Interlude 2
Fleur turned the small muggle contraption over in her hand, flipping it over on its back and then over again, the cool plastic material sliding smoothly across her palm as she spun it. The repetitive motion was soothing, a distraction from the quiet tension that plagued her walk. To her right she could just sense the presence of her companion, draped in enough concealment charms to become invisible to the passing muggles.
As she walked, Fleur chanted a mantra in her head, an old passage her mother used to read to her as a child, forcing her mind to focus on the rhyming words and the lifeless curvature of the muggle device instead of the creeping fear of discovery, in order to keep her Occlumency shields in place. She eyed a passing car warily, shooting a distrustful look through its tinted windows.
"Stop that," A voice hissed from beside her.
"Stop what?" Fleur whispered, determinedly not looking over.
"Gawking around like you've never seen a muggle before. You look like you're about to jump out of your shoes every time someone passes by. Act like you know what you're doing."
"I do know what I'm doing," Fleur retorted haughtily, sticking her nose up in the air. She made a point to ignore the next few muggle pedestrians, looking past them dismissively, and sniffing in distaste when a passing car drove too close to the sidewalk. She took the lack of response as a victory.
She crossed the busy street and into a small park, bisected by a narrow path leading into a more densely wooded area. After a few more minutes of walking she emerged into a much less populated area, a small side road leading away from the path into a nearby cluster of buildings.
She bumped into an invisible arm stretched in front of her, barring her way.
"Is this where the muggle box told you to go?"
Fleur craned her neck, looking for the street signs. "I think this is the right place. We were supposed to send them a message when we got here."
She pressed a series of buttons on the phone, the order drilled into her by the Potter boy, to initiate the muggle version of a floo call. It chimed with the odd ringing noise she'd heard it make before, repeating a few times before abruptly cutting out. She frowned.
"Is that what's supposed to happen?"
"I don't think so," Fleur muttered. "Last time a muggle spoke through it after it went quiet."
There was a gentle hum of engines as a car peeled out from behind one of the buildings, curving around towards them.
"That must be them?" Fleur said, suddenly unsure. There was no response from her companion. The car slipped around a turn onto the street Fleur was waiting on—at the edge, perpendicular to its approach—and slowly started gaining speed as it barreled down the road. It jolted, careening sideways off the paved road and bounced against the raised curb, jumping over onto the grassy sidewalk as its tires squealed against the uneven ground. Divots of grassy dirt were thrown in the air as the tires spun, finally catching on the concrete sidewalk and shooting forward towards her.
Her eyes widened. It moved fast, much faster than any cars she'd seen before. She reached for her wand, fumbling in her pocket. There was a quiet rustle, and a brush of fabric as something rushed past her.
"Impedimenta," A cool voice called out. The car jerked to a stop, its rear tires lifting into the air as the front wheels locked into place. It slammed back down with a rattling crunch, shaking violently on its springs. The door swung open and a wide-eyed man slipped out, landing with a stumble. He wobbled, slightly unsteady on his feet as he glared at Fleur with crazed anger. His hand had just started reaching for his back pocket when Fleur's stunner caught him in the face, spinning him around with its force and dropping him into the churned dirt.
The air beside her grew mottled, a figure blooming into existence as their concealment charm faded. Bellatrix Lestrange stared at the downed man with disdain.
"What was that?" Fleur gasped, shaking her head. "One of the chancellor's?"
"No," Bellatrix sniffed, bending down to poke at the still body of the man with her wand, careful to keep her hands at a distance, like they'd be dirtied. "I'd very much doubt so. He is as muggle as they come—Grindelwald would not bother with such...methods. Perhaps, these muggles are not as friendly as Mr. Evans made you believe."
Fleur frowned. "But he said that they contacted him, and gave him this thing." She waved the phone aimlessly. "Why would they risk themselves to get in contact just to attack us when we arrive, if they weren't working for Europe?"
"Why don't you ask them yourself?"
Fleur looked up. A small handful of masked figures poured out of one of the building's garages, dressed in a uniform of homespun disguises, covering their whole bodies in mismatched pieces of clothing. They brandished an array of improvised weapons in front of them, sharpened pipes and spike studded clubs, stripes of dimly glinting kitchen knives reflecting off their waists, and an odd looking canister handled carefully with two hands by one stocky figure in the center of the group. At the front, possibly the leader, was a tall figure wearing markedly higher quality body armor, a small muggle firearm clutched in one hand.
"They don't have any idea about the capabilities of witches at all, do they?" Bellatrix snorted.
Out of the corner of her eye Fleur saw Bellatrix fade back out of view. Fleur stepped out from behind the car, and made a show of lowering her wand back to her side, but they didn't slow.
The rough looking group spread out as they approached, circling around her and the car, making sure to stay several meters back on all sides. As they stopped, the leader stepped into the circle, leveling his weapon at her.
"Surrender all magical implements, immediately."
Fleur swallowed her rising fear, and glared back at him disdainfully. "You ask for me to come all the way out here and then attack me? I don't think I agree with your manners sir. If you don't rectify that satisfactorily I won't be staying to here what you have to say."
The circle around her murmured in discontent, shifting nervously at her apparent nonchalance. She continued to disregard them, staring at the masked leader with a raised eyebrow. Lestrange was right—they really don't know what to expect from a witch. And that uncertainty makes them too scared to attack while I still have my wand out.
"You will surrender them now," The leader plowed on, uncaring.
"Is this how you typically greet guests?" She replied haughtily. If they decided to attack, him and that gun were really the only thing to be concerned about. Hopefully Bellatrix would know to take him out first, wherever she was. Fleur could handle the rest, a few muggles and their clubs.
"You killed Alscher!" An outraged cry tore out, coming from somewhere in the surrounding circle. Cries of agreement bubbled out of the surrounding rabble, tightening their grips on their weapons.
"No I didn't," She sniffed. "He's only stunned. He'll be just fine in a few hours—which is really more than you could ask for after trying to hit someone with an automobile. Listen," She looked directly into the eye-holes of the masked leader. "You reached out to Britain, to Tom Riddle, saying you wanted to meet, and they sent me. So why are you trying to attack me?"
The leader stared at her in silence for a few moments. "The man who contacted Britain was taken by European forces after their meeting," He finally said. "He returned but days later his house burned down, and he and his family disappeared. The contact with Britain was compromised, as are likely the British wizards. We knew that whoever showed in their stead would've been sent by the chancellor to root us out. No more pretenses."
"The wizard who met with your man was taken, this is true," Fleur said. "By what you call the Eyes." She saw a visible shudder run through the crowd around her. "But, he was able to break free of the control and contact me, to come to you."
Fleur could sense the frown behind the mask in front of her. "That is a lie only children would believe."
"And yet, it is the truth. We come to you with something to offer, something he learned from his capture: we know what they're doing to your people, we know how the Eyes work to keep tabs on you, we know why your people come back the way they do. And maybe, together, we can use this knowledge to reverse it."
It had been a long night, talking with Harry over that strange mirror with the Potter boy, as he gave them as much information as he could remember, while she filled in the blanks he was prevented from speaking about with the memories she'd pulled out of his mind herself before.
She could feel it then, how the mob moved at her words, mutters passing between them, as curiosity—and a desperate hope—bloomed and overpowered their anger. The leader stared at her hard, seemingly contemplating.
"There is no way to make sure you are not a trap, set by the chancellor," He said, a twinge of regret in his voice. "We cannot trust you."
Fleur sighed. Her magic spilled out from around her, invisible to all but her, flowing away from her in waves of power, breaking against the smattering of figures standing around her, slowly lapping away at their willpower. She made eye contact with the leader through his mask and focused, launching her magic through the connection directly into his mind. She heard small gasps from around her as the group stilled, their grips on their weapons growing slack.
The leader's eyes glazed, staring back at her in dumbfounded fascination.
"The chancellor would not bother offering you tricks, he would simply wipe you all out the moment you showed yourself. Let's stop wasting time, European forces could show up at any moment. You wanted a meeting, let's go talk," Fleur commanded. She could see her influence at work, the people around her nodding in agreement, looking around for potential European spies, as they put their weapons away. It was true though, the conflict had interrupted her focus on her Occlumency, and combined with the mess of raised emotions in the muggles around her they were sure to draw the attention of one of those empaths Harry warned her about. Hopefully, she could use her magic to dull the edge of the crowd and help them fade out of notice.
The leader nodded slowly, finally holstering his gun. "Follow me."
The group surrounded Fleur as they moved, escorting her off the street and away from the park. A whisper brushed at her as she walked by.
"Nicely done."
Fleur nodded at the empty air, confident that Bellatrix would be able to follow wherever they were taking her.
Fleur found herself across from a woman standing ramrod straight beside a window, looking out with furrowed brows. She was quite a few years away from middle age, but the hardness of her face when she turned to face Fleur belied any descriptors of youth.
"Why did you bring her here?" The woman snapped, alternating glaring at Fleur and the masked leader who had brought her to the building. "I thought I told you to kill the spy."
"Sorry," The man said, bowing his head slightly. "She has valuable intel from the British wizards, the ones who were taken. I thought you would want to hear it."
"And you believed her?" The woman sneered, disbelievingly. Her gaze shot to Fleur, eyeing her up and down. "What did you do, witch?" She spat the term like it was a pejorative. "Enchant them to trust you?"
"It was important that I come here," Fleur said simply, meeting her gaze. "We have a mutual interest."
"Do we?" The woman sneered, standing up and stalking around the desk to come face to face with Fleur. "I don't think we have much of a mutual interest with any witches or wizards—except, maybe the suicidal ones. Are you one of those dearie? Then we'd be happy to help."
"You'd be wrong," Fleur said. "You can't trust me, I understand that, but you can't afford not to listen to what I can offer."
The woman stared at her hard, upper lip slightly curling up in distaste, before whirling around to stomp back to the window.
"Maybe that's true, but you're a very stupid girl for coming here, do you realize that?"
Fleur kept her face blank, giving the woman an unimpressed look. She snorted in response.
"Arrogant as any wizard. I'll let you speak, only because my gut says this doesn't stink of the chancellor. Say your piece and then I'll make a decision about what to do with you."
Fleur nodded in thanks. "We have a contact in common—a British wizard, who was taken. He was the one who got the phone to reach you, and who then gave it to me. I was told to find you because—well, because he broke out of the chancellor's control, and he thinks it might be possible for others as well."
The woman narrowed her eyes. "Impossible. No one's been able to resist the Eyes' control. You've been duped."
Fleur shook her head. "I saw the truth of it in a way that cannot be faked. He remained himself. You have no understanding of the magic they use, for someone like him it is very well possible."
"So, there is a way to fix it? To return our people that have been taken to the way they were before?" Fleur saw a fervent gleam bloom to life in the woman's eyes.
"He believes so. What we can offer is the secret of the Eyes, and of the workings behind them."
"And in return for these secrets?"
"For you to use them," Fleur said grimly. "You have manpower, access to the city—and we can help you beat the Eyes. We can work together to find the place your people are taken to. And then, inside, he believes the key to fixing them."
The woman nodded thoughtfully, eyes squinted as thoughts spun behind them. "What I do not see, is what you get out of this. The Brit I can understand, he wants his revenge, he wants to continue his war—but you? Why do you care about this? Why are you trying to help us normal people—we aren't even countrymen."
"Because we all want the same thing: the chancellor removed."
"Dead," The woman corrected sharply. Fleur nodded, placatingly.
"Dead. I care because he is the reason my nation, and my people, barely exist anymore. And I want that back."
She received a fierce look in return. "If this is a trick, I promise you, your little wizard friends won't ever see your face again. But—you help us stop the Eyes, and damn it but I suppose I'll work with any witch mad enough to willingly go after the chancellor."
Fleur finally smiled, matching the look across from her. "Excellent. Let's get started then."