"That was dangerous. You could have been killed!"
The girl smiled weakly. "I know. But better me than my brother. I'd do anything to protect him," she added, her smile fading. Moody found himself almost disappointed - she was pretty when she smiled. Not in the classical sense, he reminded himself, glancing at her ginger hair (almost Weasley, he thought, grinning slightly) and the way her lips were just a bit too big and her skin a bit too pale.
"Whereabouts is he, then?" Alastor asked, glancing down the hallway they'd stopped at. This shop - house? - seemed big, he reflected soberly. If she didn't know exactly where this brother of hers was, this could take a while.
"Well, I saw them take him down this way and then through the door right at the end," the girl said helpfully. "That was after they grabbed him from the street - they seemed to know him by sight - and I followed, disguising myself."
"Why's this brother so important to them, anyway?" Alastor said, taking a torch off the wall and leading the way down the hallway.
"Information," the girl - woman, Alastor reminded himself mentally, frowning - supplied. "He knows something about Jonathan Nott that they don't want anyone else to find out, you see."
"And what would that be?"
The woman sighed, stopping and leaning against the wall. "It's complicated. We - that is, him and I - were at our house, when two men knocked on the door. They were quite dark, tall... well, we didn't recognise them, but they seemed to recognise my brother. Actually, they thought he was my father, I think, because they called him Marcus - that's my father's name - and they told us that," she paused, wrinkling her nose, "the couple's loyalty would be proven tonight."
"The couple's loyalty? Who is this couple?" Alastor asked, leaning beside her, after glancing around quickly for any sign of these men the woman mentioned. "And who is this loyalty to?"
The woman bit her lip, frowning. "Well, I don't know. They just said that they'd ask the couple a question or say a statement or something and if they were loyal, they'd give the right answer. I know the statement, if that helps, but it doesn't make a lot of sense."
"Go on," Alastor replied, nodding.
"They said they'd say, 'looks like stormy weather approaching' and if they couple were loyal, they'd reply, 'yes, it looks--'"
"Like rain," Alastor finished in a deadpan voice. "That's so cliché."
The woman seemed a little stunned, for she said nothing, blinking and staring at Alastor with wide eyes. There was silence while she glanced nervously down the hallway, then back at Alastor, who simply stared at her grimly.
He debated telling her that the couple gave the wrong answer, but decided against it. He had no way of telling if this woman wasn't just tricking him, after all. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Shall we continue, then?"
The woman nodded.
Once they reached the door, the woman put her hand out to open it, but Alastor slapped it away.
"Don't," he hissed. "There could be someone in there. Listen, first." With that, he put his ear against the door, listening intently. A myriad of expressions crossed his face - interest, doubt, puzzlement - and finally, he stepped away. "Alright, it's safe."
"You're sure?" she whispered back, and he noticed her hand had found its way to his arm, and she was clinging as if for her life.
He forced himself to sound gentle for once, and replied, "Yes, it's safe. I'll go in first."
To his surprise, the door was unlocked. That was unusual, to say the least. Too many times, he'd had to use some of the most complicated unlocking spells he knew to get into rooms.
However, the reason there was no need for the door to be locked appeared as soon as he peered into the room.
It was a veritable maze.
Alastor stared, astonished, at what seemed to be over fifty different passages, each fading into darkness. The woman followed him into the room and stood, presumably as amazed, silent beside him.
"We're never going to find him, are we?" she said finally, quietly. Alastor looked at her, defeated for a moment. He contemplated shaking his head and answering that no, they weren't, when a small detail caught his eye.
Near what Alastor approximated was the seventh door laid a small button. He bent down, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. He looked up at the woman. "Do you recognise this?"
She took it from him, squinting at it. "I don't know. It's dark green - and my brother was wearing a green robe when they took him but other than that, I have no idea. Sorry. I'm not much help." She smiled apologetically.
Alastor disagreed. She'd helped him escape from the mess of being caught by the Death Eaters - although, he remembered, it was actually her that caught him in the first place. She seemed to have a habit of getting him into trouble so she could get him out of it. He turned to face the seventh doorway.
"I suppose we go down here and see what we find," he said, shrugging and pushing open the door.
Darkness.
When Alastor awoke, the extremely irritated face of Minerva McGonagall was staring down at him. He sighed and tried to sit up, only for her to push him roughly back down.
"Min, I never knew you cared," he said, smirking at her. She frowned, perching on the edge of the bed.
"You were attacked by Jonathon Nott and a few friends of his. You and a redhead female who is currently still unconscious. Don't call me Min," she added as an afterthought.
Alastor furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Look, that redhead told me some pretty interesting information about Nott. Apparently he--" he cut off, suddenly. "What's wrong with calling you Min, anyway?" He ignored Minerva's death glare.
"You hate it when people call you Tor, I hate it when people call me Min. My name's Minerva, so use it," she said briskly. "What's this interesting information, then?"
Alastor sat up now, pushing her hand away when she tried to force him back down. "She said two men stopped off at her house, mistook her brother for her dad, and said that some couple's loyalty would be tested tonight, and that they had to give the right answer to the statement, 'looks like stormy weather approaching'--"
"Yes, it may even rain," Minerva replied automatically, rolling her eyes.
"I know," Alastor said, nodding. "But apparently this couple didn't, because Nott killed them after they gave the wrong answer."
"How odd," Minerva remarked, standing up to sit down on a nearby chair. "This girl heard the entire conversation between her brother and these men? They let her listen or did she eavesdrop?"
Alastor blinked. "She didn't say. I didn't think to ask."
"Awfully careless with details sometimes. I suggest you ask her when she wakes up," Minerva said, frowning at him.
"Alright, alright," Alastor said, waving his hand at her dismissively.
"Just be careful, alright? One of these days someone's eye is going to get poked out."
The girl smiled weakly. "I know. But better me than my brother. I'd do anything to protect him," she added, her smile fading. Moody found himself almost disappointed - she was pretty when she smiled. Not in the classical sense, he reminded himself, glancing at her ginger hair (almost Weasley, he thought, grinning slightly) and the way her lips were just a bit too big and her skin a bit too pale.
"Whereabouts is he, then?" Alastor asked, glancing down the hallway they'd stopped at. This shop - house? - seemed big, he reflected soberly. If she didn't know exactly where this brother of hers was, this could take a while.
"Well, I saw them take him down this way and then through the door right at the end," the girl said helpfully. "That was after they grabbed him from the street - they seemed to know him by sight - and I followed, disguising myself."
"Why's this brother so important to them, anyway?" Alastor said, taking a torch off the wall and leading the way down the hallway.
"Information," the girl - woman, Alastor reminded himself mentally, frowning - supplied. "He knows something about Jonathan Nott that they don't want anyone else to find out, you see."
"And what would that be?"
The woman sighed, stopping and leaning against the wall. "It's complicated. We - that is, him and I - were at our house, when two men knocked on the door. They were quite dark, tall... well, we didn't recognise them, but they seemed to recognise my brother. Actually, they thought he was my father, I think, because they called him Marcus - that's my father's name - and they told us that," she paused, wrinkling her nose, "the couple's loyalty would be proven tonight."
"The couple's loyalty? Who is this couple?" Alastor asked, leaning beside her, after glancing around quickly for any sign of these men the woman mentioned. "And who is this loyalty to?"
The woman bit her lip, frowning. "Well, I don't know. They just said that they'd ask the couple a question or say a statement or something and if they were loyal, they'd give the right answer. I know the statement, if that helps, but it doesn't make a lot of sense."
"Go on," Alastor replied, nodding.
"They said they'd say, 'looks like stormy weather approaching' and if they couple were loyal, they'd reply, 'yes, it looks--'"
"Like rain," Alastor finished in a deadpan voice. "That's so cliché."
The woman seemed a little stunned, for she said nothing, blinking and staring at Alastor with wide eyes. There was silence while she glanced nervously down the hallway, then back at Alastor, who simply stared at her grimly.
He debated telling her that the couple gave the wrong answer, but decided against it. He had no way of telling if this woman wasn't just tricking him, after all. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Shall we continue, then?"
The woman nodded.
Once they reached the door, the woman put her hand out to open it, but Alastor slapped it away.
"Don't," he hissed. "There could be someone in there. Listen, first." With that, he put his ear against the door, listening intently. A myriad of expressions crossed his face - interest, doubt, puzzlement - and finally, he stepped away. "Alright, it's safe."
"You're sure?" she whispered back, and he noticed her hand had found its way to his arm, and she was clinging as if for her life.
He forced himself to sound gentle for once, and replied, "Yes, it's safe. I'll go in first."
To his surprise, the door was unlocked. That was unusual, to say the least. Too many times, he'd had to use some of the most complicated unlocking spells he knew to get into rooms.
However, the reason there was no need for the door to be locked appeared as soon as he peered into the room.
It was a veritable maze.
Alastor stared, astonished, at what seemed to be over fifty different passages, each fading into darkness. The woman followed him into the room and stood, presumably as amazed, silent beside him.
"We're never going to find him, are we?" she said finally, quietly. Alastor looked at her, defeated for a moment. He contemplated shaking his head and answering that no, they weren't, when a small detail caught his eye.
Near what Alastor approximated was the seventh door laid a small button. He bent down, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. He looked up at the woman. "Do you recognise this?"
She took it from him, squinting at it. "I don't know. It's dark green - and my brother was wearing a green robe when they took him but other than that, I have no idea. Sorry. I'm not much help." She smiled apologetically.
Alastor disagreed. She'd helped him escape from the mess of being caught by the Death Eaters - although, he remembered, it was actually her that caught him in the first place. She seemed to have a habit of getting him into trouble so she could get him out of it. He turned to face the seventh doorway.
"I suppose we go down here and see what we find," he said, shrugging and pushing open the door.
Darkness.
When Alastor awoke, the extremely irritated face of Minerva McGonagall was staring down at him. He sighed and tried to sit up, only for her to push him roughly back down.
"Min, I never knew you cared," he said, smirking at her. She frowned, perching on the edge of the bed.
"You were attacked by Jonathon Nott and a few friends of his. You and a redhead female who is currently still unconscious. Don't call me Min," she added as an afterthought.
Alastor furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Look, that redhead told me some pretty interesting information about Nott. Apparently he--" he cut off, suddenly. "What's wrong with calling you Min, anyway?" He ignored Minerva's death glare.
"You hate it when people call you Tor, I hate it when people call me Min. My name's Minerva, so use it," she said briskly. "What's this interesting information, then?"
Alastor sat up now, pushing her hand away when she tried to force him back down. "She said two men stopped off at her house, mistook her brother for her dad, and said that some couple's loyalty would be tested tonight, and that they had to give the right answer to the statement, 'looks like stormy weather approaching'--"
"Yes, it may even rain," Minerva replied automatically, rolling her eyes.
"I know," Alastor said, nodding. "But apparently this couple didn't, because Nott killed them after they gave the wrong answer."
"How odd," Minerva remarked, standing up to sit down on a nearby chair. "This girl heard the entire conversation between her brother and these men? They let her listen or did she eavesdrop?"
Alastor blinked. "She didn't say. I didn't think to ask."
"Awfully careless with details sometimes. I suggest you ask her when she wakes up," Minerva said, frowning at him.
"Alright, alright," Alastor said, waving his hand at her dismissively.
"Just be careful, alright? One of these days someone's eye is going to get poked out."