Ch. 13 – The Rings, please

A/N: Welcome back for another chapter. My thanks to those who like, read, follow, favorite, or fangirl over. It's most appreciated. Fair warning for those in Newcastle – there is more in here and it is about to get darker. If you want additional warnings, please email me.

If that's not your cup of tea, you might want to wait 'til the next installment, maybe.

I dedicate this chapter to the indomitable, charismatic, and extraordinarily talented Christopher Lee. He passed away this week after a long and fulfilling life. Between Horror films, a time in the service, of which is still covered under the Secrets Act, as well as writing books and performing Heavy Metal music... Well, this dragon is mourning his passing.

As a reminder, this fic is rated T, since there is no smut, but it's now a Hard T, for violence in addition to Ron Weasley's filthy mouth.

Finally, still not Jo but she's besties with a crime writing author so that makes her A-OK in my book. - DG

Where'd he go?

Harry took a step into the den, avoiding the edges of sofas as well as tables, and saw Arthur Weasley appear in the doorway of the room.

"Shite," Arthur said. He immediately cast a shield charm and watched a stunning spell ricochet impotently into the ceiling. He ducked as another one flew over his head.

Another caterwauling charm exploded in discordant harmony, drowning out the din of the spells firing back and forth. Harry tried to intervene but couldn't get a clear bead on where Lestrange was hiding.

"Two Arthur Weasleys? Impossible!" Spells flashed back and forth, each one growing in intensity. More spells flew, as fast as the hands and thoughts passed. "Damn Aurors! Fuckin' Polyjuice!" Spells flew only feet from the originator, one visible and one not.

A blue spell flashed by Arthur Weasley's head and exploded the antique china case behind him. Harry ducked out of habit, landing with a painful thud on the hardwood floor. His ears rattled and his eyes tried to focus in the now dim light. He worked as fast as possible to throw his cloak over himself, in case his own disillusionment charm dissipated. He couldn't see shite with the smoke, the darkness, and the disillusionment charms.

Another loud crack and crash buffered his ears before the explosions stopped. Something fell across his legs and he bit his hand to stifle the yell.

Harry raised his head and looked into the overwhelming darkness of the dining room and stared hard. Smoke drifted through the room and over his prone form.

One lone wand tip burst in illumination. Lestrange emerged from his own disillusionment and looked at the Arthur Weasley in front of him. Weasley was standing resolute but boggled at the growing bloom soaking his jumper.

Harry crawled closer in the darkness until he was lying at the edge of the doorway.

This Arthur fingered the antique candelabra protruding from his chest and neck. He collapsed to the floor with a painful grunt and agonizing thud.

Harry wanted to curse the bastard standing in the doorway to the dining room. He wanted to throttle the Auror with his bare hands. He should have known better and still tripped a charm on the bloody floor. Ron quality epithets rolled through his head, each one worse than the last one.

But duty held him in place. He couldn't jeopardize his cover.

"Pureblood affairs are no business for others, whoever you are." Lestrange stood over the injured auror and pointed his wand at his face. Weasley worked his mouth, trying to make words come out of his damaged neck but he failed to utter a syllable. "Good riddance."

Harry turned his head, unable to watch what was about to happen. He heard the words, the ones that echoed in his nightmares occasionally, as the coup de grace as a final spell.

Another caterwauling charm went off, this time from the area near the mudroom. A third one went off upstairs while a fourth erupted from the back patio.

Lestrange spun and cast hexes into the kitchen, exploding the door leading outside.

Lestrange heard another creak, this time from upstairs. He disillusioned himself and a barely audible pop gave away that he disapparated, to somewhere on the property.

Harry made himself look at the dead Auror before he knelt down. He reached over and checked the pulse point on the other side of the ruined neck. Lestrange's last uttered spell made it pointless what he was doing, but since he was a trained Auror, he'd verify anyway. Chilled hands touched the abnormally cold skin and got messy in the blood on his neck. Even his trained hands, taught in classes by a staff Healer, knew when a pulse was absent.

Harry spied the St. Catherine medallion around his neck. "Jasper," he whispered. Smythe was the only one of the Aurors who wore a medallion, given him by his grandmother, on the day he received his badge. "Ron's going to lose a nut."

Moody and Robards' vile litany rambled in his head.

He closed Smythe's eyes.

Smythe getting killed mucked up their entire plan. He couldn't help him now but there were those he could help. As usual, the plan is as good until it went pear shaped. Good thing he had years of experience in pear shaped plans.

Harry kept the cloak on his back while he slunk into the kitchen. He stayed as close to the floor as possible, staying low and small, so any haphazard spells would fly over him. His job was to get to the Arthur in question.

He froze when Lestrange apparated into the kitchen and threw a spell towards the foyer, ducking another one that blew out the wall behind them. Harry crouched behind the counter and watched silently.

Another caterwauling charm went off and Lestrange disapparated towards the noise. Another charm went off upstairs, followed by another in the parlour.

Harry understood that his team was making more caterwauling charms and then setting them off. He realized the opportunity afforded and snuck over to Arthur. He was breathing, blowing bubbles of blood from his lips. Blood crusted his nose and along his cheeks. His receding hairline was bright red and bruised, probably from being battered.

Harry lifted Arthur's head and saw the cuts and contusions on his face. He didn't stir.

"Wake up," he hissed, "Damn it, wake up! For the love of Mum's –"

Arthur raised his head. "Fuck off, twat; I'm not telling you anything."

Harry pulled a face and worked to release the bindings on his ankles. "It's me, you git. You look like shite."

"I feel like a dragon sat on my face. Not the most pleasant of experiences, I reckon." Arthur tried to laugh but winced from the split lip and tremendous contusions on his cheeks. "This assignment sucks hippogriff balls."

"Hippogriffs don't have bollocks, at least that I know of."

"Yeah they do. They're like ducks that way," Arthur groaned. "Feel like I've been kicked so hard that I've got hippogriff balls now."

"Bastard hurt you pretty good." Harry took the rope off of the second ankle and tried to move his boots off the ground. One spell later and they were unstuck via the magic that held him in place. "Almost there." Harry pulled the last of the coarse rope from Arthur's right wrist and shoved a wand in his hand. It disappeared up his sleeve under his right hand. "Whose wand was that?" Harry motioned to the broken wand on the ground.

"Wasn't. It was a stick I picked up. Figured Lestrange would break it and it'd be no loss. Shite, my head hurts."

"Brilliant!" Harry worked the ropes to where they only lay on his boots and not tight around the ankles.

"I'm ready to leave now," he whispered. "Can we get out of here? Nothing worse than – " Arthur went to move but his left hand was still tightly wound to the chair.

"I can't free you yet," Harry said pathetically. "He's still in the house. Did he use magic on you, besides to stick you here?"

Arthur settled back into the chair and slumped down. "Yeah, he did." Arthur wiggled his fingers on his left hand. "The immobilization spell broke when the first caterwauling charm went off. He must not have done the spellwork completely right since I'm free." He muttered something further, with Harry only catching Hermione's name and bloody well hurt.

One quiet pop, coming from the front foyer, was Harry's only warning. He crouched low behind Arthur and slinked to the other side of the table, hiding like a mouse under his cloak. Ominous footfalls pounded into the room and right up to Arthur. His head bent back further than expected, probably from a wand at his throat and his short hair being pulled roughly. "Show yourselves, all of you, or Weasley gets it. I'll find little Molly too once I'm done with him."

Harry was inches away from Lestrange but he didn't dare move, much less breathe. He couldn't take a chance if his spell missed his disillusioned body.

"You're under arrest." A voice boomed out that rattled the walls of the house. "Put down the wand now."

Harry shifted an inch to get a clear shot of Lestrange. He couldn't do it, not without giving away his position.

"Sod off, all of you. Weasley here will die first, followed by Little Molly outside." Arthur's head bent back even further. Harry saw a faint outline of where he guessed Lestrange was standing.

"You're deep in your potions, Lestrange," Arthur croaked first.

"You're bluffing." A disconnected voice echoed through the house.

"How many lives will you sacrifice to get me, eh?" Lestrange yelled into the gutted residence.

Harry watched Arthur slide his own wand down from the sleeve on his arm. Harry couldn't get a good shot off, not with him in the way. He tried to move an inch and froze when a stunning spell flew over his head, shattering the window behind him.

"I said show yourselves!" Another spell flew through the front foyer, hitting the front door. "I know there's more than one in here. I can feel it."

"You're mental, blowing the house apart." Arthur croaked behind Lestrange. "I'm the only one here."

"Am I?" Arthur's head bent so far back it looked ready to snap off. One drop of blood fell from the indention into his neck while Arthur was wincing from the pain. "I have nothing to lose, not now." Another spell flew, this time into the formal dining room. "I'll blow the house apart to find you, whoever you are."

"Put down your wand, Rabastan. I'm here." Harry saw the shimmer of a shadow in the foyer a second before the similar image of Rabastan standing in the front foyer. "Lower your wand, brother of mine."

Harry squinted further and saw some subtle differences. The hair was styled differently, and the clothes looked a slightly faded worn look to them. But this Lestrange looked younger, healthier almost. This one looked almost well cared for, by comparison.

"Rodolphus?" Rabastan lowered his wand. "I saw you die." He took a step forward, leaving Arthur tied to the chair.

He saw Arthur subtly slide his wand down his arm to his hand.

"I didn't die, Rabastan. The spider dropped me when he was hit with Weasley's feeble curse. The stupid sod didn't kill me. Incompetent buffoon couldn't even kill me, as much as he tried."

Rabastan lowered his wand to his thigh. He stepped forward and froze. "The spider bit you, twice. You were bleeding, screaming in pain." He shrunk slightly and lifted his wand. "I saw you die."

"I'm standing here, aren't I? I'm not dead if I'm here, talking with you. And yeah, it bloody well hurt. But the creature didn't poison me, no more than any other regular spider would. I was able to keep my wand and escape." Rodolphus took another step forward. "I didn't die."

Rabastan shook his head, grunting under his shaking. "It's not true. Can't be true."

Harry watched Arthur wink before turning his wand upwards, towards Lestrange. Heartbeats echoed by and still Rabastan stood there, in front of Arthur, looking at a vision of his very much alive brother.

"Why did you just show up? Why'd you hide all these years? I killed because of you, after your death. I thought we'd been betrayed. So I killed as many as I could." Lestrange pointed his wand at his brother. "This is some sort of sorcery!"

"I had to, Rabastan. That blood Traitor Kingsley was here, at the house, almost immediately after the Dark Lord perished. I saw him in the house and tried to kill him. I missed. I had to run, hide elsewhere, 'til I knew I could come out. Merlin knows I've tried to kill that traitor a few times these last few years. Bastard must be bathing in Felix Felicis, as often as he lived through my attempts."

"But you knew the plan, of course you would. It was your plan: To hell with Bellatrix, you said. Let her go, you said. Leave her to her fate, you said. Come here and we'll live until we could rise again, as our own Dark Lords."

Arthur pointed his wand at the new intruder but he felt a sharp squeeze on his arm. "That's Jones," Harry breathed. Arthur flexed his arm to signal his understanding.

Rodolphus took another step into the edge of the light, staying back just so far.

"And the others? What about them? Were you able to help them?" Rodolphus took a step into the light. "What information do you have?"

"I thought they'd betrayed us." His expression turned dark. "They're dead, by my wand. I killed Nott and Rookwood when they ran that day. I killed Crabbe a month later, just like we planned. I chased Zabini for months and never caught him. Sod all I couldn't get to that traitor Malfoy and his frigid bitch. Avery and Dolohov ran and I've not found them. The rest were imprisoned or disappeared, probably dead."

Arthur pointed the wand at Rabastan and non-verbally stunned him in the back. He flew upwards and crashed into the wood ceiling support and fell in a heap to the floor. He crumpled into a pile, barely breathing, with a couple of teeth knocked out.

Arthur turned his wand on the other Lestrange who was standing in front of him.

"Weasley, speak to me."

"Prove you're Jones." His voice was like tempered steel. "If not, you meet this bastard's fate."

"Fine. I saw you in the women's locker room six hours ago."

"I said you didn't belong in the women's changing room." He smiled. "You look pretty good as a wizard, Hemera."

"And you're a cheeky bastard, Ron."

Harry whipped off his cloak first, followed by two more Aurors removing their disillusionment spells. Three Arthur Weasleys populated the kitchen along with Rodolphus Lestrange. "There's only three of you? Where's the fourth?"

"You didn't hear, did you?" Harry removed the binding from his left wrist and banished the display ropes on his ankles and right wrist. He listed his best mate's face once more and saw the brunt of the damage Lestrange inflicted on him. "Smythe tripped a caterwauling jinx and got himself noticed. Somehow his disillusionment spell broke. I don't know how, maybe a spell, perhaps? Anyway, he dueled Lestrange and he missed getting hit with a spell but the blast blew up the china hutch and shoved a candelabra through his neck. He's dead."

Ron leaned forward and retched over Harry's boots. Harry banished the sick immediately and heard Ron dry heaving.

"It's not your fault, Ron. I saw it happen." Harry couldn't bear to tell Ron the rest.

"Bollocks. It's my plan, and he was my responsibility. I got him killed." Ron choked on his dry heaves. "I told him the fucker was paranoid. I told him to watch his step. Shite, I got my senior killed."

"You're talking rubbish, Weasley." Auror Jones stepped back from Ron who was still slumped in the chair.

"That's my senior dead in the next room!" Ron yelled from his chair. "I got my fucking senior killed and will have to face a bloody inquiry over it after I told the sod to be careful!"

"Ron, enough," Harry asked quietly. "We know. All of us do."

"Weasley, shut your piehole." Auror Jones glared, and it looked frightening considering she still looked like Rodolphus Lestrange. "You're not lead Auror on this hop – I am. I approved it, along with the Director. You're not responsible, you git. I am. I'll have the inquiry. You'll have a bed at St. Mungo's. Beside, you've got three witnesses who will say that you told Smythe the fiend was paranoid. Smythe heard your warning. He heard Kreacher's too. It's not your fault that he got sloppy and got exposed. Hell, he paid enough by getting a candelabra shoved through him. Why would I look to have you kicked out?"

Ron quieted down while she paced in the front foyer, making a mess of the hair that wasn't hers. "Why are you looking like that dead brother of his? Hadn't he been dead since the day of?"

Jones looked at her hands and the pretentious clothes she was wearing. "I didn't fancy looking like the sod but it was a change in plans. The bastard was fighting everywhere and we needed an out. He'd drop his wand if he saw me instead of more of you walking through the kitchen. It worked, didn't it, to act a diversion, and let you take him out."

"I had a bead on him. If he tried to move or say anything towards you, he'd have been blasted off his feet." Auror Williamson kept his wand in his hand and his head on a swivel.

"Why'd you let me take him out?"

"How'd you manage it? Rodolphus has been dead since that day in '98." Harry blurted out.

"Elves are obedient unless told otherwise. I reckon following Rabastan's rule of don't touch my brother's room! It worked out for my benefit." Blank stares gave her the answer. "You gits! His brother's hairbrush was still on the vanity in the room. I took a chance and it worked. My vial of Polyjuice was regular strength, per Director Robards."

Ron rubbed his throat and pulled back his fingers, covered in tacky blood. "Good thing you did that. I didn't fancy looking like Nearly Headless Nick." He fought a gag reflex, thinking about Hermione and the scar she still had. "We can't send him to the Ministry. He didn't release Mum." He looked at Auror Jones. "Bastard bragged he only kicked her out of the house after confounding her. Sod didn't bother to realize it was Harry. But if we take Mum out of the wards, she's gonna die."

"Potter already told us. The Director knows to keep the Healer with your Mum, on the property, until I inform him in person. We aren't taking any chances, Weasley." She looked around the room at the mess around them. "First things first, though. We'll bring in the healer so we can procure the blood and get the wards on the property removed. That has to be done first." She leaned over and picked up Lestrange's wand from his hand. "Hate to check him but we need to, just to make sure he's not covered in shite."

Auror Williamson levitated Lestrange from the floor and she meticulously removed every potion bottle on his person. "Merlin! He's got more potion bottles on him than a chemist shop." His cloak contained a dozen, at least.

"What are these?" she asked. Two small vials came out of his sock. "Is this Veritiserum? Unlicensed possession of such is a year in Azkaban, for each vial."

"That's where he took it from, so I'm guessing it is. He pulled the vial out and put the drops in my mouth. I know my head went barmy after he did."

"One the curse breaker gets the wards down, you're on medical leave, effective immediately. You're off 30 days minimum, as required, pending clearance from a Healer before returning to duty. We can't risk you or your mental health on a bloody field case."

"All the paperwork form this case will take more than 30 days to get caught up. But what about this one?"

"We'll have him checked by Healer Smalls-Fawcett before we transport him to the Ministry. I don't want this guy out of our sight until he's handed over to the guards at the Ministry."

Auror Jones conjured her own Patronus – a 12 hands high Shetland Pony – which cantered into existence. "Healer Fawcett-Smalls, we request your presence. Ask Kreacher to bring in the curse breaker too, since we have the suspect in custody and can obtain his blood to break the wards."

The pony galloped through the front wall. She turned to Auror Appleby. "Is the rest of the house secure?"

"It is but we didn't check the remainder of the grounds."

"We'll have a team sweep it once the wards are down. We can't release it to Muggle eyes but we can seal it off under Auror authority until the case closes in the Wizengamot."

A loud crack interrupted their discussion. Bill Weasley was standing in the foyer with Kreacher. "Kreacher brings Master Bill, as requested."

"Is this the bloke who kidnapped Mum?" Bill looked at the incarcerated Lestrange, being held by Auror Williamson. "Damn, he looks like he's had a rough go of it." Bill stopped and looked at the others in the room. "Bloody hell, that's how you did it."

Auror Jones stepped up to Bill. "Yeah, we had to. It was the only way to get inside the residence to infiltrate it."

"So where's Ron? I know he didn't get sacked from the case."

"I'm here, you prat."

Bill looked back at the man sitting in the chair. "Shite," he groaned. "Bugger messed you up as well as I was. You look like Dad after getting his arse beat."

Ron looked at his oldest brother and couldn't muster a grin. "Nice to see you too, old man. Get those wards down." Ron fingered his split lip.

"It's not as simple as that, prat. I need Hermione with me to help break the wards. Once it's down, Mum's going to St. Mungo's."

"No, she's not. There's been a bit of bother on it." Ron said quietly.

Harry spoke over Ron. "Kreacher, can you bring Madame Hermione into the house? Master Bill needs her to break the wards."

"Yes, sir." Kreacher apparated out with a firm crack!

"Damn it, Harry. I don't want Hermione seeing me like this. What were you thinking?"

"Well, shite." Harry shrugged. "It's not like she wouldn't know either way, I reckon. I'd rather she hear it from you."

The Healer apparated into the front hallway. "You asked for me, Auror Jones?"

"I did. We need a blood sample from the suspect and also to check his condition. He was found with pain potions and pepper up potions on him, as well as Veritiserum on his person." She turned and waved her hand at Ron. "But he needs attention first."

Healer Smalls-Fawcett looked and saw Ron, wearing Arthur's appearance. "Blood hell," he muttered under his breath before his face turned professional. "Are you coherent?"

"Vaguely. He used his fists and wand on me. When the wand wasn't enough, he did worse magic on me."

"I want you in a bed at St. Mungo's as soon as possible." The Healer ran his wand over Ron's head and neck. "You need a night or two of observation as well as restorative potions that I don't have in my kit in the tent. They have what you need there."

"To hell with me. What about Mum? How is she?"

"She's asleep in the tent, Ron." Harry spoke up.

"Your brother is with her. I gave her a sleeping draught after she had fluids." The Healer answered.

"That's not a good enough answer."

"It's all you're getting for now," Auror Jones spoke up. "Your brother is sitting with her as well as Director Robards. She's being cared for until we get her released and she can be transported to St. Mungo's."

Ron slouched down further into the chair. "Hermione's gonna take a bollock when she sees me."

Kreacher apparated back in with Hermione on hand. "Kreacher said you –" Hermione froze in the foyer when she saw three Arthur Weasleys in the room but only one was brutally battered. "Shite," she growled under her breath before crossing through the gathering and knelt at his side. "He did this to you, didn't he?" She grabbed his hand and put the palm to her cheek. "Why didn't you trust me?"

"How'd you know it was me?" He asked quietly while the others stepped into the front foyer.

"You have a particular look you get when you see me angry," she frowned at him, "the same look you're giving me right now."

"Yeah, I reckon so but I had to. There wasn't another option. He had to think he had Dad. I wasn't letting Dad near this barmy bastard."

Hermione felt the tear fall down her cheek but didn't swipe at it. "But he hurt you." She ran a finger over his face and he cringed at the sting of her fingertip. "He beat you terribly."

"I reckon he did, but we got Mum out. This," He scratched his cheek and winced from the pain, "was worth it, to have her safely out of the house." Ron turned his head and stared into the dining room. "The price was too high and someone else paid it. Smythe's dead. I got my fuckin' partner killed."

Hermione followed Ron's gaze into the next room and saw supine boots pointed to the ceiling. She stared for a long moment. "How?"

Harry stepped next to her and put his arm on her shoulders. "Bastard blasted a china hutch and in the explosion, a candelabra impaled him."

"It's candelabrum, for the singular, and there's something you're not telling me." Hermione didn't break her gaze of Auror Smythe's remains.

"Yeah. He didn't die instantly," Harry spoke up. "I witnessed it."

Hermione turned and looked at the men in the room. The rest wouldn't pay her any attention but Ron stared at her from his battered face.

Hermione returned her husband's intense stare, masked under the Polyjuice of her father-in-law. Entire conversations passed without a word being said. Another tear fell down her face and she quickly composed herself, all under the watchful gaze of her husband.

Finally she turned and saw Lestrange now sitting in another chair, bound magically. "Is this him?"

Healer Smalls-Fawcett pointed his wand and collected the blood into an oversized vial.

"It is, and we have his blood now to drop the wards." Bill spoke up. "One more will suffice, just as a redundancy." The Healer pulled another one from a pocket and repeated the process.

"The only problem is that he's not released Mum from her bonds. That's why she's still in the Tent and not at St. Mungo's." Harry added.

"What can we do?" Hermione inquired.

"We, Hermione?" Auror Jones towered over Hermione while under Polyjuice as well. She didn't back down from the Senior Auror, not anymore. "We, the Aurors, need Director Robards in here. We can't force him, via Veritiserum, to talk since it's illegal except under use directed by the Wizengamot during a trial. If we did that, without his authority, Lestrange would walk free immediately, and the entire case would be thrown out. But then you know that, don't you?" Hermione nodded. "So, we need Director Robards, who is the only one with authority outside of wartime who can administer an Imperio in this situation." Auror Jones gave Hermione a harsh look. "Unless you think you can communicate with our kidnapper and logically convince him to let her go, it's our only option."

She regarded the older witch, hidden under Polyjuice, shrewdly. "I'm one term short on reading Law and I've not finished my apprenticeship yet. I'm not qualified to talk to suspects without a senior solicitor present. But then you knew that too, don't you Senior Auror Jones?" She cheeked back.

"Your CV doesn't mean a thing to me, Granger. What matters is that we need to convince him to release Mrs. Weasley."

The two witches held a contest of wills, neither willing to yield ground.

"I'll send for the Director. He can imperio him and we'll be finished." Auror Williamson spoke up.

"No," Hermione stood for a moment in contemplation. "It's wrong to do it that way. Like it or not, I'm still an officer of the court and under the law, it's forbidden to use an Unforgiveable in any situation. His solicitor would have him out of custody in less than an hour."

"Look, you've been a pain in the arse on this case, Granger, but sod all if you can get this bloke to let her go."

"That's all you're asking?"

"That's all I'm asking, Granger. We just need him to release the binding on Mrs. Weasley." Auror Jones stepped in front of Hermione, dropping her voice as quiet as possible. "Look, he killed an Auror, in front of another Auror. Regardless of anything else, we've got him on that. I refuse to let this bastard in there, just to keep her alive. All I need is for him to release Mrs. Weasley so she can go to St. Mungo's."

Hermione looked at Bill and Ron and saw the slight nods from them. She didn't bother looking at Harry since she knew what he'd say. "Alright, I'll try it. I'll see what I can accomplish."

"You sure? He's completely barmy, Hermione." Ron winced again.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on her task. Nothing else could distract her, not even her barely conscious husband sitting in the chair. She screwed up her courage and put on her interrogation mask, the one she was learning how to use for gain in the Ministry. "Wake him, please," she asked quietly.

"We need to secure him first."

"I'll wait."

She did while Auror Jones wove protective magic over the suspect. Only his head was left unrestrained. "Now we can wake him."

Hermione looked at the rest in the room. "Would you shift him around, where he can see Smythe when he's not looking at me?"

"What are you playing at, Granger?"

"I'm doing what you taught us, Auror Jones." Hermione hissed the words out, fighting the triggering memories from just a few short years past. "I'm using the situation to my advantage, one where fighting dirty is the only way to fight. If he won't look at me, he'll look at the man he killed tonight. I want to use his negative memories against him, just like you did in class."

"And you think seeing the dead bloke on the floor will trigger him, get him to relent?"

Hermione turned her wrist and saw the seconds ticking off. "We have an hour, thereabouts, before the Polyjuice wears off Ron, and off the rest. This also means he'll be in DT's shortly, too, from the lack of potions in his system." Hermione turned to the healer and Bill standing quietly at the back of the room. "How long can he last until the DTs turn potentially fatal?"

"If he's downing potions that much and that fast, we have maybe 30 minutes before the delusions start. After that, we have maybe another hour before it turns critical. But I won't sacrifice his life for Mrs. Weasley, no matter what. I will not break my oath, Miss Granger. "

"Then I have 45 minutes to convince him to release Molly."

"You're playing with Fiendfyre."

"I owe Molly so much. I'd knit a cloak for a dragon if it'd get Mrs. Weasley freed."

One of the other Aurors lifted Ron out of his chair and quickly removed him to the next room. Auror Jones motioned her wand to disillusion herself once again. She turned Lestrange in his chair to where he was facing the prone remains of Auror Smythe.

"Ready?"

Hermione pulled her wand, the bent one that only worked well when she had a loathsome duty to perform, and woke the suspect. She kept it in her hand, with her second one sheathed on her arm, and waited for him to grow aware of her presence.

Lestrange lifted his head from his chest and took in the witch standing before him. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, I know you. You're the Mudblood strumpet who tried to kill Bellatrix. You're the pathetic one who needed two pureblood witches to help you and you still couldn't do it. You're also the whore married to the blood traitor Auror. Once I kill Molly I'm coming to kill you."

Hermione snorted in consternation. "You amuse me, Lestrange." Hermione tapped her wand in her palm, letting him watch the cadence before his eyes. "Arthur Weasley is gone, you're incarcerated, the enchanted wards on your house are broken and you're about to go away to Azkaban for the rest of your miserable life. Imagine your life, your complete existence, without anything to dull the pain on your conscience."

"So kill me and be done with it, you fuckstrumpet."

"Your words are as pathetic as you are, Lestrange. Come now, dependent on pain potions and pepper-up potions to keep you alive? You'll not get another drop as long as you live."

"I need them," He growled. "You wouldn't understand the magnitude of losing everything precious to you, would you? You're the weak, pathetic one, acting like you have a place in our world. You're nothing more than a feeble imitation of those who are your betters. You know nothing, nothing about traditions, power, ambition. Now where is my brother? You bring him to me now! He was just here."

"Why pain potions, Lestrange."

"Fuck you, you two knut whore. Where's my brother?"

"He's dead, by Arthur Weasley's wand." Hermione stepped aside just enough where Lestrange could see the boots lying in the dining room. "You're the pathetic one, letting your guard down. Arthur Weasley, old man himself, took you down and killed your brother. Not bad for a blood traitor, even if I say so."

"Liar."

"Am I, Lestrange? I'm an officer of the court. I can't lie."

Hermione watched Lestrange try to squirm under his confinement, looking everywhere except at her and his victim. She knew she was pressed for time, for Ron, for Molly, and for Lestrange as well. It was a race – one she wasn't confident she could win.

Lestrange finally turned his attention back at her, scowling under his sallow yet haughty expression. "You're nothing more than a paper pushing bureaucrat, making hardship for your betters and interfering on our way of life. You are not worthy to walk where my parents made their mark on society. You're a jumped up trollop who thinks she's making a difference when the only place you should be is behind closed doors, locked away from society, and shutting the fuck up. You're nothing in our world – nothing!"

"Oh come now, Lestrange. Your words are impotent and pedantic."

"And you're a sodding Mudblood who is only still alive because I've not killed you yet."

"Is that a threat, Lestrange?"

"Not a threat, but a promise: I will spill your filthy blood and not even breathe hard."

Hermione stepped up to Lestrange and bent down and looked him in the eyes. She took the crooked wand in her hands and ran it across his jaw and back across his throat. "Funny, that you call me weak with your trite accusations. Lesser men and women, ones you hold in high regard, have died by my wand for weaker insults." Hermione took a step back and let him see the fire in her eyes. "I had no qualms setting a teacher on fire when I was 12. I've had no qualms in years using magic to protect those I love. So if you think I don't have the courage or resolve to finish you, that is one bet you would be wise to not make."

"You couldn't make me an egg sandwich, witch. Not like I'd eat it, coming from your filthy hands."

Hermione stepped further back and looked just over his shoulder. She could see the faint shimmer of the disillusionment charm draped over Auror Smith's form. She also saw the three others in the room as well.

"Pity you've not completed your bargain with Weasley. Then again, what good would it do to charge you with murder when you've already been previously convicted for murder and other unspeakable acts against others in your pathetic life?"

"What's one more death on my head, when they are nothing more than blood traitors? Molly Weasley won't make me sleep at night." Lestrange tried to look away from the boots in the next room.

"You know what I think, Lestrange? I think you are so hell-bent on revenge that death would be welcome to you." Hermione stepped back but stayed upright, making him choose between looking at her and Smythe's remains, which he still thought was his brother. "I think the worst punishment for you would be letting you live out the rest of your pathetic existence in an eight by eight cell in Azkaban, with no contact with anyone else except the guards. You wouldn't even get the benefit of a Dementor's Kiss. No, you'd live, day after day, knowing that you'd never escape those dark and dreary walls."

"I've escaped before. I'll do it again. Unless I'm dead, you'll never be safe."

Hermione chuckled. "You really think you can escape again? That's funny, barmy, even."

Lestrange rattled around his head, trying to shake off the bindings set upon him in the chair. "I'm not crazy, you wench."

"Oh, I think you're completely touched. See, the last time there was a mass breakout from Azkaban, a prison guard was the one who smuggled a wand into the prison, and given to Bellatrix. Suffice to say, she killed him as soon as a wand was in her hand. So, in light of that situation, and reviewing the reports for the Minister, there is absolutely no way you will receive a wand in the prison ever again. You, once you are sent there, will perish after a completely long life, away from everything that could potentially offer you a chance to escape. You won't even have the luxury of death, since the Wizengamot outlawed sending people through the veil back in 1999. No, you get the comfort of knowing you will live a natural life and an even more natural death."

Lestrange turned his attention from the prone form in the next room to Hermione standing over him. "Then it sounds like I'm fucked either way, so I'll still have my revenge. Molly Weasley will be dead and I'll have some payback for that sod Weasley. I won't kill him but the one he loves the most."

Lestrange fell over, silently stunned by Auror Jones. "You tried, Granger."

Hermione ran her hand through her unkempt hair. "What a twisted man. I couldn't think of really anything to get him to relent. How can you negotiate with a murdered who isn't afraid to die?"

"Granger?"

She turned and saw an Arthur standing in the doorway. This one wasn't beat up so it wasn't her beloved Ron. "Healer Smalls-Fawcett is finishing up with Ron but he had an idea. Since the cad is passed out, let us see what we can offer up."

"He's refusing to budge on getting the bond released. I tried logic and it certainly didn't work."

"So let's try something else since we're running short on time." Ron stepped back into the room, wobbling on timid steps. He saw the worry on her face and shook off her silent question. "I'll manage 'til I get to St. Mungo's. The Healer gave me something to cope 'til then." Ron stepped up to Auror Jones.

Another Arthur levitated the remains of Auror Smythe and took him out of view. "I'll take him out to the Healer's tent since I seem to be in the way."

Everyone stood stock still while they watched Auror Williamson remove Smythe. "He's a good bloke."

Harry laid a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Yeah, good Auror too. Who'd think the sod'd lay a trap in the threshold between the dining room and the lounge?"

Ron turned to Harry and he pulled a face. "A sod that is completely paranoid and touched in the head. But I think I might be able to come up with something."

"What's rattling in your head, Weasley?" Auror Jones removed the disillusionment from her body and Ron tried to remember who was under the layer of Polyjuice.

"There's a Muggle tale that Hermione made me read once."

Hermione crossed her arms in a show of disagreement. "I don't make you read anything, Ron."

He turned back to her and smirked. It looked rather strange, showing on a battered Arthur Weasley's face. He was battered and bruised, but Ron Weasley showed through his father's features, namely the mirth he loved to share with others. "You did that one Christmas when you were sick. Muggle writer, but the bloke had a good idea. I kept reading after you fell asleep."

Hermione looked befuddled for a moment before her eyes lit up completely. "Oh Ron, that's completely brilliant."

"It happens," and he shrugged. "Maybe we can scare this sod into giving us what we want. Why not give it a go, I reckon?"

"Maybe you'll get there with him where I failed."

"You didn't fail," Ron squeezed her hand to show his affection in front of others, "but I think I've got a way in that you didn't. It's what they pay me the huge galleons for."

Hermione put her wand over her head and slowly disappeared from view. "I'm waiting and watching."

"The moment he releases that bond, you go with Charlie to St. Mungo's. I'll be along shortly thereafter."

"I need to stay with you."

"And I need you to be there, with Charlie, to help Mum and protect them both. Please, just do it."

Ron couldn't see his wife but from the silence from where she had been standing was as good as shouting agreement. One faint pop told him she'd left the house.

"Alright, let's do this. Harry, you know what to do."

Harry threw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and cast a disillusionment charm once again.

Ron pulled his wand and woke Lestrange. Seconds ticked away before the confined kidnapper lifted his head again.

"Lestrange, funny I'm here to meet you."

The haughty wizard looked higher and higher until he pulled a face, seeing Arthur Weasley.

"Welcome to Purgatory."