Chapter Three: The Faceless Man

Minister Greyhen stood with his head held high. He was on top of the world. Greyhen had become so powerful, he was sure he could do anything. His eyes scanned the room as he thought for a moment. If Gwen was as strong as he's heard, then this might be a problem. Greyhen's eyes fell upon Padma, who was playing with her hair. She was pretty, there was no doubt in his mind about it, but there was something else about her. Something that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Minister," came the voice of the Auror that had announced that Noxolo and the others were under arrest at Gwen's house. "What have you called us here for?" Greyhen didn't answer him immediately. Instead, Greyhen scanned the room again. There had to be a way to capture Gwen without harming too many of them. Yes, there had to be a way. But how? Gwen needed to be captured. Greyhen was sure of that. That was the only way Greyhen could see that the public would settle down and let him do his job. He needed to throw those four into Azkaban. As bad and dirty as that made him feel, he needed to do it.

"You are here, Lemanski," Greyhen finally answered him. "Because I am forming a new Order. A group of…law enforcers. The job is to find and contain all practitioners of the Dark Arts. The Seventh Child included. All of you have been chosen. However, I need to find a leader. Someone I can trust. Someone—that will hunt them down relentlessly."

"Isn't that what Aurors are for, Minister?" Lemanski asked.

"You are more…top secret. Aurors are like regular police…in the muggle world. They are there for backup. You are the real thing." Greyhen thought for a moment. He nodded his head. Lemanski was the best choice to be the leader. He was cold. He was relentless. He hated Arthur for killing his father, Lemanski Showers. "I've chosen my leader. Lemanski. You are the leader of this organization. After all—Arthur did kill your father. I think you will take this job much more seriously and personally then the rest. And—what's your name?" Greyhen looked at Padma. He knew her name. He had handpicked her. They had worked together for years. But for some reason…he just wanted to hear her say it.

"Padma, Minister. Padma Patil." Greyhen nodded. "You're second-in-command." Padma nodded looking over at Lemanski who gave her a stern look.

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Greyhen was sitting in his office, his head feeling heavy. He looked at the files in front of him. He picked up the yellow folder that contained Sebastian Shacklebolt's profile. He opened the folder. There was a picture of Sebastian as well as a lengthy bio. The son of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Greyhen fell back into his chair's backrest. Kingsley would've been the new Minister had he not died in battle. Now Greyhen was about to send Kingsley's only son, who too fought for the good of the people, to Azkaban? Greyhen let out a sigh of frustration and took of his spectacles. What else was he suppose to do? The people were mad. They demanded of him an answer. And what answer was he suppose to give them? That the Ministry of Magic was not as infallible, not as secure, not as strong, and not a reliable as they had thought? How many problems that would cause!

"Sir," came Maggie's voice. Greyhen looked up and placed his spectacles back on his face.

"What is it?" he said, his voice lower than he had expected. He was tired and sick of the problems that he had to face. The problems that he didn't cause.

"You told me to call Ms. Patil up to your office? She's here, Minister." He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten? That was less than twenty minutes ago. Greyhen let out a sigh and smiled kindly at Maggie.

"Thank you, Maggie. I forgot." Maggie smiled at him and left the room. Padma entered. She wasn't wearing her robe, but instead regular muggle clothes.

"Off duty already?" Greyhen asked looking from her face to her waist. He let out a small cough and pointed at the chair in front of him. "Please, have a seat. I'll make it quick." Padma sat down not saying a word. "I was uh—reading up on your profile, Ms. Patil. I have some concerns."

"About what, Minister?" Padma asked looking at the man innocently.

"Well, you see, Ms. Patil, when I first read your file I wasn't aware that you had a personal friendship with Ms. Weasley." Padma nodded her head, trying her best to not look suspicious.

"Right," Padma said shrugging. "Well—the last time I saw her—besides yesterday—was over…I think eight years ago? I mean really, Minister. I don't know her. And even before that we weren't really best of friends. I mean—I didn't know her back then either."

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing, Ms. Patil?"

"Excuse me?" Greyhen let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing...about this...Gwen thing."

"Well...I think you're doing what you think is best…and in the interest of everyone, Minister. Even if the result doesn't come out to be good—you're doing it for a good reason." Greyhen nodded, deep in thought for a moment. He was trying to do what was best for everyone.

"Well, Ms. Patil, thank you for your time. And I hope you prove me right in choosing you as the second-in-command of the New Order." Padma stood up and shook Greyhen's hand. Greyhen stared at the door long after Padma had left. His mind was crowded with thoughts. Thoughts that seemed to attach itself to his mind and not let go. He had known from the beginning that taking on the job as Prime Minister was not going to be easy, but Greyhen had no idea the types of decisions he would have to make. He remembered when he first joined the Ministry. He joined it for the good of the people. He wanted to protect people. To protect good people like Dumbledore who fought to fight dark forces like Voldemort.

"Why do you want to join the Ministry of Magic?" Minister Fudge has asked him. Greyhen sat straight up in his chair, his chest puffed out. He was proud.

"I want to join the Ministry to help people, sir. I want to fight against You-Know-Who." Greyhen always felt strange saying that. You-Know-Who. Why couldn't they just say his name? But he was taught never to say it, especially in front of people. It was the polite thing to do. So Greyhen did it.

"I see," Fudge said looking through his paperwork. "Well you definitely qualify. That's actually an understatement. You're more than qualified. Tell me something, Gabriel. If you came face to face with You-Know-Who right now—what would you do?" Greyhen almost laughed at that question. What else would he do?

"I'd fight him, sir. With all my strength—even if that's not enough." Greyhen said as Fudge nodded.

"What would you do if you went face to face with Albus Dumbledore?" Fudge asked without looking up from his notes. If he had, he would've laughed at Greyhen's astonished face. Greyhen's mouth was half opened.

"What—do you mean?" Greyhen asked looking strangely at Fudge.

"People like Dumbledore," Fudge began looking up at Greyhen now. "They're—vile. They think that they're good. That they're doing good by going out on their own and doing whatever the hell they want. People like that, Gabriel, are what makes our jobs a living nightmare. On one side we're worrying about You-Know-Who and then on the other we have to worry about all the mess these people are causing. They're vigilantes—and vigilantes are nothing but trouble, Mr. Greyhen. People like us, Gabriel, who goes through the system. Who does things lawfully, are the heroes. The true heroes. So I ask you again, Mr. Greyhen, what would you do if you went face to face with Dumbledore? What if he were doing something against the law?" Greyhen blinked at Fudge. What would he do? Arrest him? The man was his idol. He was everything Greyhen strived to be.

"I'd arrest him, sir."

Greyhen woke up feeling as though his eyes were about to pop out of its sockets. His forehead was burning up as he looked around. He had fallen asleep in his office. Greyhen let out a moan as he stood up and stretched. He turned off the lights to his office and closed the door. Maggie and the other woman weren't at the front desk. They must have gone home. Greyhen looked at the clock that rested on the wall behind the desk. It was three in the morning. Greyhen turned to turn off the lights when he heard something. He turned towards the sound.

"Who's there?" Greyhen asked looking at the direction in which the noise had come from. Greyhen drew his wand moving cautiously towards the noise. From out of the corner a red beam flashed, hitting Greyhen's wand clear out of his hand. Greyhen fell onto the floor, grabbing his hurt wrist.

"Not so tough now are you?" came a man;s voice. A man, completely dressed in black with a mask over his face walked up to Greyhen, who was still on the floor holding his fractured wrist. The man had both Greyhen's and his own wand in hand, pointing it at Greyhen who looked up at the faceless shadow.

"Who are you?" Greyhen moaned trying to stand up. The man kicked him back down.

"I am everything you fear, Minister." The man seemed to mock him. "Now I want to see you beg for forgiveness. Come on now." Greyhen sat up, panting.

"Forgiveness for what?"

"Oh you know, Gabriel. You know what you've done. You know how you became the Prime Minister of Magic."

"I became the Minister to help people."

"I'm sure that's what you tell yourself." the man said kicking Greyhen again. "But how you became the Minister. Oh I know what you did—and I'm going to torture you until you are sorry, Mr. Greyhen. And then—I'm going to kill you."

"Who—are—you?" Greyhen moaned after being kicked several times again.

"I am The Faceless Man. Didn't you know?" Laughed the man. "Kind of like you—aren't I?"

"I don't know you. I've never heard your voice—in my life."

"Oh," The Faceless Man said laughing again. "No, no, no. You don't know me. But I know you. I was one of the people you hurt. One of the people you destroyed to climb to the top. And now—" The Faceless Man raised Greyhen's wand but before he could do anything, it was shot out of his hand. Greyhen turned his head to find Padma pointing her wand at the man. "Oh well...until next time, Gabriel!" he laughed his high pitch laugh again. "Lumos Maxima!" The bright light blinded Padma and Greyhen for a moment and by the time it was gone, so was The Faceless Man.

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"You sure you're okay?" Padma asked as she helped Greyhen onto the chair in his office. Greyhen nodded although he could feel a sharp pain run through him every time he moved. "And you're wrist?"

"I'm fine, Ms. Patil." Greyhen said, then feeling as if he was being inconsiderate, he added. "Thank you."

"No problem," Padma said falling onto the chair in front of Greyhen's desk. "Lucky I was there, huh?" Greyhen nodded, touching his fractured wrist and then looked up at her.

"What are you doing here?" Greyhen asked looking suspiciously at Padma.

"I get here this early every day, sir. I have a lot of work—and I am a slower worker than most people. My sister, Pavarti, used to always complain about that. She would nag on and on about how I'm so slow. She did get things done a lot fast than me." Then Padma smiled. "But I was better looking though." She winked at Greyhen playfully, but his face became quite red. Seeing that, Padma smiled to herself and looked away, pretending not to notice.

"Um—well—yes I did read up on your sister. I'm sorry about what happened."

"Oh, no problem. She knew what she was getting herself into." Padma looked at Greyhen for a moment. She felt herself pulled to him. The reason she had written that warning to Gwen was because she knew of his plan. But at the same time—she knew why he planned it. It wasn't an easy decision for him. Somehow—she knew deep down he wasn't bad. She shook her head.

"Well then, you better get to work, Ms. Patil. And I should go see a doctor about this wrist."

"You should have people with you. I mean—like a body guard."

"Are you offering?" Greyhen asked smiling a little. Padma opened her mouth slightly then closed it. "I mean—" Greyhen began.

"—if you want." Padma said. Both of them laughed nervously. "Yeah, I'd be happy to."