Hello all!
As promised, the next installment!
Peny Mitchell, Mattia18, NotSureHowToMingleand auri-australis, thank you all for your reviews, as well as the two guests who posted on chapter 1 if you're still going!
I'll try to respond to any outstanding reviews tomorrow :)
The week of bliss visiting Rabastan's parents' guest villa in France passed too quickly for Emma's liking. All too soon, her mark burned and it was time for them to leave and return to the real world. It was nice while it lasted, Emma thought wistfully as they both dragged their feet. By the time the couple had reached the main house, the Lestranges were already out on the porch, Rabastan's father having felt the pain himself.
'Thank you,' Emma said as sincerely as she could, clasping Mr Lestrange's hand in her own.
Regulus conjured a bouquet of pink and white flowers for Madam Lestrange. 'Our compliments to the hosts,' he said with a short bow.
'It is we who thank you,' Mr Lestrange replied, with a strange glint in his eye and a twist of a smile upon his lips. 'If you were not here to take up arms, then we might not have such a peaceable retirement.
Their eyes met and Emma felt his weariness crash onto her shoulders. For how much longer can we keep this up before we, too, burn out? she wondered.
As they said their goodbyes, she shrank her bag — no more time to dawdle — and made her way to the edge of the perimeter.
'Hey,' Regulus said softly, holding her hands in his own. 'Be careful now.'
His mark hadn't burned — he would be expected at a Ministry interview the next day. Infiltrating the last bastion of resistance other than the Order of the Phoenix was the Dark Lord's top priority. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear as he moved to kiss her.
'How well you play the dutiful role of househusband,' Emma replied, blushing crimson as she ducked away from his love and buried her head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply. She needed a clear head to face the Dark Lord.
'I'll poke about the Ministry in my free time,' he murmured in her ear as they held each other close. 'See if they have anything on Tom Riddle and where he lived, where he worked.'
'Be careful,' she echoed, suddenly reminded of Regulus's last investigation and the note on her pillow. 'Don't make any rash decisions.'
'What do you take me for, a Gryffindor?' Regulus joked, and they laughed. Long gone were the days when they were offended at the mention of their rival House.
Emma made a motion with her fingers, showing Regulus that she had her eye on him. Satisfied that she was leaving her boyf… husband with a smile on his face, she closed her eyes and visualised Lestrange Manor.
Crack!
'So happy you could join us,' Rodolphus sneered, standing in his usual spot on Bellatrix's right hand side. Bellatrix herself had positioned herself closer to the Dark Lord than her husband, something Voldemort seemed to allow for the time being. 'Thought you'd still be off polishing Regulus's wand. Decided he could do it better himself?'
Travers and Bellatrix sniggered, whilst Lucius simply rolled his eyes. Emma glanced towards the Dark Lord's impassive face, the slight smirk on his thin lips, and realised that whether Rodolphus had willed it or not, this was a test.
'Scourgify,' she said cooly, flicking her wand upwards. Soap bubbles filled Rodolphus's mouth, but before he could make a move she had wordlessly disarmed him. Catching the pale fir wood with a Chaser's trained reflexes, she allowed herself her own quip. 'You might want to spend more time dirtying your wand than your mouth. Luckily for you, I've already taken care of one.'
Rodolphus growled, gagging and spitting out foam. Emma teasingly twirled his wand around her fingers.
'Enough of this childishness,' the Dark Lord hissed. Emma took his lack of cursing as a sign of approval, but threw the wand back to Rodolphus before he could change his mind. 'I have called you here for a reason. Travers, since you seem to be in such good spirits, why don't you tell us how your efforts within the Department of Mysteries are proceeding?'
Travers gulped, his smile giving way to the sharpness of his features.
'My Lord,' he started, and Emma was impressed with the cool crispness of his voice. She didn't know much about the older man, but few were those who could withstand the Dark Lord's direct gaze with such calm. 'My Lord, we have discovered the presence of the time turners, as you suspected. My agent has not yet been able to find a way to remove these from the confines of the Ministry, nor how to lead us there directly, but I have ascertained that there are no more than twelve in existence at the moment.'
Voldemort remained silent, his fingertips pressed in a steeple against his chest. His head smoothly swivelled around to the next in line.
'Lucius, what of the Hogwarts Board of Governors? Was your transition to the fold smooth, or are there some we should keep an eye on?'
Lucius smoothed his lengthening white-blond hair back, speaking with a note of pride and the hint of a smirk on his lips. 'My Lord, everything is going to plan. There were a few dissenters, maybe, but they have been… ah… suitably convinced that there is much reward in doing things the old way, should the opportunity present itself.'
'And of course, we have young Mr Crouch here to tell us when the opportunity does present itself.' The Dark Lord's voice was rich and buttery, and it took all of Emma's will to not shudder at Barty's reaction. Only months ago, she too had been lapping up the praise like honey.
'Emma.' She snapped to attention, wondering what kind of mission the Dark Lord would send her on, and hating herself for anticipating the challenge ahead. 'It seems that the old fool thinks he can convince the werewolves they are… civilised.' The word came out as a sneer and everyone in the room laughed appropriately.
Since when have we dropped the facade of equality for all beings? Emma thought. Then again, it doesn't seem like Greyback really wants equality anyway.
Voldemort granted her one of his thin-lipped smiles, one that would have appeared handsome in the past, knowledgeable. 'We will remind them of the unique pleasures they can take in their wolf form. Remind them what they'll be missing should they listen to the snivelling fool Dumbledore has trusted to undertake his assignment.'
'Yes, my Lord,' Emma nodded her head with a slight smirk, bringing to the forefront of her mind the comments about Dumbledore's stooge to mask her inner turmoil. Who would it be, she wondered?
'And that brings us to dear, dear Bella.' Bellatrix looked up, lips parted and breast heaving as she quivered with excitement. 'Do what you do best, my dear. Let the world fear our wrath and we will feast on the Aurors' remains.'
If the metaphor was lost on anyone else, they didn't show it. As the Dark Lord wrapped up the meeting, the Inner Circle filtered out of the drawing room one by one, Apparating away as soon as they met the threshold.
'Wand, please.'
Regulus waited patiently as the witch in the small cabin weighed his wand, scanning a small slip of paper before handing it to him. He didn't bother glancing at it; he had memorised the quality and characteristics of his wand wood and its contents over and over again in his first year. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would have been better off as a Ravenclaw.
'Thanks,' he said, pinning his visitor badge more securely on the lapels of his smartest robes.
His interview wasn't for another two hours yet, but it was typical for graduates to come well in advance. No one knew whether the Floo chutes would be blocked, or whether the underground escalators would be jammed. Of course, Regulus had also planned in advance, arriving more than half an hour ago to avoid the rush. Now he was left in a mostly empty Atrium, with the occasional witch or wizard walking briskly through the halls.
He looked around curiously. He'd heard about the enchanted windows in the offices, but never about the bright blue ceiling, abuzz with the latest information necessary for the Ministry to run smoothly. As he watched, a meeting on the fifth floor at 10am changed to the third floor at 3pm, jumping further down the hall behind several other notices and symbols. Walking forwards on dark polished floors, the so-called Fountain of Fair Fortune loomed ever larger in its golden splendour, house-elves and goblins staring adoringly at the witch and wizard frozen in striking poses.
Regulus smirked. Whoever had commissioned the statue had obviously never met a disgruntled goblin trying to wrest back a family heirloom that they claimed belonged to the forger and not the buyer. Or perhaps they have, and this is their passive-aggressive revenge. The thought nearly made him laugh aloud and he moved on swiftly before anyone caught him disrespecting the Ministry. Anything could get back to his potential employers: the Department of Mysteries.
Reminded of his true purpose in arriving early, Regulus decided to find a map. Surely there must be some kind of guide for visitors, he thought as he weaved back and forth through latecomers rushing to their offices. There was no visible booth aside from the wand weigher at the front, but eventually he came across a plaque on the wall near the elevators that detailed what belonged on each floor. Scanning the contents, he determined his destination and stepped in, pressing the button for level two.
'Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' the cool voice announce as the elevator pinged open.
Regulus felt his heart drop as he saw the wizards and witches teaming beyond. In his single-mindedness to find the wizarding archives, he had forgotten that this level was also full of Aurors, Aurors whom he had met several times on the battlefield, albeit on the sidelines. He gulped as he firmly shored up his Occlumency shields, feeling that if nothing else, the meetings with the Dark Lord had prepared him for this moment.
'Here's you, laddie.' Someone gave him a gentle nudge from behind. 'Good luck to you. Merlin knows that department needs more help.'
Regulus nearly stumbled as he stepped forwards, realising that the man behind him had misinterpreted his interviewee badge as applying for an Auror job. No, although that had been Rabastan and Emma's plan, he wanted nothing to do with the chimaera's den. He felt like taking a breath and closing his eyes to steady himself, but that would attract attention. Nerves meant that you were out of place and they would soon find out that he wasn't supposed to be on this floor.
So he strode forwards, heading directly for the Wizengamot Administration Services, hoping that his intuition was right about the residency archives being held there for previously convicted cases. He wouldn't find anything about the seaside cave, but… if his intuition was right, he would find out about other Horcrux locations.
However many there were.
The wolves were getting restless.
Emma had followed Fenrir's directions to the Yorkshire countryside, to a network of forest caves that seemed as though they belonged in a Beedle the Bard tale. The largest of these had been hollowed out much like the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, and she could smell the scent of wet dog before she got within thirty feet.
Closing her eyes for a second, Emma tried to motivate every courageous bone in her body into working overtime. Her lips moved in a silent mumble as she cast Shielding and Protection Charms, before merging her magical signature with their own. A short term solution, as evidenced by the spinning hands on her watch, but she hoped it might make them recognise her as an ally, if not one of them.
Eventually, she ran out of spells to cast. The magic settled itself over her shoulders like a cloak, and an eerie sense of calm pervaded her senses. The effort of casting had used up all of her nervous energy and there was no point in letting the moment pass.
Squaring her shoulders, Emma walked in.
Hoots and howls of laughter met her ears as she walked up the tunnel, shadows dancing on the walls from the firelight. It was as though she had walked straight into a Ministry propaganda pamphlet about the wildness of the werewolves. As she rounded the corner, she was treated with the sight of a circle of people half-crouched around the centre of the cavern. In the middle, two men were wrestling, their long hair forming half-dreadlocks in various clumps around their skulls. The stink of sweat was in the air, and sure enough, it was hot enough to make Emma start sweating beneath her black Death Eater robes.
I am so out of my element, she thought, wondering how she could ever win these people over with her silver tongue she was now famed for. That, and also manage to negate any damage they might do.
She wanted to press her fingers to her temples, to rub away the feeling of her brain being stretched like a rubber band about to snap. Instead, she uncorked a bottle of unopened Firewhisky and took a large gulp. Squaring her shoulders and slipping her wand into its sheath next to the Dark Mark, she sauntered through the crowd, purposefully bumping shoulders with a man with blood on his face. Whether it was his own, or someone else's, she really didn't want to know.
'Oi!' he yelled, predictably lunging at her with nails sharpened into claws. His hand bounced off an invisible wall with an audible crack, leaving him massaging his blunted fingers. 'The fuck are you doing here?'
Emma stopped and raised her chin at him, channelling as much Walburga Black as she dared.
'Oh, I'm sorry,' she replied coolly. 'Did I ruin your manicure?'
The man growled at her as a nearby woman sniggered. 'You little bitch. You're going to regret that; I eat little girls like you for breakfast.'
'I'm not sure the Dark Lord would be pleased to hear that,' Emma replied lightly, sidestepping another swipe. She pulled back her sleeve to reveal her wand and Mark, smirking when the nearest werewolves let out gasps and growls. 'Now, be a good little doggy and bring me whoever leads this pack.'
'Greyback's not going to like being ordered around,' a woman said in a guttural voice, her near-dreadlocks barely held back from her face. 'Especially by wizarding whelps like you.'
Emma blinked a couple of times as she realised the woman was naked. It was only a few seconds later that she registered what the woman said. Greyback is the leader? Then why did the Dark Lord send me, instead of him?
'Greyback don't lead us, Akela,' the first man interjected with a scowl. 'We din't get free of the wizards just to follow some puppet.'
Murmured voices of approval came from all around, as the dreadlocked woman lifted her chin.
'Greyback's done more for us than your sorry arse, Lewis,' Akela sneered, teeth flashing white in the darkness. 'Or have you forgotten the state you were in when we found you?'
Lewis bared his teeth and growled, but backed away. Well, at least there's someone here with a bit of authority, Emma thought.
'Greyback, or whoever your leader is, will like being ordered around when they hear what I have to say,' Emma replied. 'I heard you're tired of being cooped up in a cage like this. Heard you wouldn't mind… running wild.' She forced her smirk to grow wider.
The woman's eyes flickered over to the men wrestling in one side of the cave.
'True that we haven't much liked being stuck down here, all together. All right then, let's see what you and Mr. High and Mighty have to offer us then.' The woman shoved the blunt-nailed man backwards into another person, creating another fight in the chaos as she walked towards the back of the cave.
Emma yearned to follow her, but she knew that she'd lose face running around after the woman like a puppy. Reaching back around for her bottle of Firewhisky, she stalked around to another cave off of the network, one that preferably didn't have so much naked testosterone thrown about. It was time to formulate a plan. The question was, how did she fail without making it seem like her own failure?
Her plan flew from her mind as she rounded the corner. Here, candles were lit across the cave, basking the stone in a warm glow. The sizzle of roasted pork met her ears as her eyes were drawn to a woman manning a spit over a fire. She was dressed, not in robes, but in loose clothing that looked as though it had been sewn together several times over. Beside her was Remus Lupin, speaking quietly with another man who looked on the verge of tears. A few others loitered around, talking or playing cards, and Emma even spotted one person flicking his wand at dishes in the corner.
It was… entirely unlike what she had come to expect. Her brother's one-time best friend looked awful. His hair was matted and greying in places, despite them being the same age. His clothes were torn in the manner of the other werewolves, and yet instead of Fenrir's rippling muscles, she could see Lupin's ribs showing.
A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. What had happened in the few weeks since James had seen him last? The Remus Lupin her brother knew would never have joined Fenrir's wolves, he would have died before he…
Ah, she realised. Of course. If Lupin was here of his own free will, it was more than likely that he was interfering on Order business. And it seemed as though some people were interested in what he had to say. From her place in the entryway, she could hear snippets of his conversation.
'Set up a school…'
'Teach magic properly, the way we should…'
'Another way of living, we're not anima—'
Remus cut himself off as he noticed her, his eyes narrowing in recognition. Emma fled back down the passageway towards the wolves having embraced their savage side. It was obvious that this was what the Dark Lord had meant, that Fenrir couldn't control the whole pack and Emma should do something to remove the werewolves posing a threat to his control.
And just like that, a plan formed in her mind.
'What are you doing here?' Remus hissed. Evidently, she hadn't left as swiftly as she had thought. 'Are you…' His pale face grew a shade whiter. 'It's true, isn't it,' he whispered. 'You're actually…'
Before he could finish his thought, Fenrir Greyback shoved his way to the back of the room, looking just as filthy and ragged as ever, followed by Akela. As he opened his mouth to speak, Emma noticed that his teeth were filed to points. Remus drew back into the shadows, Akela's hazel eyes following him.
'Fenrir,' Emma greeted warmly, letting her lips tilt upwards into a slight sneer. One thing she knew about Greyback — he made decisions based on emotions. And emotions were something Emma could deal with. Remus… would have to come later. 'I see you've kept yourself… busy… with this little outfit. I was led to believe you were more charismatic than this. Where are your wolves now?'
Fenrir bared his teeth in anger as the woman flanking him bristled. Remus looked conflicted between angry and resigned, but said nothing.
'Spit it out, bitch, and then fuck off. Full moon's tomorrow and we wouldn't want any accidents to happen.' The leer on Fenrir's face said otherwise.
'The Dark Lord rewards his associates. We wouldn't want you doing all the work without reaping the benefits, now, would we?' Emma smiled sweetly, falsely. 'There's a village nearby. Small, a mix of Muggles and wizards. The Dark Lord isn't best pleased with all of the… cavorting going around. Yours for the taking.'
Once, the words would have made her gag. Certainly, Lupin looked as though he were about to be sick as he protested — predictably, the Gryffindor didn't understand the subtleties of persuasion — as Akela lashed out at him for living amongst wizards. Emma continued pressing her case, working to convince Akela, who seemed to be the real influence in the wild room.
But even as she spoke, honeyed words describing a werewolf society that wizards wouldn't intervene in, even on the full moon, she barely felt her mouth move. What am I becoming? she asked herself. How far is too far when gambling with someone else's life?
Deep down, she knew that there would never be a 'too far', not when those she cared about were at risk. She would always put herself and her loved ones above a stranger. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Not this time.