Disclaimer Number One: Knockturn Alley, Death Eaters, Aurors, and spells in this fanfiction are not my property. The main characters are though.

Disclaimer Number Two: This short story is about the sexual abuse of children, if you find the subject offensive please read with caution. It definitely is not a pretty picture. I'm not trying to be gratuitous, but this happens. It is indeed a sad fact.


The Hard Way

The Tales of Knockturn Alley

JPx

Firewhiskey and Muggle whiskey share two traits. One, they burn on the way down. Two, they both get you drunk.

Morgan Calloway was a wizard, an Auror, and a man of little faith. Currently he was in his office staring at the board he had made on the wall. A map of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley with little colorful dots etched on both. Red was for the bodies of children found dead…there were six of them. Green was for a child found raped, but alive; he counted the all too familiar twelve.

Morgan reached into his robes for the flask of alcohol he had taken to carrying with him everywhere he went. Inside was a cunning mix of Ogden's and Jack Daniels. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. He usually preferred rum, but he was out of rum.

He stared at the map, but his mind was drifting. He thought about needing to start working out again, the fifty pounds he had gained in the past few months bugged him. He thought about his soon to be ex-wife. He had hit her a couple of times in a drunken stupor, she of coarse was leaving. He thought about his last case, the one that brought upon the drinking habit.

It was supposed to be simple, a sweep of a store in Knockturn Alley, they were looking for dark artifacts. Arthur Weasley had some intelligence on the case since some of the items were Muggle in nature. He and his partner entered at precisely the wrong time.

A Death Eater meeting was being held. The two Aurors never even had a chance. His partner of ten years took an Avada Kedavra in the chest. Morgan managed to take cover in time. In his panic not a single curse left his wand.

What did happen was he apparated out of there. If he had gone to the Ministry first all in the world would still have a chance to be right. But he was scared, and the first place he had thought of was home. By the time he did get to the Ministry for backup it was too late. The Death Eaters were gone.

Morgan took another drink from his flask before replacing it into his robes. He hated this, his life, this case, everything. Some sicko was roaming the street putting kids under the Imperious Curse and having sex with them. Afterwards, he would kill them sometimes. The very thought of this had made him physically ill on more than one occasion.

He glanced at the map again; it was time to do some legwork.

A small pop later and Morgan was in Knockturn Alley. All twelve kids who lived through what would become their most horrendous moments of life were found here. The dead kids were all left in Diagon Alley for some clueless mother shopping with her own children to stumble upon. Morgan didn't have a clue as to where to begin, he didn't have a clue about who was doing this, but he could feel the consuming hate fill him as he knew the guy was around here somewhere.

As he began entering stores and questioning people his mind wandered to some of the things he heard while working this case. The kids were raped, all eighteen of them. The twelve girls were put under the imperious curse and their young minds were forced to do the sick things this guy wanted them to do. All the questionings had been the same, he wore a Death Eater mask, he never showed his face, and they couldn't remember anything that would distinguish this guy from any other guy in the two alleys. He had killed the six boys that he had raped. It was a small pattern to say the least, but maybe it was something that Morgan could work with.

All day long Morgan buried himself in searching aimlessly for the creep he hated. He knew it was probably hopeless, but he had to still try. Not for the first time he wished he could find the guy and when he did that he might be authorized to use unforgiveables. His head office was holding on to that privilege just for wartime. But from what he had been hearing all day, it was wartime.

Tired of the day, Morgan apparated back to his office, he needed to fill out the paperwork before he could officially check out and go home.

Filing, done, go home, done, catch the only case he could get and try to prove to his superiors that he was still worth a damn, not even close. Morgan scanned the flat he was forced into renting. He still had to pay for the home his wife lived in, now this. The Ministry did not pay that well.

The walls were bare; he opened his refrigerator to find his alcoholic release. Whiskey, but not one hint of food was present. He grabbed the whiskey and sat in his recliner. With a wave of his wand his Wizarding Wireless was playing an old jazz song. It was slow, and it filled Morgan to his very soul.

Ten shots later, and his foggy mind replayed even more of what had happened in this hellish case. The Obliviators had informed him that memory charms could not be put on the girls. This son of a bitch had placed memory locks on them; the locks were rooted into their central brain. If they their rape was obliviated, they would in turn forget how to breathe.

This all told Morgan one thing, this guy was good. Probably too good to be caught by an overweight Auror who couldn't get from his chair to his whiskey without breathing heavy. He took his eleventh shot and let the fog hit him with even more force as he passed out in his favorite chair.

"You're late!" Morgan's boss's voice echoed through his poor throbbing hung-over head.

"Sorry…" he grumbled not sorry at all. It was lucky that he hadn't called in.

"We have a new development in your case," the wizard with gray hair responded testily.

"What's that?" Morgan perked up a little.

"Missing kid, Holly Welcher, age ten, went missing this morning while shopping with her mother. I have two teams already searching for her, but…she went missing around the entrance of Knockturn. We need you there to help; we think it's your guy. Here's her picture."

Morgan nodded as his boss walked away. He looked at the young girl with straight sandy blonde hair. Her hair parted in the middle so you could see the eyes that held all the happiness and hope in the world. She smiled at him, a smile that could lift even the darkest of souls. He reached into his robes and took another swig from his almost empty flask.

"Here we go," he said to himself and vanished with a small pop.

No matter how many times he visited the dank row of shops Morgan could never get used to the feel of the place. The smell lingering around his face suggesting that illegal wares was around him. The prickling on the back of his neck suggesting that someone had taken an interest in watching him. That feeling in the pit of his stomach, that one that signaled danger was around him.

A blind man…or a man without any eyes seemingly watched Morgan as he leaned against an abandoned shop, his eyeless sockets following where the Auror stepped. An involuntary shiver ran down Morgan's spine.

Morgan reached into his robes and downed the last of what was in his flask. The warm liquid solidified him so he could continue his search. Or begin his search, Morgan didn't really know. Was this actually a new search?

The questions echoed around the head of the man. Questions spawning questions, and not one answer would pop into the poor man's skull. He began his search.

Shop after shop, it was routine. Have you seen this girl? Pull the picture, they would look unconcerned and give some vague answer that resembled 'no'. No one ever really gave straight answers in Knockturn.

Then a break and what was the closest thing to a straight answer that he had had all day.

Morgan had entered the nicest shop in Knockturn Alley and had been greeted by what seemed a kind old man. He knew looks could be deceiving, as well as first impressions. He gripped his wand in his robe's pocket, just in case.

"Yes, I did see her. She was walking towards the Silent Sleepaway with an older man who I presumed was her father. They looked to be tourists…"

Morgan nodded his head grimly and left the shop. Time was of the essence, pleasantries could wait until the girl had been found. Found and hopefully returned to her mother unharmed.

His pace quickened, sweat broke out onto his forehead. The building was only a short distance away, but it was far in his mind. The closest Apparation point was two blocks behind him. The girl's innocent eyes floated into the Auror's mind…he broke out into a run.

Upon arrival of the dark building looming in front of him he slowed. He needed his breath, and all the confidence he could accumulate to get any answers so that he could help the girl. Breathing slightly heavier than he wanted to be he entered the hotel.

"Whaddiya wan?" a wheezy voice asked from behind the glass.

"Have you seen this girl?" Morgan asked pulling out the picture.

"Hmm, maybe, wha's it to ya?" the old man asked in return scratching his chin.

"She's in danger and I need to find her," Morgan pointed to his Ministry crest upon his chest, "don't make me search every room here. Imagine at what I might find."

"Al'righ, al'righ, slow yer horses yung 'un. She'd be in room twinty tree wit sum cunny who seys he's 'er father."

"Got an extra key, I want to do this quietly as possible."

The old man slid a key in the dip under the window as a reply. Morgan nodded his head and headed towards the stairs.

On the third floor was the destination of the Auror. He examined the fairly new lock and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear muffled voices but couldn't really make out anything. He slid the key in and turned, a satisfying click was heard. Morgan turned the knob but nothing happened. Morgan scanned the door with his wand, no magic was holding the door firmly shut, it was merely stuck.

The middle-aged man sighed. It was time to do things the hard way. There was no time to call for backup, he leaned back and then rushed his shoulder into the door.

"SHIT!" he cried as the door barely budged. As quick as he could he recovered himself and kicked the door. It flew open with a resounding thud as it hit the other side of the wall. Wand at the ready Morgan rushed in.

He wanted to puke. A man in nothing but a Death Eater mask was hurriedly trying to get his trousers buttoned. Ten-year old Holly was lying on the bed, panties bunched around her ankles, dress hiked up on her waist. Tears were slipping down her cheeks. Morgan saw blood, but quickly focused on the rapist in front of him. The man was unarmed; if Morgan played by the book he was supposed to get the perpetrator bound and gagged and head him off to the Ministry. Azkaban would surly be waiting for him.

Morgan though, wasn't feeling like playing by the book. In a blind moment of pure unrefined hate he said the first spell that entered his mind.

"Crucio!" he said with every emotion welling up in him. The man in the mask fell. His body twitched and withered. Morgan heard the man's teeth grinding, he didn't want to scream. Morgan lifted the curse.

"You don't want to scream?" he flick his wand and the door closed itself. Holly had gotten her clothes back on correctly and was huddled beside the bed. "Silencio!" Morgan said casting the charm so sound would not escape. "You'll scream, I'm sure of that…"

After another Cruciatus Curse the man would still not scream. Morgan lost all composure and started a barrage of kicks into the man's abdomen. He grunted with each blow, his trousers came loose and slid down. Morgan was disgusted to see that the other man had an erection.

"You like to rape kids? Well, let's make sure that you won't be doing it any time soon," Morgan said as he released a cutting curse. His aim was true, and the other man screamed as he lost part of himself.

Morgan grinned wickedly as he healed the other man. He released some counter charms to ensure that nothing would ever let him grow his weapon of choice again. Morgan then heard whimpering from the floor. He turned to see a mesmerized Holly.

Her small little voice cracked when she said in a low tone, "Kill him."

Morgan looked into what used to be the bright blue eyes of innocence. Now they were dead blue eyes that held all the sadness in the world. Morgan wanted to let the man live without his manhood for the rest of his days. He wanted to perform at least one more Crucio on the withering pile of worthlessness below him. But he found that he could not deny this girl her only wish.

Morgan nodded his head sadly. He raised his wand…

"Wait!" the man cried out from the floor. "I have information about You-Know-Who!"

Morgan looked at the man, "That can't save you now."

The Auror then brought out all the hate and hurt from his life. He poured it all through himself directed towards his shaking wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" the green light hit the man on the floor. His deranged fearful eyes went blank instantaneously.

Footsteps were heard outside the door. Morgan knew what was coming. Six Aurors burst through the door to find their comrade standing above the lifeless rapist. Holly was on the floor hugging her knees with a glint of almost happiness in her now cold dead eyes.

"Morgan, what did you…" but the Auror stopped. It was clear what their teammate had done.

"I'm sorry Morgan, we have to place you under arrest," a different Auror said in remorse.

"NO! He's a hero! You can't arrest him!" Holly said rushing to her feet. She was jerky in her movements; small grunts of pain came from her small frame.

"We have to, he's a murderer."

"HE'S A HERO!"

"Holly," Morgan said, resignation infiltrating his voice, "I'm going to Azkaban. There's no getting around it."

Holly burst into tears as she limped to her hero and hugged the older man. She muffled from his robes, "I'll write you, I swear it."

Morgan nodded as he was led away for his trial.

The events in room twenty three had been recreated in Morgan's trial. Everyone knew the torture that had taken place that fateful day. It didn't take long to find Morgan guilty. It took even less time to sentence him to Azkaban Prison for the minimum of fifteen years. Morgan accepted it all like nothing could faze him. He knew in his heart that he was worth a damn to someone.

Holly even kept her promise. Her letters every week was the only thing he ever looked forward to. She told him that she too could not be obliviated. She would talk of school. She talked about her going to Hogwarts when the time came.

She signed every letter with 'Thank You'.

Holly only had to keep her promise for three years. In his third year of prison Morgan received a shank in the belly by a man he had arrested years previous. The guards of the hellhole that was Azkaban did not care that a prisoner was bleeding out. It took three days of pain and anguish before his body finally gave out.

His funeral was small. A few Aurors showed up, along with some adults that were strangers to the man below them. They were parents, the parents of the dead, the parents of the traumatized. Among the few adults one lone small girl showed up. In her eyes was the sadness of the world. She read the humble tombstone.

'Husband, Auror, Friend'

With a grim smile and a flick of her wand another word was etched below the small epitaph. She nodded to the stone and turned with a tear in her eye as she walked away.

'Husband, Auror, Friend'

'HERO'