Sorry for the delay, teacher training happened.
EarnestHedwingway: I feel like a few of these have already been answered! The cat's name is Aslan, possibly named after several things (OOU, it's the Narnia one obviously). Thanks for the review!
happylady: Thanks!
November 7th, 1981
For the third time in two weeks, the Auror Department's coffee machine had broken. Despite being regarded by the press as a hero, James Potter had not been spared from the duty of fixing it. The other Aurors who might have been able to do the job had mysteriously vanished to parts unknown before Crouch and Moody noticed the failure. While it would not do to speculate, James suspected a swift trip to the Leaky Cauldron would locate most of them – but doing so would have been more effort than it was worth. Still, Sirius would be getting an earful when he next spotted him. Goddamn traitor!
Strangely for this time of day – or maybe not, he hadn't been in for two weeks so who knows what might have changed – the Department was mostly empty of people. Crouch and Moody were off in their offices and only a few others were lurking around in the maze of brown cubicles. The occasional memo swooped overhead, as did the even more occasional owl.
Without much gentleness he poked his wand up into the innards of the machine; a necessary arrangement since the only way he could access the innards was by awkwardly squatting on the floor. The machine was a bit too close to Muggle technology for him to be truly confident; ironically Sirius had always been the best at tampering with tools and gizmos taken from the 'other side' of Britain, despite coming from the Blacks. Despite having more muggle blood than either of them through his mother, Remus was probably the worst when it came to dealing with technology. His had always been the domain of the 'human-tees' – apparently an odd muggle word for history and geography.
He leaned further into the machine. The maintenance department had said the problem was probably one of the pipes being out of sorts, but he just could not see it. Having to squat was becoming increasingly painful, a situation that was probably not helped by his lack of activity over the last week – the most strenuous thing he'd done since You-Know-Who's attack was resist the urge to murder the bastards at the Prophet. James could only hope yesterday's interview would be the only one.
According to the rusty plaque affixed to the wall beside the machine, it had been presented to the Auror Office in 1968 by the then Minister of Magic Eugenia Jenkins, as part of 'A General Modernisation of this Ministry and its Buildings'. James remembered the woman with some fondness. His mother had been a close friend and one of her few loyal supporters during the latter years of her career as You-Know-Who began his assault on Wizarding Britain. Naturally, she and his father had brought him along to several of the Dinners and Balls hosted by parts of the government or other influential parties such as the Malfoys. He (and he suspected, his father) had found them to be boring and stuffy occasions, except for the parts in which someone was discovered having an affair, or when Gareth Greengrass ran into a wall for the fifteenth time, or that time when one of the Black Sisters tripped over and headbutted Travers in the groin…
Thinking about it, they weren't actually that bad. At least the food was good.
Though there was a thought… With Regulus and their father passed on, who was the heir to what remained of the Black Fortunes? Sirius had been thrown out of the family – not that he minded being free of the narbos, mind you – as had Andromeda, while Bellatrix was certain to spend the rest of her days in Azkaban once the Ministry found her. Maybe the Malfoys were in line to get the house and everything else? It really depended on whether Sirius' mother was still sane enough to worry about things like wills and inheritance, since the last James had heard of her painted an unflattering picture of her sanity.
If he squinted, James could just about see something that looked like a pipe. He prodded his wand as close as he could reach – he could have sworn the machine shouldn't have been this big on the inside – and stated as firmly as he could "Reparo!".
There was a loud scraping sound and James quickly withdrew his head from the innards of the machine.
When the coffee maker failed to explode, he gave it an experimental kick; hoping that the machine wasn't going to start following the example of the nastier objects from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Screaming for Perkins and Weasley to help him would severely damage his 'street cred', as Sirius put it. Thankfully, the machine did not start trying to eat him and so he felt confident enough to reattach the cover he had removed. In all likelihood it would break again sooner or later, but that would be someone else's problem – he'd make sure to be off visiting Hogsmeade on that day.
Retrieving his mug – a hideous pink one Lily had received from Petunia two Christmases ago, hated beyond measure and then passed on to him – he placed it under the spout, checked there was enough water and prodded at the button that usually made it start. A small amount of green smoke billowed up from behind the machine, but it obediently began pouring something that resembled coffee into the mug. James leaned against the machine while he waited, scratching briefly at the scar on his leg that refused to heal.
A cough was the only warning of his boss's approach. As always, Bartemius Crouch looked the height of dignity with his neatly pressed grey robes and shortly trimmed beard. This made the shadows under his eyes stand out even further and the set of his jaw would have frozen Africa.
"Potter" he greeted, "I have a visitor who has asked to discuss certain matters with you."
James frowned. He couldn't imagine many visitors who would require the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement to retrieve members of his staff personally rather than sending a secretary. Even Bagnold herself wouldn't have changed that.
"Do I know them, sir?" he questioned, retrieving the now filled mug.
"You should" Crouch grunted, "Lucius Malfoy. As of yet a free man, despite the efforts of this department." He swept around and began the walk back to his office, not bothering to gesture to James that he was expected to follow.
James stared, even as his feet fell in behind his superior. "Why would Malfoy want to talk to me?" His mind flashed to the prospect of the man trying to assassinate him, though that was swiftly rejected. Abraxas' son had never struck him as a man inclined to risking his own neck when someone else's would serve.
"Can you not imagine?" Crouch remarked, "Your demands for the use of veritaserum in all trials have not gone unnoticed by those on the receiving end of the courts. No men wish to go spilling all their secrets, least of all traitors fearing the halls of Azkaban."
"Does he mean to bribe me?" James asked, "Not that I'd ever consider accepting one, obviously."
"I cannot be certain" his boss replied, his scowl deepening for whatever reason as they approached the door to his office; "I expect he will consider the prospect, if he does you are to draw out the possibility as long as possible – encourage him to let slip anything that will allow this department to prove his guilt." He turned squarely to face James. "That is the only reason I have allowed this meeting. I do not know if you understand this – I assume the answer is no, considering the predicament this Ministry has been placed in – but even if that assumption is inaccurate I shall inform you again; veritaserum is not infallible. By demanding for it and thereby making the public and therefore, the Minister demand for it, you have risked the outcome of all the trials I must now perform. While I will ensure that any accused are checked for the antidote prior to their trial, that will not assist against those with experience in occlumency."
James flinched. Crouch was correct, he had not considered that. Neither had Lily or the others. Still… "Veritaserum was not the only thing I was demanding for in the Prophet. I was also calling for all their property to be searched and for-"
"I know exactly what you were calling for" Crouch interrupted, "I also know what parts were absorbed by the public and sadly 'searches' and 'seizures' do not carry the same attraction as 'truth potion'." He sighed. "Remember, most of the population does not properly read the newspapers. They skim through them, looking for words that carry weight to them. If you do insist on carrying on with this 'campaign', along with Dumbledore – do not deny it – then make sure to be careful what you say."
James glared. "Its hardly a campaign, I just want those who tried to kill my son in Azkaban!"
"What you want and what you may achieve are different things" Crouch stated, "And do not raise your voice with me, I am still your superior. And you are not the only man here who has been targeted by the Dark Lord." He grasped at the door handle but waited for a moment before opening it. "Remember, let him speak. Let him reveal his secrets. Find something we can use." With that said, he opened the door and shoved James inside.
James was immediately on guard, even as he spared a glance around the room to gain his bearings. For better or for worse, he had never been in Crouch's Office before. It was a dark, spartan room, with a few documents hung on the walls and a faded photograph of a woman and child on the hardwood desk. By contrast, the small lamp on the desk was almost too bright and harsh. Leaning against a wall across from the doorway was a tall man with long pale hair. At James' entrance, he turned from where he was studying one of the frames and attempted a smile.
"Ah, Mr Potter" he began, "It is good to finally make your acquittance, after such a long time."
"Mr Malfoy" James replied, not bothering to disguise his glare and keeping his wand within a moment's reach. If it came to a fight, he reckoned he could take the man – according to his file, Lucius Malfoy preferred to keep his wand within a long cane, which would surely make it more difficult to draw in a hurry. "You wished to speak to me." His tone was blunt, which was extraordinarily polite considering the circumstances.
"Yes" Malfoy confirmed, "Do thank your superior for allowing my small request." He steepled his fingers and sat down in the chair across from James. "Won't you sit? I believe we have a great deal to discuss."
"I couldn't think of anything in particular" James said, remaining next to the door; "That is unless you wish to offer a plea deal, in an attempt to diminish your future sentence."
The known Death Eater smirked. "Forestalling an unjust visit to Azkaban would be a wonderful topic for conversation. But before we turn to business, how is your family doing? It seems years since I've seen your wife and I do not believe I've had-"
If James had the eyes of a Basilisk, Malfoy would have keeled over in his chair. As was the case, he did not and so merely contented himself with imagining the sight. "Lily is fine, better since your Master's demise. As is our son."
"How wonderful to hear. We should introduce young Harry to my own son, Draco" Malfoy intoned, his gaze fixed. "Narcissa is always asking for me to find other boys his age for Draco to interact with. I've read that spending too much time…isolated is bad for a child's development."
"I'd imagine that your son has enough friends" James said, "Is it true that the Bulstrode girl and the Crabbe boy are boarding at your house while their parents go before the courts?"
The man put on an air of solemness and leaned forward in his chair. "Sadly, that is the case" he said, tapping his hands as if the very idea gave him pains; "Such a shame to see families separated, to see children grow up without their parents. For the world to allow such a thing is…unbearable."
The hypocrisy of the statement was unbearable.
Still, the Malfoy continued laying out his 'troubles'. "While I cannot board the children forever, as my dwelling is far from an ideal place to host the very young; it has fallen to me to care for them in this time of hardship." The way he said 'dwelling' seemed designed to ignore the fact that Malfoy Manor occupied more land than Diagon Alley, the major shopping district in Wizarding Britain. "I'm sure you can understand, being a father yourself?"
A thought came to James' mind. While it was rare due to the difficulty of managing it, the Wizarding Courts allowed for the submission of memories to the court record. If he could catch Malfoy out- "Is Narcissa okay with this?" he began, finally moving away from the door to seat himself.
The Death Eater smiled. "My wife is a kind woman, who adores children-" That didn't sound like the whiny prefect James remembered. "She would never object to having the children of our greatest- well, who we assumed to be our greatest friends around at our house."
"Any other children going to be joining you there?" James questioned, "Perhaps the Carrow Twins?"
Malfoy shook his head. "Even…before I knew of their true natures, I was never fond of the Carrows. We have all heard the rumours…"
James hummed. "Your wife had to share a dorm with Alecto Carrow, I believe? Has she said anything about her arrest? Any grief at the announcement?"
The man frowned slightly and peered at James. "Narcissa was horrified by the account of their capture, of course."
James suspected that at least was the truth. It took a special kind of person to support the horrors committed by the siblings. Still, pressing on and attempting to keep his voice as relaxed as possible in the company of a man suspected to one of Voldemort's favourites; "I assume Narcissa wasn't part of You-Know-Who's inner circle, since she clearly doesn't have the Dark Mark?"
Malfoy went to answer – but paused, the corners of his mouth twitching. Carefully, with noticeable thought behind each and every word, he replied; "I have never seen any evidence that my wife was part of such an organisation, though I could not confirm who was in the Dark Lord's inner circle – even under the imperius, I was not witness to such events."
Drat.
James had been hoping he would admit to having been present in those inner circle meetings, which even with the excuse of the imperius protecting Malfoy himself, would have at least gotten him the names of the others present. The Death Eater certainly realised this, judging by his glinting eyes.
Another tactic then. "You've already offered up the names of many 'lesser' Death Eaters. The Rowles, the Snydes, Malcam Lee. Do you have any others you can recall at this moment?"
Malfoy feigned regret: "I am afraid not Auror Potter. As you and the Ministry know, the Dark Lord refused to allow those who were imperiused access to his most valuable information. The risk of us spilling that information once free of his control was far too high to countenance."
James sighed. "What can you offer this department, then?" he spat, "You've obviously come bearing some Golden Goose – let's not waste time with this any longer."
The man across from him chuckled and leaned back in Crouch's chair, looking as proud as one of the ridiculous peacocks he apparently owned. "Your friend, Mr Lupin. I assume he is aware of…a certain law certain factions of the Wizengamot are attempting to pass?"
James resisted the urge to frown. He was not aware of any new law affecting…people such as his friend, so if Remus did know of one he hadn't mentioned it.
"It may not have made the papers yet, I suppose" Malfoy continued, "Perhaps it has not even been introduced into the courts yet-"
"Get to the point" James growled, "I assume you are offering the chance for it to fail? Your family has enough influencers, even now to pull off something like that."
The Death Eater smiled. It faded however, when James continued speaking.
"Remus wouldn't want me to agree to such a thing, even if the law called for the removal of his…family, shall we say? Do you have anything better?"
The man across from him seemed to think for a few moments, though he might simply have been a good actor. "I can see you desire vengeance against those who threatened your family. Perhaps a target closer to 'home' for you?"
Without even thinking about it, James clenched his hands into fists.
Peter.
To see him before the courts, after what he had done, after what he had nearly seen done – that would be a pleasure like no other. Sirius would have jumped at the chance, as an opportunity to atone for what he saw as his sin – not that James or Lily blamed him for what had happened. Who could have known their closest friend was a Death Eater?!
But…
James gazed across the desk in thought. He hated Peter more than anyone at the moment, bar Voldemort himself. But he had known him growing up, even if he had missed the man falling into lockstep behind He Who Must Not Be Named. On his own, without first the Marauders and secondly the Death Eaters to provide backup; was he really a threat? His former friend had always been the weakest of them – though even now it shamed him to admit that. Was it worth capturing him, if someone infinitely more dangerous such as Lucius Malfoy stayed out of Azkaban?
And what was he demanding in return for this anyway?
"I cannot accept that" James replied, "Have you anything else?"
The Malfoy failed to hide a scowl. "I suppose I might be able to-"
A thought occurred to James. A memory, from seven nights ago. He, Professor Dumbledore and Alice Longbottom had been sat on chairs in the latter's home, discussing the events of the night prior…
"Alice" Dumbledore had said, "While I certainly agree with you that it is impossible to resurrect the dead, that is not what I or James propose; unless I am mistaken, which I would hope isn't the case as I have already been wrong twice today. A third time would be most worrying indeed." He had chuckled, but then turned grave. "I call into question whether or not Voldemort died at all. There are methods by which one can extend or sustain life beyond that which is natural. The Philosopher's Stone is one method, as is unicorn blood. Likewise, there is dark magic that allows for the survival of a person without a body; though such methods are little-known, highly difficult and extremely dangerous. The question is, therefore, which one did Voldemort use?"
Malfoy hadn't hinted at any secret knowledge of Voldemort's actions, any knowledge of rituals he had performed to protect his soul and body from destruction. But...at least according to what they suspected, he had been one of the Dark Lord's favourites. If anyone – who James had access to – had any idea what the man might have done, it would be him.
It was worth a shot at least!
He interrupted Malfoy, who was prattering on about France for some reason. "Did you see You-Know-Who ever perform any strange rituals? Any spells you weren't allowed to know the purpose of? Anything particularly difficult, even for the most powerful wizard to perform?"
Malfoy paused, though he managed to look offended at being interrupted. "The Dark Lord performed a number of spells I never knew the purpose of, but-"
"Anything exceptional even among them?"
Malfoy frowned again; "Not in particular. Not that I would have been able to see his greatest – and most terrible work, being imperiused as I was."
James snorted. The man was persistent with lying, he would give him that. Perhaps he really did know nothing, maybe that hair was hiding a hole where a brain would normally be! Hoping for the answer to Voldemort's undetermined fate to fall out of the sky had been a fumble in the dark anyway. He hadn't really expected anything to come of it.
He half rose out of his chair, prepared to bid the Death Eater so long – for now! –
…and had another thought.
"Did he ever have any artifacts that meant something more to him?"
Malfoy really did pause then, even closing his eyes for a moment without realising. James returned to his chair, a lump in his throat forcing its way upwards. The dim light of the office cast the face of the man across from him into shadow, along with the dark walls of Crouch's office. From outside came the distant sound of voices, their words and owners indistinct.
"There…might have been one small thing" Malfoy replied, very hesitantly. "A book."
The scar on James' cheek throbbed angrily.
"A book?" he said, "What kind of book?"
"I do not know" the Death Eater replied, slowly; "I haven't looked at it closely. Why would I?" The shake in his voice made it clear he had looked at whatever this book was, very closely indeed.
It could be nothing.
The existence of an artifact in Malfoy's hands was unlikely. The existence of an important artifact in Malfoy's hands was even more so, for who had Voldemort really trusted? The scraps known about the man – as well as James' own experiences – painted him as a paranoid madman, with a great deal of respect for himself and none for his fellow men.
It could be nothing.
Even considering the prospect of giving in, accepting what was no less than a bribe rankled at James. Was this not exactly what Barty and him had discussed? He should never have considered the prospect of dealing with this...man.
It could be nothing.
But what if it wasn't? What if Harry's safety, Lily's safety relied on the discovery of that artifact? Was the risk of it being nothing one he could take?
…
He could not and would not.
"That book" James said, his voice firm as much for his own benefit as it was for Malfoys; "Hand over that book to me and I will halt my efforts to have you and your friends thrown in Azkaban." Another thought, he'd been having a lot of those today. "I also want Pettigrew. I also want that law and any other like it to die in the Wizengamot. Fail to do any of that and I will turn this memory over myself and have us both brought under the hammer for treachery."
Malfoy hesistated for a moment longer.
"It is a deal."
"TO AZKABAN WITH THE LOT OF THEM!" SAYS THE-MAN-WHO-WON
LUCIUS MALFOY: A SECRET VEELA?
Ist der Einsatz von Denkariums vor Gericht eine grobe Verletzung der Rechte des Angeklagten?