Rodolphus was not going to fight openly and expose himself to a blow, betraying the Dark Lord. He had trump cards with which he could beat his enemies. He was going to use them to the maximum advantage to win without losing the most valuable. His life.
But there were also difficulties. Finding cursed artifacts is not an easy task, which is within the power of a professional curse breaker with experience behind. Neither Rodolphus nor Hermione were curse breakers.
"The whole house is at your disposal. Go ahead." He stepped aside, giving her more room to act.
Yesterday, just asking to borrow a wand caused an internal protest. And today Rodolphus suggested it himself. He rarely succumbed to momentary impulses. He wanted to know more about how Hermione would behave, what decisions she would make, how quickly she would think.
"Remember there are magic traps too." He couldn't help but warn her as she began to explore the first room. Laboratory.
Their tandem has not yet been tested by combat. The girl's true abilities remained a mystery. Hermione was destined to either become his reliable partner or a burden. How far they would go depended on how well they worked together.
The alignment of forces in this tandem could be the key to success. Strengths and weaknesses could affect the strategic advantage, but there was little time to learn how to work together smoothly. The advantage they had at any moment could slip away, as happened with the Horcrux in the Vault.
"Seems empty here," she concluded after a few simple incantations, but did not leave the room, deep in thought for some unclear reason. Rodolphus did not rush her. She surprised him by moving her hands randomly around the room and touching various objects.
Hermione seemed to be a reasonable girl, but at the same time she remained a thing in itself, not revealing herself to the end. It was difficult to say what to expect from her and how deeply she understood the laws of magic. Lucius referred to her abilities with indignation, Snape, on the contrary, called her an insufferable know-it-all who should not be paid attention to. But even if she had been a gifted witch a hundred times over, her Muggle upbringing could have been an impenetrable obstacle. Rodolphus still had no serious reason to think about the difference in the worldviews of Muggles and magicians. He always considered it beneath his dignity to be interested in this issue. Hermione was a bright representative of another world, in whose life magic appeared only at the age of eleven. Rodolphus kept her Muggle heritage in mind, still not seeing her as a match. He didn't want it to be obvious to her. Although now it was an annoying circumstance, and not a reason for hatred.
He appreciated how the juniper wand lay in her hand, as if it were a rare treasure. There was respect in that one gentle gesture. He assessed her position in the stance - composure and grace expressed by the posture and plasticity of her body.
He didn't know what he hoped for more: whether he wanted to see Hermione's abilities or to discover that she was a know-it-all who got involved in big problems that she couldn't handle.
Use magic, he wanted to say, but didn't. He had no right to offend her with neglect, because then he would lose the fragile trust that he had won with difficulty. It seemed almost inevitable in case of the slightest mistake. That's how he felt on an instinctive level. Their tandem seemed to be hanging by a thread all the time.
Hermione sighed and squared her shoulders. She moved more confidently now. The impossibility of conjuring oppressed her, but as soon as she took the wand, she again felt the support. Her steps were light, stingy, lacking the mannerisms of pureblood witches. She saved energy, distributed efforts.
Still, Rodolphus had respect for Hermione. Not when he helped the trio survive, but in the last two days. They opened for him the veil of secrecy of her person, she became more alive. For some reason, Hermione used to seem like just an attachment to Potter and Weasley. Rodolphus hardly noticed her in those days, could not somehow distinguish her from the trio and did not understand her function in the group. In two days, his opinion of her was overgrown with missing details. Which helped him finally see the depth that had previously been hidden from him.
"Have you ever done something like this?" she asked casually, but Rodolphus noticed her glance fleetingly thrown at him. The question was not asked out of idle curiosity. Good. So she also assessed their chances of success.
"I am the one who hangs the locks, not the one who removes them," he replied.
The girl slowly moved from the laboratory to another room. Rodolphus followed her, copying the pace of her steps.
"So you can put yourself in the place of someone who sets death traps," she said without interrupting her research. - "You know what to expect."
"Yes, and what are the consequences of carelessness." He put a warning tone into his words, reminding her of the traps. "I'm afraid that's not enough."
Hermione chuckled, taking the hint.
"Then what can you say about the secret tricks of the pureblood families?"
Rodolphus noted how carefully she had pulled off the initiative and was now setting the direction. He felt the slightest change. However, Hermione was not at all arrogant.
"Every family has its secrets."
Under other circumstances, Rodolphus would have entrusted all the menial work to someone else. He didn't have a choice. He realized this and accepted knowing that there was no other way out - it was a challenge that could not be avoided.
"What if we fall into a trap? Are we going to die right there? Or are we just a little more tormented?"
What did she want to know? How quickly will her suffering pass?
Rodolphus considered. Clearly, Hermione was leaning in a direction that she alone could understand. He just hasn't yet learned to recognize what her priorities are and what's more important to her. And it would be nice to find out now.
"There are many more options. Do you want to know the possibilities of dark magic? How evil and painful curses can be..."
"No, I don't," she interrupted, her voice breaking a little, her shoulders trembling. She stopped, catching her breath. "I want to know how you dealt with the effects of curses you knew nothing about. You are a healer."
Her tone reminded him of the days when he first encountered the agony of his patients and the agony of his first victims. It affected him then, but over time he hardened. He met the darkness and got used to it. At times a conscience awakened in him, but he plunged into darkness too deeply. He caused a lot of suffering, if earlier it bothered him, but did not stop him, now it had a new meaning. Now these dark forces could turn against him.
But his knowledge could come in handy if one of them was cursed. This possibility was high. Moreover, he knew most of the curses of other Death Eaters, their methods of action and capabilities. This was another advantage for them. But Rodolphus could not know everything and therefore did not rely on it much.
"Yes. I have cured dark and unknown curses. If that happens, I'll do my best." He felt he should say more, — "In this case, when you are face to face with the unknown, you can only rely on luck and your quick wits. You take full responsibility for the decisions you make, knowing that you either win or lose. You do this by casting aside doubts and simply looking for solutions. You try one spell after another and it's almost like pulling a manticore's tail, trying to predict if it will sting back. Sometimes by making mistakes and trying to correct them right away, you endanger your own and others' lives. In such cases, you can not know anything in advance. And at the same time, one should not be afraid of mistakes, because they are inevitable."
Hermione listened to him carefully. When she spoke again, it wasn't just words, there were more feelings and emotions behind than she usually allowed herself: "I know what dark magic is capable of, I have read forbidden books," she confessed guiltily. "I was looking for knowledge about Horcruxes and wanted to understand what I would have to deal with. I know you can't predict everything. I could spend years preparing and still not be ready. Harry used to say that too, while I wanted to perfect our plan. He was right, I made a mistake."
He seemed to be able to persuade her to open up a little to him. Her confession was full of bitterness. Rodolphus wanted to know what exactly she considered a mistake, but did not have time to ask. Hermione stopped abruptly in front of an unremarkable wall in the hallway and waved her wand as if she knew for sure there was something there.
— Revelio.
Rough outlines appeared on the wall. Rodolphus did not hide anything here, so he waited with curiosity how everything would end.
After allowing herself a few trial spells, Hermione quickly managed to open a compartment in the wall panel. A small cache, cut through in haste. Inside lay haphazard scrolls of parchment, powdered with simple protections, like charms against dampness and against pests. Hermione peered in without any caution, joyfully forgetting Rodolphus's warnings. And he himself did not remind, not feeling any threat. In fact, he liked the way her mood had changed.
"What are these scrolls?" she asked, radiating interest of the utmost degree.
With a solemn wave of wand, the first scroll hung in the air and opened. Hermione leaned forward, peering eagerly at the contents. It only took a quick glance to realize that something was wrong. She couldn't hide her disappointment.
"What is it?"
Rodolphus came closer, extremely interested, and peered over her shoulder. He laughed when he saw the contents. A child's drawing was depicted on a yellowed sheet with the help of bright magical colors. Two funny figurines. The first figurine was almost three-quarters of the parchment tall and had a large round head, half-length legs, and almost the same hands with seven fingers each. The other, smaller, is similar to the first, except for the number of fingers. He raised his hand with the broom in a victory gesture. Both smiled from ear to ear and even slightly waved their hands. The one who drew them has not yet learned to give smoothness to the movements of his drawings. At the very bottom, the inscription was diligently with deep pressure: "Me and Dolphy".
"This is a drawing of Rabastan! And this is me!" Rodolphus jabbed his fingernail at the tall figure with delight. The parchment instantly reacted to the shameless touch and somehow very aggressively curled up, as if it was going to chop off his entire finger. Luckily the scroll had no teeth, Rodolphus just laughed at that.
"How did I not recognize you right away?" Hermione couldn't help but sneer, crossing her arms over her chest. Her whole appearance spoke of annoyance.
"What else is there?" asked Rodolphus. He was not so much interested in looking at the drawings as playfully prying the witch. From the angry look she gave him, he knew she understood.
With one snapping wave, she lifted all the scrolls at once and opened them without any high expectations. "The artist died in your brother".
"Well, why 'died', he is quite alive and well." Rodolphus maintained the most serious tone he could muster. "Look. This is a real family archive. He even honored Bellatrix with a drawing. What more!"
Hermione glanced sideways at the drawing in question and, against her will, the corners of her mouth turned up. A truly dramatic situation played out on parchment. Bellatrix was in a glass jar. She was actively moving in comparison with the first sketches of Rabastan. For example, her tousled black hair writhed like snakes, and her huge mouth twisted in anger. She then jumped trying to cling to the edge, then powerlessly pounded on the walls of the jug with thin, spaghetti-like hands. At the bottom was the inscription: "Trixie's payback."
"Trixie?" Hermione repeated what she had read.
"He started calling her that from the beginning. She didn't like it." His brother had taken a dislike to Bella from the first days of the engagement, and now Rodolphus shared these feelings. "I'll hang this in the main gallery." He imagined how this drawing would decorate the wall. What do the rest of the portraits say? Bellatrix remained his wife and respected pureblood witch. His deceased relatives will not be delighted.
Hermione was thinking about something else at the same time, and in the end she asked: "Who hid these drawings? Was it your brother?"
"Probably yes. He never showed it to me."
"How old was he?"
"I don't know, maybe five, maybe ten."
"So he used a wand?" Hermione spoke with a grim satisfaction that Rodolphus did not understand, as if she had received exactly the answer she had hoped for.
Rodolphus honestly replied: "Yes, with his magic wand. Rabastan had the first bursts of magic very early. He became a walking disaster. Our parents wanted him to learn to control his powers. They bought him a wand. At home, he could use magic to his heart's content."
Rodolphus himself also received his wand much earlier than his peers, although not as early as his brother. Perhaps for the first time, the idea of instilling magical discipline in children, violating the laws of the Ministry, came to his parents just when Rodolphus was eight, because they did not hesitate so much with Rabastan.
"So your family didn't respect the restriction on the use of magic for children?"
"This is contrary to nature. We are born magicians, waiting to be officially allowed to use magic is unnatural in itself."
Hermione became even more gloomy after that. She lowered all the scrolls into a deliberately neat pile and, not bothering to close the hiding place, left. Rodolphus followed, wondering what was wrong with giving the child a wand a little earlier.
Meanwhile, Hermione, wanting to be away from where they had just been, didn't even think about stopping. Several interesting rooms were left without her attention. It's a pity. Cheered up, Rodolphus would like to watch her find a stash of bottles of butterbeer in the broom closet hidden by the house elves. Or at least the impressive collection of gobstones collected by his great-great-grandfather. He, by the way, was also fond of financial fraud, so he also left there an equally impressive collection of promissory notes, certified by Gringotts goblins. Unfortunately, all the debtors died long ago, and the goblins did not quote the inheritance of debts. However, now it could be easily fixed. Gringotts was under the nail of the Death Eaters.
Further searches were held in stubborn silence.
The wizard has already noted the concentration and diligence as an advantage, but now he has found a disadvantage. Hermione was hot-tempered. Rodolphus wondered how long this would last.
After several hiding places, more serious than the first, they reached the marble living room. It was also a music hall. For many years the musical instruments of one of his ancestors rested in silence. A piano and an ancient harp are in the very center, and several armchairs and an ottoman are placed around. In some places there were other musical instruments used less often. Sometimes his parents with guests or with their family listened to magical music, but that was a very long time ago.
"Revelio," Hermione's voice was weary and made especially expressive by the excellent acoustics. And although she held firm enough, Rodolphus noticed how quickly she got tired. Not even healing spells were needed to figure it out.
Hermione dropped her hands. For a moment it seemed that she would now give up the idea, but she just froze.
"Did you find anything?" he asked.
"Yes, there is something. The defense is very simple. I don't think there is anything important."
Perhaps it was just an excuse to hide her tiredness. Hermione walked away. Rodolphus did not insist, in the cache there really was only one artifact in which one of his ancestors concluded the siren's voice.
For several hours of exploring the house, Rodolphus continued to study Hermione. She really prepared and developed her tactics. The beginning was simple, standard spells, easy checks, and then complex and flexible methods followed. Picking up the "keys" to each cache individually - it still did not seem like a spontaneous decision, as if she had already tried to foresee various surprises and was now putting them into practice. Sometimes she had to stop and think, after which she apparently found some patterns and successfully opened another cache.
But, all the hiding places that Hermione managed to find during this time were insignificant and did not have much protection. They existed only as a distraction. People who would have thought to scour the Lestrange family home might think they had stumbled upon something important, while the real secrets remained sealed.
And Hermione's state of health by this point was suffering from fatigue. She should have saved her strength.
"I know I'm missing something important," the witch announced suddenly. "Like you said, when you're face to face with the unknown, you can only rely on luck and quick wits. We must move forward, even if our steps are small, even if we move just a little bit."
Luck smiled on her. Or maybe she did learn something while searching other hiding places or picking up subtle signs that she hadn't noticed before. It was a cunning hiding place. Only a representative of the Lestrange family could open it without falling into a trap.
Hermione should have stopped before the trigger spell worked. She looked at Rodolphus doubtfully, suspecting something was wrong.
"The first layers of protection flew off easily. I don't like it," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Like I'm being is a catch here."
Rodolphus was in no hurry to dispel her doubts or confirm, but her guesses were correct. He almost suppressed a smile.
Hermione whispered one spell after another, not daring to use more effort, she only felt what was implicit. But from which side she could not understand how to break the lock. Rodolphus kept a close eye on what was happening, ready at any moment to step forward and stop the curse.
"You said something about the relative safety of this place… I think there is a trap here. I just don't know what to do with it." She stood there with a blank expression. "I'm not Trelawney, but I have a bad feeling about it.
"In honor of what did you even remember my great-grandmother in the third knee?" asked Rodolphus suspiciously.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Nothing, I just said"
Not intending to retreat, Hermione again turned to the hiding place. She was deciding how to open it, sorting through all the possible spells in a whisper.
Rodolphus, without further ado, approached the hiding place and cast a secret spell that was known only to family members. The door opened, revealing a room filled with magic. The shelves were lined with vials of ancestral memories, and in the center was a silver Pensieve. And although Rodolphus did not gravitate towards digging in the past, he honored this tradition and, if possible, left his most important memories for future generations.
"Why didn't you let me try?" Hermione asked, disappointed that she wasn't allowed to solve the riddle.
"Only Lestrange can open locks. This is the most valuable cache of all that is in this house. You still found it."
"How about a break-in attempt?"
"You would have turned into a frog," Rodolphus joked, not wanting to talk about the terrible consequences of the curse. He watched her reaction. He wished he knew if she believed him.
Hermione glared at him critically. "We will look for Horcruxes, no one will warn us of the dangers," she said. And there we will both be in the same position.
"Then there will be two frogs."
The corners of her lips twitched for a second. She struggled to remain serious.
"I want to try again," she finally said after a short pause. "You said there are more hiding places."
"Okay, just once."
Hermione turned away, losing interest in the hiding place.
"Expecto Patronum," a spell he didn't expect to hear today. Now he seemed to have another reason to share his wand with her. He wanted to find out if the effect of magic in the wand would be repeated, and if so, what kind of effect it was.
"Why do you need a Patronus now?"
"I understood something. No matter how varied the methods of purebred magicians are, they hide their most valuable secrets under dark magic. Who can recognize the darkness better than a Patronus?"
He had never thought about it like this before. Unless it just might not work. However, if you don't try, you won't know.
The otter rushed swiftly along the corridors and they had to quicken their pace, at times switching to a run. The silver figure was leading them in the direction of the west wing, no doubt spurred on by an urge to pick the locks of yet another hidden place.
And everything was fine until it flew into Bellatrix's bedroom, hinting to follow. Rodolphus paused at the entrance. Hermione had already run in after the Patronus.
The room looked uninhabited, having lost any trace of personality. Bellatrix used magic to make the space cozy for herself, but she hadn't been back here for too long. The magic that adapted to the mistress dissipated over time, because his wife did not strive to fix the spell forever.
As Hermione's otter landed on the mantelpiece, the witch moved closer, checking the fireplace and the surrounding area.
"It feels like the fireplace is tied to something outside," she whispered, delighted with the find.
Bellatrix couldn't change the walls of the house without disturbing the family magic. She acted much more cunningly, created a connection with the hiding place through the fireplace. The cache itself could be located anywhere, but it was possible to open it only through the fireplace in this room. Only Bellatrix, who had an extraordinary but perverted mind and loved to build twisted schemes, so that no one would guess how everything works, could come up with such a thing.
"It's like I'm solving a puzzle," said Hermione flippantly. "But it's incredibly interesting. If only I had a little more time..."
"You don't have to open it right now. You have time."
She immediately interrupted him: "No, there won't be time when we go searching. So I have to think of something now."
He doubted that the one who was brought up by Muggles would be able to reveal Bella's secret. She didn't know what she was dealing with. Surely, this cache had a well-built defense, also based on some kind of deadly curse.
"I don't want to scare you, but this hiding place is dangerous. It's as much of a surprise to me as it is to you."
"You didn't know about it?" Hermione was surprised.
"That's it. I did not know about the hiding place right in my house. I don't know what's inside. Do you understand how serious this is?"
Hermione seemed even more fired up with the idea of opening it at all costs.
"Besides, your task was to find the hiding places, and not open them," Rodolphus continued to exhort her.
"I have to try this time. Why don't you want it?"
Did she think he was trying to hide something from her? It was necessary to dispel this idea, seeing how curiosity and determination increasingly take possession of her.
"I really don't know what's in there, it worries me. We need to pause and figure out how to open it safely."
Hermione looked around for the first time since they'd been here. "Whoever lived in this room kept his secrets like someone possessed," she suggested.
"This house is centuries old, and many generations of Lestrange have lived here."
There was no point in emphasizing that the room belonged to his wife. Although there was a chance that the cache was before her. But in fact, Rodolphus was sure that Bella had a hand in this. Too recognizable.
"Give me a chance. I'll be careful." She looked straight at him. Having met this look, Rodolphus froze, forgetting how to breathe. A strange emotion seized him, as if she had looked at him like that before. But it was an unfamiliar facet. A mixture of desperation and determination. Willingness to do anything no matter how painful it was. He couldn't refuse her now.
"Okay, but if you feel like you can't handle it, stop."
No matter how hard Hermione tries, she doesn't have the skills to do it. Bellatrix was too cunning and some Muggle girl could not figure out her train of thought.
It was safe to say that cracking Bellatrix's secrets would take an inexcusable amount of effort and time.
He suspected that saying it out loud would only spur her on. The more he was inclined towards this, the more desire to do this he saw in her. It was as if the obstacles only irritated her. That's another trait that kept this witch alive for so long. She was not afraid of difficulties, she liked to overcome them.
It was a dangerous quality for her. But it was even more dangerous for him, because she could bring more trouble on their heads.
"Hermione, it's not worth it. I'd better take care of it myself," he called to her in warning as an enthusiastic exclamation reached him: "I know how to open it!"
Rodolphus could not believe his ears.
He did not notice the self-satisfaction on the girl's face. She enjoyed the process, dismantling the defenses with surprising ease almost with care. In those moments she lived by magic. And she was kind of obsessed. He thought a Muggle upbringing would get in the way of her. He was so wrong. She managed to pick Bella's locks, whose cunning fooled the best of the best.
"Strange," the girl muttered, puzzled. "You are distantly related to Cassandra Trelawney, and by any chance were there any Muggles among your ancestors?"
Rodolphus was offended by the very idea that Muggle blood could flow in his veins. But Hermione did not notice this, she was absorbed in picking locks. She spoke thoughtfully, as if to herself.
"It's just that this defense reminds me of a childhood Muggle game. Jacob's ladder. I did not expect anything special, but as soon as I understood the principle, all the spells unfolded."
Suddenly, an angry green fire flared up, Rodolphus instinctively pulled her away from the source of danger. She didn't resist, only watched in surprise as her Patronus dissolved into flames. A hidden niche formed in the fireplace.
Rodolphus released Hermione. Together they approached the fireplace.
The niche had an octagonal shape. The walls glowed with painted protective symbols. Rodolphus took a closer look and recognized this ligature. They gleamed as if the paint had not had time to dry, but the impression was deceptive. Such was the property of this protection, the paint did not dry out while the one whose blood was added to the ink was alive. In the library, just rested the most valuable book authored by a distant ancestor, which contained a detailed recipe for this protection: the person whose blood drop is added to the paint will not be able to find the cache, just like his blood relatives. Bellatrix used family magic against him.
Inside the niche were envelopes for letters, a lot of envelopes.
Hermione was unaware of his dilemma, checking the contents of the stash for curses, and was as focused as an A student in the face of an examiner. With effort, her eyebrows moved to the bridge of her nose, and her eyes shone. The wand in her hand made confident passes in the air. Another movement and a cloud of dust suddenly rose from the contents, Hermione sneezed. She wrinkled her nose for a moment and looked up.
"I can't find any curses. They're not here, are they?"
"I don't know," Rodolphus admitted. He hadn't yet figured out what he was feeling more resentment or amusement. After all, if not for Hermione, he might never know that in his own house someone could keep secrets from him.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"I thought you were testing me to sow doubts."
"No, I really see this cache for the first time and I don't know what is it."
Hermione looked around, assessing the situation. Finding no personal belongings in plain sight, she looked searchingly at Rodolphus.
"This room looks unoccupied. Do you think these are your brother's next drawings?"
Rodolphus shrugged. Rabastan never voluntarily entered this room under any circumstances. As a child, he waged a secret war against Bellatrix, and as he grew up, he learned to hide hostility.
"I think you can end your search, you found everything you needed."
"Maybe there is something valuable here," her hand reached for the envelope lying on top of a large pile.
"It's more personal than valuable. Letters. I wouldn't be surprised if they were enchanted by blood magic. That is, they are dangerous." Rodolphus added. Hermione's hand stopped halfway.
She bit her lip, holding back her curiosity. Rodolphus wanted to take the wand, but for a few moments she squeezed it tighter, still mentally somewhere deep in thought. But she quickly started up and let go of his wand from her hands.
"Sorry, I was thinking," she was embarrassed, after which she hid her hands guiltily.
Rodolphus barely paid attention, all his thoughts were directed to the contents of the cache. These were letters. Or some notes. He checked them and, not finding anything suspicious, took the envelope lying on top. Deep in his soul, he knew that he would find something unpleasant inside. But when he opened the envelope, he saw a blank sheet.
"The ink must be hidden. Aparecium." Nothing. Other spells also had no effect. The paper was not transfigured, most likely it had writing under concealment spells that could not be captured with the manifestation charms. Perhaps, again, there was some specific magic or something like that. He tried a few more spells and nothing changed.
Rodolphus took the next envelope and repeated all the same actions, knowing in advance that nothing would be achieved in this way. Everything was useless.
"Now I'm doubly interested in what's hidden here," Hermione sighed as he abandoned his futile attempts after the third envelope. She carefully examined the first sheet. "Muggles also figured out how to write invisible messages. Ink appears if conditions are created. For example, heat a sheet over a candle flame or paint over a sheet."
Muggles. How was that even possible in his house.
"Whoever hid it could not possibly know anything about Muggles."
"But he knew the principle of Jacob's ladder. Or the correspondence was with a Muggle-born."
He had already underestimated Hermione, and he was wrong. Perhaps she really could know some tricks that Bellatrix used at the instigation of the Dark Lord.
"Okay, try it."
She heated the sheet and looked at it through the light, tried to paint it in a different color, folded stacks of envelopes in a special way and looked for something on the edges of the paper, and then completely dripped ink, leaving a blot, but this did not work, and Hermione kept looking at blot and waited.
"I thought maybe I should give some ink to the paper to make the writing show. Harry did this once." She was very upset after none of the manipulations worked, "Nothing happened."
'It doesn't matter. We have more important things to do."
Hermione fiddled with the sheets in her hands and left them. And Rodolphus crumpled and threw away the envelope he was holding, not wanting to touch these things more than necessary.
"So what about going to Crouch's house? Did I pass the test?"
"Yes." There was nothing else for him to do here and he headed for the door. Hermione hurried after him.
"Why do you agree so easily?"
"I don't want to wait long. We must act. Let's go tomorrow," - he said, hiding how angry he was that Bella dared to hide something under his nose. His hands itched to send a spark of fire into the letters and burn them to hell. He didn't do it. He only suppressed his irritation, deciding that today there were too many impressions for both of them. "You'd better eat and rest, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
"And where are you going?" she asked, noticing that he was about to leave.
"To the Ministry of Magic, I have to go."
On this he left her. In addition to hunting for Horcruxes, he had duties to the Dark Lord, which should not be forgotten. And there was also a great desire to win back on someone.
He appeared at the Ministry in the same bad disposition. Ordinary employees parted in his way. The rumor was ahead of him, dispersing random oncoming people. Hundreds of lowered eyes and accusations unspoken in the face, hostile glances of hidden enemies in the back. Hatred and fear filled the air, and he could smell them on some inhuman level. Rage raced through his veins and he knew he needed to stop and exhale or he would make a mistake. There is nothing easier than to take the soul to the first enemy that comes across. But these people are not to be punished. Passing through the floors in an empty elevator as if on cue, he tried to regain his peace of mind. His main enemies will pay in due time, he fanatically believed in this thought. And for this to happen soon, he must stick to the plan.
Yaxley met him in his office. Tall, slim and white-haired. He rose vigorously from his luxurious chair with a wide smile of a bosom friend he never was. Such cordiality at first made Rodolphus doubt that the real Korban Yaxley was in front of him. A hypocrite who, to save his skin, lied about being held under Imperius. But in fact, his hands were stained with blood no less, if not more.
As soon as he spoke, all doubts disappeared.
"Rodolphus, my friend, I was so looking forward to meeting you."
Lestrange extended his hand in response. This short handshake between the two Death Eaters somehow had the character of a fight, as if Yaxley wanted to test his opponent's strength rather than salute a comrade in arms.
"For what?"
"Well, you did what I didn't succeed," Korban said. "I was lucky enough to catch Potter's Mudblood, too. Only this bitch slipped away from me."
Oh yeah. The same day that the Ministry of Magic was in turmoil and several employees were brutally punished.
"But she couldn't run away from you. I heard about everything that happened at Malfoy Manor, our people will gossip about it for a long time. And on that glorious day, I was busy. Traveled with Pius to the most boring international meeting. I would give anything to trade places with you and then my paths with the Mudblood would cross again."
Rodolphus knew what Yaxley wanted. He read this in a heavy look, in a deliciously curved pale lips and a hoarse voice.
Just the thought of what might have happened to Hermione if she had been caught by Yaxley, and the imagination presented bright disgusting pictures. Before killing Hermione, he would torture her in a leisurely manner, dragging out the action like a pleasant game. At times pretending to be kind, and at times turning into a beast in human form. Maybe she wouldn't go crazy in the process, but she would break down forever. And then a slow painful death would have awaited her in the same phlegmatic manner.
As it happened with Rufus Scrimgeour, who by some miracle endured everything and did not betray Harry Potter. Perhaps, if Rodolphus were healthy at that moment, it would be he who would have to help in the torture of Scrimgeour, keeping his vitality to the limit. Luckily, Rodolphus fell off his broomstick and was temporarily unable to participate in any missions.
Yaxley stared at him unblinkingly "Will you show me your memories?"
"Korban, I would love to, but I don't have time for that. If you want, ask Bella, she will gladly savor the scene of the Dark Lord's great victory with you."
"Not these memories. The ones where the Mudblood dies. I want to see how it was. Bella won't show me that," he greedily licked his lips, stretched into a carnivorous grin.
Rodolphus felt his anger turn to icy fury. Dozens of times stronger than before, he wanted to let it out and destroy everything that came to hand.
He came to forge a closer friendship with Yaxley. That was his plan. The Lord's order was a good reason for this. Except it was hard as hell now that they were facing each other. The atmosphere tightened up. Rodolphus felt how discharges of energy were running through his body, ready to break at any moment.
It was a strange conflicting feeling that he had to protect something of value. He was responsible for the girl's safety. He really wanted to convince himself that Yaxley's reluctance to do what he asked was merely a desire to protect her, but there was something else. More shameful and attractive, something that belonged only to him alone.
Some part of Rodolphus saw Hermione as someone to take care of, and another as a defenseless victim.
He didn't want to share it. This image is defenseless and weak, such as she appeared before him in those moments. The context was terrible, but the picture that arose before his eyes evoked completely different feelings. She brought something more from the depths of his soul.
Maybe she will never understand him. After all, they played the scene of the murder, as proof of loyalty to the Dark Lord.
But to allow someone else to pollute those memories… Someone who had never even been his friend. For those who longed to see it, it was like an exciting spectacle for fun. Giving away a piece of something so intimate was a crime.
He will never do that.
"You will manage with your memories, Korban," Rodolphus said more harshly than he should have.
The laughter in Korban's eyes died away in an instant, his expression became bilious. He nodded knowingly, as if he had figured out a lot more than Rodolphus wanted to reveal.
"Merlin tear you apart! Isn't that too great an honor for some Mudblood? By God, she's not Harry Potter. You shouldn't be so...possessive." Yaxley judged by himself, but his words were not so far from the truth. Rodolphus said:
"I don't share. Memories belong only to me."
Showing memories of Hermione is like giving something that belonged only to him. He had no other excuse. Any other words would sound either suspicious or too deceitful.
"I think you have something to hide?" Korban teased him with a particularly vile smirk on his face. And Rodolphus had no choice but to agree, allowing Korban to think whatever his heart desires:
"Of course, this is not for everyone."
Yaxley laughed at these words and returned to the table, sitting in a huge armchair. With a gesture, he invited Rodolphus to sit across from him.
"It's annoying. Well, at least tell me something, just a little. Did she beg?"
"No, she met death bravely," Rodolphus sat down.
Korban began to leaf through the documents in a businesslike manner, showing his own significance with all his appearance.
"Sounds like you admire it."
"Not everyone looks directly into the eyes of death."
Korban raised his eyes and rested his heavy chin on his palm. "I agree. But don't you admire her too much?"
"It doesn't matter, she's dead." Rodolphus shook his head, trying his best to remain calm. "Now let's get down to business. I'm here on an errand. The Dark Lord is unhappy with the recruits. For your information, one of them was Nymphadora Tonks. I'm sure you've already heard that she attacked the Dark Lord."
Yaxley didn't like the change of topic, all the gaiety seemed to have been blown away from him by the wind.
"Where did the other one go? Two returned."
"Died while on a mission for the Dark Lord."
Yaxley grew even more gloomy. He obviously had to explain himself to the family of the deceased youth.
"Maybe they are useless, I don't deny it. But they are purebreds and share our ideals. The war is over, we don't need fighters."
Rodolphus leaned forward and patiently began to explain the seemingly obvious things: "You are forgetting the most important thing, Korban. Now that we rule the magical world, we have become the elite. The Dark Mark must be earned. Only a select few can enter our ranks, it is necessary to select new blood more carefully. Only the most promising wizards can serve the Dark Lord. The best of the best." Rodolphus added, seeing that Korban was still determined to argue: "You choose according to the principle whether they share our views or not. And they need to be something. No matter what their views, we'll teach them the right way after, you know the difference?"
Korban threw up his hands in outrage: "Each of them has excellent marks in NEWT. All have as good pedigrees as they can get, provided they're not from twenty-eight of the purest blood families. But I understood everything - this is not enough now. Well, I will personally apologize to the Dark Lord once I'm done with urgent Ministry business. I hope that's all you wanted to talk about? You see, I'm busy," - in a caustic tone, he emphasized the fact that he was entrusted with such an important matter, while the position of Rodolphus was not so official. Although both perfectly understood whose status is now more significant.
Yaxley was too vindictive. Behind the pathological pedantry and cunning was an immense cruelty that delighted the Dark Lord. It was not pure sadism, Yaxley was not a sadist in the true sense of the word, he simply did not tolerate insults and was ready to destroy everything that offended his honor. That is why Yaxley, and not someone else, was responsible for controlling the Ministry. And while the Ministry carried out the will of the Dark Lord, Yaxley's hands were untied.
Yaxley was also responsible for recruiting new recruits, as he had all of magical Britain at his fingertips. But the Dark Lord, contrary to his custom, preferred to convey his remarks through Lestrange, and not to summon Korban Yaxley for an audience. Yaxley saw this as a threat to his position and decided that he must personally see the Dark Lord. So he hoped to return the favor of the Dark Lord. It may be recalled that it was through his efforts that the Ministry fell, which means that his contribution to the cause has its own significance.
This was the whole Korban Yaxley - a careerist, ready to go over the heads. If someone was honored with a high position, he threw all his strength to achieve more and by all means deserve a better reward. It was like a sport for him. There was a strong sense of rivalry in him, he lived in a competitive struggle and therefore he had no real friends.
He was disappointed that Voldemort again considered his efforts and merit insufficient. No matter what he did, he always lacked something to earn the Dark Lord's trust.
He captured the Ministry, cursed Pius Thickness with Imperius, but when interrogating Scrimgeor, he did not calculate his strength and killed him before he betrayed Harry Potter. He caught on to Hermione, but then missed the trio. He was pedantic, unprincipled, but in his unbridled desire to excel, he sometimes made irreparable mistakes.
When Rodolphus was going to the Ministry, he hoped to take the opportunity to establish friendly contact, but the chance was missed, because the wizard gave vent to emotions and did not want to share memories of Hermione. And now was not the right time to talk about the important assignment of the lord, because Korban seriously intended to visit Voldemort without an invitation.
"I won't bother you any more," said Rodolphus, a little disappointed that he himself had ruined everything. Maybe he should have stepped on the throat of his stubbornness and appeased Korban, but even for the sake of business, he did not want to.
"Korban does not fit the role of the keeper of the Horcrux," thought Rodolphus and felt himself calming down.
As he walked away from the Ministry, he thought about what had happened. About those memories that Yaxley longed for and the pain that had cost Hermione dearly. She trusted him so much that he almost killed her. It was something he would never truly allow himself. He would never hurt her of his own free will. He only enjoyed the fact that she was under his protection.
Her complete defenselessness and gullibility brought a special aftertaste. And she didn't even have a wand. She would never be able to leave his estate if he only wanted to. She was entirely in his power. Even if he consoled himself with the fact that he would not dare to harm her ... the mere thought that she was dependent on Rodolphus excited him.
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