A/N
I'm not completely satisfied by my rendition of the Cullen character. In the beginning, I wanted him to be more naïve, shy and very cute around girls (especially Luna). He's too dominant now (for a 20years old) and his influence on the war is too great. However, it's too late to change this so and I'll leave it like this.
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The Lady in Pink
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St. Mungo's – waiting room
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The Grangers were sitting together, Hermione between her parents, trembling wildly as heart-rending sobs shook Hermione's body. She had been like this since Cullen brought her to St. Mungo's, to tell about the attack, Andromeda's abduction and Ted Tonks life-threatening injuries. He left her in her parents' care and joined the healers still fighting for Ted's life.
"It's my fault," she whined. She was inconsolable. Even her mother hadn't been able to stop her self-reproaches. Hermione now looked up, her eyes searching for Tonks. The young Auror with the bubble-gum hair was waiting a few steps down the corridor. She had been conversing with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones for a while in lowered voices. Now she waited like the rest of them for news, any news. Tonks looked up as the bushy-haired girl approached her.
"I'm so sorry, Tonks," she sniffed. "It's my fault this happened."
Tonks threw her an inscrutable look and didn't respond for a while. Only as Hermione turned around, her shoulders sagging – unaware of the glare Beatrice Granger sent Tonks' way – did she react. "Then it would be best if I called Kingsley to haul you off to Azkaban, don't you agree?" Tonks muttered with a gravelly voice.
Hermione whirled around, looking completely flabbergasted.
"Abducting my mother, cursing my father with such a dark spell… you sure have some weight to shoulder, young lady," Tonks nodded to her own statement in mock agreement.
"Wha… I didn't curse your father." As far gone as she was right now, Hermione wasn't able to grasp the concept of irony and sarcasm, something Tonks had easily detected. Luckily her years in the Auror corps had hardened her enough to survive this hour without having an emotional breakdown of her own.
"Yes, you did. You were waiting there in the bushes, and ordered the Death Eaters to lure my parents to your home by attacking your parents. Then you, in a backstabbing way, attacked them and tried to murder him. You just admitted it."
"I did no such thing," Tonks happily noticed a hint of annoyance and anger in her voice.
"Yes, you did."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not." Colour slowly came back to Hermione's cheeks.
"You said 'It's my fault', did you not?"
"Yes, because… because your mother became our magical guardian, that's why they were able to lure her to our house and abduct her, and injure your father."
"Oh, that," Tonks nodded gravely. "Bad thing you did there, forcing mum to subscribe to the guardianship. I assume you used blackmail to force her. Or was it the Imperious?"
"Don't be silly," Hermione pouted. "She did it voluntarily."
"I assume you didn't order the Death Eaters to attack your parents either?" Hermione only glared in return.
"Did you at least use a Compulsion Charm to force my parents to come to your family's defence?" Hermione shook her head, slowly understanding what Tonks was talking about as her own rationality broke through her emotional tumult. "Did you cast this dark curse on my father? Abduct my mother? Perhaps to protect yourself?" Another weak shake of her head answered those silly questions.
Without further ado, Tonks pulled her into her arms. "Hermione, it was my parents' decision, both concerning the guardianship and their attempt to defend your parents. Nobody knew that 'His' followers would use the connection to catch my mother. We didn't even know about the threat itself. Anyway, they would have found another way. I won't lie, Hermione: I'm frightened. No, I'm terrified. I don't know if I'll ever see her again... I don't know if my father will survive the next hour. But none of this was your fault or your parents'. Do you understand?"
She nodded against Tonks' chest, sniffling: "but…"
"No but," Tonks stopped her. "You know: Harry told me about this one girl that had to convince him more than once that it wasn't his fault: not the petrification, nor meeting with a Werewolf, or the curse in the Ministry. Each time he blamed himself. And each time there was this girl convincing him otherwise. Do you per chance know who this girl could have been?"
Another small nod and a weak "me".
"Yes, you," Tonks smiled softly. "Could you perhaps take a bit of your own medicine right now?"
"I'll try."
"That's all anybody can ask for."
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"For you," Ben handed him a mug of steaming hot tea.
"Thank you," Cullen accepted it, still feeling exhausted and in need of something 'spiritual'. Noticing something, he sniffed curiously at the mug: "I didn't know they served alcoholics around here."
"They don't," Ben Granger happily admitted. "It's a present from Mister Shacklebolt."
Cullen turned around and greeted the bald Auror with a raise of his mug, before he took a first sip. "Aaah, I needed that."
Ben Granger silently watched him for a few minutes, before he softly asked: "he'll really be alright, won't he?"
"Yes," Cullen sighed. "It was a close call, but they were able to stabilize him long enough for me to break the curse. After that they could heal him in a more traditional way. He should be alright in a week or two – except for his concern for his wife."
"I hope they find her soon."
"I hope it too, but I admit I have my doubts. Especially as we don't know why he ordered her abduction, or what his plans are for her."
"And you don't know how much time you have for the search."
"There is that, too, yes," Cullen agreed.
For a while they drank their tea in silence, each following their own thoughts. After a while it was Cullen who broke the silence. "One of the healers said something interesting. He offered me a job at St. Mungo's, for cases similar to this."
"With the lack of people of your abilities in the wizarding world, it makes sense."
"Yes, however…"
"You have other duties."
"Exactly," Cullen sighed.
"You could ask Marius. He was the best among us in learning your ways. He still needs something to spend his time with. Curse-Healer Black has a nice ring to it," Ben grinned.
"That's an idea. I'll ask him."
"And Cullen," Ben stated with a determined voice. "I want to learn more, too. At the beginning I only wanted to help Harry and it's still my priority. But the few hours I spent training with the crossbow and this magic-denial ability – it already rescued Beatrice and me once. They were only trainees and I don't think we would have been able to defend ourselves against trained Death Eaters…. but I need to know more. I need your training. It's not right that my sixteen-year old daughter is the only one fighting for this family. She'll never leave Harry's side and I want to support her."
"It would certainly ease her mind as well," Cullen admitted "to know that you could defend yourself. Alright, Ben, we'll continue the training. Argus and Marius will join us too." He suddenly grinned and raised his mug: "Squib-power for the win."
Ben reciprocated the gesture: "Squib-power for the win."
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Ministry of Magic – near the office of Amelia Bones
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"Please have a seat," Amelia Bones' secretary gestured towards a seating group in the waiting area. "Madam Bones will be available to receive you in a few minutes."
Cullen thanked her with a curt nod. Tonks had wanted to accompany him, but he had urged her to stay with her father. At least Ted Tonks was stable now. The healers expected him to wake up within a few hours and he would certainly appreciate to have a familiar face around. He only came to Amelia to have a short talk about the progress in the search of Andromeda Tonks – not that he expected many news this soon – and to see if he could help in any way. Like Hermione, he felt a tad guilty about the whole matter. After all, it had been his idea to appoint Andromeda as the Grangers' guardian.
A door not far down the corridor opened and one of the Senior Aurors left his office. He had never met the man but recognized him from pictures. The stories about him hadn't been the best. According to rumours, Senior Auror John Dawlish was the epitome of mindless discipline and non-questioning obedience. He didn't question orders from his superiors and was one of the favourite tools of Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy.
Lucius Malfoy…
Cullen narrowed his eyes and watched the man more closely. He was accompanied by someone he equally didn't know personally but had no problems to identify: Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. They were conversing like little traitors, and not very unobtrusively. More than once they glanced around or looked suspiciously in his direction. Cullen allowed his senses to reach out and feel their auras. Both had more darkness in them than he was happy to acknowledge. Again it wasn't very surprising. Someone who used blood quills on children would certainly not refrain from other dark magics. And an experienced Auror like Dawlish had certainly been forced to use dark spells more than once, and had probably been the target of more than one dark attack. However, there was something else. Hopefully he was wrong about it, but it was something he had to examine more closely all the same.
"Madam Bones is now ready to receive you."
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"I'm sorry, Steward Cullen, not to have better news."
"I assumed as much," Cullen grimaced. He was sitting in Amelia Bones' office with Kingsley Shacklebolt. They had been speaking in detail about the progress – or better: non-progress – of the search.
"The usual contacts don't know anything," Kingsley apologized. "We would need an Inner Circle member to learn more about his plans, I fear."
Cullen nodded gravely and narrowed his eyes, thinking about something. "Speaking of… I mean, could you please invite Auror Dawlish to our little session?"
"Dawlish? He isn't part of the team appointed to this case. He isn't very good at… at sensible cases." It wasn't difficult to notice how much Kingsley despised his 'comrade'.
"It's not about that. I've seen him with Madam Umbridge a few minutes ago."
"Did you now?" Amelia growled. She hadn't exactly forbidden Dawlish to speak with her but the investigation of the 'sending Professor McGonagall to St. Mungo's' case was still underway. The current happenings were the only reason why she hadn't hurried on the investigation so far… To speak with Madam Umbridge was seriously unprofessional behaviour on Dawlish's side.
"Perhaps you could invite him in and talk about this attack for a while."
"I am sure there is a good reason for your weird request…."
"There is," Cullen responded without really answering her question.
"Alright, alright, you get your wish," Amelia mumbled darkly... "Kings, go fetch him please."
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A few minutes later, John Dawlish was sitting in the office, suspiciously eyeing Cullen and behaving like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As requested, Amelia started to speak with him about the attack on Minerva McGonagall and Dawlish gave his statement. It wasn't difficult to detect that it was an agreed-upon statement, committed to memory and not very believable. The main argument was the presence of a 'simple misunderstanding'. Apparently it was an attempt to get both, Umbridge and Dawlish, off the hot seat.
Cullen however, wasn't really interested in the whole matter, something Amelia noticed immediately. Instead he watched Dawlish closely and used his vicinity to get a better feeling of his aura. He had been right: Dawlish had been the target and caster of dark spells, and was tainted by dark magic nearly as much as Severus Snape, and also about the one thing he had sensed in the corridor…
"Do you have any questions for Auror Dawlish, Steward Cullen?" Amelia asked after a while.
"No, thank you," Cullen shook his head. "I only wanted to hear his side, interrupt the investigation. Thank you for your help, Auror Dawlish."
"Then you're dismissed, Auror Dawlish. Return to your work." Amelia Bones waited for him to leave the office before she addressed Cullen: "and the reason for this nonsense was?"
"I needed to be around him for a few minutes to get a feeling of his aura."
"And your investigation told you what?" She asked, feeling like she didn't really want to hear his answer.
"Auror Dawlish was hit with dark magic many times. He learned and used quite a number of dark spells, less than Professor Snape but far more than Lady Malfoy or Auror Shacklebolt." He allowed them a moment to handle these news. "And he is a Death Eater."
Kingsley paled visibly and Amelia asked hoarsely: "what? Are you certain?"
Cullen nodded gravely. "It's difficult to differentiate between an overall tainted aura and the mark, but it is possible. I didn't want to expose him right away in case you wanted to use that knowledge against him."
"Good thinking," Kingsley praised. Amelia nodded, her expression thoughtful.
"Could you do this with others too?"
Cullen pondered about this for a moment. "I could have a walk around and tell you which Ministry officials have a dark aura, yes. Well darker than could be expected as I assume many purebloods will be like Lady Malfoy: she was taught some dark magic but never really used it. To know more details we would have to arrange similar meetings. However, I fear this would be somewhat an obvious plot. What reason would I have to run around the Ministry? With your Aurors it would be more practical to allow me to attend a longer meeting when they assemble."
"Could you teach this to someone else?" Kingsley asked.
"What do you have in mind?"
"I thought about hiring someone, perhaps a new office boy. Or perhaps someone hired to make a survey, something about security and the changes of the past months. Any reason to have someone running around and get to meet as many people as possible."
"That should be feasible. You would have to find someone trustworthy. And he would have to be a squib." Amelia nodded to that. She already heard the rumours of his abilities not meshing very well with 'real magic'. "However, as he'll work for you, I would only teach him this one detection ability, not more."
"I understand," Amelia answered. She really did. His abilities had something to do with belief and morals. This 'office boy' would be her man, not his. "It would still be helpful."
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"Imperio!"
She knew she was overreacting.
She knew this was incredible dangerous and risky.
However, she couldn't help it. A mix of rightful fury and animal fear was gripping her right now, a terrifying mix of emotions not allowing her to clearly think things through. She simply had to act and she had to do it now. Dawlish had left the office of Amelia Bones near tears. He stammered about the bony bitch interrogating him and how coward Cullen had been there, staring at him like he knew every one of his secrets. Most of his fear came from Dawlish's suspicion about Cullen knowledge of his Death Eater status, but Dolores Umbridge didn't know that part. She assumed Dawlish's fear only had to do with their little stunt last June, assumed him to be near his breaking point and ready to admit what actually happened, that she had ordered him to attack her 'colleague'.
McGonagall had deserved it, deserved the pain for what she did to Dolores' beloved cat saucers. Dolores adored her cat saucers, their pink colour and bow ties. To see them changed, with new colours and without ties, it was like a blasphemy. It had only been one of many, far too many times, the disgusting blood-traitor had belittled her. She had paid for it in the end. Regretfully she hadn't died.
However, now it was time to cut ties and hide all traces of wrongdoings. She had to get rid of Dawlish. If that blasted squib went down too, it would only be the icing on the cake. She intended to draw him to the guard-room near the main court. Despite the current investigation, she still was Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, and still had all authorities to prepare this little surprise party. Her faced shifted into an ugly grimace, as she imagined Cullen's face as he met Dolores little helpers.
I'll have to record a memory of this, she thought with a vicious grin. The screams, the sight – I won't ever forget it. It will be like an early Christmas present. Happy Christmas to you, little Dolores. Happy Christmas to you…
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He sensed the attack before he saw it. Trusting his battlefield experience, Cullen drew his sword and deflected the spell before it was able to connect with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Instead of reaching the Auror it hit the wall, creating a long, viscous gap in it. Kingsley crouched down and drew his wand, while Cullen made an impressive backward flip to dodge a Reducto that blasted a big hole into the ground. Without the weight of his armour he was incredible agile.
"Protego!"
Only now was Kingsley able to notice and recognize his attacker: Auror Dawlish. The Cutting Curse hit the shield with a screeching noise. Not waiting to watch the effect, Dawlish whirled around and hurried away, followed an instant later by Cullen and Shacklebolt.
Why? Why would he do this? How could he be so stupid?
Kingsley was mesmerized by the surprising development. He never had expected such a reaction after the more or less harmless conversation. Had Dawlish noticed the real reason of the meeting? Perhaps he had been able, despite Amelia's carefulness, to eavesdrop on them after he left. But what could he get from attacking them? Even if he killed them, there was still Amelia. And the chances of taking down both of them were slim at best. Dawlish was good, but not nearly good enough for such a stunt. Something was very wrong about this.
"It's a trap," he coughed towards Cullen while they hunted Dawlish through the corridors, exchanging spells now and then. Cullen only nodded. He had assumed the same.
"Should we call in for help or put him and his possible allies down ourselves?"
"I never was very patient," Cullen grinned. Kingsley grinned back. Cullen was more to his liking than he had initially thought after his last talk with the headmaster.
"Then let us stop procrastinating. We have a Death Eater to catch."
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They raced through the corridors and were now approaching the area with the courtrooms. Kingsley had a vague suspicion about their destination, somewhere deep in his mind was hiding the knowledge about the nature of Dawlish's ambush. However, he couldn't be right. Dawlish didn't have the authority to do THAT. Kingsley dodged another cutting curse and followed Cullen into the room. It appeared far bigger than usual with no audience waiting, no judges and no culprit. He expected Dawlish's comrades to leave their hiding spots any moment, so he wasn't surprised as the door behind them slammed shut.
Cullen's eyes however widened. He felt something. It neared their position. This couldn't be. THEY couldn't be here, not in the middle of the Ministry. Not even the most hard-headed official would make use of THEM. The door to the adjoining waiting room opened and for a moment they saw a flash of something – a pink cardigan.
Before they had a chance to think about it or to address the matter of Dawlish who was waiting near the judge table like a disabled automaton, a couple of shadows entered the courtroom. One by one a row of Dementors entered the room, eight in all, one as frightening as the next. Within moments ice-cold darkness gripped them. Kingsley, as experienced as he was, was barely able to call forth his Patronus. The lynx didn't hesitate a second before attacking the Dementors. They shrank back, but only for a few steps. A single Patronus wasn't enough to stall eight Dementors for long.
Kingsley tried to open the door but it didn't budge. It was no alleviation to see one of the Dementors dodge his lynx and attack the nearest target: Dawlish. With terror-filled eyes but an otherwise unmoving body, he simply stood there, waiting for the inevitable.
"Not him, those," a high-pitched voice commanded suddenly and the Dementor turned around again. Behind him, Dawlish plumped to the ground, unconscious at least. Kingsley had no way to know if Umbridge had been fast enough to rescue her conspirator – and he actually didn't care. With wonder he noticed Cullen standing in the middle of all this, unperturbed. He didn't look one bit frightened, only incredible angry.
Umbridge sent a piercing hex towards him that Kingsley was barely able to deflect. A cutting curse followed, and a second one.
"I call you forth," Cullen's voice suddenly thundered. "Andraste, lend me your cleansing flame."
"Avada Kedavra!" Kings hadn't expected her to use such a dark curse, had perhaps underestimated her magical power and hate. He banished a heavy oaken table into the spell's path just in time. It splintered under the impact, one large splinter making a deep cut on Cullen's face.
"Purge this darkness from this world, and destroy this blasphemy of nature."
Neither Umbridge nor Kingsley were able to cast any further spells, with no clear targets in this mess of bodies, and the Auror didn't dare to jump into the middle of this, not with eight hungry Dementors fast-approaching the Patronus and Templar.
"Begone! Foul creatures of the Fade, burn in Andraste's flame."
Suddenly there was only brightness, a dazzling, stunning brightness completely blinding all humans in the courtroom, as a pillar of light and fire erupted in the middle of the room, covering humans and Dementors alike. Inhuman screeches and human cries filled the air, mingling into a cacophony of pain. Kingsley felt something burning in him, dragging and tugging at his edges, burning his mind and heart. It was painful but tolerable and left him in an odd state of bliss. Not able to avoid it, he felt his legs sagging and within moments found himself kneeling on the ground, weeping in joy. All the pain of the past, all the memories of having seen comrades die, of Death Eaters torturing Muggles and Wizards alike, was suddenly gone. Kingsley could still feel the knowledge of the dark spells he had been forced to learn, could still sense his old battle scars, but somehow it wasn't as important anymore. It wasn't burdening his soul in the same way. There was someone out there accepting him with all his human faults.
Another human was hit too, but his reaction was far less positive. Measuring him, gauging him and judging him as unworthy, the fire burned him, tore away the darkness in his soul and set the Dark Mark covering his forearm aflame. He jumped around in pain, trying to put the fire out without success. Dawlish's voice rose higher and higher. The fire spread slowly from the mark throughout his body, followed the lines of darkness that meshed Voldemort's magic with his own, that allowed his master to call him, to pull onto his magical reserves in times of need. The connection was too close, too permanent to survive it. His nerves set aflame Dawlish slowly succumbed to the pain, and slumped to the ground. It was a mesmerizing, terrifying sight.
Around him the Dementors fared even worse. For a few seconds they were able to endure the light. Then, one by one, their cloak-like bodies burst into flames. Like mad they flew around, unable to stand the light, but also unable to avoid it. Kingsley's lynx who had nearly succumbed to the Dementors' might, now grew in size and power. Within seconds it passed the size of a full-grown sheepdog and reached the shoulder-height of a small pony. His light was far brighter than ever before and he started to attack the painful screaming Dementors. Each of his bites or claw attack brought another dementor down until not a single one was left behind.
Then, there was only silence.
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"YOU!"
With Cullen's adrenalin level still as high as it possibly could, he did not have the slightest problem to deflect the first spell with his sword and dodge the next. Without preamble he pushed Kingsley out of the way and gestured for him to stay back.
"You worthless bastard," Dolores fumed. With every step she send another spell towards the Templar, each darker than the one before. Still standing in the waiting room, she had mostly avoided the effect of that purifying light and while she felt very sick right now, she hadn't started to burn like Dawlish. And she certainly didn't feel any bliss like Kingsley.
"Blood mage," Cullen sneered in her direction. He felt only hate right now, a rightful fury at her use of those creatures. He had known she was evil but only now did he realize the depths of her depravity. "You don't deserve magic. It is the maker's gift to your kind and you abused it to call forth these fool creatures."
For a few moments Dolores Umbridge hesitated and stared at him with eyes bare of any understanding. Then, deciding it wasn't worth to ponder about his words, she advanced again. She would regret this decision for the rest of her miserable life. She sent a number of cutting curses and piercing hexes towards him, none of them connecting as he swatted them away like meaningless flies. Dolores Umbridge had no time to ponder about Kingsley's inaction or the pounding on the door s she shoulted:
"CRUCIO!"
Cullen hesitated for a single step, before his iron will and training, more than a bit supported by his sheer fury, overcome her puny attempt at causing him pain. Finishing the short distance, he pulled his sword back and stabbed her into the stomach.
"Urgh!" With wide eyes Dolores Umbridge stared first at Cullen's sword, protruding from her own body, then into Cullen's face that did not show a hint of mercy. He would have preferred to use the tranquillity ritual on her, burning away the evilness that had gripped this disgusting woman completely. However, even in his state he realized that there was no chance they would allow such a thing to happen. He wasn't even certain he wanted them to have this knowledge. So he had to choose another way, a harsher and more direct way. Concentrating on the weapon, Cullen gathered his whole power and started to channel it towards her magical core.
"In the name of the maker I renounce his gift to you. I declare thee unworthy of magic."
"Cullen, don't," Kingsley tried to stop him. He made two steps towards him, before something crunched under his foot. Looking down he saw the crispy remains of a Dementor. She had sent those creatures towards them. Even his Patronus wouldn't have been enough to keep them away. Without Cullen's abilities he would now be a gibbering idiot, unable to feel anything, to think anything – a fate worse than death, Kingsley decided. He halted his step and shut his mouth. No, he wouldn't stop Cullen from whatever he intended to do.
"Face the maker's wrath, Dolores Umbridge. Accept his verdict. Blood mage, demon worshipper – may the divine fire cleanse you."
Somewhere in between his words, Dolores started to scream in endless pain. Unable to stand any longer, she was now on her knees and weakly tried to get away from the blade, from Cullen and the pain. Something burned deep within her. Her core tried to battle Cullen's powers but slowly succumbed to them. A last high-pitched wail permeated the air, before she mercifully lost consciousness and slumped to the ground. Thick pearls of sweat covered Cullen's face and neck. Exhausted, he drew his sword back and looked down on the human being that had been Dolores Umbridge, the witch. Nothing would ever be like it once was for her.
With a crash the door to the courtroom opened.
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Amelia Bones and a handful of Aurors stormed into the courtroom but stopped cold at the sight of Kingsley's immense Patronus still prowling on the floor.
"What happened, Kings?" Amelia demanded to know, sending two of her Aurors towards Dawlish and Umbridge for a first examination. Cullen was still staring at the woman, unmoving.
"Dawlish attacked us, lured us into this room. Umbridge was lying in wait. She ordered eight Dementors to attack us." Amelia gasped, only now realizing what those leftovers on the ground stood for. "Without Cullen…" Amelia nodded slowly, understanding, thankful for the Templar's presence – at least until he erupted into action.
Stunning everybody with his reaction, he jumped Amelia Bones, grabbed her neck and pushed her against the wall. Only Kingsley stopped the Aurors from instantly attacking him, as Cullen yelled:
"How could you allow Demons to prowl the Ministry's halls?"
"Cullen…"
"Demons, Amelia, Demons," he screamed nearly out of control. "I thought you were an honourable woman, a woman of beliefs and morals."
"Cullen, let her go," Kingsley softly put his hand on his. Something in his voice, perhaps a lingering effect of the light that had cleansed him, somehow permeated the blood-red fog around Cullen's mind. "Let her go." Cullen actually obeyed and made a single step back. His face was still a mask of fury.
"These aren't demons," Amelia attempted to explain. "They are Dementors. The Ministry uses them as prison guards and… and for executions."
"Didn't you listen to anything I told you?" Cullen responded, now more sad than angry. "Demons live from human emotions. Your Dementors do the same. The name is no coincidence. They have no place in this world."
"They serve the Ministry, Cullen," Amelia explained with a sad sigh. "I'm not happy, but I can't do anything about it."
"They'll betray you. They aren't trustworthy."
"They already have in the past," Kingsley agreed. "They joined you-know-who's cause in the first war."
"Then it's only a question of time until they'll do it again," Cullen stated determinedly. "How many of these creatures exist in 'the Ministry's service'?" It was hard to overhear the sarcasm.
"Around two hundred," Amelia admitted.
"Two hundred?" Cullen's knees trembled. "Do you have an idea how much damage two hundred of them could do, how much havoc they could bring over the British population?"
"We have the Patronus spell," Amelia weakly defended the Ministry's decision, despite her being against it for years. She really was no fan of them, thought their use to be inhuman. And as Kingsley already remarked: they had proven not to be trustworthy.
"And what about the Muggles? Have they a Patronus spell, too? How many wizards and witches will be willing to risk their life and sanity to protect them?"
Amelia had no answer to this.
"Find a way to get rid of them, Madam Bones," he was far more formal now than only minutes ago. "Find a way to extinguish them or I'll do it for you."
"You can't…" One of the Aurors started but Kingsley instantly stopped him: "shut up."
Very sad Cullen stared Amelia into the eye: "I trusted you, Madam Bones. I'm not sure I still can." Without another word he left the room, leaving behind a shell-shocked Amelia Bones, her Aurors and two victims of the maker's wrath.
.
"He means it, Amelia. If you don't find a solution for the Dementors, he'll declare his own little war. Whatever hate and disgust I feel towards them, especially now after their attack, is nothing against his fury. For him they're a blasphemy that has to be eradicated."
"I know, Kings, I know," Amelia sighed. "I just have no idea…"
She turned around and looked expectantly at the Aurors who had examined Dawlish and Umbridge: "what about their condition?"
"Dawlish is dead," the Auror stated with a composed voice. "Something burned the Dark Mark and apparently every bit of dark magic in his body away, completely destroying his nerve system. I assume it was the same kind of magic that destroyed the Dementors." He shuddered. The Auror hadn't known it was even possible to actually destroy a single Dementor, never mind eight of them.
"And Madam Umbridge?"
"She's seriously injured but not in a life-threatening manner. However,…" he hesitated.
"What?"
"She didn't react to my healing spells. We had to patch her up the Muggle way, with bandages."
Amelia stared at the unconscious woman and thought that she looked a bit like a mummy – or a wrapped up toad.
"How's that possible?"
The Auror shrugged. "The healers at St. Mungo's will have to examine them."
"And your best guess?"
He sighed. "According to my investigation… her magical core… it somehow cracked."
"What?"
He shrugged non-committedly: "something caused her magical core to crack. There are traces of magic, but I assume they're only leftovers. Once they trickle away, she won't be a witch anymore, perhaps not even a squib."
"You're telling me that Madam Umbridge will be a Muggle?" Her face was a mix of slight horror and a fair amount of glee.
"I assume so," he shrugged again. He was Muggleborn with a niece at Hogwarts right now. He would certainly not shed a tear over her fate. "Only time will tell."
Amelia left the courtroom with Kingsley at her side, leaving Dawlish and Umbridge to the care of her team of Aurors. "I fear," she whispered after a while "that I'll have to take Steward Cullen even more seriously than before."
Kingsley nodded gravely, already thinking about his report to Albus Dumbledore. The old man, leader of the light, wasn't going to like hearing about this one bit.
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Dream or Reality?
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"Hello my dear," Snakeface smiled with no real humour in his voice as he greeted her. "How are you at his wonderful morning?"
So it was morning right now. But of which day? Andromeda Tonks had lost any sense of time. She was shackled to the wall but it could have been worse. Ophelia Nott had been down here with a house elf of her own family and clearly instructed him to care for her. There was always a warming spell on the bare cell, she had a moderately clean blanket and the water and garbage buckets got emptied twice a day. The meals had been simple but sufficient so far. She had expected to get tortured and raped every waking moment – and perhaps every unconscious one too – however, apart from a few Crucio rounds to 'make her feel welcome' nothing had happened so far. Andromeda felt thankful towards Nott's younger sister, especially after she heard her making it clear to the younger Death Eaters guarding her what would happen to their 'small parts' should one of them overstep the line.
"Too bad that none of your sisters is able to greet you, to make you feel welcome in my humble home," he sighed in mock exasperation. "Narcissa regretfully declined my last invitation," for a short moment hate crossed his face "and Bella… she's still a prisoner of those Ministry idiots. I hope to resolve both matters until Christmas." He sighed, bent down and patted Nagini's head. The giant snake had been at his feet the whole time, watching Andromeda very closely as if she was some mice ready to be fed to her. "Unfortunately, you won't be here anymore by then."
Andromeda felt a shiver. Hopefully he didn't intend to really use her as animal food. It was something he had done in the past, according to rumours.
"Oh, no, Andromeda," he said, apparently reading her face or mind "for you I have something different in mind. You see: I have need of your soul." He grinned bastardly.
"M…my soul?"
"M…my soul?" He repeated to mock her. "It will help me to stay immortal," he explained, feeling talkative apparently. "Next Halloween we'll use your death and soul to create something that will secure my immortal status. I think it will be some kind of poetic justice after all these years you lived as a blood-traitor. Don't you agree?"
Her mind raced, unwilling to succumb to the sheer horror of his news. "Horcrux?" she asked, her face very pale. "You want to turn me into a Horcrux?"
"Ah, I see, you at least read the books in the Black library," he seemed really happy about that. "However, not you per se. That honour will stay with my adorable Nagini. I'll use an object that has been in my care for decades to be turned into a Horcrux. Your death will be the fuel necessary to make the ritual work. Now don't you feel precious?" He grinned maliciously.
"You're an evil bastard," Andromeda Tonks screamed. "Burn in hell."
His face turned towards a mask of hate. "Been there, done that. Have no interest to repeat the experience." His eyes narrowed. "Too bad I promised Nott that nothing serious would happen to you until then. He has always been too weak, always too soft-hearted towards his sister." Snakeface glared at her, his face a grimace of hate and disgust. "Otherwise I would have sent in a few of my men. They would break your pride in hours, and make you beg for your death." Andromeda shuddered again. She had no doubt about that promise and felt thankfulness rise again in her heart.
Suddenly his face turned into an ugly grin, far more frightening than his previous hate. "However, I'm a man of honour, standing to his word." She had something to say to that statement but didn't dare. Don't provoke the animal, especially not such a mad, bloodthirsty one.
"This doesn't mean there aren't other ways to make you see the errors of your ways." He pulled a vial from his robe. "I always wanted to test this. I call it Nightmare potion. It makes you experience your worst fears but only in your imagination. There won't be actual torture, pain and rape, however you'll still think that it is happening. It will be interesting to see how long it will need to break your mind. You see," his grin turned even worse "I only need your life and soul, not for your mind to remain sane."
He rolled his eyes as she tried to escape him. A single wave of his hand made her bound with magical ropes and completely helpless. With motions similar to a mother administering medicine to her sick child, he poured the vial's content into her mouth and massaged her throat to have her actually drink it.
"Happy dreams, little Andromeda, sweet happy dreams."
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"Halloween," a boy mumbled far away. "We have time until Halloween." Thinking about the last part of his dream, he corrected himself: "no, we have to be faster than this."
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Interlude – Cullen
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"We have to help her," Harry urged. Hermione's arm was wound around his shoulders in a soothing way. "It must be sheer hell for her."
"We'll find a way," Cullen tried to calm him. "I will speak to Severus about this. If anybody can help it would be him."
"Okay," Harry attempted to sound convinced to no avail.
"But this means we have to act fast. We have to heal your scar and I have to train Ben and the others." Harry felt Hermione flinch at Cullen's mention of her father.
"Shouldn't we wait for the healing? So far my dreams have been very helpful, I think."
"It's your decision, really. Everything is prepared. We could do it now or a few days before the attack. I won't force you into accepting this. It's your head in the end, your risk. Yes, it is helpful, but I still don't like it, not one bit."
"You're really very unlike Headmaster Dumbledore, Cullen. You know that?" Harry smiled weakly.
Cullen responded with a shrug. "I hope I am. Consult your pillow and tell me about your decision tomorrow morning. I want to start the training as soon as possible." He turned towards Hermione who had been bafflingly silent so far. "Don't you want to try to convince me not to train your father?"
Her smile looked defeated. "Even if you agreed, there would be no chance in hell to convince my father. I inherited my stubbornness from him."
"Luckily you inherited the good looks from your mother," Harry tried to lighten the mood, earning him a punch on the shoulder.
"Git."
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Voldemort's Lair
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Severus Snape tried to stay calm as he found his way through the endless corridors. Goyle was leading him through this maze, as the only member from the Malfoy/Goyle/Crabbe trio not in the Ministry's care at the moment. Severus had chosen him as his contact because he trusted him to not attack him on first sight. It was a big risk to return. Not that he ever openly betrayed the Dark Lord, but he hadn't followed his summons either for a while. 'He' wouldn't be happy, especially with Severus' lack of information about Cullen's plans and abilities.
With Lucius as well as all three LeStranges out of the picture, he had no idea about the current pecking order. Nott had led the attack on the Granger home but Severus didn't believe for one moment that he was Lucius' replacement. Perhaps Dolohov, he mused, or Rookwood. The former Unspeakable certainly had the needed intellect, very unlike the Carrows – who were as mad as a Hutter – or Greyback, who was far too vicious and uncontrollable.
Everyone stopped talking as Goyle led Severus into the big room. Nearly a dozen Death Eaters were gathered, none of them looking friendly. It was a bad sign to see this kind of smile on his master's face.
"Severus," he greeted him "welcome, welcome. I'm so happy you could make it to our little gathering. We've missed you."
Severus bowed, not too deeply because 'He', quite accurately, would see it as a mocking gesture. "Milord, I'm here on behalf of my godson."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed and his face lost all friendliness. "So you aren't here to ask for leniency?"
"No, milord, I understand that I deserve your wrath for my procrastination."
"How indulgent of you, Severus," his eyes were narrow slits now. Flicking his wand, he sent two bone-breakers towards his potion master. Severus didn't even try to raise his own wand in defence. It wouldn't help him one bit. He could only hope that he was still useful enough for his former master to spare his life. With sick noises both of his legs broke under the spells' impact and he toppled to the floor. The Death Eaters around smirked but nobody dared to laugh. They remembered all too well their lord's reaction the last time. Only Goyle actually seemed a tad uneasy watching this.
"I'm very disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm to follow my invitations over the past few weeks, Severus." He waited for some kind of answer. As none came, he wondered: "no explanation, no excuses?"
"No, milord," Severus hissed in pain. "None would be to your satisfaction."
"Self-knowledge," Voldemort nodded "I like that." Obviously not enough to spare him a few rounds of Crucio curses, but at least they were only short applications. Apparently he wanted to hear what Severus hinted at with the mention of his godson. "With this little misunderstanding out of the way," he offered a false 'I'm an indulgent father' smile "what did you want to say in your godson's favour, Severus?" He sighed in mock hurt. "He betrayed me, Severus. His bitch of a mother and the little bastard dared to betray me. I can't allow this. You certainly agree, don't you?"
Luckily for Severus and Draco, Voldemort was actually impressed. He had always respected his potion master – at least insofar as he was able to feel such an emotion. Snape was an incredible potion master, intelligent and sharp-witted. He had self-control and a backbone, both things most of his other followers sorely lacked. To stand up for his godson even in this situation, with both legs broken and in obvious pain – he would at least hear him out.
"It wasn't meant as an act of betrayal," Severus dared to object. "Draco was clever enough to realize that the task wasn't meant as a chance to deem himself worthy, but as a punishment for Lucius' failure. He realized that he was expected to fail and die – during the attempt or afterwards."
Voldemort didn't even deny it.
"It was an act of cowardice, simply as that. Draco is only a little boy, no Death Eater material. It's a bitter pill for me to swallow but he's frightened to the core, terrified by the simple idea to go against a real wizard, especially one like Dumbledore."
"And you want me to spare him… because?"
"He's my godson. I made an oath to protect him."
"And what do you offer in return?"
"I'll take over his task." Severus' simple statement stunned even his master for a moment.
"You want to kill Dumbledore?"
"I do," Severus nodded. "He deserves to die and I deserve more than most others to be his defeater." He didn't have to explain his reasoning to his master. Voldemort knew about most of the times Albus had betrayed him in the past. He had seen the memory of that moment twenty years ago, when a young man, terrified by the sight of a Werewolf snapping at him, hoped for support only to be threatened with obliviation and expulsion shouldn't he stay silent about the whole incident. "I don't have his full trust anymore, but I can still get close enough to have a realistic chance to get him." He stared his master in the eyes. "Allow Draco to live – be it here in an administrative function and moneylender, or somewhere out of Britain – and I'll kill Albus Dumbledore."
Voldemort pondered the offer for a while. Severus obviously had other reasons to return. He was a Slytherin, so he naturally had more than one reason for his actions. However, he seemed to be serious about this. "Are you willing to take an oath?"
"I am," Severus agreed without hesitation. He had thought about this before coming here. Severus had no intention to survive this war and should it actually happen – he could still decide when the moment arose whether he wanted to kill Albus or die of his own free will. It would depend on his condition then. In the worst case he would follow Albus' wishes, nevermind how much he hated the thought.
"I'll think about it, Severus," Severus didn't dare to feel relieved. "And now let's speak about your… how did you call it… your procrastination."
An endless, painful hour followed before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
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"Drink this."
Without complaint Severus accepted the offered vial. He certainly wasn't a trusting man but Ophelia Nott had been fairly competent at potions and he believed her not to have the intent to poison him. Within moments he felt the worst pains subside.
"I patched you up as much as I was allowed to," she explained. Ophelia didn't have to tell him that she did nothing against the Crucio aftereffects. Voldemort liked his servants trembling for days after a round of punishment. "Your legs should already be okay if a bit sore. And I cleaned the other cuts and injuries. The yellow one," she pointed towards the sideboard with a few potions on it "is against…"
"The concussion, I know," Severus snarled. While he was thankful for her help, that didn't mean he had to show it.
"Behave, or I will reverse my healing."
"You wouldn't," Snape remarked without any doubt in his voice. "You were always too soft."
Ophelia sighed. "I fear you're right about that – on both counts."
"How long?" He asked after a moment of uneasy silence.
"Thirty hours," she answered, knowing that he wanted to know how long he had been unconscious.
He nodded slowly. Hopefully Andromeda would… Severus paled. "Where are my things?"
"Over there," she gestured to a little trunk. "The password is Bothriuridae."
He raised a single eyebrow in mock surprise. Severus knew enough about zoology to recognize the name of one of the scorpion families. "So I remind you of a scorpion?"
To his surprise, Ophelia glanced around, before she answered by showing him what she was hiding in her sleeve. He knew that little vial without annotation all too well. "Yes, you do."
"Does anybody know?"
"No," she shook her head. "I was the one to take care of you from the start."
"And what do you intend to do with it?"
"Follow your intention," she rolled her eyes. "What else?"
"What would you know about my intention?"
"It's not too difficult to guess," she grimaced. "However, my job would have been easier with a few hints on how to dose it."
"How is she doing?" Severus asked, deciding to drop the act. If she wanted to betray him, she would have done so already. He could only hope that the potion he had created after Potter's information did what it was meant to do.
"Bad," Ophelia sighed. "The days before your arrival were the worst. It got a tad better since then. Your medicine seems to help, as if it dampens the experience. She isn't really responsive however and is still screaming most of the time. I gave her five drops every six hours."
That seemed almost right. "If possible make it three every three to four hours. It will have a more evenly impact on her mind."
Ophelia acknowledged his advice with a curt nod.
"Can I see her?"
"Tomorrow perhaps," Ophelia responded.
"Why are you helping me?" He had to ask despite his own suspicions.
"I'm not doing this for you," Ophelia answered hoarsely. "I'm doing this for Cissy. And for her. I could have been in her stead, Severus. The Dark Lord wanted to use me should my brother fail in his task to get her."
"You were his incentive, his motivation," Severus started to understand.
"More like his sacrificial lamb," she smiled without humour. Ophelia stood up. "Rest a bit, I'll visit you again in a few hours."
Severus nodded weakly. He felt sleepy again. The short conversation had already used what small amount of endurance had been left. "And 'Phelia? Thank you – for everything."
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A/N
About John Dawlish: I know that he's not a DE in canon. I changed it however in this story. In addition I allowed a few more of the Death Eaters to flee at the Ministry disaster.