QLFC round eight

Holyhead Harpies Chaser 3

Extra prompts: what happens to the Ministry?, (quote) an eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind—Mahatma Ghandi, (song) Centuries by Fall Out Boy, (object) Time Turner

Word Count: 1728

Thanks so much to both Lizzie and Ever, who helped beta it and come up with ideas. They have been lifesavers!


Yesterday evening, a group of innocent people was ambushed while shopping in Diagon Alley. Four of them were injured, and two have died from their wounds.

The crime commenced early in the evening in front of Ruby's Robe Shop. An unruly group of people ambushed the innocent party in an awful hate crime against the better type of wizard— altercation lasted for approximately twenty minutes, with each side sending a torrent of spells at the other. The innocents, however, were outnumbered, and only managed to land a few spells before being subject to further attacks.

Edgar Yaxley (pictured above with his son) was one of the first to be attacked, and was unfortunately struck by an unknown curse, causing him to lose his life. Amycus Carrow also died, and his sister Alecto is currently in St Mungo's suffering from head injuries. Their two-year-old daughter, Juniper Carrow, and Yaxley's three-year-old son, Jasper, have both sustained serious injuries to the bones in their arms and legs. They are also currently resting in St Mungo's. The fourth person injured was Dolores Umbridge, who had multiple wounds across her chest.

They were attacked by a group of rogue Hogwarts students who have deemed themselves 'Dumbledore's Army.' The leader of said group is rumoured to be Neville Longbottom, who, although Pureblood, has been radicalised against his own people. Longbottom has led several unsuccessful attempts to destroy the Dark Lord over the past fourteen months. Obviously, not all blood is as pure as it seems.

Both Edgar Yaxley and Amycus Carrow will remain in our thoughts and hearts amidst this tragedy, and we will remember them for centuries. To members of Dumbledore's Army and other groups that would oppose the rule of the Dark Lord, we issue this warning: However tempting revenge may seem, an eye for an eye will only end up making the whole world blind, and any drop of pure blood spilt is a terrible waste—not to mention, a highly punishable crime.


Stated below are the new laws which will be imposed upon all witches and wizards, effective immediately. Failure to comply will result in the death penalty, as carried out by the Ministry.

When speaking to Lord Voldemort, he is to be referred to as, "My Lord, Saviour, and Master."

All contact with Muggles is strictly prohibited.

All use of Muggle artefacts is strictly prohibited.

Any blasphemy against the Dark Lord or his followers is strictly prohibited.


Pius looked up from the newspaper. He had wondered when this 'Dumbledore's Army' was going to strike again—last month they'd attacked a Death Eaters' meeting in the Leaky Cauldron. Most of the Death Eaters had escaped, but Goyle, Sr. hadn't made it; he had been trying to shield his son when he was struck with a Severing Charm. Antonin Dolohov had also died.

The casualties on the Death Eaters' end, however, were minimal compared to the deaths they inflicted. At least half-a-dozen members had died: twins Fred and George died whilst holding hands; Nymphadora Tonks died near the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron; Luna Lovegood bled to death in front of the bar; Fleur Delacour, who was pregnant at the time, was found under a table; and Charlie Weasley was found slumped on the table beside her. For days afterward, the newspaper had published articles on the Death Eaters' success. The Minister even gave a speech about it.

Pius' attention jolted back from his thoughts. He was the Minister, but he couldn't remember giving that speech. He remembered hearing about it, and could even think of a few lines he'd supposedly said: "Some legends are told, and this will be one of the best you will ever hear;" "The youth that goes against the Dark Lord have been taught lies—they are the poisoned youth—they don't know what they're doing or who they're supporting;" "I want to help everyone who thinks Muggles are acceptable members of society. I will teach them what they need to know." But he still couldn't remember any of it directly.

In all honesty, he couldn't remember much of what had happened since he became Minister. He was head of a department for a while—he seemed to recall—until he was abruptly promoted following Scrimgeour's death. After that, it was all a blur, with only a few memories remaining, like when he went on a date with. . . .

Of course.

It came rushing back. The blind date at The Three Broomsticks. The Dark Mark on her arm. The mysterious man—Yaxley—who sat at the table beside them, leering at Pius the entire time. The word imperio whispered from behind a menu.

Pius clenched his fists tightly. Yaxley's death had ended the Imperius curse, releasing Pius from the cloudy thoughts that had plagued him these past fifteen months. Rage began to build in his chest. What had he done? What had the Ministry become? He reached for his wand. Revenge.

"Good morning, Minister," said a cheery witch with a Dark Mark on her arm as she came through the door to his office. "I've brought your break—"

"Stupefy!"

The witch fell, her tray full of breakfast food clattering to the floor beside her.

Pius stepped over her as he strode out of his office. He knew exactly what he needed to do to right all he'd done wrong (whether he'd done it intentionally or not).

They wouldn't know what had hit them.


The Department of Mysteries was empty, and Pius had a feeling that in spite of his status as Minister, his presence would be questioned here. He would have to be quick.

Pius made a beeline for the glass case full of Time Turners. Although Harry Potter and his friends had destroyed most of them when they'd invaded the Ministry, the Unspeakables had managed to create more. They had an impressive range, these new Time Turners—they could allow the user to travel up to two years into the past, which was more than Pius needed.

Pius had a Time Turner in hand and was seconds away from flipping the hourglass in the middle of it when a cold voice spoke behind him. "What are you doing, Minister?"

Pius jumped, startled by the sudden noise. His hand tightened around the Time Turner, the chain digging into his palm. "Inspecting the Time Turner, my Lord." He hesitated whilst the Dark Lord stared at him pointedly, those red eyes boring into him. "My Lord, Saviour, and Master," Pius added.

The Dark Lord looked pointedly at the wand clenched in Pius' hand. "Is that all you were doing?"

Pius gulped. "Yes, my Lord, Saviour, and Master."

"Do not insult my intelligence, Minister." The Dark Lord shifted his gaze to the Time Turner. "Were you actually going to try changing the past?"

It was a moment before Pius recognized the cold, throaty moan coming from the Dark Lord's mouth as a laugh. "N-no, my Lord, Saviour, and Master."

"You and I both know what happens when wizards meddle with time." The Dark Lord looked almost amused.

"I don't—"

"Nothing." The Dark Lord took a step toward Pius. "Nothing happens. No matter what you change, we will always end up here. If you save Harry Potter, he will find another way to die. If you attempt to destroy me in the past, I assure you, I will find a way to survive." He took another step. "So be reasonable, Thicknesse, and give me the Time Turner."

Pius blinked, looking at the Dark Lord's outstretched hand. Slowly, he let his eyes wander upward, landing on the Dark Lord's twisted face. He seemed gladdened by it all. His expression was disgustingly smug and superior.

But something stirred deep in Pius' stomach. He had been the Dark Lord's puppet. He had played a considerable role in countless deaths, and even though he'd had no choice, he was still ashamed. People had actually lost their lives because of his weakness. A stronger man could have fought against the Imperious curse.

But Pius hadn't been able to. And he'd never forgive himself for it.

He felt the cool metal of the Time Turner still firmly pressed into his hand. As soon as he even so much as touched the dial, the Dark Lord would strike him down —it was a specialty of his, after all, Pius thought darkly. And maybe it would be in vain—maybe he would die as quickly and pathetically as all the others, but Pius knew he needed to try. He thought back to what the article in the Prophet had said, about how 'an eye for an eye only made the world blind' and vengeance wasn't the solution.

But damn it, he was going to try.

The Dark Lord's disturbingly red eyes seemed to be staring into Pius' very soul, perhaps trying to figure out what his next move was going to be. Was Pius going to conform? Was he going to retaliate?

(It was clear by the split-second's shock that registered on the Dark Lord's face following Pius' next move that the Dark Lord hadn't anticipated his response at all.)

Pius threw the Time Turner down onto the floor by the Dark Lord's feet, where it promptly shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, broken beyond repair. The red eyes followed, shocked, amused, and maybe even impressed.

And that was all Pius needed. The Dark Lord was temporarily distracted, and Pius reached for one of the other Time Turners with lightning reflexes, frantically twisting the tiny dial before he even realised what he was doing. He had the satisfaction of seeing further shock register on the Dark Lord's face. His face contorted into an enraged and disbelieving cry of fury, wand raised.

But for once in his life, the Dark Lord wasn't quick enough. And for the first time in Pius' life, he had the upper hand.

Those red eyes were the last thing Pius saw as he hurtled back through time, and that was the image branded into his mind as he set out to right all that he'd done wrong. Harry Potter, and all those who'd fought on his side, would live. The Dark Lord would fall. The Ministry would be restored to its former glory, free of corruption.

And even if no one ever knew it—even if it was only himself who was aware of his own heroism—Pius Thicknesse would be the one responsible for it.