James walked down the stairs from his bedroom to check what the House-elves were cooking for dinner. With his parents out, he probably could have gotten one of them to bring his dinner up to him, but he would have felt like a right prat for doing so. Besides, the dining room in Potter manor was right by the kitchens, and James always had seconds.
He skirted around the chandelier his dad had left levitating in mid-air at the bottom of the staircase, meandered through a hall, and heard voices from the dining room up ahead. The lights were on, and the unmistakable smell of pork wafted through the air, alongside the sound of a fork and knife working furiously. He stepped into the room and looked curiously at Sirius, who was tucking into an enormous cut of sliced pork with gusto.
"I thought you were going to McKinnon's tonight," James said, sitting at the table and gesturing to a House-elf.
Sirius swallowed a mouthful. "No." Went back to eating.
James shrugged, looked around aimlessly while he waited for the House-elf to bring him a plate.
Someone coughed from under the table.
James stared. Sirius froze, his fork inches from his mouth, a piece of pork hanging from it.
The House-elf then came back with a plateful of dinner, and James stood, took the plate, and walked from the room.
"Have fun, you two." He closed the door behind him and snorted. "Damn kids."
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Four fake Death Eaters and five fake prisoners apparated into the clearing in the middle of the Welsh woodland. Caradoc Dearborn took the lead and the others followed, standing back as he crouched and placed his hands on the ground. With a rumbling and a criss-crossing of cracks running through a portion of the ground, that portion slid under the rest of the ground, revealing a metal staircase going down into the brightly lit corridor hiding beneath their very feet.
Wasting no time, Caradoc descended the stairs, placing his footfalls lightly, making no noise. The others followed suit, and when they were all in the corridor, he tapped the grey wall with his wand and with a rumble the ground above them, or rather the ceiling, slid back into place.
They were in. Now the key would be to go undetected for as long as possible.
"What are you doing here?"
Caradoc whirled around. Walking towards them were two masked Death Eaters, hands moving towards the wands fixed onto their belts. Caradoc stepped forward and raised his hands. "Relax," he said easily. "These are my prisoners."
The Death Eater who had spoken looked behind Caradoc. "All eight of them?"
"No, ah, five of them. The other three are on our side." Danylo, Artem, and Maksym nodded and stepped away from the would-be prisoners.
The Death Eater gasped. "Is that Sawyer Hughes? And Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?"
"And that's Anton Windstrum," said the other one, equally stunned. "These are some of our biggest enemies."
"I don't know who the fifth one is, though," the Death Eater admitted.
"Who? Me?" asked Dedalus Diggle.
"That's Dedalus Diggle," said Artem quickly in his thick Ukrainian accent. "He's a notorious Auror."
Caradoc nodded, looked back at the Death Eaters. "I'm sure you've heard of him. You just don't remember."
"Maybe," said the Death Eater, rubbing his neck.
"Where are you taking them?" asked the other Death Eater. "To Rodolphus?"
"Rodolphus? Rodolphus Lestrange?" Caradoc laughed. "He's so busy, there's no need to bother him with this."
"That's the future Minister of Magic, though. And the last two Potters, as well as a Hogwarts professor! These are Dumbledore's closest allies!"
"And Dedalus Diggle," said the first Death Eater.
"Yeah, and Dedalus Diggle."
"No, no," said Caradoc dismissively. "We'll just put them in a cell and be done with it. Tell you what, I can notify Rodolphus about it later, how about that?"
The Death Eaters hesitated.
"I suppose," said the first one.
"Wait," said the other suddenly, "why are they not restrained?"
Caradoc paused, looked back at his companions standing about, looking tense but notably free.
"Stupefy," yelled Anton, and the first Death Eater flew back, head hitting the wall hard.
Caradoc shrugged and slugged the other one on the mask so hard it came clean off, clanging onto the ground, and he followed with a swift left hook to the cheek. The Death Eater pirouetted before hitting the ground.
Turning, Caradoc looked at the others. "Let's get moving then, shall we?"
They advanced down the corridor quickly, Caradoc in the lead once more. Artem was a step behind him. Caradoc was pleased with the three Ukranians' performance so far. He judged one's aptitude for fighting evil based on their ability to lie under pressure. Caradoc's own aptitude was, if he said so himself, off the charts.
Ahead, the corridor broke off to the right, and the group paused before the turn. Fleamont Potter stepped forward, waved his wand and closed his eyes. After a second, he nodded, and they took the turn to the next corridor. Empty.
They proceeded in much the same fashion for some time, and Caradoc noticed a significant lack of Death Eaters, aside from the two they'd immediately run into. He considered it a blessing and a curse - it meant the further they went, the more likely a run-in would become, and the more outnumbered they were likely to be. It did not bode well.
"I presume," said Euphemia as they traversed yet another corridor, "that you know where we are going?"
"Of course," said Caradoc. This corridor was dimly lit. In fact, the further they went, the less presentable their surroundings became. It had never surprised Caradoc that the Death Eaters, as rich and spoiled as they all were, thrived in squalor. The Slytherin Common Room was in the dungeon, after all. "Blithe will be in one of three places, depending on who it is that he's here to report to. There's a room where the Death Eaters gather in mass, but if that were the case then I, too, would have been summoned. There's a room for more direct meetings with the higher ups, but even then I doubt it. Almost none of the Death Eaters know what Blithe looks like. I doubt even the higher ups. No, I suspect he'll be in the third place."
"And what's the third place?" asked Sawyer. "The kitchens?"
"No. It's the place where, on rare occasion, one might find Lord Voldemort."
The others walked quietly for a few seconds, before Anton spoke up. "So what is it? A throne room?"
"Not quite," said Caradoc. "The room holds a small table, and Voldemort sits at that table while all the others stand in front of him and relay information. I'd imagine it's the only room in this place that Blithe frequents. But we'll comb through the others first."
After another silence, Dedalus asked, "Do you think he'll be here?"
There was no need to ask who the 'he' in question was.
"No," said Caradoc. "I don't. It has to be someone else. Fawley's intel said Blithe makes these reports weekly, and Voldemort is rarely here at all. We would have to be very, very unlucky." He saw the look on Dedalus' face, and continued, "And if he is here, then we'll make a tactical retreat. Very quickly, I might add."
Dedalus nodded, looking at least a little appeased.
"If Blithe's weekly reports aren't necessarily made to Voldmort," said Fleamont, "then who are they made to?"
Caradoc had been wondering the same thing. "We need to hurry," was all he said.
Danylo grunted. "Someone has probably found the bodies of those two Death Eaters by now."
They all picked up the pace.
Before too much longer, the corridor split three ways. Left would lead to the room for Death Eater gatherings, where Caradoc had visited the first time he came here. Right would lead to the room for smaller meetings. If they continued going straight, they would eventually reach the room where Voldemort made his fleeting appearances.
"I think we should split up," said Fleamont. "We don't have time to do each corridor together."
"I agree," said Sawyer.
Caradoc nodded. "I'll go left. There will be more of them there, and I have the best chance of lying my way out. Anton, Sawyer, I'll bring you two along as prisoners."
"And the rest of us will go right, then?" asked Maksym.
"That's right," said Caradoc. "There will be less Death Eaters, so the six of you should be able to fight your way through. Meet back here when you're done."
"Can I come with you, Caradoc?" asked Dedalus. "I'm not much of a duelist, is all. I'd much rather go with the lying team than the fighting team."
Fleamont frowned. "You're an Auror."
"I am," Dedalus admitted.
"Dedalus," said Fleamont, "I was the Head of the Department a few months ago. How on earth did you get in?"
"My examiner was unwell, he had to leave early, so he passed everyone."
"What? What was his name?"
"Is now the time?" asked Caradoc. "Dedalus, you're with us, then. Now let's go!"
They each nodded and split off, the Ukrainians and Potters going one way and Caradoc the other, with Anton, Sawyer, and Dedalus a step behind, his 'prisoners'.
"You know," muttered Sawyer, "I'll be the Minister of Magic in two days, Dedalus. You really shouldn't be talking about how bad you are at your job in front of me."
"But we're friends," said Dedalus blankly.
"That's not the point."
"You're not going to fire me, though, right?"
"Well, no, but-"
"So it's fine?"
"It's not fine," Sawyer insisted. "I can't always turn a blind eye just because I like you."
"That's sweet of you to say."
"No, that's not the point-"
"Shut it," said Caradoc suddenly. They'd arrived by a door at the end of the corridor with light leaking out from under. "I'm going to bind your hands. The three of you will stay behind me, I'll check the room for Blithe, and then we'll head back. All clear?"
"Crystal," said Anton.
Caradoc nodded, flicked his wand, and the three of them had ropes binding their wrists. He turned and opened the door.
It was large, bright. More than a dozen Death Eaters stood idly around the room with two other Death Eaters before them, masks off. The lot of them turned when the door opened. One of the unmasked Death Eaters had a fresh bruise on his cheek.
Caradoc's eyes widened.
The Death Eater gasped and pointed. "That's them!"
Caradoc shut the door hurriedly, and before he could even turn around it was blasted off its hinges, smashing into him and throwing him off his feet. Death Eaters charged out of the room, yelling and brandishing their wands like battle axes. He got back up, dodged a killing curse, stunned a Death Eater.
"Caradoc," yelled Anton.
"What?"
Anton headbutted a Death Eater hard, and held up his bound wrists. "A little help!"
"Oh, bollocks."
He flicked his wand, then refocused his attention on the Death Eaters. Sawyer leaped into action, consecutive jets of light shooting out of his wand so quickly it was like one continuous stream. Dedalus had leaped onto a Death Eaters back, punching the top of his target's head. Caradoc waved his wand, sent one Death Eater flying into another, and the next Death Eater came out of nowhere and barged a shoulder into him. Caradoc stumbled back, looked up in time to catch a gloved fist to the face, stumbled back again. He spun, dodged green light, flicked his wand and the Death Eater cast a shield charm before firing off another killing curse. Caradoc let it pass by his head and ran forward, rolled as the Death Eater shot yet another jet of green light, sprang up before his opponent and tackled him-
The Death Eater apparated on the spot, just before contact, and Caradoc crashed onto the floor. He rolled over, green light sizzling into the floor, got to his feet and threw up a hand. "Wait!"
The Death Eater paused.
"I-" Caradoc bent over and sucked in some air. "Just give me a moment."
"Sure," came the muffled voice of his opponent, sounding obnoxiously unfrazzled. "Take as long as you need."
"Thank you," said Caradoc, straightening up and flicking his wand.
The Death Eater flew back, hit the wall, and fell.
Caradoc looked around, saw Anton whirling between three of his own Death Eaters. Caradoc ran forward and disarmed the first one, following it with an elbow to the head. The Death Eater dropped. The other two were on either side of Anton, and Caradoc moved beside his friend and they stood, back to back, taking one each. Caradoc dispatched his quickly, but two more took that place, and he grimaced.
"Want to swap?" asked Anton from behind him.
"How many do you have now?"
"Five."
"Then no."
A pause. "Four?"
"Still no."
Caradoc stunned one of his opponents, cast a full body-bind on the second, and when the last one looked around at his friends Caradoc stunned him too. He turned, just in time to see Anton dispatch his last opponent. The corridor was clear of any masked figures still standing. Anton looked at him, gave him a wry smirk. "Your form is still off."
Caradoc snorted. "My form's always been better than yours, mate, and you know it."
"You seem to have forgotten Fourth Year."
Caradoc glared. "I asked you for help once. Once."
"Still asked."
"It was only an essay!"
"And if you'd done that essay yourself, your form might not be so sloppy."
"Oh, bugger off, Windstrum," he huffed, turning around.
Anton laughed behind him.
Sawyer was bending over Dedalus, who was lying on the ground, completely still. Caradoc rushed over, his blood freezing, but Sawyer looked up at him and rolled his eyes. "Just unconscious. He got knocked out, almost immediately."
Caradoc paused, and then sighed. "Oh, Diggle."
"I'm not carrying him."
"We'll just levitate him," said Anton, looking at Dedalus with a wrinkled nose.
"No," said Caradoc. "Unconscious, he'll be safer here. We don't know what lies ahead."
"We can't leave him with all these Death Eaters, 'Doc."
"We don't have a choice. Look," he cast a disillusionment charm, and Dedalus' body slowly became translucent, or close to. Squinting, his form was visible, but only upon close inspection. "We have to leave him here, now let's go."
"I agree with him," said Sawyer. "In the fight ahead, he'll slow us down, and could get caught in the crossfire. We don't have time for anything more secure right now, so let's go. He'll be fine."
Reluctantly, Anton nodded, and the three of them went back the way they came.
"Those two," said Caradoc as they walked, referring to the Death Eaters they had first encountered, "managing to get here before us is unfortunate. They must know their way better than me, and now the cat's out of the proverbial bag because of it. I'd imagine my time as a spy has come to an end."
Sawyer nodded. "On the bright side, you will no longer need to be on the run. Now that we can reveal you've been a spy this whole time, the Auror Department will stop hunting you down."
"I've gone from being hunted by every party in the game to being in the clear," said Caradoc, smiling slowly. "It will be good to finally get some rest."
"You've earned it," Anton told him. "You've really done a fantastic job, mate."
"Ah, no getting sentimental on me, Anton. It's unbecoming of you."
Anton grinned.
The three of them reached the intersecting corridors again, where the other five were waiting for them, looking slightly worse for wear, but decidedly better than them.
"I take it they didn't buy the lie?" asked Euphemia, an eyebrow raised at their ragged appearance.
"You are correct," said Caradoc. "How did it go on your end?"
"Bit of a fight," said Fleamont, "but we showed them what for in the end, didn't we boys?" The Ukranians started agreeing cheerily, and Euphemia looked at Fleamont, hand on hip. "And, er, wife. We all showed them what for."
"It's no wonder they say the Ministry is a boy's club," she said, shaking her head. "What would you have done if James was a girl, Fleamont?"
"I'd have asked for a refund," he said, nudging Artem, who sniggered. He looked at his wife again and straightened. "I'm joking, of course. I would have celebrated. I would have preferred a girl to a boy, in fact. What with the dresses and the drama-"
"Drama?"
"Pregnancy, menstruation," Fleamont continued.
"On Fleamont's behalf," said Caradoc loudly, "I'm going to put us all back on topic. I'm assuming you didn't find Blithe?"
"No," said Maksym. "We took off all their masks. They were all known Death Eaters."
"Were we supposed to do that?" Sawyer muttered.
"No, there was no need," said Caradoc. "Blithe doesn't strike me as the robe and mask wearing type. Besides, he was never going to be in that room. So few people have seen him - I doubt he gives reports to roomfulls of Death Eaters."
"What now, then?" asked Anton. "Onwards?"
Caradoc nodded. "Onwards."
They took the third and final corridor, walked along it until they came to a dim room. Caradoc approached a door on the far side, looked back at them all. "Prisoners at the ready."
The three Ukranians grabbed Sawyer, Fleamont, and Eugenia. Caradoc took Anton's arm. Looked back at the door. Slowly, he opened it, stepped through, and-
It was empty.
Dimly lit, a small table, a small chair. All empty. No Voldemort, no Blithe.
Caradoc breathed out, a long breath. He looked back at the others and left the small room, shaking his head. "We must have missed it."
"What about that door?" asked Anton, pointing to a closed door opposite the empty room. "Where does that lead?"
Caradoc looked over. "I haven't been there."
"Could Blithe be giving his report there?"
"It's the only other place," said Caradoc slowly.
Caradoc approached the door, the others a step behind, put a hand to the handle.
"Caradoc," said Anton. Caradoc glanced behind, and Anton looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. "Let's do it."
Caradoc opened the door and stepped through, into a large, brightly lit room. On the far side were some steps, and atop those steps, a chair.
Sitting in the chair was Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Hello, Dearborn. Brought some friends?"
The others entered the room behind Caradoc, and paused, tilting their hands at the single enemy. No other doors, no other foes in the room.
"Yes," said Caradoc. "Some prisoners."
"Ah," said Rodolphus. "The Potters, some foreigners, a teacher, and the future Minister of Magic. All unbound, too. You must be quite intimidating."
"These ones," said Caradoc, indicating the Ukranians, "are with me."
Artem, Maksym, and Danylo stepped forward on cue, each bringing their prisoner along by the arm. Caradoc pulled Anton forward by the arm, too.
"I see," said Rodolphus. "And why bring them here, precisely? To this room? We have many, many cells spread throughout this place."
"They needed to go to the toilet."
Rodolphus smiled. "Is that right?"
"That's right."
Rodolphus seemed to consider this for a few seconds, before laughing shortly. "You really had me fooled, you know. All this time. You had me properly fooled. I entered your mind the day you first came here, do you remember? I was so sure you were one of us."
Caradoc's shoulders dropped, and he let go of Anton.
"When I learned you were a spy, a double agent, no, a triple agent, working for Dumbledore, I was, to be quite honest, flabbergasted."
Caradoc frowned. "You're well informed."
"Only as of recently, don't you worry. Now, why did you come here, Dearborn? To catch Blithe?" Rodolphus laughed.
"That's right," said Caradoc. "And you're going to tell me who he is, and where I can find him."
Rodolphus looked at him pityingly. "I'm going to have to spell this out for you, aren't I? Think, Dearborn. Blithe is giving a report today? Really? Blithe gives reports once a week? Really?" Rodolphus laughed again. "You think the man whose identity remains a secret to almost every Death Eater gives us 'weekly reports'? Come now, Dearborn. You're a smart man. You must see it was a trap."
"A trap for Fawley," Caradoc realized. "Blithe let him find out about the weekly reports. So it was never true?"
"Of course not."
"So you would have killed Fawley today… But then he went after Blithe yesterday, and died then instead."
"Now the question is," said Rodolphus, sitting forward, eyes gleaming, "did we cancel the trap, or are you in it right at this moment?"
Caradoc looked around at the others, who all stared at Rodolphus bemusedly, and Caradoc gave Rodolphus a pointed look. "You don't seem to have realized your situation, Lestrange."
"No," said Rodolphus loudly, standing. "No, no, no. You haven't realized your situation."
Caradoc's wand rose the moment Rodolphus moved, trained on the man. "You're under arrest."
"Who is Blithe?" Rodolphus asked, descending the stairs. "Surely you've figured it out by now."
Caradoc moved forward, levelling his wand at Rodolphus' face. "Not one more step."
Rodolphus ignored him still, started walking past him, and Caradoc pressed his wand into the man's throat. Rodolphus sneered. "Stun me. Disarm me. Bind me. It matters not. You won't kill me, and so I frankly don't care what you do."
"No?" Caradoc breathed. "Not even if I put you in a cell for the rest of your life? The Dementors don't make great conversation, Lestrange."
"Threaten me one more time," Rodolphus whispered, looking strangely excited. "I just want to hear it again."
"Rodolphus Lestrange," said Caradoc, "you are under arrest."
Rodolphus closed his eyes. "Famous last words, indeed."
Sawyer yelled something and Caradoc was knocked back and the jet of green light missed him by an inch, shooting from Rodolphus' wand, hidden up a sleeve, and hitting the wall. Sawyer ran forward then, wand trained on Rodolphus, teeth bared, and Caradoc hit the ground, found Anton by his side, was helped to his feet. Caradoc looked up in time to see Sawyer start to wave his wand while running, saw green light hit him from behind and he dropped.
"No," Caradoc roared.
Rodolphus cackled. "In front of you the whole time, Dearborn!"
Artem lowered his wand. Beside him, Euphemia turned to the Ukranian, eyes wide in fury at the betrayal. A knife appeared, and from behind her Danylo reached round and slit her throat.
"Right in front of your eyes," yelled Rodolphus.
Fleamont whirled, flicked his wand and Maksym, knife of his own in hand, was flung backwards, head cracking against the wall. Another flick of the wand and Artem too went careening away, hit a wall. He turned to Danylo in time to have that knife, already slick with his wife's blood, buried deep into his belly.
"You see it now, don't you, Dearborn?" Rodolphus gloated. "Blithe was right there all along!"
Caradoc turned slowly. "No," he breathed.
Anton Windstrum looked at him with sorrowful resolve. "I am sorry, my friend."
Caradoc looked into the eyes of his best friend, saw the green light flash in them before it hit him, and then death clamped its jaws shut around him, after chasing him down for so, so long.