Toriel's phone buzzed as she was ready to head out of the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley. She pressed herself into a corner to make it less obvious she was doing something technological. It was a short text message, from Asgore: "Will be home late. Still going to Diagon Alley? Pick up Grillby's?"
She hadn't been sure she was going to be out that long, but, if he really wanted Grillby's for dinner, she could probably oblige. But there was the reason she was down here in Magical London to begin with, and that was to visit the premiere bookstore in Magical Britain, Flourish and Blots.
It was a lot different than her first trip down here, where not many wizards knew what a Monster was, with Frisk at her side. Now, very few wizards gave her so much of a second glance, everyone being used to the presence of the majority of the monsters. There was a few of the former Underground members that would still get people to stare, the ones that were less bipedal. And... well, Lapine, for example, if she was out walking Cinnamon. But Toriel really couldn't blame people for that, she found it slightly creepy herself.
But that, for the moment, was neither here nor there. The bookstore itself, Toriel noted as she pulled open the door that led inside, was much less crowded than it was during the week before Hogwarts school term.
"Where to start?" Toriel asked herself. It was a charm, right? "The Memory Charm"? There was, conveniently, a section on that specific wizardly discipline. But going through them wasn't particularly helpful, as they mostly had esoteric names like 'Curses and Counter-Curses', 'Easy Spells to Fool Muggles' (Toriel wrinkled her muzzle at that), and the... probably specific 'Charm Your Own Cheese'.
This was not working, Toriel decided, so she went to find help. Specifically, she went to the dark haired older wizard working on paperwork behind the counter. "Excuse me, sir," she said, causing him to jerk his head upward to look at her.
"Oh, sorry," the wizard said. "I didn't hear you at first. How can I help you?"
"My child, a student at Hogwarts, bore witness to a family of muggles being put under a memory charm. This bothered her, and she wished to learn more about it."
"Oooh," the wizard winced. "Ah. So the muggles had probably witnessed magic, or perhaps had seen a magical race, such as yourself?"
Toriel was about to correct him and say that they had seen the Dark Mark and been tortured by the followers of He Who Should Not Be Named, but realized that might explain more than she was comfortable with, and so simply responded, "Yes, they witnessed magic."
"Muggle friends of hers, perhaps?" the wizard theorized. "I understand why that might be upsetting to someone. Okay, let's see what I have in stock." He rubbed his chin, where the slightest beard stubble was visible. "Ah, yes, I think I know."
He guided her through the shelves of books, to one that was labeled 'Muggle Interactions'. He looked carefully down the shelf, pulled one down on "The importance of the Statute of Secrecy (and how to uphold it)", and handed it to Toriel.
She opened it up and read down the table of contents. "I think this will be helpful, sir, but it is not quite all she would like to learn. Or I would, either. Do you have anything on the memory charm itself?"
"I know it as a NEWT level charm, but I believe it is only for people of the age to use it responsibly." He began to say something more, then stopped himself. "That one isn't going to hurt anyone else, so no sense worrying about it. Anyway... how about.." he selected another book from the shelf, 'Mesmerizing the Muggles: When It Is Necessary, and When It Isn't'. "There, I think that will help your child."
Toriel took the second offered book and perused its cover and table of contents. This one seemed to have a full chapter on the uses of the memory charm, exactly what she was after. "My thanks, sir. I believe you are correct. Would you be willing to ring them both up for me?"
Toriel paid her galleons and took the bag. It was still too early for Asgore to be home, so she picked out a cafe, ordered a cup of tea, and picked one of the books to start reading. She was still trying to decide whether or not it was truly a good idea to fully restore the memories of the human child. This particular problem was listed in the Mesmerizing book, as a warning about trying to remove the memories. Certain types of people, with vivid imaginations and who wanted to hold onto them. So even when the obliviate charm was performed correctly, it could leave bits and pieces behind.
While this issue could occur in adults, it was far more likely to happen in muggle children, who had an easier time believing in magic. These pieces of memory could alter a person's behavior, and could be damaging both to the subject of the charm, and to the secrecy of the wizarding world in general. Frustratingly, there was no suggestion of a cure to this condition, other than finding a way to break the charm.
She read on, learning more about the charm, and how to correctly apply it, the situations you should apply it. If Toriel was going to be honest with herself, forgetting that she had been tortured would normally be something that she'd be in favor of forgetting. But... that also meant forgetting the people that rescued you, and Toriel could understand why that was something worth holding on to.
"An angel, she called me," Toriel whispered to herself. But the sun was starting to get low, and so it was time to pick up dinner, and head for home.
As late as it was, Asgore still wasn't there, but Toriel didn't beat him home by too much. As they sat down with their takeout, Toriel couldn't help but notice how nervous he looked. So before asking how his day went, she told him what she'd learned in relation to Frisk's request.
Only after finishing his meal did Asgore look comfortable enough to talk.
"I'd been working with Madam Bones, as you know, trying to figure out why groups of dementors went after both our children, Harry Potter, and his cousin. We'd been trying to figure out the motive of the possible people that might have been able to deal with the dementors, but weren't having much luck. So today, we went after a different tack."
Asgore took a deep breath, and told his story:
"Are you ready, Asgore?" Madam Bones asked, as she stepped into the Monster Liaison Office. Asgore eyed a sheaf of papers on his desk and shoved most of them to one side, selecting one specifically. He skimmed it, wrinkling his snout. "Yes, I suppose so. I must say, I am not looking forward to this. I did not think I would have to go there again."
"I appreciate it, though," Madam Bones told him, "There's really only three reasons to go to Azkaban, four, I suppose, if you're working there as the guard at the dock. Dropping off a new inmate, releasing someone who's served his sentence, or interviewing someone. As there's only so often either of the first two happen, it's hard to actually schedule a visit without raising suspicion."
Asgore placed the paperwork in a folder, handing it over to Madam Bones. He took a deep breath, and stood, "No time like the present, I suppose. I am ready. Let us go."
The way to Azkaban was complex. There was a direct floo connection from the Auror's department to a small wharf on the North Sea. But from there, travel was done by an enchanted human motor boat across the water, the only guaranteed safe way of arrival. The prison itself was guarded by a sort of enchanted fog that protected it against teleportation and arrival by broom, keeping even owls away. The motorboat, passing its way through sharp jagged rocks, did nothing for Asgore's feeling of discomfort.
It took them far over an hour to make the trip, long enough that Asgore's personal measurement of time was just as foggy as the view. When they arrived, his fur was already cold and damp from the salty smelling sea air. Their captain tied the boat off to the Azkaban dock, then retreated back into the passenger compartment, and Asgore and Madam Bones went into the small shack that sat apart from the prison on the dock.
This small, dingy shack, was the only human dwelling on the entire island. It consisted of two rooms, the front office, and a private sleeping chamber in the back. It was staffed by an Auror. They were rotated through relatively quickly, as it was considered the single worst post in the entire Ministry of Magic. At least she, or he, was generally far enough away from the Dementor infested prison to escape the actual effects of their presence.
"Madam Bones, Mr. Dreemurr," the witch said, looking up at them in surprise from her desk, where a series of colorful cards were laid out in a brilliant tableau. "Why are you here?"
"Good afternoon, Ms. Savage," Madam Bones said. "Asgore wants to talk to the Malfoys again about his adopted child, the one that passed away after falling into the underground," she explained. She pulled out the folder from her robe, presenting it to the attendant witch.
Ms. Savage opened the folder, running her finger down the form... "Blah blah blah," she mumbled, "signed off by the Minister, cross-signed by Kingsley. Looks good to me." She stood from the desk, going over to a small filing cabinet.
"Oh, that reminds me, Savage?" Madam Bones asked.
The younger witch paused in her shuffling of papers, looking over to Madam Bones.
"I need to look and see who else has been here the last three-four months," she explained. "I'm researching something for my department. Could you just bring the last few months' sign-in sheets and I'll just make some quick notes."
Ms. Savage made a sound of assent, and after putting Asgore's form in its proper place, came back with a few pieces of parchment, handing them over to Madam Bones. "This is yours," she said, handing a separate piece of parchment, and a quill, to Asgore.
He looked down at it, and it was a near non-existent list of wizards who had been to the island in the month of September. In fact, the only other person the had been to the island this month was the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. Asgore put his signature to the parchment, dated it, and held it out for his escort.
Madam Bones didn't take it at first, as she was thumbing through the other parchments, reading through them quickly. Finally, she scowled at them, and thrust the stack back at Ms. Savage. She let out a breath, then signed herself in.
"Remember to come back when you're done," Ms. Savage reminded them, as they exited the shack.
Standing outside, pulling their cloaks tight to protect against the constantly stormy weather, they looked up at the grey, nondescript, fortress. Even through the rain, Asgore was forced to wrinkle his nose. The place smelled of decay and death. He had smelled nothing like it since the first time he had been here.
"I hate this place," Madam Bones admitted, withdrawing her wand. She performed a complex pattern with her wand, conjuring a glowing platinum-ish raven. It circled them, cawing loudly, then landed on the witch's shoulder. There was a warmth coming from the raven that even Asgore could feel through the rain and wind.
The prison itself did not have a gate, just an imposing solid grey archway that led into the prison proper. A pair of dementors glided towards them, stopping a respectable distance away. Asgore had a sudden flashback to the dementors he and Toriel had confronted on the village streets, and gritted his teeth. He almost involuntarily stepped closer to his companion's raven and the safety it provided against that aura of despair.
"We are here to see Jasper and Annabel Malfoy," Madam Bones told them. The dementors bowed their hoods, and led them through the halls to a stairwell, and up through the prison. As bad as the smell was, and it was worse here, that wasn't the worst part of the prison. It was the sounds, the constant screams of despair, of agony. Asgore had heard it said that many people gave up eating instead of living through the dementors even for a few months, and with the cacophony assaulting his ears, he could believe it.
And the quiet ones might have even been worse. Asgore could see them through the cell bars, they were crying, openly, endlessly, heads in their hands. Only one prisoner looked up to see Asgore and Madam Bones. He rushed forward, begging for them to stop, trying to get in the safety of the raven's warmth, if only for just a moment.
Asgore hated this place too. He was not a destructive monster, but if it was up to him, he'd light it all on fire, burn it all down to start over. It wasn't, and it was all he could do to keep his soul magic in check.
One of the dementors leading them pointed its tattered arm of a cloak at two particular cells, then glided backward, the apparently empty hood of the cloak content to watch them.
"Mister and Miss Malfoy," Asgore began, stepping forward, between the cells, addressing the two occupants.
He was interrupted by the loud cackling of Annabel Malfoy, sitting on the bed and staring at them. She paused for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed even louder.
Jasper charged through his small cell, grabbing the bars and shaking them with a loud clanging noise. "He returns!" he cried to them. "And there is nothing you can do to stop him this time. The dark lord returns! He will come for us!"
"Jasper," Asgore tried again. "I am here to ask about your daughter, Chara. She committed suicide. I want to know what she was blaming herself for."
The only response Asgore got was Jasper shoving the sleeve of his tattered prison robe up his arm, revealing a complex tattoo of an ugly skull with a snake for a tongue. "See it and despair, monster, for the dark lord will come for you!"
"No," whispered Madam Bones as, nearby, there was a small pop as her raven blinked out of existence. Her confidence shattered by the dark mark, so plainly visible.
The wave of sorrow and depression hit Asgore like a tidal wave as the mere presence of so many dementors brought a very specific memory back to the forefront of Asgore's mind.
"It's the fourth one!" Undyne said proudly. She was holding one of the soul jars designed by Dr. Gaster. A small green soul floated up and down in that jar, unable to progress onward to wherever human souls went after death.
Asgore lowered his eyes, unable to look after a few moments. That soul... that soul had belonged to a living human, not long ago. He blinked back the tears, his Captain of the Guards should not see the king cry. "Was it you that killed the human, Undyne?"
"No. It was one of the other guards," Undyne said. "I shall write up a commendation for him, with your permission, of course!"
"That's fine, Undyne, thank you," Asgore said, even as Undyne pushed the soul jar into Asgore's paws.
"We're over half way there," Undyne said. "Just three more, and we can take revenge on humanity."
"Please," Asgore thought to himself. "Let this be the last one. Please... no more. It is not fair for us to be trapped underground. But please... don't let anymore kids die." He knew this is why Toriel had left him, decreeing that each human should die but not willing to go all the way, to cross the barrier to get the souls himself.
His wish did not come true.
The warmth brought on by the raven's reappearance brought him back to his senses. Madam Bones gently shaking him helped too.
"I am okay, I am okay," Asgore said, blinking back the tears, Annabel's cackling still echoing in his ears. "Mister and Miss Malfoy," he tried again. "I have a question about your daughter. Before she died, she was consumed with guilt over something she saw or did. What was that?" That wasn't quite true, it was after Chara came back, but they did not need to know that.
"Everything we did was in the service of our Dark Lord," Jasper told him, his wild looking eyes focused on Asgore. "We did as he asked, in life and in his banishment. He will never succumb to death, and he will always return."
"But Chara... what did you have Chara do?" Asgore insisted.
"Our daughter merely had to perform her duties to the Dark Lord," Jasper said. "She had nothing to be ashamed of."
"Asgore..." Madam Bones said, with the awed voice of someone who just had a puzzle piece pep into place, "I know what happened. We can go. I'll tell you on the boat. We should leave. Now."
"Hmm?" Asgore asked, and while he was surprised at the sudden vehemence, it wasn't unwelcome. So, guided by the dementor, they made their way back to the Auror's shack to sign out, and returned to the mainland.
"That was your worst memory?" Toriel asked as Asgore concluded.
"It still is, Toriel," he confirmed. "I was trapped in my own promises, to help the other monsters escape, and yet..." he sighed. "It will haunt me until the end, I think. Many human faiths state there is a type of purgatory for those who committed dark deeds, or if their 'karma' is unbalanced. I wonder, sometimes, if that will be my fate, in the end."
"I think you have helped enough people that the good will outweigh the bad," Toriel told him, gently. "Now... what was it Madam Bones discovered, or remembered, about our daughter?"