To the greatest person in my internet sphere, CatherineMorgenstern, you are spectacular. Mwah.


His screams weren't as powerful as they'd been in the past. The pain which had saturated them was absent and a pitiful whimper was all that remained. Stewart frowned. The expression caused annoyance to sharpen the line of his jaw giving him a mean look. He leaned nearer to the wizard who lay on the floor in the cell's corner. Sweat beaded the wizard's forehead and his skin had lost its rich lustre. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been broken.

It should have made Stewart pleased, but all he felt was cheated. Visiting the former Minister had been the perfect way to vent his frustration. Now that would be impossible. One more session and Kingsley would likely die or at the very least fall into a coma. The trial had yet to take place, and he wanted to see the wizard humiliated by his peers before he died, which meant he wouldn't be able to visit him for quite some time.

"I thought you would have lasted longer," Stewart murmured as he glanced down at his fingernails. "I have to say, I'm a tad disappointed. But such is life, wouldn't you agree?" He reached into his robes for the poppet. "Still, at least I have this to entertain myself with." A smile graced his lips when he noticed Kingsley recognise what he held. "Harry is immeasurably easier to deal with in this form."

He slowly lifted the poppet until it was held between them. The white wax looked dirty grey in the dim light filtering in from the tiny window above Kingsley's bed. Stewart smiled before pointing his wand at the lump that represented Harry's arm.

"Stop!" Kingsley gasped.

He made a pitiful effort to get to his feet, but collapsed as soon as his weight shifted onto his legs.

Stewart waited until the older wizard's eyes rose to meet his. "Sectumsempra," he said in a clear voice.

He felt the curse leave the tip of his wand and travel through the poppet to target Potter. A smile curled up the edges of his lips as he imagined Potter screaming in pain when the skin on his forearm suddenly split in two. Bella would no doubt be squealing with delight as the boy's blood spilled onto the ground.

Kingsley's hands clenched into fists. "Only a coward would use such despicable magic."

"I disagree." Stewart twirled the poppet in the air as if it were a toy. "Only a coward would shy away from using whatever works, no matter how despicable it's deemed to be." He shoved the poppet into the pocket of his robes and resheathed his wand. "Perhaps we can discuss the matter further next time I visit. As it is, I have somewhere I need to be."

He watched as a droplet of sweat rolled down Kingsley's cheek, hung for a moment on the edge of his jaw, before dropping onto the ground to join the various stains and encrusted dirt already there.

"Stewart pushed away from the wall he leaned against. "I trust you can keep yourself occupied?"

Without awaiting a response, he left the cell. The door closed with a soft thump which he found oddly satisfying. A kind of audible full stop to the whole situation. Stewart walked through the cavernous hallways of Azkaban with a slow and measured pace. He wasn't bothered by the screams or the smell or the atmosphere. Plans occupied his mind to the point where everything around him fell away. He'd be meeting with Hermione and the Snatcher tomorrow night. After they delivered the cauldron, he could begin preparations for the potion he intended to test on Potter. If it worked as expected, he'd be one step closer to success. He still remembered the excitement he'd felt when he'd stumbled upon the book which mentioned the cauldron and how it could alter the characteristics of the ingredients, enhancing certain qualities and weakening others.

He wanted to make a potion that induced vomiting and could be easily dispersed through the air. It wouldn't be deadly, at least not to the vast majority, but it would be something that had never been seen before and didn't have a known cure. When the fear spiked, he would produce the antidote and become known as the saviour of the Wizarding World. Everyone would be more than pleased to elevate him to a more senior position in the ministry. Of course, the ultimate goal of becoming the Minister for Magic would be years away, but the foundation would be set for him to mold the world into the shape he wished it to be when his time came.

Cold air slapped his face as he stepped out of the prison. The wind tugged at his hair and cloak, seeking to pull him into the churning waves which surrounded Azkaban. He Apparated on his fifth step and seamlessly appeared at the Ministry's Apparition point seconds later. His work for the day was over, but he still needed to fill out some paperwork and retrieve his schedule for the coming week. After that he would visit Potter, or more specifically, make sure Bella hadn't gone too far while playing with the boy.

It took longer than he anticipated to leave the Ministry. Several of his fellow Aurors wished to discuss nonsense matters with him, and although annoyed, Stewart spoke with each of them at length, giving them his full attention. Darkness cloaked the sky when he finally left. He didn't mind, the night suited his mood. It took several journeys via Portkey and Apparition to reach his hidden cottage in the woods. Although not necessary, he didn't want anyone tracing his location should they get curious about where he was going.

A thin line of yellow light showed through the gap at the bottom of the door and he could see lighter square sections where the ivy covered the windows. He didn't hesitate as he entered. The air smelled of damp and candle smoke. Bella stood beside Potter who was writhing on the floor, suffering the aftermath of whatever curse had been used on him. Vomit formed a pool around his head and his eyes were rolled back until only the whites showed. His arm still trickled blood from the curse he'd used on the poppet.

"I trust you haven't damaged him too much?"

Bella shrugged in reply.

Stewart frowned at her slumped posture and lack of verbal response.

"Bellatrix?"

The witch spun to face him, wand raised. A curse he'd never heard before fell from her lips, her wand dipped and swayed in a move he didn't recognise. It happened so fast that he didn't have time to deflect or counter-attack. He braced himself, ready for whatever she'd thrown at him to hit.

Only it didn't.

Nothing happened.

The curse had failed.

Stewart smiled. His gaze swept over Bella and Potter. The Boy Who Lived now stared at him with absolute hatred. He'd recovered remarkably well from how he'd appeared seconds ago. The witch looked at him with a bold intelligence Bella hadn't possessed in years.

"Not Bellatrix," he stated. "I must say, Hermione, you've surprised me." He allowed a small smile to curve his lips. "Although, I am disappointed in your spellwork."


His words caused Hermione's stomach to drop. Had the spell not worked? She should have tested it first. But on whom or what? And what the hell would they do if it had failed? They wouldn't have time to disarm him before he attacked. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, wrapping herself in false confidence.

"You think it didn't work?"

Her words caused Stewart to pause. She watched his eyes narrow as he scanned his body for any signs of a curse or spell.

"He doubtin' you, Pet?"

Her attention switched to Scabior who'd entered the cottage unnoticed and now stood leaning against the doorframe. On the surface he looked relaxed, but Hermione could see that he was just as tense as she was.

Hermione forced a smile onto her face. "It looks like it."

"Fool," Scabior scoffed.

A look of unease settled on Stewart's face at how relaxed both he and Hermione appeared to be, even Harry smirked at him from the floor like he'd just learned the secrets of the universe. Stewart flexed his wrist, no doubt ready to hit Hermione with a Crucio or something as equally dangerous. But then he seemed to change his mind and reached into his robes for the poppet, intent on regaining control of the situation by threatening Potter.

Hermione watched with growing dread as he withdrew the wax figure. His fingers gripped it so tightly, she feared it would snap.

"I suggest you undo whatever it is you've done, Hermione." He lifted the poppet and tapped the tip of his wand against its face. "Do so now or I will melt the skin off Potter's head."

"You mean you'll try," Hermione stated, terror making her voice shake.

Stewart grinned at her obvious distress.

"Not as confident in your spellwork as you'd like me to believe, hmmm?"

She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer him.

Stewart grinned and prepared to cast a stinging hex on the poppet.

Hermione held her breath.

Nothing happened.

She saw the first hint of panic flash in his eyes. His cheek twitched as he tried to access his magic again. Nothing. Hermione knew he could probably sense it, but it should feel like it had been contained inside his body. Almost as if shackles were wrapped around it, holding it immobile. His gaze settled on Hermione as the Polyjuice began to wear off. Bella's rich black hair had lightened considerably and the skin had loosened in preparation for sliding over Hermione's features.

"What have you done?" he demanded.

"Tut. Were you always this borin'?" Scabior drawled. "We've won. As for the details? Well, yer can ask Bellabitch when you're dumped in the cell next to her's, can't yer?" The Snatcher strolled forward, placed his hand on Stewart's shoulder and pressed down.

"Get your hands off me!" Stewart resisted the pressure. "Hermione, tell me what you've done," he snarled.

She ignored him in favour of bending down to help Harry.

"Hermione!"

A kick to the bend of his knee had Stewart crashing to the ground. He twisted before he hit and managed to get his hands around the Snatcher's neck, pulling them both down in a tangle of limbs. Scabior grinned, jammed his thumb into the younger wizard's eye socket and pressed until Stewart thought his eye would pop out. Unable to stand the pain, he stopped grabbing at the Snatcher's throat in favour of trying to tear the hand away from his face. It gave Scabior the opening he needed to attach a pair of magical cuffs to Stewart's wrists.

They weren't needed.

The spell Hermione had used on him had nullified his magic and all they did was restrain him physically as well as add insult to injury.

Hermione felt him look at her, but she was too busy helping Harry to his feet. The polyjuice had worn off and she stood in too big clothes, feeling utterly exhausted. She'd tended his wounds and the vomit, blood and piss had been cleaned from his body. Dark hair fell across his forehead in a sweaty clump, hiding his infamous scar from sight. Hermione sighed at the hatred displayed in Harry's stare as he glared at Stewart. She turned in time to see him smile at Harry, no doubt attempting to tip him into a rage that would turn the situation into his favour. Hermione grabbed her friend's arm as he took a step towards Stewart, his fists clenched into fists.

"You're dead! I'll-"

"Do nothing, Harry," Hermione interjected, moving to stand in front of him. "Auror Stewart will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban along with Bella. Neither of them will see the light of day again and that's if they're lucky." She looked over her shoulder at the Snatcher. "Take him outside."

"With pleasure, Love."

Stewart grimaced as Scabior pinched his shoulder, using the painful grip to yank him out of the cottage. As soon as the door shut behind them, the Snatcher threw him to the ground and grinned. He rubbed his hands together, pulled his foot back, paused for a moment so that Stewart could focus on the toe of his boot before he kicked forward.

"Oops."

Stewart both heard and felt a loud crack. Pain exploded from the centre of his face. Tears fell from his eyes as blood flowed from his nose in a warm stream. The sensation of heat spread along his cheekbones. He grunted, eyes closed against the throb which intensified as the seconds passed.

"Never pegged you as a clumsy one, Stewart," the Snatcher said. "You've gone and ruined yer pretty nose."

Stewart opened his eyes and glared at Scabior. "You-"

"It'll be yer teeth next, followed by your eyes and then yer tongue." The Snatcher reached down to press his palm onto the front of Stewart's throat. "Yer ever go after Hermione again and I'll kill yer."

Black spots pulsed across Stewart's vision as the pressure from Scabior's hand increased. He tried to lift his own to knock the Snatcher's away, but a knee had pinned them in place without him being aware of it. His lungs burned and the pain from his broken nose increased as the lack of air caused his head to throb. He fought for a few more seconds before darkness claimed him.


Stewart woke up in Azkaban. The scents and sounds flowed around him in a macabre embrace, almost as if the prison were welcoming him into its arms. He'd been left on the ground in an untidy heap, his face pressed to the hard stone and his arms twisted beneath his torso. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Above him the ceiling was a dirty grey that seemed to darken around the edges as he stared.

It was over.

He'd lost.

Which meant he would have to listen to Bella's insane cackle drift into his cell for the rest of his life. Death would be preferable to that fate. Although, he'd once heard a muggle proverb which said; where there is life, there is hope. And Stewart still hoped for a great deal. He hoped to rule the Wizarding World. He hoped to destroy Potter. He hoped to bind Hermione to his side and make her into his puppet wife. His latest hope was to kill the Snatcher in the most painful way possible. Perhaps he could use his time in Azkaban to come up with a plan. He'd have years after all.


Only one chapter to go! Thoughts on this one?