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Chapter Twelve
Dragon Reserve Romania:
Charlie Weasley:
Charlie moved about his basic kitchen and prepared his evening meal. It was the first time in a month that he was actually home at dinnertime and able to cook something. Three of the females were in season and two others had nests that were to hatch any day now. That and the fighting that had broken out between a couple of Ridgebacks in the past few weeks had kept him from his home for long periods at a time. Merlin! He hadn't even made it home to sleep and bathe some days, instead he'd camped out near the fields with a couple of other handlers and made use of cleansing spells. Nowhere near as good as a real hot shower but they kept you from stinking up the place.
He sat down on the beat up sofa and grabbed the crinkled, burnt tinged letter from the coffee table. A frown marring his normally handsome face.
He had not spoken to his mother since the first round of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He left for Romania with the dragons and other handlers after the first task and hadn't spoken or owled since. No member of his family had been in touch with him save for Bill, but Bill didn't live in Britain anymore, so it didn't really count.
Until now he'd had no contact with them. Not that he had wanted to with the way she had been acting.
And the first letter sent to him by his mother wasn't even really from his mother at all but from his old interfering headmaster. Oh, it was his mother's handwriting and half the phrases were very much her. But the rest of it read like the old coot's mind.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back and the Order wanted help or rather the old coot would be in need of mindless lackeys and cannon fodder for the ah-ahem 'greater good'.
Now the question was did he want to return and help fight a war for a country and community he no longer felt a part of and was in all honesty ashamed of for their prejudice ways and outdated thinking? No, not at all.
He sighed heavily, eyes downcast, knowing that even though he didn't want to go or be a part of this, he had no choice. One way or another he would be forced there to help, best to go with the lesser of the old coots trickery and maintain some freedom and illusion of it.
"Wonder if Bill will be there? And how do I tell my boss I got to leave to fight a war that isn't even being acknowledged as a war by the government and work for a man I have no respect and faith in? Who my boss also hates?" He mused aloud before anger began to set in. "Fucking Bastard!" His clenched fist hit the table in a determinedly furious clash, knuckles scraped bare of skin and cracking audibly in the otherwise silent room.
Emmeline Vance:
She glanced around the cafe with slit eyes, her evergreen shawl clasped tight at the neck, freshly manicured hands poised lightly on the tablecloth edge; the only sign of her nervousness.
Outwardly, she remained calm and showed no reaction when she noticed the elegant Lady Malfoy and eclectic Lady Zabini drinking tea and chatting softly in one of the grand window tables. Inwardly she was an array of emotions, jealously and envy being the most prominent with sadness and wistfulness closely following.
To think, had she played her cards right and been less vocal in her school days then she could be over there with them and on if the high society ladies.
Instead, she was a spinster and alone, living off of a small inheritance from her Great-Uncle and working for the Auror's as a Field-Healer. A profession that she neither desired nor found any comfort in. But was the best she could do given her circumstances.
She glanced around once more in a discreet manner, steadfastly ignoring the slight sneer on the maître-d's face. She flicked her honey eyes towards the door wishing her cousin would hurry up and arrive before she was removed from the establishment for being too low-class.
Mercifully, it appeared her cousin was in the mood to be semi on time and at that moment entered. The maître-d was quick to greet her with a magnanimous smile and guide her to the seat jovially. Once seated he retreated promising to return with drinks promptly, an action he had not granted to her.
She surveyed her cousin's lavish robes and forced a kind smile to her face as she greeted her politely and waited for her to chatter through what she deemed to be necessary and important gossip.
Finally, after they were halfway through their meal, it seemed her cousin was ready to inform her the reason for their impromptu meeting after almost five years of silence.
She quickly glanced at the time and realised that she may be able to finish her business here in time for the Order meeting that night. Not that she was really needed there. she also knew the only reason she was recruited was because there was no one else they could manage to recruit who has a basic knowledge of healing. she knew that despite the Headmaster's words, she had no choice in complying and working for him. had she refused she would no doubt find herself in poverty if not branded dark and thrown into Azkaban...
"Emmy, are you listening to me? I mean honestly Emmy spacing out on me, not really a good idea for a woman of your position, cousin. Not when I go to all this trouble to try and help you."
She glanced up sharply at those words, momentarily forgetting herself and allowing her emotions to display fully on her face.
"Forgive me, dear Polly, you were saying?" Inwardly she smirked, knowing the use of the nickname would no doubt infuriate her cousin but it's only fair, afterall she knows how much I loathe being called Emmy, only one person is allowed to call me such and it is surely not her!
"Well as I was saying I found a way to help you regain your position and remove the shame you brought on your father, my uncle's, name. This is what you will do..."
Sturgis Podmore:
He brushed some of his straw-coloured fine hair out of his face and grabbed the bottle of fire-whiskey from the cabinet.
"Blasted war" he gulped down a large mouthful of Ogden's finest, "thought I was done with this shit."
He swallowed some more, contemplating just staying drunk until it was all over. He looked around his bachelor pad and thought of all he had already given to this war and wondered what he had left to give.
"Least Dumbledore is wasting no time getting the Order together and working towards ending this. Great man. Pity we don't have him as Minister."
He finished off the bottle and headed towards the Floo, he had work to do for Dumbledore and he'd be damned if he didn't do it when he was specifically asked to do so. Afterall, if it would aid the Headmaster in locating the Boy-Who-Lived then it was more than worth it. Once Dumbledore had the boy he could do the ritual and put an end to this war.
He briefly wondered what his daughter would say if she were here and knew he was willing to help a man kill a teenager. But as quick as it came it went. It was those Deatheater scum that killed and defiled her when she was just a child. The trauma of it caused his wife to take her own life. They had to be stopped. If the only to do it meant using a forbidden ritual on Harry Potter then so be it.
Besides Dumbledore wouldn't be doing this unless he felt it was for the best. Afterall the man knew what he was talking about. He wasn't called the Leader of the Light for nothing.
With that he Flooed away.
Hestia Jones:
She frowned deeply and gazed at the picture of her dear departed Jonathon.
"What would you do love?"
Early that afternoon her old transfiguration professor had made a surprise visit and shared with her news she had never wanted to hear.
Her usually bubbly perky face was pale and withdrawn, tearstained with a smattering of smeared mascara.
She'd thought it was over when the boy-who-lived defeated you-know-who. She thought it was all over and her sweet sweet Jonathon could rest in peace knowing that the people he'd died fighting were stopped.
Now she found out that HE was back and that it was starting all up once again.
Professor McGonagall had come and offered her a position in the Headmaster's Order of the Phoenix, a group designed to stop HIM and his followers.
She remembered both from her time as a student at Hogwarts and knew of Dumbledore's actions from the first war and knew his reputation as a Light wizard and the defeater of Grindlewald.
She knew they spoke the truth and knew that the Ministry with Fudge in charge would be useless in handling the crisis.
Afterall, they had done nothing when it was her Jonathon in danger, no it had been the Prewitt brothers who'd risked their lives to save him only for him to die from a misdiagnosis of the dark curse he was hit with. At least she had been able to be there and tell him she loved him before he passed from this world.
She sniffled and ran her short slightly pudgy fingers over the photo of her smiling love.
She nodded her head and placed his picture back on the mantle.
"Of course love, you're quite right, I have to help Dumbledore."
Mundungus Fletcher:
He stared forlornly at the letter that had arrived only moments ago via Dumbledore's phoenix. It was what he had feared; The Order of the Phoenix was re-grouping.
He may not have been a member of the original order back in the day but there was no way the old coot would let him escape helping this time around.
He would be expected to make use of his shady contacts and squirrel out information.
That part he didn't mind.
No what he didn't like was the fact that he knew Dumbledore was a master legilmens and used the skill quite often and his supposed friends and allies. Mordred! He knew the man used the skill on the students!
That was the bit he hated.
He needed to get himself to Knockturn or ShadeThorn and find himself protection. He'd never bothered before around the Headmaster, his moderate shields were enough and he knew the old coot wouldn't be turning him over to the ministry or arranging his death because of his crooked usefulness. An arrangement he hadn't minded over the years. It certainly kept him in drinking money.
However, he hadn't seen the old coot in over a year now and since then he'd made a very interesting and peculiar acquaintance of sorts. One who he very much didn't want to get on the wrong side of. Bringing him to Dumbledore's attention would most certainly put him on the guy's shit list. And that was a place he never wanted to be. Salazar, he'd rather face You-Know-Who than even try and double-cross this guy. Course, he'd never seen the guy pissed off or even been anywhere near the wrong side of the guy but he could feel the vibe the guy put out without even trying, he was not someone to mess with and could easily kill someone. Of course, most people wouldn't be able to tell that, it was a special talent of his being able to read a person or rather read what he liked to call their kill level. This guy was definitely a capable killer but not the cold-hearted contract sort or the blood-thirsting kind. No, there was still a level of righteousness to the guy. Which made him all scarier since he had no clue what morals this guy upheld and what would set him off.
Betrayal though is something nobody forgives.
He needed to protect his mind before the Order meeting next week.
Grabbing his patched charcoal cloak and pulling up the hood he trudged over to the floo and headed to the Leaky.
Sooner he got this done, the safer he'd feel and be.
Rabastan Lestrange:
"Aah-hahaha-mwuh-hahaha"
Damn sister-in-law at it again... why the hell did my idiot brother have to marry her again? She was mad and certifiable even before Azkaban and now...
A harsh shudder ran through his skeletal body. Such thoughts did not bear thinking of.
Mercifully the Dementors are busy elsewhere today.
Not that their absence was much of a reprieve after a decade and a half but still it relieved the pressure in his skull and allowed him a brief respite...
"Wah-hahaha" More cackling came from the adjacent cell.
Though at least when the Dementors were near she was silent.
In all honestly he did not know which was worse the fear-inducing Dementors or his mad cackling sister-in-law.
"Psst... Rab... Rabi... you in there?" The deep rasp of his brother came from the darkness across the hall.
Light did not enter Azkaban even when you knew the sun was bright and it was the height of summer, light and warmth evaded the place.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, despite knowing nobody but himself would know he did it.
For a long time now his big brother would childishly in a loud - supposed to be quiet whisper - whisper to him when the Dementors were absent. He knew it was Rod's way of coping and checking on him, making sure he hadn't died yet or lost his mind completely.
Not that he really knew why they bothered hanging on and surviving anymore... some days he felt that death would be a blessing.
He shook his head shifting his body, trying to ease the creaks and aches out. He couldn't allow himself to think like that, knowing his brother wouldn't take his death well and knowing that if not for himself then for his brother's sake he had to continue surviving and keeping it together.
"Rab... Rabi... please... answer me... please... Sweet Morgana Rabi..." A hysterical edge had entered his brother's voice now...
"What Rod... I'm here... where else would I be?" He replied, annoyance clear in his voice... they'd been doing this for so long now...
"Ah-hahaha... soon... master shall come soon and we shall have our revenge... wah-hahaha... fools thought they could stop us... master... master... m-m-master... m..."
The Dark Lord was back. He knew for his mark had begun pulsing once more. But, he found the prospect of leaving Azkaban to serve him utterly daunting. Though the chance to have a bath and sleep on a real bed with real food and soft clothes appealing. But fighting a war, killing and maiming, that he did not want.
A heavy sigh escaped his chapped lips.
He had not wanted to be a part of the war to begin with but he could not let his brother join and fight alone. He could not leave him with his darling wife and the Dark Lord. He had to be there for him. Make sure he stayed alive.
Not for the first time he thought that, he should have gone with Regulus when he had the chance.
He had stayed and then been sentenced to Azkaban for his brother's sake and wellbeing.
Looking towards the darkening sky, he realised it wouldn't be long before the Dark Lord arrived to enslve... er... to free them... that's right free them to rejoin his forces as they are supposed to be dying to do...
He closed his eyes and tuned out his sister-in-laws cackling and tried to rest before he would be required to don his masks once again.
Tonks Household:
Andromeda scurried about the kitchen busy baking cakes for the luncheon she was having that afternoon with Augusta and Amelia. Ever since it was suggested she begin having weekly tea with various ladies in the interest of discovering what their enemies were up to and who could be potential allies she had found a new light and felt lighter and more fulfilled than she had in years.
That someone as prestigious and rigid as Dowager Longbottom had accepted her and deemed her an equal despite having no titles to her name was truly magnificent.
She hummed an old love song under her breath as she worked, happiness shining through her very being.
A noise sounded behind her, startling her.
Turning, wand outstretched, ready to strike, she blinked owlishly at the patronous before her, having never seen the animal before.
"Andromeda, prepare for an urgent meeting at 11am. Everyone will be present." Came her cousins voice.
"Strange, I thought Siri had a dog patronous." She muttered as the patronous evaporated before her.
She glanced at her half finished cakes and realised she may as well finish them and they could eat them at the meeting, since she would have to cancel with Augusta and Amelia, she only hoped this would not damper their high regard of her in any way.
Glancing at the window she noted an owl making its way towards her open window. Wiping her hands she went to meet it, recognising it as one of the Auror's owls. She frowned feeling dread in her stomach before she noticed that it was regular parchment and not the black parchment that signified death.
Quickly reading the letter she let out a relieved sigh as she realised that Amelia was cancelling due to an urgent matter at the DMLE.
She felt simultaneously relieved and worried. Relieved that she need only inform Augusta that Amelia could not come and that they would have to reschedule and worried as it was obvious whatever had the DMLE up in arms was the reason for their urgent meeting. But Tonks, Kingsley and Alastor will be here in an hour so it can't be that bad... can it?
She returned to her baking, no longer feeling like singing.
There you go, hope you liked it!