maybe, but even so, Valjean was not about to trust a Death Eater's wand for any but the simplest of spells. Disapparation was out of the question. As for the hornbeam... The very notion of Javert's wand cooperating with him was laughable, and he dismissed it immediately.
Valjean crossed to the window and looked out on the street. For the time being, there was nobody there, but he did not count on it remaining that way.
"Cave inimicum," he murmured, allowing a protective haze to issue from the tip of his stolen wand. "Fianto duri. Repello inimicum."
He continued in this vein until the whole room was warded, and then he turned back to Javert. Approaching the bed tentatively, Valjean saw that the Auror's trembling had largely subsided. He pursed his lips. If he got moving, he could be as far away as Amiens before Javert came to.
A voice from outside distracted him; returning to the window, he peered down at a group of four wizards congregating in the road. One of them looked up, and in spite of the concealment charms he had cast, Valjean took a step back. The wizard's mask was identification enough: more Death Eaters. Plainly, the absence of their two fellows had been missed.
He would be caught for certain if he left now. He had taken the two in the courtyard purely on luck and surprise; these four, on the other hand, would not be ignoring him. Dueling four Death Eaters at once would be tough enough were he in possession of his own wand. Handcuffed, he was not so arrogant as to think he stood a chance.
Once again, he eyed where Javert lay unconscious. Valjean grimaced to himself, but he walked back to the bedside. Twisting his wrist against the shackles, he gestured his wand hand in the Auror's direction and muttered, "Rennervate."
The red glow sank into Javert's chest, and a moment later, the Auror's eyes flickered open. He looked around cautiously, and then he caught sight of Valjean.
"You," he snapped, sitting up. "Where am I? What've you done to me?"
Valjean took a step back, if only to appear less threatening. "We were attacked by Death Eaters out in the town square."
A frown creased Javert's face. "The street exploded..." he said to himself. Then he met Valjean's gaze again. "Death Eaters?"
Valjean spoke quickly. "There were two. I was able to grab one of their wands and stun them, and then brought you here. It's just down the street," he went on as Javert continued to look at him through narrowed eyes. "I didn't trust the wand to Disapparate with."
"You woke me," Javert said. "Why didn't you run instead?"
Valjean inclined his head toward the window. "There are more of them out there now - four, at least. I've warded the room, but if they find us, I can't fight them all. Especially not handcuffed," he added pointedly.
Javert snorted. "If you think I'm going to let you go..."
Valjean winced, shifting where he stood. "I wasn't counting on it," he replied, though his heart sank.
Putting a hand to the cut across his temple, Javert stood. "Where is my wand?"
Valjean jerked his head the other way toward where the shaft of wood lay on the floor.
Javert looked at the wand and then back at Valjean. "Are you just going to let me take it?"
Raising an eyebrow, Valjean answered, "Unless you would rather challenge the Death Eaters to a round of fisticuffs."
Evidently suspicious, Javert edged around the room until he could kneel and retrieve his wand from the floor. No sooner was it in his hands than he leaped to his feet.
"Expelliarmus," he growled, and Valjean's stolen wand was wrenched from his fingers, flying through the air to land in Javert's hand.
"But -!" Valjean protested.
"No," said Javert, bending smoothly to collect the blackthorn wand as well, which lay near his feet. "You are still under arrest, and are not permitted by law to carry a wand. You know that perfectly well." Pocketing the confiscated pair, Javert turned back to look at his prisoner. "You and I have a court date."
He held out his hand, presumably to grab Valjean by the arm and vanish from the scene, when they heard the sound of a door creaking open somewhere below them, along with a muffled voice. Valjean had the sudden, distinct impression of being watched by something invisible. Then both men froze as the sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs.
Javert set a finger to his lips, not that Valjean needed to be told, and took up a position between Valjean and the door. A moment later, the hinges opened with a squeak, and a woman entered the room. She had blonde curls piled on top of her head, and green eyes which were bright and alert as she surveyed the space.
"There's no one here," she called down the hall. "The spell must've been faulty."
Her eyes swept the room again and settled on the bed. A puzzled expression crossed her face, followed by what resembled amusement. Valjean inched backwards, experiencing a vague premonition of danger, but not fast enough.
Lashing out suddenly with her wand, the woman exclaimed, "Bombarda maxima!"
There was a flash of white light, and Valjean let out a cry of alarm as the floor collapsed beneath his feet. He fell as the second-story bedroom caved in, and was cognizant of hitting the ground below, a tremendous, jarring pain lancing through his legs.
Valjean was next aware of laying on the kitchen floor, half-covered by splintered planks and plaster dust. The pain in his legs was still present, but lessening; he did not think he had broken anything. He sat up, coughing, and discovered two Death Eaters regarding him smugly. One was the woman who had blown apart the second story - indeed, above them was a large hole where the bedroom had been - and the other a second woman, this one with black hair. Javert lay off to his left, apparently unconscious again. It was no wonder, as there was half a beam lying across his chest.
Valjean dug his way out of the shattered boards as best he could and sat up to face his attackers. No sooner had he done so than they were joined by a third Death Eater, this one a man. He had chestnut hair and a mustache to match, and he was murmuring frantically to one of the women.
"- found them up the street," he was saying. "- alive - bring these -"
The blonde woman chuckled. "Well, well, well," she said, taking a step toward Valjean. "You are in deep now, aren't you?" She tilted her head in consideration, even as she kept her wand pointed at him steadily. "You should have run while you had the chance. It was that one we wanted," she added, gesturing at Javert. "You could have left. Now, of course, we have to kill you both. More's the pity, we could use a man of your talents."
Valjean shook his head vehemently. "I wouldn't work for the likes of you. How did you know we were there?"
The woman winked. "I sacked this house myself. I can guarantee you I didn't leave that mattress in one piece."
"You -?" Valjean blinked. "Then that's what happened to the villagers. They're all dead. You people killed them."
"All of them Muggles," the woman sighed. "Absolutely useless creatures, and a plague on our society. It's really better for the world that we eradicated them. And now it's your turn." She gave him a calculating look, followed by, "Crucio!"
The curse struck Valjean square in the torso. His bones were on fire, it was the only conceivable explanation. He felt himself double over, hands grasping desperately at the sides of his robes as he sought anything by which to reassert control. He panted, and his eyes slid out of focus, but then the curse broke off.
The woman was still regarding him with curiosity. "A stubborn customer," she remarked to the other two. "You don't often get ones that don't scream. Let's try that again, shall we?" She aimed her wand, but Valjean's attention had been captured by Javert, who had opened his eyes to glance at Valjean and give a small turn of his head, a clear sign meaning "come here". Then Valjean saw that underneath the debris, Javert still had a tight hold on his wand, and so as the Death Eater let go another curse, Valjean rolled out of the way and Javert grabbed him by the shoulder.
Immediately, there was a familiar wrench in his stomach, and the house disappeared into a squeezing blackness. If it had been possible to breathe in that vacuum, Valjean might have sighed with relief. Javert had elected to Apparate them both out.
When the world rematerialized, any relief Valjean felt evaporated the instant he took in the cour d'honneur of the Palais de Justice.
"Javert," he gasped as soon as he caught his breath, "Javert, see reason -"
He was cut off by the Auror shoving him up against the stone wall of the chapel wing, wand pointed at his throat.
"Be quiet and answer me," said Javert, his voice dangerously calm. "What happened while I was passed out in the courtyard?"
Valjean's face creased. "I don't -"
The Auror took a deep breath through his nose. "You led me to believe that the Death Eaters attacked the both of us. But that woman at the house said they were only interested in me. So, which is it?"
And then, Valjean understood. "You heard her talking," he said slowly. "When she blew the floor up, you were only pretending to be unconscious."
"Answer the question."
Swallowing, Valjean tried to look Javert in the eyes. "The street exploded, as you said - probably with that same detonation spell, even - and you were... stunned, hit your head, something. I'd been thrown maybe ten yards away. The Death Eaters... they weren't paying me any attention until I went after them. They were torturing you," he finished uncomfortably.
The Auror's mouth thinned. "How come you did not say so in the first place?"
At that, Valjean let out a puff of laughter. "Because I knew you wouldn't believe me."
Javert looked angry, which was unsurprising, but there seemed also to be confusion mingled with his expression. "You didn't leave me there - why? You would be free right now."
Valjean tried to assemble a response. How, though, to put his jumbled thoughts to words? In the end, all he could manage was, "I would not leave anyone to that fate."
The Auror stared at him. For all of one moment, his face was awash with warring emotions until he re-exerted his usual impassive exterior.
"You should have left me," he said baldly. "It would have done you more favors. This way, now."
So saying, he dragged Valjean toward the Palais de Justice.