Vengeance Will Be Mine
Chapter 7
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.
- - -
Lord Voldemort's Dementor management program was rather inconveniently cut short when Antonin Dolohov materialised via Portkey in the main meeting room at the Riddle mansion, bleeding through the ropes that confined him, with a rather noticeable scar on his forehead.
He tried casting a few basic healing spells, then noticed the cuts weren't closing very well. He bellowed, "SEVERUS! Get up here!"
Within a few seconds, Severus Snape was standing near Dolohov, and only a minor tightening of his lips revealed any reaction to the scene.
Irritated, Voldemort growled, "Well? Can you treat him, or shall we write this down to a lucky attack by the Chosen One?"
Snape's eyes flicked to the scar inscribed on Dolohov's forehead. He vanished the ropes, examining the dying man's body more closely. As the man apparently realised what spell had been used on the man, his expression hardened, and he said, "It is too late, my Lord. I lack the dittany needed to treat him for this particular curse."
Disgusted at the situation, Voldemort said, "Leave me, Severus. I wish to meditate upon the sudden change in our erstwhile opponent."
As Severus Snape left the room again, Antonin coughed out something unintelligible. Voldemort angrily decided enough was enough, and pointed his wand.
"Avada Kedavra."
After the green light flared over Dolohov's body, he bellowed again. "Yaxley!"
The Death Eater rushed in, saying, "Yes, my Lord?"
"Get rid of this rubbish on the floor. It's disturbing my thinking."
Voldemort abruptly turned away, staring at the fireplace as he absently twirled his wand in his fingers. Why was Harry Potter suddenly besting his Death Eaters?
Severus Snape had been voluble on the subject of Harry Potter, reciting a laundry list of strengths, weaknesses, home location, likely alternates, and so on and so forth. Given the nearly-obsessive level of detail presented to him, Voldemort had almost given himself to wondering if perhaps the man had secretly fathered the boy with Lily Potter, but dismissed that thought as being far too unlikely to be more than wild speculation.
Underlining all of Snape's assertions had been a basic picture of a boy who was still magically untrained, mentally undisciplined and certainly one not fit to take on the mantle of "Chosen One", regardless of what those idiots at the Daily Prophet might say to sell copy.
And yet—
Antonin Dolohov had been seriously injured with a dark curse, and Marcus Flint was missing. It stood to reason that perhaps they had stumbled across the Potter brat and his friends, but that didn't account for the fact that when he tentatively opened his Occlumency against the boy, he sensed nothing unusual – no great pain as would have been the case after the Potter brat got a Cruciatus curse for his trouble, followed by a sudden lucky break in dispatching Dolohov.
Hurriedly snapping his Occlumency back into place, he wondered if perhaps Severus was not as dispassionate a spy as he appeared to be. His hatred of James Potter had been an easy enough hook to bring the man into his ranks years ago, but his feelings about Lily Potter had never been well-elucidated. Wormtail, however, had made enough snidely oblique comments regarding Snape's interactions with the woman to make Voldemort wonder if Severus was wilfully blinding himself to the boy's capabilities for purely personal reasons.
In that case, perhaps it would be useful to send a certain rat on a mission or two.
"Wormtail! Get in here!"
Voldemort smirked at seeing the rat-like man quivering before him, and said conversationally, "I do believe I am going to dispatch you on a mission – but not to the Weasley residence. I want you to scurry about Diagon Alley, and have a look at those prankster twins you mentioned before. Their shop is bound to be less well-protected than the Weasley residence. I have a feeling our Mister Potter will be dealing with them soon."
- - -
Severus Snape clattered back downstairs, having forced Draco Malfoy to assist him in preparing a complex potion for the Dark Lord.
After hearing his master's bellow, he had wordlessly glared and pointed at the cauldron. The blond's weak nod was all he needed as he raced upstairs from the basement of the manor house, to find Dolohov inconveniently dying on the stone floor and the Dark Lord looking fairly displeased.
Seeing Potter's handiwork was… annoying. The brat not only had the nerve to keep using his spells, but had to go and provoke the Dark Lord with that ridiculous carving on Dolohov's head. Well, Merlin knew the boy would get what was coming soon enough – meantime, he and Draco were overdue on some of the potions the Dark Lord wanted, and neither of them felt like running the risk of a Cruciatus curse for falling behind.
- - -
Gawain Robards sat in the Minister's office, trying to resist smirking at that overstuffed peacock, Pius Thicknesse. The man wasn't an incompetent Auror, Robards conceded – but the man was far too interested in playing the usual stupid pure-blood political games and kissing arse at Ministerial functions.
Robards would even bet his entire account at Gringotts that the only reason Thicknesse even became an Auror at all was because it was a long-standing unwritten policy that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in the line of succession to the office of Minister for Magic – and if Rufus Scrimgeour were ever to be incapacitated or assassinated, one Pius Thicknesse would be only too glad to slip into the job as Acting Minister, and make it permanent as soon as he could.
But that wasn't going to happen. He and Scrimgeour, they were two men of the same cloth; they'd both Sorted Hufflepuff while that idiot Thicknesse was a Slytherin, and they were half-bloods of sorts, Scrimgeour's grandmother being a Muggleborn and Gawain's grandfather being a Muggle.
It was in the bag, and all he had to do was avoid crowing over Thicknesse as Rufus went through the motions.
Scrimgeour began, saying, "Good morning, gentlemen. It has come to my attention that I need a new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Now, I have you two both lobbying me for the job, and while I've worked with you both, let's pretend I don't know either of you except for your service records—" he held up a pair of folios "—and have to evaluate you on what you say today. So, to be absolutely fair, I'll flip a Sickle, and if the serial number side is up, you'll speak first, Robards – otherwise it's Thicknesse."
The two candidates nodded, and Scrimgeour flipped the coin. It landed serial number down.
Pius Thicknesse practically preened, much to Gawain's disgust. The man spoke mellifluously and expansively.
"As you know, Minister, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement must be seen as being an impartial arbiter of the wizarding laws, while at the same time reassuring the public that all will be well. In these times of war, with You-Know-Who on the move, I believe it would serve the wizarding world well to appoint a pure-blood to the position, so that the pure-blood community will feel reassured and safe, that this Ministry will hear their concerns. After all, are they not the most subject to scrutiny by You-Know-Who?
After a breath, Thicknesse concluded by saying, "In short, Minister, I offer political and law enforcement experience together, which I feel would be helpful in the present circumstances."
The bastard even did a little half-bow. Gawain had never wanted to leave someone's presence so badly since he'd once done guard duty for Gilderoy Lockhart at the Witch Weekly-sponsored book signing in 1989. Hell, even Lockhart never mastered the ability to strut while sitting down.
Still… he couldn't fault the man's apparent earnestness. He couldn't say just why he distrusted Pius Thicknesse. Being a Slytherin didn't mean his ambition to become Minister for Magic was bad. It just meant that he might end up being another Cornelius Fudge. But it could also mean another Dolores Umbridge; he repressed a shudder as he remembered the rumours about her that floated around after Dumbledore became Chief Warlock again. Thank Merlin the Minister would undoubtedly appoint him instead.
Minister Scrimgeour said, "Thank you, Pius. And now you, Gawain."
"I believe I offer the advantage of administrative experience as Senior Auror, and have liaised with other divisions within Magical Law Enforcement as a kind of acting Head since Amelia Bones died. In short, I believe I am the natural successor to the position, and would be able to smoothly liaise with other Departments within the Ministry as well as just the divisions of MLE. My service record shows several arrests of dark wizards under very tricky conditions, some who even escaped other Aurors or Hit Wizards for quite some time prior to finally being arrested. This, I believe, attests to my ability to focus on my assigned tasks and not be distracted by, shall we say, extraneous considerations."
He didn't do the half-bow thing, but he did notice the slight quirk of Scrimgeour's eyebrows; the man had caught his hint that he believed Thicknesse needed to be kept out of the way of easily being able to become Minister for Magic.
Scrimgeour nodded and said, "Thank you both for excellent – and short – statements about why you believe you are the best for the job. On balance, I believe I need a Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who is keen to keep his eye on Death Eaters and other hangers-on in the criminal element. I believe I have that in you, Gawain Robards. Please relocate your offices, and I'll be in touch regarding the announcement I'll make in the Daily Prophet."
With considerable difficulty at tamping down his excitement, Gawain stood up, shook hands with Scrimgeour, then left the office to begin moving out of the Senior Auror's room – but he hadn't missed the look of very ill grace that Pius Thicknesse wore. He made a note to warn the Minister that there seemed to be more at stake than just a vain man's desire to vault himself into a prestigious job.
- - -
Pius Thicknesse couldn't believe the sop that clot of a Minister was giving him. Senior Auror, indeed. He'd been so sure Scrimgeour would just naturally recognise that his extensive political connections, and his ability to play the pure-blood game, would make him an ace in the hole when it came to getting the job of Head of DMLE, but no, that Robards, with that absolutely uncouth name, got the job.
It was time to start making some more allies in the Ministry and among the Wizengamot, and he thought he knew the perfect place to start – in locating that young Selwyn he'd met at a Ministry function a few years ago. Pure-blooded, and reasonably well-established as an old family, the man would make a good ally in influencing members of the Wizengamot to perhaps look askance on Scrimgeour's record.
And then perhaps he could become Minister for Magic directly, instead of faffing about in Magical Law Enforcement, being held back by his social inferiors.
Author Notes:
I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I really had to struggle to put these pieces together, as it were, with angles that might advance the plot in some way. The Trio will be taken up next chapter, and I promise to make it a good long one. :)
Also, although I've labelled this fic as AU to TDH, I've borrowed some names from that novel - most notably the very amusing Pius Thicknesse. :P
Thanks go to misfiredcanon and Maddevillechilde for the beta work. :)
