Perhaps, in retrospect, more caution could have been warranted when they started asking questions about Rigel's whereabouts. In fairness, they hadn't been expecting anyone to pay attention to them, being children and all; besides, if anyone asked, they had a ready-made excuse as Rigel's 'former' friends. After all, nobody could possibly accuse proper pure blood scions, cruelly deceived and betrayed by some impure interloper, of possibly being on said interloper's side.
Only a madman would dare contemplate such a thing.
'Unfortunately, it seems I am surrounded by madmen,' Pansy thought to herself as she spun gently in her bonds, her half-dozen captors drifting in and out of view as they lounged around her. Every so often, one of them would give her a prod with their wands to keep her moving.
"It's very simple, really," drawled the one she had marked as their leader, a disreputable looking sort who seemed perfectly at home in the dingy basement where she was being kept. "Tell us where to find this Rigel kid, and we'll let you run home to mommy and daddy, where you can pretend that this was all a bad dream. Otherwise…". His voice trailed off meaningfully as one of his equally grungy companions produced a jet of flame from their wand.
Somehow, the *thing* which had assaulted Riddle's tournament, and tried to kill her friend, had simply never featured in Pansy's plans. This 'Voldemort' was background noise, as much as anything else, his presence felt mostly in the headlines, or their parents' private plotting. The idea that he might actually be a threat, desperate enough to assault a pureblood heir from the Book of Gold...
Well, it was obvious that Rigel's friends had dangerously underestimated his enemies. "I've already told you, I don't know," Pansy protested, fighting to keep her voice calm. Panic wouldn't help her now. "Nobody knows where Rigel is, that's the whole problem!"
"Well, I hope you'll excuse me if I seem a little skeptical," he drawled. "Having known a few brats in my day, I know how you lot tend to gossip. D'ya seriously expect me to believe that he didn't mention nothin' about makings' plans, not once in four years?"
She couldn't quite hold back a huff of laughter. "Rigel was very…open about having secrets," she explained, "But he was also very good at keeping them. Nobody ever really knew everything he was doing, and eventually we just… grew to accept it."
The leader, and the woman with the flame exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them. When it was over, the leader leaned back with a quiet sigh. "Not good enough, kid," he said, with obviously feigned regret. "Last chance to tell us something useful, before we start putting scars on that pretty skin."
The smart thing to do would be to break down in tears, and hope that she could play on their sympathy, but Pansy still had her pride, and she doubted that these thugs had any sympathy to spare. So, if she couldn't do something smart, she might as well do something brave instead. "Even if I knew where to find him," she finally declared. "I wouldn't tell you a damn thing."
"Oh?" the leader asked. "That's a lot of loyalty to show towards a filthy imposter."
Pansy waited until she had swung the rest of the way so that she could glare at him and say, "Imposter or not, Rigel is worth ten of you, you upjumped, know-nothing thug!"
For a long time, that last word hung between them, with Pansy glaring straight into the leader's disaffected expression. "Matilda," he finally said, without pulling his gaze away from Pansy's. "Be a dear and start with the legs, please. Someplace where her robes will still cover; no need to ruin the young lady's marriage prospects more'n necessary."
The friendly smile that stretched across his face was somewhat undercut by the flame-woman's disconcerting giggle as she stalked towards Pansy, wand already aimed to slash across her thighs. Distantly, Pansy found herself wondering if they'd bother to move her robes out of the way, or if she'd picking pieces of melted fabric out of her skin, assuming she survived this…
So distracted was she, that it took her an extra couple of seconds to recognize the sound of someone knocking at the door. It was a rather polite sound, firm but undemanding, and would not have been out of place at the front door of her parent's home. Suffice it to say, it stood out like a galleon on a black floor in this dingy, dreary place.
The thugs didn't waste any time, all of them pulling their wands out as they slipped from their seats. After a silent debate, the dingiest of their number (a particularly pathetic fellow who bore a truly unfortunate resemblance to Professor Pettigrew) made his way to the door in total silence. His breaths were soft and quiet as he leaned up against the door, and peered through the peephole at the front stoop.
Eventually, he turned back to the others and confidently declared, "There's nobody there-"
Which was, of course, the exact moment that Harriet fucking Potter slipped straight through the wall behind him, her wand already raised to strike. "Stupefy!" she snapped, the spell catching him in the back of the head and dropping him like a marionette even as she spun towards the others.
As fast as she was, though, the other thugs had been waiting for her. "Blast her," shouted the leader, and five spells leapt as one from their wands to catch Harriet Potter mid stride… and ultimately do nothing, as the Potter Heiress immediately went on the offensive.
"Someone bring her down already!" the leader yelped as he dove away from a fiery counter strike, ducking behind a moldy chair. Meanwhile, Pansy had already seen four spells collide with Harriet Potter, to no effect-
No, she realized a moment later as her rescuer brushed against a pillar, and left a shallow groove carved across it. Not one of the thugs' spells had reached Harriet's skin, not before being swallowed whole by the blood red aura that hovered over her body.
"Despaco," she gasped, as she watched halfblood witch move.
She thought Rigel had been vicious in his duels, but Harriet wasn't just skilled, she was furious. None of her blows were aimed to kill, but her opponents were afforded no other mercy as their side of the room was reduced to a wrecked, flaming ruin. She all but danced around their desperate counter strikes, when she wasn't simply ignoring their spells entirely in favor of blasting them with another monstrously overpowered spell.
It only got worse when the older witch conjured a knife at Potter, who simply scoffed before plucking it out of the air, and lunging forward with the blade extended. Suddenly, no range was safe, as she chased them around the room with explosion after explosion, or drove them back with the flash of her blade.
In no time at all, half the thugs were down, stunned or blasted into insensibility. The remaining trio were covered in dust and tattered clothing, wiping away streaks of blood from their numerous cuts. Harriet, meanwhile, was barely breathing hard, with only the fading of the Despaco shield to show how tired she must really be.
The Despaco ate up monstrous amounts of magic, Pansy knew. Potter must already have tremendous reserves to hold it for so long, while bettering six other wizards in a terrifying display of dueling, but surely she couldn't have much more?
Not one could tell, simply by looking at her. Even now, still outnumbered three to one, the girl only looked focused and coolly furious. "Let her go now," Harriet demanded in a furious hiss that Pansy had never heard from her before. "And I'll give you a head start to escape the aurors."
Unfortunately, the lead thug seemed as unconcerned as ever, even as he dabbed at a furiously bleeding cut on his forehead. "Harriet Potter, isn't it?" He asked in an almost conversational tone. "The little brat who helped start this whole charade in the first place? Oh, I've been hoping to have a little talk with you, that I have."
"Then why not come and find me?" the girl asked, as though an ambush from a bunch of thugs was a bit of inclement weather.
"Weren't my decision," he declared with a shrug. "Boss said hands off, until he was ready to deal with you all personal like. Still," he added as he pulled out a knife of his own, a sharp, jagged thing like a shard of glass with a handle. "I don't think he'd begrudge us a prize what's fallen into our laps so nice and pretty-like."
Harriet chuckled, her face cracking into a cold and rather cruel grin. "Voldemort probably saved your life," she said, still smiling. "Remus is ten times the dueler I'll ever be, and mom's a lot meaner. If you'd fought her, there wouldn't even be bodies left behind." She raised her wand, her grin fading away. "I won't ask twice."
There was a pause, a moment balanced on a life's edge as both sides took each other's measure. "Matilda," the thug-leader finally said, with a glance at the witch, before turning to the other wizard, a hulking man who had snatched up a table leg for a club at some point. "Robert? Why don't we show this bint how the Death Eaters run things around here?"
"Don't make me laugh," Harriet scoffed. "The lot of you couldn't run so much as a dueling club."
Then there was no more time for words, as Harriet lunged for Robert with her knife outstretched. She danced around his counterstrike with uncanny ease, her blade drawing bloody lines across his chest before Matilda could start driving her back with a flurry of nasty curses and jinxes. None of them could quite manage to hit her, but it was enough to force her to give ground.
Then Robert joined in, and for a moment it seemed like the combined force of their spells would be enough…
At least, until Harriet spun on one heel, and vanished with a muffled *crack*.
She reappeared between them, knocking the club from Robert's hand, even as she deflected a hasty spell from Matlida, riposting with a vicious knife throw that sent the witch diving away. Robert lunged for her, hands poised to wrap around her throat, but she vanished from within his grip, and caught him from behind with a conjured net while he was still wondering where she'd gone.
"Filthy halfblood bitch!" Maltida roared, rising from the floor as an unmistakable jet of green flew from her wand, forcing Harriet to dodge desperately to one side. The witch's follow-up curses sent Harriet scrambling across the floor, easily sidestepping a counter-spell as she kept up the pressure….
Only to gasp when Harriet's knife sank into her shoulder from behind, moments before an overpowered flippendo caught her in the gut, and sent her flying. Harriet's stunner caught her before the witch could hit the ground.
"How...terribly impressive," said the lead thug, his casual tone at odds with his dark sneer. "Tell me, what did it take for the wayward 'Rigel' to teach you those skills? Was that your price for partaking in this ruse, or were you also sucking him off under the table?"
Harriet froze when she glanced over her shoulder, and saw the thug standing in arms reach of Pansy, his wand planted firmly against her neck. "Still, very poor form, not keeping your eye on the real objective," the thug continued, carefully keeping Pansy between himself and the heiress. "Now all my people are down, but I *still* have the upper hand. Now I suggest you drop your wand, unless you want me to ruin the little miss's brand new robes."
"What makes you think that I care about her enough to do that?" Harriet asked with a casual tone that didn't quite match the way her eyes darted around the room, searching. "I'm only here as a favor to Rigel, after all."
"Come now darling," the thug drawled. "Folk don't come tearing through a room like an angry dragon cause they're repaying a favor. I don't know why you care about the Parkinson brat, but I don't think you're prepared to see her bleeding out on the floor neither. Now, drop it."
A little gasp escaped Pansy as he tightened his grip, his wand pressed a little harder against her neck. "I won't ask twice," the thug added, the mockery in his voice clear to see.
Harriet sighed and carelessly tossed her wand to one side. "Now what?" she asked.
"Well now," the thug said as he moved his aim from Pansy to Harriet. "I figure that if you stand still, this'll all be over soon-"
Their only warning was the creaking of an errant floorboard, before a slender figure cannoned into them from behind. Pansy abruptly found herself ripped from the thug's grasp, a worryingly powerful (and wandless, sweet Merlin!) summoning spell dragging her over to Harriet's side as the thug was tossed to the floor.
"Vincent Vildegild," said the newcomer, staring down at the thug with hands planted loosely on his hips. "Didn't we already have a conversation about how I feel about kidnappers and child-killers?" The cocky smile on his face, and the easy manner with which he pulled a knife out of his belt, fitted poorly with Pansy's memories of the last time she had met Lionel Hurst.
Back then, the Aldermaster's son had seemed a harmless rake, with little talent or ambition to speak of; nothing at all like the dangerous predator currently standing before her. "Now are we gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way?" Hurst said as he stalked towards the hapless thug, still idly twirling his knife in one hand.
"Go kiss a dementor," snapped the thug, recently revealed as Vincent Vildegild. "I'm not telling you anything, and you better bury me deep after you kill me, Rogue, because when my master finds out what you've done he'll burn your precious alley's down while you watch, and-"
"Voldemort won't be hearing anything about this," Harriet interjected, calling her wand back into her hand and pointing it squarely at his head. "In fact, I doubt he'll ever know that we were here at all."
The thug burst into laughter. "You threats need work, lass, if you think you're going to scare us into keeping quie-"
"Obliviate!" The spell caught him square in the face, his expression going vague and unfocused as his sentence trailed off, before a quick stunner from Lionel Hurst sent him snoring to the floor.
"We could have questioned him, you know," said the Aldermaster's son, though his careless tone suggested that he didn't care either way.
"I have better things to do than listening to a bigot's rhetoric," Harriet retorted, though Pansy caught the rather meaningful look that the girl gave her. Something they didn't want her to hear, maybe?
If there was, Lionel Hurst didn't seem inclined to comment on it. "Suit yourself, lass," he said with a shrug, before turning to give Pansy a rakish grin. "Fancy meeting you around these parts, Parkingson. And how does this fine evening find you?"
An angry grunt from behind him drew an eye roll, and a snapped off stunner so fast that Pansy only saw the red jet of light when it collided with the still struggling Robert, causing him to slump inside the net.
"Well enough, considering the circumstances," she said, hating the way her voice trembled on the last few words. Quite aside from the trauma of her capture, she wasn't quite sure how to feel about her rescuers. Harriet was...probably trustworthy, as things went, but she was less sure of the girl's goodwill than before, when she thought that the halfblood was related to Rigel.
Pansy definitely had no idea at all how to feel about Hurst, who seemed to have shrugged off the airs of fine society like an ill-fitting coat, before replacing it with a cloak of quiet menace. There was something quietly...troubling about the way he looked at her, even if he hadn't gone so far as to actually act menacing.
"I'll admit, I'm not entirely sure what I've done to deserve such a timely rescue," she added, because frightening or not they had rescued her, and it was important to acknowledge that. She had no doubt that these thugs would have taken her to pieces, trying to pry out secrets that she didn't have, and only Harriet's furious intervention had saved her from torture, or worse. "I know that you and…'Rigel' worked together, but I wasn't sure…"
She trailed off when she saw Harriet's firm shake of the head. "Despite what happened, I owe Rigel a lot," she declared. "So as far as I'm concerned, any friend of Rigel is a friend of mine."
It was exactly the sort of sappy, impractical nonsense that Rigel would have said, and Pansy wondered if her best friend had learned it from the heiress… or maybe it was simply a quality that they shared. In one fashion, or another.
"That's very kind of you," was all she actually said, because she doubted her new suspicions would be welcome. In fact, she rather suspected that getting too nosy would result in a quick obliviation of her own, much like the one Lionel Hurst was subjecting her captors to. She licked her lips, and resolved to look as incurious as possible. "So, what happens now?"
Hurst and Harriet exchanged a look that said, clearer than words could tell, that they hadn't actually planned that far ahead. Eventually, Harriet's eyes darted down to the gang, and she slumped slightly in a silent realization. "Do you think you could find your way to Diagon-" she began, before Hurst cut her off.
"None of that now, lass," he chided, walking over to them with his hands shoved into his pockets. His knife had disappeared at some point, though Pansy doubted that made him any less dangerous. "Wouldn't be right, making this nice lady escort *herself* home, not after a day like today."
He flashed them both a smile, and Pansy felt herself relax a little at the good humor in it. "I'll clean up here," he declared, waving them both off like a house-elf with a herd of cats. "Go ahead, and walk the young miss back."
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Harriet asked, obviously torn. "I mean… it can't be easy, getting an auror down here."
Hurst was already shaking his head, though. "I've already got Marek standing by as back-up. Between him, and anyone else I can scrounge up, I figure I can get these people to the proper authorities."
They exchanged another look, this one so heavy with subtext that Pansy imagined a whole argument taking place beneath it, one with a long and complex history behind it. Whatever it was that went unsaid, it was obvious that Harriet had lost the debate, throwing up her hands and storming away from the Aldermaster's son, barely taking the time to gently tug Pansy in her wake.
"Argh, men," she grumbled, her eyes flashing a brilliant green through her glasses.
"Tell me about it," said Pansy as she flashed the other girl a secret smile.
