XIV. One for the Hangman

Harry looked around the safe-room, taking it in with a glance. The walls were made of strong-looking stone and reinforced with steel. The walls were decorated with paintings and tapestries, and there was even a large mounted red deer head and antlers on the wall above where they had just come from; Harry didn't know much about hunting but he guess that the size of the antlers must have something to do with it, because these were huge. He reckoned Tiberius could tell him about it if he asked, since the man was reportedly something of an outdoorsman and hunter. Not that Harry cared enough to ask.

The Minister was cowering behind a large ornate desk and comfortable looking chair. All in all, this safe-room looked more like an office that the Minister could escape to if he didn't want to be disturbed. The one item that didn't quite make sense to him was the bed in the back corner, separated from the rest of the room by a floor-to-ceiling curtain, which was currently drawn back, allowing the bed to be seen. It was lavishly arranged and there was a wrack on the wall bearing what appeared to be whips and cuffs. Honestly, Harry had pretty good idea of what it was used for but he really didn't want to have that mental image in his head, especially considering the man in front of him. He was not handsome and while the portrait of himself hanging on the wall – yes, he had a portrait of himself in his office – showed him to be quite fit and dressed in what Harry guessed was a hunter's attire, the man in front of him now was quite rotund, and not even in the jolly fat man sort of way that someone like Slughorn had been when Harry saw him in Voldemort's memories.

Harry shrugged mentally as he approached the front of the desk. Wealth and power were strong motivators to some women, and men; he wasn't one to judge on preference. He jumped up on the desk with ease and kicked as the Minister tried to raise his wand at him. The wand flew from his hand and clattered to the floor after hitting the wall, a small shower of sparks spouting from the tip momentarily upon impact. "Well, well, Mr. Minister," Harry said mockingly.

He raised his boot and kicked the Minister square in the face, sending the large man to the floor as blood began pouring from his mouth. It seemed Harry had knocked a few teeth loose.

Harry glanced over to where Barty was looking at the bed and whips with a raised brow. "Seems we've caught ourselves quite a deviant here, eh, Barty?"

Barty snorted. "It would seem that way. Women actually come in here?" He asked looking alarmed. "It's like a little office-slash-dungeon in here. Do you reckon his wife knows about this?"

"Pl-pleathe," the Minister sputtered through the blood and broken teeth. "You can'th thell my vifthe."

"That's a 'no', then," Barty said nodding. "Ooh, naughty boy. Cheating on the missus, sleeping around behind her back, and in her own home to boot. For shame. Do you think she'll need consoling?"

Harry looked at Barty queerly. Sure, he had always been a bit of a Casanova but this was a bit different. While his tone was lighthearted and joking, there was something off around the eyes. "You're acting a bit odd, Barty. Everything all right?" He noticed the Minister start to try and sneakily crawl away from them and fired a quick bludgeoning curse into his leg, shattering the knee from the back, effectively stopping him.

Barty shrugged and stood up from where he had been pilfering through the drawers on the nightstand beside the bed. "Eh, well, you know. I've recently come to the realization that I, meaning myself, am in quite a rather troublesome and awkward position if you will."

Harry couldn't resist a bit of fun-poking. "Barty, you can just come on out and say it. Regulus and I already know you fantasize about being in a torture dungeon with a fat older man."

"Ha-bloody-ha!" Barty said, making a rude gesture with his hand. "No, I find myself set to be the last of my line; that is, the last Crouch. Once I kill my old man, that is. Anyway, whilst I do so bloody hate my father, my mother, gods preserve her, was a kind and gentle woman who only wanted what was best for me...and grandchildren. Not always in that order. Now, I know she is dead and all now, but I'm sure that wherever she is, she's still waiting for me to grow up and get a move on in siring an heir. And, I find myself in the position where the only women I know are either married, not-really-married-but-still-kinda-married, soon-to-be-married, dead, or Hermione, who is basically married, to you. So, you see my issue?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully, watching the Minister still trying to crawl away, despite his mangled limb. He had to admit, the man was persistent.

"You gonna get that," Barty asked, looking at the Minister.

Harry shrugged. "He's not going anywhere. We've got the house surrounded. But, to be safe," he waved his wand and the door to the room rebuilt itself and sealed them in. He smirked, hearing a whimper from the older man. "Now, as for your problem, you'll be fine. You've never had a problem finding women to share your bed with, so why should when we get back to England be any different? I mean, I know a few unattached women who we'll be seeing a lot of."

"Oh yeah?" Barty asked, going through the drawers again. "Like who?"

"Oh, you know." Harry hopped down off the table, landing squarely on the Minister's back, forcing him against the floor, hard. "There's Nymphadora, just don't call her that. Only I can do that."

"That's because she's in love with you, remember?" Barty reminded him, holding up a weird paddle-like object with little studs on one side, turning it in front of him in a concerned manner. "What the fucking hell...?" He paused, shook his head, then tossed the object back. "You know what, I don't want to know." He moved to the next drawer.

"You're right," Harry said, speaking of Nymphadora, "Hmm, that might be a problem, yeah. Well, there's Luna." He inwardly cringed, thinking of the petite, dreamy little blonde.

Barty laughed. "Ha, she seems a nice enough girl, but a bit on the young side, don't you think? Besides, she seems kinda fond of that useless wanker we were locked up with."

Harry frowned. "That's never stopped you before. Neither of those reasons, for that matter."

"Now, now," Barty said, looking over at Harry, who was still standing on the Minister's back. He raised a brow but said nothing of the matter. "I do have rules you know. Under a certain age and I just feel like a dirty old man. That, and when there's genuine love and affection involved between a woman and her chosen man, I stay my blade, as it were."

Harry snorted.

"Yeah, you're right, that last one was a lie, but still. She is a bit young, and looks even younger. Fun to flirt with, but not really a place I wanna go. What about your mum?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What about my mum?"

"Well, I'd have to be pretty thick not to see that she's a beautiful woman," Barty clarified.

"I'm not sure I like where you're going with this," Harry stated.

"She was only two years ahead of me at Hogwarts, you know. Not trying to be crude, but she made that uniform look good. That skirt had to be at size too small to show off that much leg." Barty ignored Harry, whose face was going a bit red. "And what nice legs they were too. You know, now that your father is out of the way, maybe I could get to know her a bit better. Now, I know what you're thinking, and no I won't make you call me 'dad', even though it would be hilarious."

"You better stay the fuck away from my mum, Barty!" Harry snapped, cutting off Barty's words.

Barty cackled and waved him off. "Fine, fine. I'll lay off...for now. So, whose next on your list?"

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself and shrugged. "Pansy?"

"Oh, fuck no!" Barty said.

"What's wrong with Pansy?" Harry asked, feeling slightly insulted for the girl. She wasn't a bad person. She at least listened when he told her to stay out of his way. Though, her method of doing so was a bit questionable.

"One," Barty said, holding up a finger as he approached Harry. "She's not but a year older than Luna. Two, I've known her since she was a baby. Three, she has a baby of her own and I am not about to play fucking daddy for Malfoy spawn. Thanks but no thanks. Four, she had a little thing for you back in the day. Five, I've known her since she was a baby. Yes, I know I said that twice. It needed reiteration. That...that's just a line I don't cross."

Harry nodded. "Well, I'm sure that makes you better than this poxy bastard," he said, tapping his foot on the Minister's back. The man groaned in agony. "I'm sure he's had all range of women in here. Probably a few under the age of majority too." He looked thoughtful, but it wasn't a good thought. "Do you think he kept pictures or articles of their clothing or something. Like souvenirs?"

Barty looked almost disgusted. Then again, he was a gentleman with the ladies. "Gods, I hope not. But, then again, I wouldn't put it past him, after that." He pointed at the bed and wrack. "Are those chains?" He asked, looking at something under the bed. "Blimey. Check his desk."

Harry tugged open one of the drawers on the desk after hopping off of Oblansk's back. Barty did the same on the other side of the desk.

After only a moment of searching Barty let out a loud "A-HA!" and pulled out a phial with silvery liquid in it. It was labeled in Cyrillic Script so he could read it but he didn't know Bulgarian so he couldn't say what it meant. Not for the first time, he wished they had been able to learn the language but no one at Nurmengard knew it. German, Russian, French, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish, English. Those were the languages that Grindelwald knew how to read and speak, having learned them at Durmstrang from his friends, but he had not known any Bulgarians and thus had not learned the language, thus he could not teach it to Harry and the others. German, Russian and French were all that they had had time to learn while there. Learning Russian was how Harry knew how to read Cyrillic.

"Chastni spomeni," Harry sounded out, frowning. "That first word sounds almost like 'chastity, doesn't it? But that wouldn't make sense. Chastity is the refraining from sexual activity. Probably has a completely different origin and I'm being an ignorant foreigner by guessing. Let's view them. There's got to be a Pensieve around here somewhere." He opened a cabinet behind the desk. "As I said." He picked up the rune-engraved stone bowl and set it on the desk.

Barty looked at the bowl, down at the Minister, who seemed to have lost consciousness, over to the bed, back at the Minister, back to the bowl, then to the memories. "Do we have to?"

Harry nodded, turning and giving the Minister a hard kick in the ribs, causing the man to awake and cry out in pain. "We need to see what this son of a bitch has done that he shouldn't have done." He gave another kick. "Then we use it as an excuse for killing him."

"Why do we need an excuse?"

"We don't, but in order for us to make things better for Igor and Krum we need to completely discredit this filth in the eyes of the populace. Not just the one's who already side with the rebellion, but also those who sided against them. It will make things easier when they take power. It will also throw some unfavorable light at the ICW, who backed this guy."

Barty nodded, understanding. "Right. Oh, this is not gonna be fun."

Barty tipped the memories into the Pensieve after uncorking the phial. Together they plunged in, Harry taking a moment beforehand to stun the Minister, lest he try to escape while they were otherwise occupied.

When they came back out again, Barty immediately turned to the side and retched, heaving the contents of his stomach onto the ornate rug that sat under the desk.

Harry was faring little better as he was paler than usual and had a murderous glint in his eyes. He turned his hard glare onto the unconscious man laying on the floor. What he had seen in there was sickening and at a level that not even Voldemort would have sunk to.

Barty stood upright again, wiping his mouth and chin on his sleeve, still looking a bit green around the gills. He sneered and returned the memories to the phial. "I'll kill that son of a bitch!" he snarled, his voice lower and rougher than usual. "I'll drag him out by his fucking hair and string him up from the fucking trees by his fucking fat neck! Then, when he's just about to die, I'll let him down and do it all over again!"

Harry nodded and walked over to the Minister, kneeling in front of him and reviving him with a wave of his hand.

The older man opened his eyes, blinking groggily. When he saw Harry and the cold expression on his face, his eyes widened. "Minister Oblansk, my name is Harry James Potter, I was born July 31, 1980 in Godric's Hollow, Cornwall to James Fleamont Potter I and Lilly Jenifer Evans. I am the adopted son of Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort. I am the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, descendant of Ignotius Peverell, Master of the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. I am former student to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Gellert Johannes Grindelwald. I am brother to the Hangman and the Raven." All of this was said with a cold, deathly soft voice. "Look at me," he order the man. Oblansk raised his wide eyes to meet Harry's. "Do you know who I am?" The man nodded. "Say my name."

Oblansk swallowed thickly. "You are the Goth of Death," he said, his voice lisping due to his missing teeth.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I am. I am not a kind man, Mr. Oblansk. I am not forgiving and I do not show mercy to those whom I have decided to not deserve it. You, Mr. Oblansk are a hebephile. Do you know what that means? No? Well, allow me to enlighten you. A hebephile is an English word that stems from the ancient Greek word hebe, meaning 'youth', and the Latin word phila, which stems from the Greek phílos, which means 'beloved' or 'love of'. So, the word hebephile means 'love of youths'. A bit of a misnomer, if you ask me. What you did to those women and children could never in any right be called love. That was defilement. Now, you may be wondering why I don't just label you a pedophile and be done with it. Well, it's in the definition. A hebephile is one who has an attraction to youth from the age of eleven to fourteen, while a pedophile is one who is attracted to children aged ten and under. One might try to argue that at least you weren't that bad, but the abuse of children is something that I cannot stomach, in any form. You just happened to choose the worst." He laughed humorless. "You know what the worst part of it all is? It's that they will never remember it. They'll never know what you did to them, because you took that knowledge from them. You probably have some misguided excuse for it too. Something like 'it's better for them if they don't remember it because they'll not have to remember the pain' or some other bullshit reason. But the truth is that you're a coward. You know that what you did was wrong, and you know that if they told anyone you would be done for. You're own daughter was not even safe from you. In fact, she was your favorite wasn't she? That's why you took her friends in here first when they would visit during the summer, then take her last. After that, what did you do, tuck her into bed and kiss her goodnight like nothing had happened, then go to bed with your wife? Yeah, that's what you did, I can see it in you're eyes."

He held his hand up and Barty deposited the phial into his fingers. He held the phial up for Oblansk to see, turning it between his finger. The man's eyes widened further and he turned white as a ghost.

"But, you weren't satisfied with just the deed were you? You had to relive it, again and again when she was away at school or visiting friends. So, you used your memories of the events. You'd view them before having your way with whatever woman you had brought back that night. And you'd think of her while you did those sick things to them. Of course, not all of them came willingly. No, those you used potions or curses to get to comply." He stood up and tucked the phial into his pocket. "You are going to hang for this, Minister. I'll see to it. My brother here, he loves a good hanging. That's how he got his name, you know. Bartemius Galbraith Crouch Jr., more commonly known as Barty Crouch Jr. and the Hangman. I'm sure he's got a tree already picked out for you."

Barty nodded. "Oh, aye. I know just the one. Right in the middle of the town square." He stalked forward and grabbed the man by his shirt front. He got right in his face, snarling. "I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born, you child-raping piece of shit!" With that Barty hauled the man to his feet and dragged him along behind him after his shattered leg gave out under his considerable weight. With a wave of Barty's hand, the secret door opened and he marched out.

Harry followed along behind them, a dark look on his face that left no doubts that bad things were soon to come.

Within the room, which was a study of sorts, Regulus was standing with Malcolm and Karkaroff, his wand floating above his hand and pointing right at them. Barty stomped right past them all, not saying a word, the Minister struggling uselessly in his grasp.

Regulus looked at Harry with concern, seeing that they were both intent on murder at the moment. "Harry, what the devil is going on?"

Harry paused long enough to pull the phial of memories out of his pocket and hold it up for them. Malcolm looked at it and then went into the secret room with Karkaroff following behind. He let Regulus take the phial from him before he followed after Barty, who was already out of the room and making his way down the hallways. A thump, followed by a scream made Harry jog ahead. He turned the corner and peered down the hall to see Barty had switched his hold from the man's shirt to his hair. He had said he was going to drag the man out by his hair and so he was. This new method of dragging forced Oblansk to use his one good leg to push himself up a bit to try and alleviate the intense, sharp pain from having his hair pulled so savagely.

They dragged him from the house, ignoring the looks they were getting from the rebels in the house as well as the handful of captured Aurors as they went.

Outside it was a dark night lit only by wandlight. Harry followed Barty as he continued dragging Oblansk toward the perimeter of the wards.

"HARRY! BARTY! WAIT!"

Harry paused and turned back as Malcolm ran up behind them. Barty stopped too but did not release Oblansk. "What?" Harry asked calmly.

"Where are you taking him?" Malcolm asked, gesturing toward the Minister.

Harry looked at the Minister and then back to Malcolm. "We're going to take him into town and string the bastard up."

Malcolm shook his head, brushing his long hair out of his face with one hand; It had come loose from its tie during the fight, apparently. "You can't just take a public official and kill him," he said. "I don't what he did yet, Regulus and Igor are looking at those memories you gave us, but we're better than this."

Harry shook his head. "We're really not. What he did, he deserves worse than what we're going to do to him, but for the sake of getting us the hell out of this country and getting this war over with, we're going to cut the head from the snake. First Oblansk, then the ICW. You brought us in on this for a reason, and now I'm going to fulfill that reason."

"Daddy?!"

Harry, Malcolm and Barty all turned to see the Minister's daughter running toward them, Krum and Scabior in pursuit. Scabior gained on her quickly and pulled her to a stop. Krum grabbed Scabior and wrenched his hands from Elena and pushed him back with a glare. Scabior snarled in an animalistic manner and glared right back.

"I thought I told you to get her the hell out of here," Barty scolded the snatcher.

Scabior growled. "I tried, but this garden tool here decided to be a tosser and interfere!"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Krum. He knew that the older man didn't like him and what he was about to do would earn him no points in the opposite. "Krum, what reason do you have for preventing Scabior from carrying out his orders?"

Krum opening his mouth to retort but Elena cut in first. "You can't hurt my father!"

Barty cackled. "Calm down, darling. We aren't going to hurt him, we're going to hang him."

"VHAT!" Elena shrieked, running at Barty, intent on attacking him, the fact that she hand no wand and was far weaker than Barty hadn't seemed to cross her mind.

Harry, though, was faster and grabbed the girl by the throat, not squeezing enough to hurt her, just enough to let her know he could. Her eyes widened as they met Harry's. He could see fear there, but not genuine fear. He recalled being in a similar situation with Pansy some time before he went to Hogwarts. He leaned in so that there was barely any space between their faces. "I once knew a girl with the same look in her eyes that you have now. And I'll ask you the same thing I asked her. Do you want to stay alive?" The girl swallowed thickly, then nodded. He could already see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Now, tell me, what do you see in my eyes? Look at them. What do you see?"

"De...death," she answered.

Harry nodded. "Correct. You see your death. Now, do you know how to avoid that?" A shake of the head. "Would you like to know?" A nod. He leaned in so that his mouth was right next to her ear. "Stay out of my way." He leaned back. "Do you understand?" She nodded again. "Good. Now, do not interfere again. You're father has done terrible things to you. You don't remember it because he stole those memories from you. Now, I cannot restore those memories for you, but I can show them to you, if you wish."

Elena opened her mouth to argue with him, to say that her father had never laid a hand on her, but something about the way he said it stilled her tongue. Finally she shook her head. "I...I vould rather not remember. Vhatever it is...I don't vant to know."

Harry nodded and released her. She immediately moved away from him, true fear in her eyes now.

"OBLANSK!"

"Oh, bloody hell, what now," Barty groaned as they all turned to see Karkaroff and Regulus stalking toward them.

It had been Regulus that had shouted and he marched right over to where Oblansk was still in Barty's grasp and stomped his boot directly into the man's face. Harry heard a snap and noticed that the man's nose had been horribly broken by Regulus' kick. He stomped again and this time Harry heard a leg snap under his eldest brother's wrath.

He made to make another attack but Harry's stern call of "Regulus!" stayed his hand.

Regulus looked over at Harry and Harry shook his head, nodding toward Barty. Regulus nodded back and bent down to get in the Minister's face. "I've killed men for less than what you've done. Count yourself lucky that my brother already has claim on your life, else I would take it from you now."

Malcolm walked over to Harry, Karkaroff having whispered what they had seen into his ear. He was pale and his eyes were hard now too. "Harry," he said softly into the younger man's ear. "Forgive my rudeness earlier. You were right. This man deserves to die. And it shall be done." He raised his voice so that everyone could hear him, even those still in the house. "Tomorrow, at midday, Minister Emil Oblansk will be executed in the square of Trader's Alley. Rejoice men, our victory is in sight!"

Karkaroff echoed the words in Bulgarian for those that didn't understand English. A cheer went up from the rebels and Malcolm motioned for Barty and Harry to follow him.

Malcolm spoke again to Harry and the others. "We'll lock him up at the villa for the night, I'll place a few of my own men to guard him. In the morning, he will die." They passed outside the wards as Regulus, Scabior, Tiberius and Fergus joined them. "Good job, all of you. Now, let's get this swine out of here."

One at a time, they apparated back to the villa.

Barty and Scabior took Oblansk off to be locked up, Malcolm, Tiberius and Fergus went into the house saying something about a drink.

Harry looked at Regulus. "You have those memories?"

Regulus nodded and pulled the phial out of his pocket and pressed it into Harry's hand. "What are you going to do with them?"

Harry smirked. "Make sure everyone sees them. We need the people on our side. This," he held up the phial, "will give us that."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"Oh, I ran into an old friend earlier. I think she'll be able to handle it."

With that, he walked off, drawing his wand and muttering the 'point me' spell and thinking of Luna.

He followed the wand's directions, which brought him to a tent. He didn't even have time to open his mouth to call for Luna before the flap opened and Luna poked her head out, her hair looking quite tousled and fixing her top. "Hello, Harry," she said dreamily, like usual. "My, that's a lot of Wrackspurts you have there."

Harry raised a brow at her. "You have company, Luna?"

She shook her head. "No, just you." Harry gave her a look that said he didn't believe her. "Company in the manner you mean it is someone who comes to visit. That's you. Rolf isn't company, he's my lover."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Really? Well, I'll just have to have a talk with him then." Luna just smiled at him knowingly. He ignored it. "But first, I need you to do something for me." He held up the phial. "These are memories of crimes committed by Minister Oblansk. I need you to write up an article about them, take photos and such, send them to your father and have him print them. We need the public on our side here. And, I also need you to reveal that Barty and I are alive. Can you do that?"

Luna nodded and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a firm hug. He brought one arm up to hug her back. "Yes, Harry. I can do it." She pulled back, still smiling. "You can count on me."

He passed the phial into her hands. "Thank you, Luna. Now, I warn you, what you will see in there will not be easy to watch. Barty vomited after seeing it. I nearly did as well. I'm sorry you have to see it, but this must be done."

Luna shook her head. "I watched my own mother be torn apart by an exploding cauldron with my own eyes, Harry. After that, I don't think there's much that can affect me anymore." Her voice had gone dull and her eyes were blank.

Harry nodded and squeezed the hand that was still holding hers, which was holding the phial. "All the same." He sighed. "Now, send the 'lover' out. I'd like a word with him."

Luna nodded, her smile coming back. "Sure!" She skipped back inside the tent and Harry crossed his arms, waiting,

A moment later, the young man exited the tent, looking quite alarmed. Harry took the short second to study him. His hair was dark and hung down around his neck; his jaw, chin and upper lip bore a layer of long stubble. His eyes were dark as well, nearly black, which gave him a vaguely foreign look.

"So, you are Rolf?" Harry asked, meeting the younger man's dark eyes.

Rolf nodded. "Rolf Scamander," he held out his hand for Harry to shake. "A pleasure to meet you. Luna has spoken very highly of you."

Harry ignored the hand. "Scamander? As in Newt Scamander?" Rolf nodded. Well, that explained why Harry got a very light 'foreign' feel from him. Newt Scamander, he recalled, had married a Goldstein, a German-Jewish Wizarding family.

"He's my grandfather," Rolf clarified.

Harry nodded. "Right, so tell me, Rolf, what makes you think you are worthy to date my friend?"

Rolf raised a dark brow. "Pardon?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, making the other man shrink back from him slightly, but he managed to maintain eye-contact, which Harry noted as a plus for him. "Understand, Luna is a dear friend. She means a lot to me. She is precious to me. And, as such, I value her well-being. You no doubt know of my reputation, so I don't need to tell you that anyone who hurts her will suffer my wrath. Now, answer my question."

Rolf swallowed and blinked but still did not look away. Another plus. "Honestly, I consider myself the lucky one here. I am not very good at fighting and completely rubbish at most forms of magic. However, I am good with Magical Creatures. I, that is, I don't really know about worthy but I care very much for Luna, I might even go so far as to say that I love her. Sure, she says some things and believes in some things that most would find odd or even completely ludicrous, but I find it fascinating. We already proved one of her 'imaginary' creatures to be real, so I learned long ago not to doubt her. She's amazing, really. I mean, just the other day, before we got captured, she saved me from a rampaging Graphorn; luckily we were able to subdue it without harming it, since they're highly endangered. And last month, she found a Hydra hiding a cave in Greece. They're supposed to be extinct, but she found one!"

Rolf went on singing Luna's praised and Harry was actually growing mildly amused by it, especially since it seemed the boy didn't even realize that he was kind of rambling.

His soft chuckle brought Rolf to a halt in mid-sentence. "What's so funny?"

Harry smirked at him. "I've heard enough. I've made my decision." Rolf suddenly looked serious and his stance showed no small amount of worry. "I'll let you live, for now. But, just know, if you hurt Luna, I will call my friend Charlie and we'll take turns making you wish you were dead. And then, once every bone in your body has been broken and your flesh peeled from your body, I'll cut you to pieces, little by little, healing you as I go so that you don't bleed out on me, then we'll feed those pieces to a dragon." He stepped forward. "Got it?"

Rolf nodded stiffly and swallowed.

Harry nodded and smiled. "Cheer up. It most likely won't happen. Luna would kill you first, before I had the chance to."

The rustle of the tent flap drew both of their attention. Luna stepped out with a faraway look in her eyes and Rolf immediately was at her side. "Are you all right, love?"

Luna nodded and looked at Harry. "You were right. It is hard to watch. Don't worry, though. I'll make sure everyone knows what he's done."

Harry nodded. He looked at Rolf. "You take care of her." He squeezed Luna's shoulder comfortingly and gave her a soft smile of thanks before moving away. He had only taken two steps before he paused and looked back. "We're hanging the Minister tomorrow at noon in the magical market square in Sofia. You both should be there. It'll be a hell of a story."

XXXX

There was quite a crowd gathered in Trader's Alley, or Targovetsa Aleya, as it was called in the native tongue.

Harry looked out over the mass of people with a mild expression. There was a lot of shouting going on and more than a few fights had already broken out. The crowd, it seemed, was divided between those who supported the Ministry and those who supported the Sons of Independence. There were more of the latter though, from what he could see.

Regulus stood at his side and Fergus was on the far side of Regulus. Malcolm and Tiberius were with Karkaroff and Krum, leading an assault on the Ministry itself. Of course, most of the Aurors were here, and already subdued, so they should have an easy time of it.

"Well, this is quite the turnout," Fergus drawled, chewing a piece of gum and wearing a pair of expensive-looking muggle sunglasses. "All the little doggies out and baying for blood. Isn't it adorable?"

Regulus snorted. "You're a very pleasant person, you know that, Fergus. Could you be a bit more condescending? I don't think you've let us know how you really feel on the matter."

Fergus shrugged casually. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents. Don't get me wrong though, I fully support what we're doing here, I just think I'd rather be with Mal and Tiber, they're having all of the fun. That, and I hate people."

"Not really," Regulus said. "You got to fight the Aurors."

Fergus looked at the Aurors all held in their own magic-suppressing cuffs. He slid his sunglasses down his nose a bit and peered over them at the Aurors. "Those were Aurors?" He pushed his glasses back up and faced forward again. "I thought they were some squibs with fake wands taking their game of Aurors and Death Eaters a bit too seriously. My mistake."

Harry smirked after hearing this. He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure they felt that way, what with you apparating around all over the place. It was like a one-sided game of Wizard's Chess with you ignoring all of the rules."

Fergus shrugged again. "Rules are for losers, and made to be broken. If you ever find yourself in a fair fight, your tactics are shite."

Regulus nodded. "Well, then, our tactics must be quite remarkable because this war was terribly one-sided. It's only been a three days."

"Shortest war on record only lasted forty-five minutes," Fergus said. "We could have done that, but Tiber was set on not staying in the city. If we had just attacked the Ministry directly, we could have ended this in twenty minutes, tops."

"No use lamenting that now," Harry said, seeing Barty and Scabior appear with their victim between them. "The show's about to begin."

Barty shoved the Minister to the ground in front of the tree they had selected for the hanging. The crowd cheered as they saw them, but Barty ignored them and conjured a rope, tying a noose and fastening it around the Minister's neck.

Harry noticed a couple of flashes and saw Rolf snapping photos with his camera while Luna was at his side scribbling in her notepad. As he looked, Rolf turned the camera toward Harry and Regulus, snapping a photo of them. By this time tomorrow, the whole world would know that Harry Potter, Barty Crouch Jr, and Regulus Black were all alive and well.

He hoped Hermione wasn't too upset with him not contacting her. It had been years already and he felt terrible about it, but it was for the best.

"Into our town the Hangman came," Barty's voice rang out through the square, making the crowd go silent. He tossed the rope over a strong-looking branch and caught it, giving a sharp tug to make sure it was secured. "Smelling of gold and blood and flame. And he paced our bricks with a diffident air, and built his frame on the courthouse square."

He began pulling, lifting the Minister into the air, where he started choking, his legs kicking as he fought. His hands were not bound, but Barty had broken his fingers and he could not even grip the rope, let alone get himself free. When he was a sufficient height, Barty conjured a platform under him, letting the Minister stand atop it.

"The scaffold stood by the courthouse side," he went on. "Only as wide as the door was wide. A frame as tall, or a little more, than the capping sill of the courthouse door." He tied off the rope to a spike he conjured and stabbed into the ground. "And we wondered, whenever we had the time, who the criminal, what the crime, that Hangman judged with the yellow twist of knotted hemp in his busy fist."

He had left a bit of slack so that the Minister was not choking as he stood atop the platform on shoddily-healed legs.

"And innocent though we were, with dread, we passed those eyes of buckshot lead; Till one cried 'Hangman, who is he for whom you raised the gallows tree?'" Barty drew his wand and pressed it against the side of one of the platform's support beams and he looked out over the crowd, who were hanging on his every word, all silent save for a few whispers as some translated for friends or family that didn't understand English. "Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye, and he gave us a riddle instead of reply: 'He who serves me best,' said he, 'shall earn the rope on the gallows tree."

With that, he vanished the platform and the Minister fell, only to stop after a few feet, the rope snapping taut and cutting off his airway. The crowd cheered as this happened and Barty grinned madly as he watched the Minister struggle and kick, his face rapidly going red and then purple. After a moment or two, the kicking and twitching stopped and the face went blue, arms falling limp to the sides, bloodshot eyes bulging and tongue protruding grotesquely from between blue lips.

Minister Oblansk was dead.

Barty walked over to stand beside Harry, Scabior taking position on Barty's far side, leaving Harry in the middle with two men on either side of him. More and more flashes appeared as Rolf and a handful of others continued taking photos.

"Well," Fergus said, looking out over the cheering crowd, who had taken to throwing rotten produce at the hanging corpse of Oblansk. "It would seem they approve of our production."

Barty barked a laugh. "Oh, I do believe it was some of my finest work. I don't know how I'll top it."

Harry smiled. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Just remember, quality over quantity."

Barty nodded. "Aye. I don't plan to go around hanging everyone we meet. It's a special thing. Sort of like that bourbon that Malcolm keeps in that flask. He only brings it out for special moments, the rest of the time he just drinks whatever Tiberius gives him."

"Are we seriously comparing hanging people to Firewhiskey?" Regulus asked.

"It is a bit morbid, I suppose," Scabior said, not sounding bothered in the least.

"I think it's beautiful," Fergus said, still chewing his gum.

Regulus groaned. "Am I the only sane one here?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"You're just like us," Barty added in after Harry. "Maybe worse."

Regulus raised a brow. "How do you figure that?"

Barty grinned madly. "Two words: banging Bella."

Harry burst out laughing and Regulus went red in the face. "That was one time!" Barty and Harry just kept laughing, ignoring Regulus' every attempt to defend himself. Finally he just scowled and muttered, "I hate you both."

They only laughed harder.

XXXX

A/N: Sorry it took so long.

Another chapter down. A bit dark but that's pretty much par for the course with these stories. Let me know what you think.

Now, I think I should address that last bit. Yes, I did just imply that Regulus had sex with Bellatrix. In his defense he was drunk and Barty had a hand in things going that direction. Further in his defense, Pureblood families are known for inbreeding to keep bloodlines pure. This was bad but not the worst that's happened I'm sure. Don't judge Reggie too harshly for it.

I have to say though, that I really love writing the banter between the brothers. It's so fun to do. Next chapter will have some Hermione and maybe some Robards and Tonks in it. Some Lily too.

Don't worry, I intend to have Harry and co. back in England within the next two-three chapters.

Leave me some feedback, it keeps me motivated.

Until next time,

I Am Atrocity.