Invisible
Chapter 2
Sirius Black Arrested—Crouch Senior Goes Too Far
(Never, Ever Piss Off Albus Dumbledore)
Sirius Black rode his motor bike to Peter's home, concerned since he had not seen or heard from a particular one of his three best friends as he was supposed to have. He thought perhaps Peter had been taken at first, until he saw that there were no signs of a struggle there. Getting more and more suspicious by the second, he got back on his bike and headed for Godric's Hollow. He knew someone close to them had been betraying them, passing on information for the past year, and had suspected Remus, but now…Why, now he feared the worst, and it was due to the one who held his best friend, his friend's wife, and his godsons' lives in his hands: Peter Pettigrew.
He got within viewing distance of James and Lily's home and paled drastically when he saw the door blown off its hinges and James lying on the floor, dead. With a snarl of rage he turned around—and proceeded to spend the rest of the night tracking down Peter Pettigrew; he wasn't the second best Auror in his division for nothing. It wasn't a problem tracking down a rat and exterminating it.
Finally cornering Peter in Muggle London like the scared coward he was, Sirius got within spell casting distance—when Peter suddenly started crying and screaming at Sirius.
"Why, Sirius, why!? Why did you betray your friends like this, why? I thought you liked us better than that! James was your friend! Why, Sirius?" cried Peter, hiding his malicious smirk behind his hands.
"You know I did not betray them, you did!" snarled Sirius, pulling out his wand.
"You did, Sirius, you killed them!" screamed Peter hysterically.
"Why you…" snarled Sirius, raising his wand.
Unfortunately, Peter had his wand behind his back, and before Sirius could react, a blast surrounded Peter, killing innocent Muggles in the crossfire. Through the red haze, he saw Pettigrew cutting off his
finger and disappearing into rat form (after waving at him slyly) and into the sewers.
The only thing Sirius could do then was laugh.
That weak wizard had fooled for him so long. What kind of Auror was he if he could not even find dark wizards? He didn't care for the thirteen or so Muggles who were around him or react when the Auror's came for him. He just continued to laugh, as if he had gone insane. They put him in a cell at the Ministry of Magic, still under the impression the Potters had died that night.
"What will we do with them?" asked one of the Aurors.
They had captured a good amount of Death Eaters that night, however, none of the Inner Circle were caught. They were better at hiding than the others, and Karkaroff was one of them.
"Send them all to Azkaban," said Crouch. His undersecretary, Mr. Fudge, agreed with him immediately.
"Are you sure, Sir?" asked another Auror who just came in with his partner.
"Yes," said Crouch, looking like he would not be moved.
"When, Sir?" asked the other Auror.
"Tonight. Get it done tonight. I give you permission," said Crouch.
"Yes, Sir," said the Auror, nodding then leaving.
"Leave," barked Crouch at the Auror who had asked if he were sure.
"Yes, Sir," said the Auror, jumping slightly before leaving.
"What can I do for you, Sir? Perhaps some coffee?" asked Fudge.
Fudge was like Peter—power hungry, ass kissing, and snivelling to the biggest bully in the playground. They would go to any lengths to be the best in the man's eyes.
"Yes, and some biscuits, too, before I go to the meeting," said Crouch distractedly.
"I will be right back with them," snivelled Fudge.
"Cant wait 'til I take over," was all Fudge muttered as he poured the coffee and put the biscuits on a plate, all via magic of course. He didn't approve of how the man was dealing with the Death Eaters. He personally thought they deserved the Kiss, but they would get it when he ruled all of them. He would become the Minister of Magic—he didn't realize just how soon that would happen.
"Cornelius!" yelled Crouch impatiently.
"Yes, Sir" asked Fudge, coming in with the coffee and biscuits.
"Get me the form so I can sign the Aurors' permission to take the Death Eaters to Azkaban," said the man.
"Right away, Sir," agreed Fudge.
"Be quick! I don't have all night!" said Crouch.
Cornelius Fudge went to the file cabinet where all the papers were, the bold letter A standing out, making Fudge feel stupid, as if he didn't know were they were. Opening it, he found the forms he needed and quickly got them to Mr. Crouch as fast as he could.
"Get me a decent quill," demanded Crouch. The one he currently had was just an ordinary one, and he wanted a big, special one. "And ink, too," added Crouch as an afterthought.
Fudge rolled his eyes when he could not be seen while getting the black ink that had a red swirl to it. Getting the best quill he could find, he put them on his boss' desk. Finished collecting the items Crouch wanted, Fudge slumped into a chair; he was knackered after doing everything the man asked, just like always. He was usually home by now, but the man had stayed extra long.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but your son, Barty, is here to see you," said a woman who looked extremely nervous as she came in.
"Tell him he can come up, but only for a minute," said Crouch, getting back to work.
"Yes, Sir," she said, closing her eyes as she left the office and thanking God she still had her job. The last person who had done that had been fired.
"Your father will see you, Sir, just go right up," she said kindly. It was her boss' son, after all, and he was nothing like his father at all, since he was nice, kind, and good looking.
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Barty with an award-winning smile as he headed up.
"You're welcome," the woman called after him, blushing beautifully as she walked back behind the reception area.
"Father, what's going on? Mother is going frantic with worry—you know she's ill and her last wish is for you to spend some time with her!" growled Barty as he marched into his father's office, his face contorted in anger.
"I will be home soon," said the Minister of Magic.
"What's happened?" he demanded again.
"Voldemort is gone thanks to the Potters. Their son got rid of him," said Crouch.
"What? Gone for good?" asked Barty, paling drastically and suddenly thankful the Minister of Magic never paid attention to his son so he didn't realize anything was wrong.
"No, he took measures to stop himself from dying," said the Minister, believing what Dumbledore told him. He did not even hear the horror in his own son's voice. It was no wonder he had joined Lord Voldemort, for he never got even a second's attention from his own father.
"Well, let everyone else deal with it, and please go home to mum," said the boy, sounding like an impossibly young child right then, not like a fully grown adult wizard and a Death Eater to boot. It was easy for all to see that Barty Crouch Junior really loved his mother.
"No. I'm busy," said the Minister of Magic as if he was denying his errant child a sweet, not saying 'no' to his son, a young man who was begging for his father to see his dying mother.
"She won't last long with worrying about you!" yelled Barty angrily.
"Go home and I will deal with you later," snapped the Minister of Magic.
"I am no longer the twelve-year-old you controlled, Father," growled Barty furiously.
"Go home before I have you arrested," snapped the Minister, getting impatient.
"Fine, I wish I wasn't your son," announced Barty, walking out of the office. He couldn't be arrested or they would no doubt see the Mark, for even as faded as it was, it was still obvious what it was.
The Minister of Magic signed the forms before sending them off. A Portkey spell had been added to them, so he knew the Death Eaters would be gone by morning. With a satisfied sigh, he sat back, simply enjoying his coffee. He did not want to go home just to see his wife wasting away before his eyes. She was ill and probably didn't have much longer to go, a couple of weeks if she was lucky. He didn't think he could stand it; his wife had been with him through it all, and had been very supportive.
"Would you like me to get your coat for you, Sir?" asked Fudge.
"No. We will be staying late tonight—I want to make sure the Death Eaters are gone before I leave," said Crouch.
"Yes, Sir," said Fudge with a small frown—the part where Crouch had said 'we' was not lost on him.
Fudge fell asleep in a corner of the room beside the fire. Crouch didn't even realize that his Undersecretary had fallen asleep, far too deep in his own horrible thoughts to realize what he was doing.
"Sir!" yelled an Auror suddenly.
Fudge woke up in an instant, seeing his boss was just turning his head he made it look like he was awake and aware of everything. The Auror in question who had just shouted came in.
"Yes?" asked Crouch, annoyed at being brought out of his thoughts.
"The transfers to Azkaban have already started. Five of them are being shipped off as we speak. We will need to do overtime duty if you want them all gone by morning. There aren't enough Aurors on duty right now. James hasn't come in since he went under Fidelius." said the Auror.
"Fine, you will get paid. Just do it and go home after you're done," said the Minister of Magic.
"Yes, Sir! We'll get it done right away!" agreed the Auror.
"Good. You can go now," Crouch dismissed the man.
Just then, the fire in the fireplace blazed green, the color for someone Flooing or placing a Floo Call, and a man in multi-colored robes stepped out onto the hearthrug, his blue eyes like two sharp crystals as he looked at Crouch with disappointment. He had just been told by Minerva McGonagall—of all people!—that his spy, Severus Snape, had been arrested. If anyone could actually intimidate Crouch Senior, it was Albus Dumbledore.
Big Thanks To Snow Leopard Pasha for editing this.