Chapter 14: Setups

Quentin Travers stared at the ugly, drooling witch strapped to the interrogation chair in the small cell beneath the Council's headquarters. He had expected a Death Eater, like Amycus Carrow. A monster in human shape following a mad, unnatural creature, reveling in blood and death. He hadn't expected an even worse monster following a fool. The witch shared so many views and opinions with Death Eaters, and yet would fight them simply because they opposed the bureaucracy she was working for. It was the kind of evil Watchers did not have to fight often, but which humanity was familiar with.

He shook his head. To think she had been trying to kill a boy just because he told the truth about Voldemort's return. No, to destroy his very soul. And the souls of any other humans who had the misfortune of being in the way. She had loosened demons on Britain, for political gains. The plans she had had for the school, for muggleborn wizards and witches, children still… Quentin would have understood the plans for the monsters, of course, if she had wanted them destroyed because they preyed on humans. But the witch wanted them destroyed just because they were not wizards or witches. A familiar kind of evil indeed.

He longed to watch her burn, slowly, screaming as the flames licked at her feet, then her legs, then her body. She deserved it, even more than Carrow. And yet a slow hanging would have to do in her case as well. Not just because it would be too much of a bother to burn her at a stake, but also because to indulge in revenge, instead of justice, was too dangerous. For himself, and even more so for his grandniece.

Quentin had called Hermione and Mister Potter after he had found out that Umbridge had sent the Dementors to Little Whinging. The two had heard her answer themselves, after he had repeated the question. To their credit, they had not attacked the monster - then again, Mister Potter's relatives had not been the best examples of human beings. Still, they had more self-control most teenagers had, even though they had both been trembling with rage when they had left some time ago. After they had found out just how corrupt the Ministry for Magic was.

He knew that those revelations would widen the gap between the young couple and the wizards. Knew it, and liked it.

Quentin addressed Fitzburg, who was waiting with the veritaserum: "Put the gag in again, and make sure her bindings are secure. Call me once she recovers and we can proceed with the execution."

"Yes, Sir."

Quentin nodded at the young Watcher and left the room. He had more plans to make.

"And I will do my utmost to restore this school to what it should be, the best school in the Magical World. Standards have slipped under my predecessor, but …"

Ron Weasley tuned the new Headmaster, Albert Runcorn, out. He knew enough. Anyone Fudge would install as Headmaster would either be a stupid toady, or a Death Eater. Or both. Runcorn seemed to be a Death Eater, or close enough. As he had mentioned twice already, he was a Slytherin alumni. His remarks on the need to show proper respect for one's betters showed everyone with a brain that he was a bigot too. And an idiot, trying to replace Dumbledore, after the Headmaster had wiped the floor with a dozen aurors and sealed his office so no one had been able to enter it ever since.

The young wizard looked around in the Great Hall. The Gryffindors were frowning, muttering under their breaths. Rebellious. The Hufflepuffs seemed to sit even closer together, with the youngest near the oldest, in the middle. Spaced so they would be easy to protect. The Ravenclaws were cold, distant. No surprise, their Head of House had too much goblin blood for the Ministry's liking. And the Slytherins, or most of them, were smiling, triumphantly. Especially Malfoy.

Ron didn't smirk, though he felt like it. The idiots thought they had won. They were wrong. He glanced over at Lavender, who was keeping her attention on the Slytherins, and squeezed her hand under the table, providing what comfort he could without being obvious. Malfoy wouldn't hurt her, or anyone else.

"What do you have?" Ron asked, sitting on his bed next to Lavender. The room was a bit crowded, even with Harry missing - and that thought still made him wince with pain. Neville was there, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, his brothers and the rest of the Quidditch team, Lee - most of Gryffindor's fifth year and older students were here, actually. At least the ones with guts.

Fred grinned with a feral expression he shared with George. "We've got a lot of pranks ready. Nasty ones. As soon as the Slytherins try to lord it over others, they'll pay. Pomfrey will be very busy."

Ron nodded. "And the snakes will try to lord it over us. You all saw them in the Great Hall." Not all of the Slytherins had looked smug, but Ron didn't care much, at this point.

"Remember, stay together as much as possible. Don't go anywhere alone. And if you see Malfoy, inform the rest. If we keep an eye on him, he can't do anything." Ron stated. And if Malfoy tried anything anyway, it would not result in more work for Matron Pomfrey. The Weasleys had an understanding. Malfoy had crossed a line he should not have crossed. "Keep in touch with the Puffs and Ravens. We're in the same boat."

"What if the new Headmaster calls the aurors to arrest us?" Neville asked. "I've heard from Gran that he's a Ministry stooge and would do that."

Ron had heard similar things from his dad, and even Percy had come to his senses, after he had realized what Malfoy could do to Ginny. "We've got the Room of Requirement. If worst comes to worst, anyone can hide there until," he looked at Harry's bed before continuing, "help arrives." The other students understood. Or thought they understood. They didn't know about the Slayer, of course.

If the new, fake Headmaster was dead, Ron thought with a ruthlessness that surprised him, then someone with more sense could take over, and keep the Ministry out until things there … changed. The wards of the school were among the strongest in the world, and with the Slayer as help, they could deal with the aurors in the school, and the Slytherins.

Severus Snape wasn't trembling or shaking when he met the Dark Lord, but he was nervous. Voldemort had been growing more and more impatient - and violent - lately. Even less forgiving than he had been too. The loss of Bellatrix and the lack of progress with regards to the prophecy affected his mood. Hopefully, the news that Dumbledore was now wanted for kidnapping, treason, murder, Dark Magic, and conspiracy against the Ministry had improved his mood.

"My Lord?"

"Ah, Severus. Step forward. What news do you have to report?" Voldemort, his inhuman face smiling, seemed to be in a good mood as he beckoned the Potion Master to come closer to what was serving as his throne.

"I've managed to find out the names of two people who were involved with the murder of Bellatrix."

The Dark Lord hissed and grew still for a moment, then stood up with a smooth, flowing movement. That showed that he was no longer human, even more so than his appearance. His robes billowed out behind him in a way that Severus couldn't help but notice, and compare to the charms on his own robe before he got ahold of himself.

"Tell me who dared to slay my Bellatrix. Tell me their names." Voldemort stepped in front of Severus, so close the Potion Master could see every detail on his monstrous face.

He kept his composure, used to such sights. "William and Charlie Weasley, my Lord. The eldest sons of Arthur Weasley."

The Dark Lord seemed to tremble with rage. "Arthur Weasley… the one who slew my Nagini. His sons slew my Bellatrix?"

Severus nodded. It was not entirely correct, but they had helped.

"They will pay. Their entire family will pay for this. Leave me. I have plans to make."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus bowed, and left, passing Rookwood as he left the room. He briefly wondered what the former Unspeakable was up to, but then focused on whether or not he should warn Dumbledore about the Dark Lord's plans for the Weasleys. Most of the redheaded brood was useless, as were their parents, but the eldest sons had proven to be useful in the battle against Voldemort. But useful enough to be worth the risk of exposure, how slim it might be?

And wouldn't their resolve and dedication increase, should their family suffer a tragic loss at the hands of Voldemort's Death Eaters? Revenge, as Severus knew very well, was a very powerful motivation. Besides, the family could spare more than a few members for the cause - there were far too many of them around as it was, and they were troublemakers, the lot of them at Hogwarts, picking on his Slytherins.

Quentin Travers looked up from the summary of the information the Council had gotten from Umbridge when his secretary announced Mister Botwell. The young Watcher looked a bit … agitated. For a Watcher, of course. Since Botwell had stared death in the eye multiple times, and faced unspeakable horrors, as the Watcher of the current Slayer was wont to do, Quentin was quite curious what might have led the man to seek him out without an appointment. It couldn't be an emergency, he had seen Botwell deal with those before, with unflappable composure.

"Have a seat, Mister Botwell. What was it you needed to speak to me about?" Quentin put the report away.

The young man drew a deep breath, then met his eyes. "I have to report an issue that could jeopardize the performance of the Slayer."

He had Quentin's full attention now, and judging from the young man's stiffening posture, he knew just how serious this was. "Please elaborate."

"The Slayer seems to be infatuated with me. She has made advances that leave no doubt, Sir."

Quentin raised an eyebrow, but he was relaxing already. That certainly was not something serious. Isolated young girl, on the cusp of womanhood, fighting at the side of an older, more mature man, not related to her - it was almost a textbook case for the development of such feelings. "Do you fear for your virtue, Mister Botwell?"

The younger Watcher stared at him. "N-no, Sir. She'd never… I mean… not India."

As amusing as it seemed, Quentin wasn't sure he'd be so trusting in the other man's place. There had been reports in the past, of Slayers who had been a tad too aggressive, but Miss Cohen was Botwell's slayer, and he had to trust his judgement. It was his virtue anyway.

"Ah. So you are not sure if you can resist her. Do you return her feelings then, Mister Botwell?"

This time the Watcher looked down. "Yes, Sir," he pressed out, obviously ashamed of himself.

"There shouldn't be a problem then."

Botwell's head flew up and he stared at him with wide, open eyes. "Sir?"

Quentin smiled indulgently at the naivety of youth. "Mister Botwell, this is not the first time such a situation has come up. Far from it. The bonds between a Watcher and his Slayer are tight, and given their situation, very likely to grow into something else. Sometimes a bond similar to that between a parent and a daughter develops, sometimes it's a more romantic relationship."

"B-but, Sir…"

"Mister Botwell. You know the life expectancy of a Slayer."

"Yes, Sir." Botwell nodded, wincing.

"There's nothing wrong with letting a Slayer be happy while she can. They tend to live longer that way. And since you return her feelings and she's above the age of consent…" Quentin spread his hands. He didn't mention that a Watcher often did not survive their Slayer's demise - everyone knew that when volunteering for such an assignment.

Botwell still looked like his Slayer had hit him over the head with a mace, but he nodded again.

"If that's all then I think this matter is settled." Quentin dismissed him with another, patronizing smile.

Once the young man had left his office, the old watcher stood up and walked over to the window. He stared at the city, but he didn't see it, not really. He remembered another Slayer, and the regrets, after her death, of never having offered her the kind of comfort she had been seeking. And he wondered if she would have served longer as a Slayer, if he had.

Lucius Malfoy was once again close to hexing Fudge the Fool, as he thought of him. The Minister for Magic's Undersecretary had been kidnapped by Dumbledore. That was a serious situation - the ugly toad knew far too much about the deals Fudge had made. Though Lucius was reasonably sure she didn't know too much about his personal dealings with the Minister. He had informed the Dark Lord about this, and if he should be proven wrong, the result would be a disaster. Despite this, Lucius was too experienced as a politician to let his annoyance and concern show.

"We cannot fret over Dolores too much, Cornelius. Even senile and mad, Dumbledore would not kill her - he has just stunned the aurors sent after him, after all." It would have been much better had the old wizard killed those who stood against him, in Lucius's opinion. Less loose ends.

"You're right, my friend, of course. We cannot give up hope."

Lucius smiled blandly. "Instead we should worry about our children. Dumbledore has his office sealed, and certainly knows ways in and out of Hogwarts no one else does. There need to be more aurors present, in case he returns. Imagine if he kidnapped children!"

Fudge gaped. "Merlin! You are right! We have to do something! I'll send a another two squads of aurors there."

That was good - Draco would be safer, his son had complained about vicious attacks on Slytherins - but not good enough for the Dark Lord. "But you'd better keep more aurors ready to reinforce them. Dumbledore defeated eight of your best aurors, he cannot be taken lightly." Aurors chosen for their political reliability instead of their skill, but nevertheless, it was an impressive feat. Although, or so Lucius thought, likely the result of a trap in the Headmaster's office.

"You're right, of course. I'll see to it at once. We have to think of the children!"

Lucius was feeling more at ease when he left the Minister's office. Not only would his son be protected from those blood traitors who threatened him and believed the lies spread by Potter and his mudblood, but the Dark Lord's plan was set in motion. Soon the prophecy would be in his hands.

And lo and behold, Myrken the Mad drew his wand out of his palm, as if it was a holster. No blood flowed, nor did he show any sign of pain - another sign of his madness.

Hermione Granger studied the paragraph she had just read again. That was the second source she had found in the Council's library that talked about Myrken Flenswater being able to create extradimensional pockets in his body as if they were bags. As intriguing as such a spell was - she could think of a number of applications besides mere storage, though they'd require more testing - if he had been able to do this, would he have taken his life's works with him, to Azkaban? Unwillingly, or willingly? How likely was it that he would have kept his most advanced achievements on, no, inside him all the time?

Very likely, she decided. And if he had had it at Azkaban, would it still be in his cell, or in his grave? She stared at the paragraph again. If her theory was right, then she'd have to head to Azkaban, the most infamous place of Wizarding Britain. Even with the Dementors gone, and the human guards and those prisoners who had survived Voldemort's assault - if there were any - moved to the mainland, it would be dangerous. The wards might still be active - would still be active, probably. Some Dementors might have returned even.

It was dangerous, but it needed to be done. Harry's life, his soul, depended on it. Hermione quickly sketched down notes to present her case as perfectly as possible, then gathered the relevant books and went off to see her Great-Uncle.

She tried not to think of the horrors that might await her. Harry needed this, needed her. And she'd do anything for him.

"Why do we have to travel by night?" Harry Potter asked again. He didn't seem to think visiting Azkaban at night was a good idea.

"The ferryman is off duty now, so no one will miss him, or his amulet. With that we can take the official route to Azkaban without triggering alarms. Otherwise we'd have to deal with all the misdirection wards, which could alert the Ministry," Hermione explained. The ferryman was currently under the influence of a potion, and in his home, while the amulet was with them. "We're harder to spot that way too." Wizards didn't have invented magical night vision goggles yet, as far as she knew. Something else to enchant, once she had time - the usual models didn't work in areas saturated with magic.

"There's the Disillusion Charm."

"Not even the Headm…. Dumbledore can disillusion an entire ferry." Hermione would have felt as bad or worse as Harry about this, if the old wizard had not been with them. Between Dumbledore, Fitzburg, Wilkinson - another Watcher wizard - and the Slayer and Botwell, they should be safe enough though. Harry had insisted on coming with her anyway. And seeing as the island had been the home of the Dementors, having the boy who sent dozens of the demons fleeing with one spell when he was but a third year student with them was a smart move.

"We could have flown."

"Over the sea? And through their misdirection wards?" Hermione didn't like flying on brooms. Too flimsy, too dangerous. "And India and Mister Botwell can't use brooms." And Hermione herself wasn't a good flyer either, not that she would say so out loud. She had her pride.

"We could have doubled up."

"Harry… we'll be there soon enough." She reached out and took his hand, then pulled him to her, wrapping her arm around his waist as the barge they were on sped through the night, towards the island hidden from normal humans. Fortunately the sea was calm this night. She wasn't sure there were charms to deal with rougher seas. Harry sighed, but held her.

Behind them the Slayer was sitting next to Mister Botwell - very close to him. A bit closer and she'd be sitting in his lap, Hermione thought. Something had changed between those two, she was certain of that, but she didn't want to ask. What if they were not allowed to have a relationship, and she'd mess it up for them by exposing them? She wouldn't do that to anyone in love, not after she had fallen in love herself. Or had finally realized she had fallen in love long ago.

Suddenly she felt a tingling running over her skin and the empty area in front of them was replaced with a looming island, barely visible in the moonlight. Azkaban. The island of despair and madness. She shivered, but told herself it was just the cold air overcoming her warming charms - it wasn't even spring yet.

"Are you sure of that, Severus?" The Dark Lord's voice held the promise of unimaginable pain should Severus's information turn out to be wrong.

"I am, My Lord." Severus Snape bowed. "Dumbledore has contacted me and told me he'll be away, outside Britain, for some time." The former Headmaster had indeed done so. He wouldn't have expected Severus to inform the Dark Lord of that, but he hadn't forbidden it either. Severus didn't see any harm using this information to improve his standing with the Dark Lord, to gain more of his trust and informations, could possibly cause. Potter and the mudblood were safe, Dumbledore had reassured him of that, so the worst that could happen was that the Order lost some more dunderheads. As long as Potter and Dumbledore were safe everyone else was expendable. And Dumbledore would be back the next day anyway.

"Very good." Voldemort smiled, his thin lips opening and showing perfectly white teeth. "You have done well, Severus. We will use this opportunity to secure the Prophecy while the old fool is away." He turned to Lucius Malfoy, who was waiting a bit away. "Lucius, order the decoy to start his work."

"At once, My Lord." The sycophantic blond wizard bowed so deep, his head almost hit the stone floor, and disappeared with a grace Severus was still jealous of, after close to 20 years. The Potion Master did not dwell on that though - he had to find a way to inform Dumbledore that the prophecy was in danger!

Azkaban was as desolate and dark as Harry had imagined. All of them but Wilkinson, who was staying on the ferry as a guard, had stepped off the dock and were walking on the path leading up the the prison now. No plant seemed to grow on the rocky island, nothing shielded it from the cold winds of the North Sea. The walls in front of them were so dark, they seemed to become part of the night sky as they rose above them, and the whole island seemed to be a few degrees colder than the air above the sea around it. He shuddered, imagining that Sirius had spent over a decade here, unjustly imprisoned. And his godfather had been tortured by Dementors as well.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was looking around with interest. The young witch at least didn't let the gloomy surroundings get to her, focusing on her mission instead. Determined, stubborn, brave - that was his Hermione. He smiled at her and was rewarded with a brief smile in return, before she focused on the prison again.

"Remember, apparition is impossible on the island and in the surrounding waters. You have to go quite a distance to pass through the wards before you can apparate away," Dumbledore explained, leading the group - he had been there before, if not often, as he had explained. "Inside the prison proper, disillusion charms will not work. Those wards were not extended over the whole island though, since at the time of their creation, warding enclosed stone buildings was far cheaper than warding areas."

Harry listened, if not with as much attention as Hermione. The impromptu history lesson did serve to distract him from more morbid thoughts though, which likely was what the older wizard had intended.

A sudden movement to his side caught his attention. He whirled around, wand pointed at the disturbance, and spotted a dog-sized creature on the ground, four misshapen limbs jerking and twitching. A dagger was buried to the hilt in its monstrous head.

"Gith'enre demon. A variant of a hellhound according to some scholars. Attracted to areas saturated in misery and death," Botwell explained while the Slayer retrieved her dagger. "It generally won't attack an adult human, unless desperate or sensing a weakness."

That did not make Harry feel safer. Who knew if he or Hermione counted as adults in the eyes of a demon?

"I don't sense any other demons nearby."

India's pronouncement on the other hand did make Harry feel safer, and he nodded at her with a smile. Even so the interruption had destroyed the scholarly mood, and the group continued in silence towards the gate of the prison.

"The graveyard is inside the walls. The first Minister to use the island as a prison declared no inmate would be leaving, not even after death. That changed when shorter prison sentences were introduced, but the graveyard's location did not," Dumbledore explained while opening the gate with a flick of his wand.

They walked through a dark, narrow passage - lined with murder holes in the ceiling, as Hermione helpfully pointed out to Harry - into a courtyard surrounded with walls of such a height that the area, despite its size, seemed likely to be shrouded in shadows even during the day. Several rows of densely packed small stone plates were visible to the side - headstones, Harry realized. Hermione was already walking towards them, and he ran after her. Who knew what monsters could rise from their graves, in such a cursed location? Vampires were bad enough…

Just as Hermione had found the grave she had been looking for, a white, luminous dove arrived near Dumbledore. A Patronus.

"Headmaster. The Dark Lord is moving to secure the Prophecy. He has set plans in motion to lure the aurors to Hogwarts too."

That had been Snape's voice… Harry would recognize it anywhere.

Dumbledore turned to them. "Voldemort is moving into the Department of Mysteries."

"He can't get the prophecy!" Hermione stated. Harry knew that as well - they had replaced it with a copy for just this very reason.

"Indeed. But with the aurors off on a foolish chase to Hogwarts, there are a number of things he can do in the Ministry to advance his goals, and more terrible deeds he could get up to in the Department of Mysteries. Furthermore, I cannot let the opportunity to expose him pass." The old wizard drew a shrunken broom out of a pocket and enlarged it. He sounded apologetic. "You can continue your work here safely, since Voldemort and his forces are busy at Hogwarts and the Ministry." He handed the ferryman's amulet over to Harry, and flew off.

Suddenly, the island felt far colder, and far more dangerous. Their most powerful protector had just left them.

"All students will be returning at once to their dorms. Prefects, make sure no one is left unaccounted for." McGonagall's voice, amplified with a Sonorous, cut through the chatter of the Great Hall during the evening meal while Runcorn and the aurors including the Defense Professor left in a hurry.

"At least they have learned from the troll incident," Ron muttered. He looked at Fred, then nodded to the Slytherin table. His brother nodded and poked George.

"First years, line up with me! Second years, to Lavender!" Ron shouted and started counting the by now quite nervous looking first years while the other prefects called the older years to them. Once he was certain that all of the ickle firsties were present he had them form a column, two abreast, and started to herd them towards the Gryffindor dorm. He really wanted to know what was happening, but he had to make sure the children were safe first. And Ginny of course. His brothers would make sure Malfoy would not use this opportunity to do anything.

Albus Dumbledore flew over the North Sea. He paid the dark, cold waters beneath him no notice, focusing on the upcoming confrontation with Voldemort. As soon as he had passed the wards around the island, he apparated to the cottage he was hiding in, shrunk his broom and grabbed a mirror. "Saul?"

"Yes?" came the response. His friend didn't appear in the mirror though - a precaution both wizards had agreed upon beforehand and which had proven its use after Albus had become a wanted wizard.

"The visit we were talking about is happening tonight."

"I understand."

Nothing more needed to be said; they had made plans for such an event in advance. Stashing the mirror in a pocket in his robe, Albus donned a dark blue robe, far more subdued than his usual attire, with a hood, disillusioned himself and apparated to Diagon Alley.

He had his biggest failure as a teacher to face.

"What's happening?" Ron asked as soon as the twins entered the dorms.

Both looked grim, far more serious than their usual joking attitude. Had Malfoy…

Fred shook his head before Ron could ask. "Malfoy's been quite docile, his bodyguard hauled him off to the dungeons with him barely muttering a whining comment about his father." The Slytherins had stepped lightly around the school, after the first round of pranks had sent their entire Quidditch team into the infirmary. Snape had been livid, but there had been no proof at all that it had been the twins - such nasty pranks were not their usual style, after all.

"But there's a load of red robes in the Castle. Most of the auror corps seems to be in Hogwarts now - we were almost hexed for being a bit late, if not for McGonagall stepping in," George added.

"In other news, Gryffindor is down 50 points." Fred grinned briefly.

"With so many aurors here, either Voldemort or Dumbledore have to be in the castle. No one else would rate this kind of force" Ron's statement was received with gasps and cries from the rest of Gryffindor listening. A few of the younger students started to weep.

"Good going, Ron. Next time, use a privacy spell." Ginny buried her elbow in his side. As if that would have helped - gossip and rumors traveled faster than a Firebolt in Hogwarts.

Ron ignored the rebuke from his sister. "If we had the bloody map, we could check." If only there was a safe way to contact Harry and Hermione - but the Ministry controlled the owl post.

"It cannot be Voldemort, the Ministry still won't accept that he is back," Fred said. More gasps were the result of him saying the Dark Lord's name out loud, again.

"But if it's Dumbledore we should help him!" Ginny exclaimed. "If they catch him…"

"He's Dumbledore, he won't get caught. We wouldn't stand a chance against so many aurors anyway, not even if every Gryffindor came with us." Fred shook his head.

"But there's something we can do. We can distract the aurors. Lure them away. Make them chase shadows." Ron looked at the twins. "It's dangerous, but it'll help Dumbledore.

Fred and George grinned. "Consider it done."

Roselyn licked her lips when she spotted the ferry moored at Azkaban's small dock. It had taken her some time to reach the island on her broom, after she had felt the Gith'enre she had left there dying, but she was in luck - her prey was still there. Thanks to the amulet that Death Eater in the DMLE had provided and which Lucius had been so generous to loan her - she chuckled at the memory of that little encounter - she could pass through the wards without problem.

Her eyes were not hampered by the lack of light at all and she easily spotted the guard on the ferry right after she had passed the wards. The undead witch pulled up immediately to gain altitude. Humans or wizards, they rarely ever looked up.

That wizard - muggleborn, he was not wearing robes - didn't either, so she could approach him without getting noticed. Five meters above him, she dropped from her broom on him, driving the man headfirst into the wooden planks of the ferry before he knew what had happened. He was dead at once, but his blood was still warm, and after making sure no one else was near or had noticed the attack, she drank greedily.

Sated, the vampiress stood up, wiped her mouth and started towards the prison. With a guard left at the ferry, there were bound to be others inside it. Twirling her wand between her fingers, she smiled. She'd have some fun tonight. More fun than she'd have had at the Ministry.