Note: I have raised the rating of this 'fic to an M...because I am paranoid, and because there are adult themes mentioned in this chapter.
Any more favorite quotes as requested in the previous chapter would be great, thanks to anybody who takes the time to look back and find some!
Here is an extra addition to the plot, especially for Sam so she doesn't get bored...
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
14: Interrogation
It was precisely 3:24am according to the clock upon her bedroom wall when Carrie Winters awoke for the fourth time from nightmares of flashing spells, jolting bodies, blood and agonizingly slow falls to the floor. The muggle sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp, before reaching to wipe the blurriness of sleep from her eyes. It made her wince. In the blacks of her eyelids she could see their faces, see the despair in their eyes as their hold upon one another failed, as they crashed to the floor...
She knew there and then that she couldn't possibly bear to watch the Lupins' downfall again that night. The harrowing visions would surely break her and she was running out of tears to cry.
Carrie reached to throw back the covers and got slowly to her feet, shivering at the cool floorboards under bare feet. She reached for the small jar of magical light that Hermione had left for her upon the bedside table before heading for the bedroom door and slipping out onto the landing. She wasn't sure where she was going, but found herself gravitating towards the library upstairs.
Carrie had never spent much time in the library of Grimmauld Place. It was a grim and drafty room full of dusty tomes and faded parchments, a couple of tall backed leather chairs and a writing desk. It was not the most appealing of places, the muggle supposed, but she was in the mood for exploration, distraction, and there was plenty to examine within the library's dim confines. She started on the left hand side of the room, wandering slowly along beside the tall, dark wooden bookcases, examining the ancient looking books, squinting at their spines and frowning at the number of gruesome sounding titles printed in peeling letters along the binding. After a while she turned to examine the desk set at the back of the room, and was surprised to see a modern book bound in bright red leather. It had been left open upon the desk, a quill pen and stack of parchment beside it as if somebody had been taking notes. Carrie went to drop down upon the hard wooden chair before the desk, reaching to pull the book towards her. One finger between the pages so as not to lose the page, the muggle reached to examine the book's cover:
A History of Azkaban: Justice In Wizarding Britain.
Carrie went back to the open page, finding the beginning of a chapter entitled: Post-War Azkaban and the Dismissal of the Dementers.
Part of her wanted to slam the book shut and not dare to read in case of what she might learn, and yet Carrie felt compelled to read.
At first, when learning of the replacement of the Dementers with human guards, Carrie had thought the prison didn't sound all that different from a muggle prison, and she felt reassured by this observation because she could recall debates upon the television claiming that these days prison wasn't anything like as bad as it had been in the past. But for the most part, Post-War Azkaban seemed rather dated, with prisoners being clamped in chains to walls or in small cells. Their diet appeared to consist of little more than gruel and they rarely left their cells for exercise. Whilst their mental states were greatly improved with the absence of the Dementers, physically their health was very poor and disease was common.
Carrie read on, hoping for better news, but things only seemed to grow worse.
Despite several proposed changes to legislation, the Wizengamot has thrice denied extra funding to the prison, and a recent report has highlighted the negative impact of a lack of funding. A shortage of staff has led to the guards being necessarily harsh and brutal towards convicts in an attempt to keep order, something that human rights activists have been campaigning against for many years. Organisation within the prison has become disrupted, with some prisoners failing to receive regular meals. The absence of the Dementers and the introduction of exercise sessions in a central courtyard has also led to an alarming increase in violence amongst prisoners, with attacks upon inmates increasing by a hefty 42% in the past two years. Most concerning of all, according to the Prisoners' Advice Bureau, is the growing number of reported sexual assaults against female prisoners, which will be at the forefront of the next debate before the Wizengamot due in January of next year. Other issues thought to be debated are the current medical facilities at the prison, which though considered adequate by many, still need improving in the eyes of many. It is thought that funding will finally be increased as a result of the upcoming debate, especially after the Mead Hearing that caused outrage across the country. Since the hearing a new training course has been set up by the Magical Law Enforcement Department to increase both the competency of prison staff as well as to act as a vetting system during the employment process. Though there has been praise for this new scheme it, like Azkaban itself, is lacking in funds...
Carrie hastily closed the book with a shudder. Clutching the small jar of light firmly in her hand, the darkness of the room seemed to deepen and she hurriedly got to her feet and shuffled out of the room. Sleep seemed even more unlikely than ever, and she found herself aimlessly climbing staircases until sh reached the top of the house. Despite the late hour, she felt desperate to hear a friendly voice and so she reached to push open the attic bedroom's door. Squinting through the darkness she hesitated only briefly before calling:
"Hestia...? It's...it's Carrie...are you awake...?"
She heard the rustling of sheets and suddenly the lamp beside the bed seemingly lit itself, casting a soft light across the bed.
"Mmm?" Hestia mumbled sleepily, and Carrie shuffled into the room, lips pursed together rather guiltily as she reached the end of the bed, eying the groggy invalid with a small frown.
"Sorry..." the muggle whispered as the witch attempted with very little success to shift herself up into a slightly more upright position. "I shouldn't have woken you up. It's just...well..." she trailed off into silence for a moment as Hestia yawned widely, only for the witch to then murmur hoarsely:
"Spit it out, Carrie. It's not like I've got to be up at the crack of dawn now, is it?"
Blushing, Carrie went to perch upon the edge of the bed, hands twisting awkwardly in her lap.
"I wanted to ask you about...about Azkaban."
As she gazed up at the ceiling, attempting to blink the sleep from her eyes, the witch wondered:
"What about it?"
"Well...several things, I suppose..."
"Like what?"
"Like...what was the Mead Hearing?"
Hestia's face contorted at this question and she muttered:
"Bloody hell Carrie, what a question!"
"Sorry..." Carrie mumbled, shifting her feet uncomfortably, though she didn't know quite what she was supposed to be sorry about.
"Who in Merlin's name brought that up? Of all the bloody times, for Merlin's sake!"
"Nobody brought it up, I read about it in a book, I found it in the library, on the desk..." Carrie trailed off at the sound of Hestia giving a snort of disapproval.
"Yeah, well Remus should've been more careful where he left that book lying around." the witch muttered. "I told him so when he came to check on me earlier, had it with him then you see. I told him to put it away so as not to alarm the kids. Not his usual read, is it? I told him so, laughed at him and asked if he was planning to break out once they arrested him...I knew the details about their plans for Mungo's by then, Ginny came up and told me. Remus laughed right back at me, but I reckon he'd been giving it some thought, as crazy as it is."
"It certainly is now." Carrie mumbled despairingly, and Hestia pursed her lips together with a deep frown.
"Was it...really as bad as the others say?" she asked despairingly, and Carrie felt a lump forming in her throat. The muggle managed the stiffest of nods.
For a long moment, Hestia's sickly face grew painfully sad, her eyes drifted closed and she drew in a deep, shuddered breath, before she hissed:
"Disgraceful bastards! Merlin help us, what's wrong with the world?"
"It's broken." Carrie mumbled, and the witch gave a grim smile and corrected:
"To be broken it would have had to have been perfect to begin with. It's not broken, Carrie. The fact of the matter is humanity is intrinsically flawed, it has been right from the beginning..." There was a long, solemn pause as the two of them mourned the truth of this observation before the witch sighed heavily and said: "I wouldn't think too much on the conditions in Azkaban, Carrie. For one thing, that book's not entirely up to date, things aren't quite as grim as they were now the Wizengamot have been pumping extra gold into the place."
"I still want to know what happened at the Mead Hearing." Carrie said, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest, and Hestia sighed again, gaze upon the ceiling.
"Helena-Rose Mead was a convicted murderess," she mumbled reluctantly. "She died about...five or so years ago, I suppose. Poor creature."
"She was in Azkaban?"
"Mm...got sentenced to life imprisonment for killing her twelve year old little brother Benjamin when she was just seventeen. Of course they reckon now she might've been under the Imperius Curse, but nobody knows for sure."
"And what happened? To upset the public so much, I mean?"
Hestia puffed her cheeks with a deep frown.
"I'm not going to go filling your head with silliness, Carrie. It won't do you any favours, you know..."
"Please?"
"Just forget it, eh?"
"No. I want...I want to know."
"Why?"
"Because...! I...I want to understand, I want to know...what Remus and Dora are up against, what their...chances are..."
"Sweet Merlin! Chances of what?"
Carrie felt her cheeks redden and her gaze dropped to her feet.
"Alright, alright," Hestia grumbled, teeth clenched. "But I'm telling you now, don't think anything of it because there's never been another reported incident like it since. It was nasty business but it was bloody unheard of too and that's why everybody was so horrified."
Carrie waited for her to continue, but apparently Hestia was still reluctant, so the muggle was forced to ask:
"What happened?"
Hestia screwed her eyes shut for a moment as if she knew full well that she would deeply regret speaking, before she muttered:
"They...raped her."
Carrie felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably.
"Who...? The...the other prisoners?"
"No. That's why everybody got upset. They were guards, a pair of them...and what did the Wizengamot do? Dragged them into a courtroom before sending them back to Azkaban as prisoners! Poor Helena, she was terrified they'd get hold of her again now that all three of them were locked up there...or the other male guards, of course, because she didn't trust anyone after that. She committed suicide within a month, they say it was poison but nobody knows how she got hold of it."
Carrie shuddered.
Hestia chewed rather thoughtfully upon her lip for a moment before adding: "And of course that was when they started vetting the prison guards properly, you have to be almost as squeaky clean as the Aurors to work at Azkaban these days."
"It sounds like the most dreadful place in the world." Carrie murmured with a shudder, and Hestia muttered:
"Well it isn't supposed to be a holiday."
"No but...but being chained up! And...and eating gruel and...and those other things..."
"Those other things, like what happened to Helena?" Hestia asked sharply, and Carrie gave her shoulders a small shrug that the witch scowled at. "I know what you're thinking, Carrie." she said sternly when Carrie dared a glance round at her. "And that's why I didn't want to tell you any silly stories! It doesn't do any good to sit around all night and day worrying! Now you listen to me, and listen good! Nobody's going to starve to death, nobody's going to get picked on, attacked, beaten, assaulted or anything of the sort, d'you hear me? Remus and Tonks will be fine. Have a bit of faith in the system Carrie, Azkaban isn't run by Dousers, the guards there these days are decent people...Tonks is on first name terms with at least half of them, for Merlin's sake!"
Carrie shuffled backwards so that she could reach to hug her knees to her chest.
"How many Death Eaters d'you suppose are locked up there?" she mumbled miserably. "Imagine how pleased they'll be to have a couple of injured Order members handed to them on a plate..."
Hestia gave a strained chuckle.
"Azkaban isn't some sort of wandless free for all, Carrie. They don't just open the cell doors each morning and see who's left alive come evening! The guards aren't stupid, they'll know who's...at risk...I'm sure there's some sort of...system in place..."
Carrie couldn't help but feel that she sounded rather uncertain.
"Have you ever been to Azkaban?" the muggle asked, tone somewhat accusing, and Hestia sighed heavily as she admitted:
"No, never. But...but you have to understand, Carrie, things have changed a lot since what happened to Helena, the system..."
"The system might be as rotten and corrupt as the Ministry that's in charge of it! What does it matter whether or not it's manned by Dousers? The Wizengamot appointed the Dousers in the first place and they've already passed legislation to ruin St. Mungo's! Who's to say they haven't done the same to Azkaban?" Carrie complained, resting her chin dejectedly upon her knees. When Hestia merely frowned deeply, the muggle muttered: "The Order should do something...break in there and rescue Remus and Dora..."
Hestia gave another strained chuckle.
"We've enough rescue missions to be getting on with without attempting something as ridiculous as that, thank you very much! Makes what they did at Mungo's seem perfectly sensible, for Merlin's sake!"
"They're supposed to be here!" Carrie insisted, grasping fistfuls of trouser leg in frustration. "They're supposed to...supposed to protect me! They promised! They both did!"
"There's more to protecting the people we love than acting like bodyguards, Carrie. What about your parents and your family life? Your parents are important to you, they need all the help they can get! Remus and Tonks don't want you being carted off to live with some other relatives, never to see your mum or dad again! It's not bloody right, it would be bloody awful and they've done their best to protect you from that happening. Besides, you're in perfectly safe hands here with the rest of the Order around."
At mention of her parents, Carrie felt her cheeks flush self-consciously as she ducked her head to hide behind a veil of long chestnut hair.
"You know..." she whispered after a long pause. "I've...I've barely thought of Mum and Dad at all...not since...not since Remus and Dora left..."
Hestia failed to comment and Carrie felt much too guilty to dare a sideways glance at her as she wondered:
"Do...do you think that's...bad?"
The witch remained silent for a long moment before she slowly decided:
"It's not good, bad or anything else, Carrie. It simply is what it is."
Carrie bit her lip, frowning deeply as she admitted:
"Sometimes...sometimes I think...I think I'd like it better...if Remus and Dora were my parents instead of Mum and Dad. That's awful, isn't it? It's...wicked..."
Hestia gave a sleepy chuckle.
"You think you're wicked? Don't be ridiculous!"
"But...but Mum and Dad...they're my parents! They brought me into the world, raised me..."
"Everybody reckons they know somebody who has parents who are nicer, cooler, more fun, or less strict than their own parents are, Carrie. But that's perfectly normal, we can't pick our relatives after all. It doesn't mean we love our families less. Besides, the very fact you feel the need to berate yourself for how you feel rather proves that you've nothing to feel bad about."
As the witch failed to suppress another yawn, Carrie felt more embarrassed than ever and she hastily got to her feet.
"I should...let you sleep." she mumbled, offering Hestia a vague smile. "You need your rest."
Hestia let out a despairing chuckle.
"That's what everybody keeps telling me. Rest from what, I wonder? I've not moved a muscle in days!"
Carrie wasn't entirely sure what she could possibly say that was comforting, and so she chose to say nothing at all, turning to shuffle back towards her own bedroom.
Despite her lack of sleep, Carrie was up bright and early the following morning to attend an Order meeting just after breakfast. She gave as detailed an account of her trip to the Department of Mysteries as she could, only skipping over the terrible vision and box she had come across in the little office. The attending Order members listened intently to every word and there was much discussion about the muggle woman with the bleeding hand.
"It's still very strange." Arthur Weasley observed as his wife set another cup of tea down upon the scrubbed wooden table before him. "Sending muggles wandering around the Ministry like that when they're in such a bad way! Surely they'd want to keep them out of the way where people can't see them!"
"Yeah well, never been terribly subtle have they, the Dousers?" Ron muttered, only for Hermione to theorize:
"Perhaps the muggles are important for this...task, whatever it is. Perhaps the Dousers get them to do it so that other Ministry workers don't have to, to avoid suspicion."
"I tell you what else doesn't add up," George said as Minerva McGonnogal frowned deeply at Hermione's words. "These people the muggle said she had been to see, she said they hoped Carrie didn't get obliviated for Remus and Tonks' sake! Well that's just strange, don't you think? Why on earth would the Dousers give a toss about Remus and Tonks' feelings, for Merlin's sake?"
"Nobody said "they" were Dousers." Ginny murmured from her position sat at the head of the table, a generous length of bandage wrapped tightly around her head.
"That's very true," Charlie agreed as he glanced past Carrie to examine the clock upon the wall. At the sight of the time his eyes widened a little and he muttered: "Bugger, I'm going to be late..." he rose abruptly to his feet and looked around the room expectantly as he asked: "I need a volunteer or two to come to Queenswood with me since Bill's not up for it! Any takers?"
At Carrie's side, Teddy's hand instantly shot up into the air.
"I'll come." the young wizard announced boldly, practically jumping to his feet.
Carrie turned to gaze up at him. His hair was a dull mousy brown and his clothes, which she was pretty sure he had been wearing the day beforehand, were crumpled. She wondered if he had bothered to go to bed the previous evening, or if he had struggled to sleep as much as she had. The two of them had barely spoken a word to each other so far that morning, save for a mumbled good morning by the toaster as he poured them both a cup of tea as the other Order members took their seats ready for the meeting. He looked rather pale and sickly, indeed his complexion reminded Carrie of the weariness that had been etched into Dora's features when the muggle had first arrived at Grimmauld Place. Despite his apparent fatigue, Teddy's eyes were alert and determined, defiant even when Molly murmured:
"Now Teddy dear, are you quite sure..."
"Yes. Very sure." Teddy insisted, giving his head a firm nod. "I want to help! I...I want to keep busy..."
Carrie couldn't help but feel that he sounded rather desperate for the distraction, and she rather thought that it was a good idea.
"Me too!" the muggle declared, rising from her chair. Reaching to grasp hold of the youngest Lupin by the hand she added: "I want to help...if I can."
"There's no magic involved in a stake out." Charlie consented, only for Molly to complain:
"You've both done us proud enough already! Perhaps you should stay here..."
"No." Teddy interrupted firmly. "We're going."
Molly opened her mouth to protest, only for Charlie to add:
"No time for arguments, Mum, if we aren't careful we won't be in place before the Dousers arrive!" And with that, he turned to lead the way out of the kitchen.
As she and Teddy hurried along behind the older wizard, who paused beside the front door to snatch up a brown sack-like bag, slinging it over his shoulder, Carrie finally thought to ask:
"What are we doing, exactly?"
"We've been keeping an eye on the movements of key Dousers for the past few weeks." Charlie announced as he reached to pull open the front door to lead them out into the street beyond. "It's come to our attention that they have a habit of congregating for meetings of some sort in Queenswood each morning...probably, we think, to discuss things they can't risk being overheard at the Ministry."
As she and Teddy came to a halt at the bottom of the steps that led down to the pavement, Carrie wondered:
"Why would they choose to meet in Queenswood?"
Charlie turned to face them, reaching to lay a hand upon each teenager's shoulder.
"Because," the red-head explained, "it's where Ambrose Kraft and what's left of his family live."
And with that, the three of them disapparated with a pop.
Carrie had little opportunity to ask any more questions, for no sooner had they apparated onto the outskirts of Queenswood, Charlie had ushered them into a nearby copse of trees. A thick hedge ran along beside the trees, outlining the boundaries of a small cottage garden. The cottage in question was constructed of dirty red bricks, peeling paint upon the window ledges, under which were a number of empty flower pots.
"Here's the deal." Charlie hissed as the three of them dropped down behind the hedge. "We wait and see who shows up, see if we can overhear anything...but whatever happens don't take any risks. We don't want any more of us winding up in Azkaban!"
Half an hour passed and there was no sign of life either inside or outside of the house. Carrie's legs were beginning to grow painful from crouching for so long, but nevertheless she stared determinedly through the foliage at the cottage's front door.
She had been staring for such a long time that when it finally was thrown open the muggle very nearly let out a shriek of surprise. She reached to slap a hand down upon Teddy's knee to get his attention, and the metamorphmagus leant eagerly forward to get a better look.
Two Dousers, one of which Carrie recognised as one of the men who had been having stern words with Remus at the Phoenix Day parade, stepped out into the morning sunlight, murmuring to one another inaudibly as they both reached to draw their wands. As they made their way down the garden pathway and onto the road, Carrie heard one of them mutter:
"You go left, then, and I'll go right."
Carrie's intrigue as to what the pair were up to was disturbed by a soft rustling sound beside her, and she glanced sideways just in time to see Charlie pulling a mass of strangely coloured material from the bag that he had taken from the hallway back at Grimmauld.
"Ted, follow the fat one." Carrie heard him breathe as he thrust one of two invisibility cloaks into Teddy's arms. "I'll follow the other. Meet back here in no more than fifteen minutes. Carrie, stay and watch the house."
As he reached to unfold the cloak and throw it about his shoulders, Teddy shot the muggle an imploring look as he mouthed:
"Be careful, Sweetheart."
"You too." Carrie mouthed back, and no sooner had both wizards disappeared beneath the cloaks the muggle felt a stab of anxiety at the thought of being alone...
She suddenly wished that she hadn't shared Teddy's desire to be busy.
Carrie hurriedly turned her attention back to the cottage, crouching lower than ever despite the aching protest of her back. Within minutes she had started to grow paranoid.
Had she always breathed so loudly?
What if somebody were to hear her?
Stop it. Right now. After all, compared to the Department of Mysteries, Queenswood was a walk in the park...
Crack!
At the sound of somebody apparating not far away, Carrie flinched and shuffled closer to the hedge, biting her lip in her attempts to remain silent...
And that was when she saw him. Hoisted up between two navy-clad Dousers as they marched towards the front door of the cottage, his bare feet dragging uselessly along the ground, one leg bent awkwardly at the knee as if it were broken. The shackles clamped around his ankles seemed holy unnecessary and downright pointless given the state of him, indeed for a long, horrified moment Carrie thought she was staring at a corpse. His pale face was somewhat obscured as his head lolled forward towards his chest, and his clothes, oversized with the faded stripes that made them look rather like pyjamas, were bloodied.
She'd very nearly screamed, indeed she was forced to clamp a hand down across her mouth to stop herself shouting his name.
She bit down so hard on her tongue to stifle any sort of outburst that as she watched the door open and the Dousers drag Remus Lupin into the Kraft residence Carrie Winters could taste blood in her mouth.
As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Charlie's warning to stay well hidden was instantly forgotten. Carrie leapt to her feet and dashed for the hedge's end, scrambling over a low wall and making a beeline for the open living room window that Charlie had spend the previous half an hour staring blankly at. Dropping down below the window ledge, Carrie strained her ears to hear the voices within drifting outside.
"Set him down, set him down!" the impatient voice of Ambrose Kraft demanded, and as she heard the scraping of chair legs Carrie suppressed a shudder of panic, rising up a little so that she could peer through the window.
Kraft was stood with his back to the window, leaning against a writing desk as he stared down his nose at his colleagues efforts to sit Remus upon the wooden chair in front of him. They seemed to be having some difficultly, Carrie saw, for the werewolf appeared to be struggling to hold himself upright. After a couple of unsuccessful minutes Kraft tutted irritably, reaching to draw the wand from his pocket. Carrie watched, heart hammering in her chest as thin cords sprung from the Douser's wand, wrapping themselves around the captive and the chair until they were so tight that Remus was sat bolt upright, breathing suddenly shallow.
In the back of her head, a voice demanded that Carrie turn away from the horrible scene, run and find Charlie and Teddy...perhaps they might do something, break into the cottage, set Remus free...
And yet the muggle felt such terrible dread as she watched Ambrose Kraft advance upon the werewolf, wand pointing threateningly at his face, that she did not dare to move a muscle, she was transfixed with panic.
As Kraft approached him, Remus gazed up at the man, bruised features accommodating the look that had on so many occasions dispelled Carrie's fear on the spot: Polite interest.
"I must say," the bedraggled Order member murmured, voice hoarse, "the Ministry've done a wonderful job doing up these courtrooms. Very...homely..."
The two Dousers stood just behind his chair smirked as the tip of Kraft's wand jabbed him sharply in the cheek. He didn't so much as flinch.
"You have been brought here, Mr. Lupin," Kraft announced as he began a slow, deliberating walk around the captive's chair, rather like a hyena circling its prey. "Because I am told that you have thus far chosen to be uncooperative with those at Azkaban who have sought to question you regarding the current base of operations of the Order of the Phoenix."
Remus said nothing. There was silence for a moment as Kraft completed his first lap of the chair, and he came to a halt before the werewolf, leaning forward so that he could stare unblinkingly at him.
"I wonder, Mr. Lupin," Carrie heard him say, wand once again raised, the tip pressed firmly against Remus' chest. "If you might prefer to cooperate with myself and my colleagues instead?"
Again, Remus said nothing.
Kraft heaved a heavy sigh, before abruptly reaching forward to grasp hold of the werewolf by the scruff of the neck, giving him a violent shake.
"You will cooperate with me." Carrie heard him hiss threateningly. "You will! Think you're a bit battered now, do you? Think you're broken? WELL I'LL RUIN YOU! Every bloody bone, every muscle, every inch of flesh!"
Remus sighed. He sounded...bored...
Kraft gave a furious growl and with a sharp flick of his wand there was a loud bang and both chair and captive were thrown backwards across the room into the wall behind them, and Carrie suppressed a soft whimper of horror as Remus' head collided with the plaster with a audible crack. The muggle watched his head loll forward, and for a terrible moment she thought he may have passed out from the impact, but his eyes soon flickered open again and he looked up...
Only for his gaze to come to rest upon the window across the room, where a familiar face was peering through the opening at him...
As they locked gazes with one another, the breath catching in Carrie's throat as she felt his glassy-eyed stare upon her, Remus reacted to the surprise of her presence as Carrie was certain only he ever could:
He simply didn't.
His expression remained entirely unchanged and within the blink of an eye his gaze had dropped to his feet.
"Perhaps I shall have to write to Azkaban," Kraft said, pacing back and forward before the desk. "Ask them to have a word or two with your wife."
"Perhaps you shall." Remus agreed stubbornly. "You will ask them to send her my love, won't you?"
Kraft's expression twisted irritably before he turned to the desk, reaching to pick up a neat little pile of documents that he peered down at thoughtfully.
"According to these records from the Azkaban Registry," he said as he skimmed down one page, "you're an extremely lucky man, Mr. Lupin...few cuts and bruises, major burns upon your chest, only one broken bone and a couple of fractures...perhaps we might add a few more come this afternoon..."
Carrie didn't think that sounded particularly lucky.
"...the best we can hope for is a wound or two becoming infected, a rather slow death, I suppose, but I'm a patient man..."
Carrie shuddered.
"...your wife, on the other hand..." Kraft shuffled the papers so that he could examine a different page, sucking in a deep breath as he shook his head. "Dear me!" he tutted. "What a bad stroke of luck!" As he tossed the papers back down onto the desk, Carrie wasn't sure what alarmed her more, his assessment of Dora's condition or the fact that at long last the cracks began to show upon Remus' calm and indifferent facade. Indeed, the werewolf went as far as to swallow a lump in his throat. This seemingly did not go unnoticed by Kraft, who sauntered across the room, sickeningly smug.
"I might pop over there and visit her myself!" the Douser mused cheerily as Remus attempted to shift in his chair, expression instantly hardening. "Tonks was always my favorite of the Aurors when they used to visit my old office before I got reappointed...her and Wickes, obviously...never could pick between the two of them myself..."
The other two Dousers both sniggered. Remus' eyes drifted closed. Kraft came to a halt beside the chair, stooping so that he could hiss in the werewolf's ear, Carrie struggled to hear him.
"Then again," she heard as Remus' jaw visibly clenched. "I'm rather bored of talking with you people. If she is to be as boring as you, which you seem rather confident of...well...perhaps the time for talking is over! Perhaps...the time has come for...other measures..." He straightened up, folding his arms firmly across his chest as he stepped to stand directly in front of his captive, before demanding: "Tell me the current location of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and how I may find it!"
Remus remained mute.
"I am going to give you one last chance, Mr. Lupin!" Kraft growled, positively trembling with fury at the lack of response. "You will tell me what I wish to know, or I will send for your wife, have her dragged from that stinking prison cell of hers to this place, where I will proceed to lock her in that room to your left with a half a dozen or so of my men, and then I shall give you the honour of sitting out here to listen to whatever protests she sees fit to make, be that screaming, crying, choking or anything else! How much torture do you suppose she can take in her condition? We could have a bet, you and I!"
As she felt hot tears begin to cascade silently down her cheeks, Carrie watched Remus bow his head, still silent.
There was a long pause as Kraft simply glowered at the werewolf furiously for his continued silence before he reached forward to grab a fistful of hair, yanking Remus' head back so that he could look him in the eye.
"We've been very fortunate in my department at the Ministry, Mr. Lupin." Carrie heard him announce, voice again painfully smug. "We've had a great number of volunteers to join our ranks, but so far we've failed to recruit a single female Douser. Unfortunate, don't you think? And our hours! We work such grueling long hours, don't we boys?"
The other two Dousers murmured sniggering agreement, and Kraft's expression grew suddenly vicious as he leant forward, lips mere inches from the werewolf's ear as he hissed:
"We very much miss the company of those of the female persuasion, as I'm sure you can imagine!"
Remus' eyes instantly widened in panic. Kraft smirked.
"Tell me, Mr. Lupin," the Dousers breathed, as to Carrie's surprise Remus glanced around searchingly by the window until their gazes once again met. "That morphing your wife can perform so flawlessly...does she do requests?"
Carrie found herself reaching to grasp fistfuls of hair in agitation as Remus gave a visible shudder.
"I'll ask you one more time, shall I?" Kraft spat, positively grinning, and his gaze fixed somewhat imploringly upon the muggle outside, Remus cleared his throat meaningfully as he said rather loudly:
"You want me to betray the Order to you and tell you how to find Headquarters, or else?"
"Indeed, Mr. Lupin." Kraft said, undoubtably pleased with himself. "Or else."
And with that, gaze still fixated upon Carrie, Remus wet his lips, slowly, deliberately, before he agreed:
"Alright then. I'll tell you everything."