Hey everyone,
Wow, I didn't realize it at first, when I first wrote this chapter, but we just went from the highest royalty in England to some of the biggest pieces of scum in this story. Still, at least these two chapters have one thing in common; they both concern charges. Only in this one, the charges are actually legit and the people committing them are actually going to get their due.
I love it,
Venquine1990
Chapter 07
Muggles and Squibs
6th of August 1995
Privet Drive, Surrey
Tonks' POV
Albus sensed Potter Place coming back and told us: "Alerting the queen won't be necessary. She'll know." As we arrived. I know Albus has been feeling guilty since we set foot in Privet Drive through the little side alley Harry read about, but with Muggles raising Harry, a disgusting bint like Fanatical Figgy and his own ever-increasing workload, do I see no reason my old Headmaster and new Order Leader should punish himself for any of this.
I walk next to him, Kingsley and Moody a little bit behind us to make sure we don't draw suspicion or alert Figgy before anything happens, talking with each other just like Albus and I are, even if our conversations don't really have a topic. Moody is hiding his looks with quite the nice suit we were able to acquire from a shop not far from the side-alley – a shop that was amazingly enough run by a Muggleborn witch.
The woman had provided us with clothes that these Muggles apparently think is today's fashion, astounding Albus as it proved his own knowledge on today's fashion is several decades behind and has even told us a whole lot more about the on goings between Harry and the Muggles. She even let us managed to provide us with more information in regards to his reputation and those of all three of his – up until now believed – only living relatives.
To say that the information was enlightening en helpful would be to say that Moody is slightly paranoid, but I know now is not the time to make jokes like that as a lot of this information provided me with two more charges I can press against the three. I also know that every step closer to Fanatical Figgy is a step closer for my friend and leader to prove himself capable of fixing his mistakes – even if no one doubted him in the first place.
We arrive at the street, which I find a bit of a miracle as the houses in every street look so much alike I felt like we were in a maze, and I whisper: "Good thing Figgy was feeding her cats and that we had a diversion to keep the Dursleys away when we picked Harry up last night." Dumbledore nods and then Kingsley says: "Okay, Figgy doesn't know we're here and the Dursleys don't know who we are. Let's split up and get them."
At this all three of us nod and we again split up, me having used some weight charms on my shoes – something I only do on missions – to make sure I don't trip and alert our targets after we arrived at the alleyway. Albus also uses a bit of non-verbal magic to change his looks somewhat, me following his lead and using my Metamorphmagus skills to resemble his looks as we arrive at the door. And as we do, do I feel like we are about to arrest a high-class criminal.
Arabella's POV
There have been many annoyances in my life since I moved to Privet Drive and today another one seems to have emerged. I don't know why those two collectors think they can get anything from me when I registered my address to be non-visiting years ago, but then see that two other collectors are arriving at Petunia's and realize that I have to live up to the stupid expectations of these worthless Muggles again, which makes me grumble as I enter the door.
A young man of at least 30 or 35 years old is on the left, flanked by a young woman with average brown hair, cut shorter at the back and longer at the front so that it only lightly waves against her shoulders from behind her ears, while both of them have the most amazing pink eyes I have ever seen any person to have.
Hoping to at least find out if those are lenses and if so where to buy them as I know I can use some of my left-over magic to make them special lenses that will allow me all kinds of things. I answer the door with a kind smile and ask: "Good evening, dearies, may I help you?" And the woman on the right smiles at me, her smile proving she is glad to be met with a friendly face and has probably be answered rudely a few times previous as she asks:
"Ma'am, we're from the ITC Entertainment studios and we want to launch a new show that your neighborhood might just play a leading role in. Can we come in and explain things further?" This shocks the crap out of me and makes me hate the fact that the magic of my various possessions prevent me from having a television of my own as I think: "The chance to be more famous than the Potters? About bloody time it happened!"
Instantly I let the two in and see that Petunia seems as happy with her guests as I am, a huge, greedy smile on her own face as she lets them in. Assured that these two groups work together, I fail to notice the strange item sticking out from under the jacket of the man on the left and ignore it as I close the door behind my guests and bring them to my living room, feeling glad that I was cleaning my place while they arrived, sitting them down gently.
The two keep smiling at me, obviously professionals, and I wait a few moments as the two seem to discuss their business plan with each other. This excites me and the man asks: "We have this new show, you see, called Old Towns, New Life where small towns all across Britain are chosen to perform their daily lives in front of the camera. We have several topics planned already and we even plan some disturbing ones."
This intrigues me and the woman says: "For example will a small town in the North-West be used to prove that, even if you work at a high position, it won't mean you don't have a criminal record. We already have a team there asking two families to play as the rich family that makes everyone else feel inferior and tries to indebt their neighbors to them and the poor family that is loved all around the neighborhood, even though they are almost incapable of feeding themselves."
To this I nod, while loving the ideas all the more and the man says: "Now please don't feel offended with what we are about to tell you, it's because of how – normal – your street looks. You see, your neighborhood was also chosen for one of these more macabre episodes and you play a large role here. You play as the sweet old lady who has to watch her favorite neighbor be abused by his own family." The man then stops in shock and says:
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I should have brought that a little more gentle." But while he whispers with his co-worker, do I think: "YES! This is perfect. If I can get Dumbledore far enough to send that brat back after his so-called trial, I will be famous before the school year even starts. And if this episode features death, I won't be the victim. I'll finally be able to do what that stupid bastard, Charlus, prevented all those years ago and end this damned feud."
To this, trying to reign in my enthusiasm to a mild interest, do I ask: "It's quite alright, just – how bad will the abuse be? Seeing our fine, well-socialized neighborhood and all that. I just want to be sure that you're sure you picked the right people and that these acts won't harm me after the fact." The two nod at me and the woman says: "We haven't exactly decided that yet. Our objective was to gather information from you and see if you were willing.
Please know, we are professional and we did do our research into this neighborhood before approaching partners are right now questioning your neighbors on their ability to punish wrongdoers and their knowledge of legal and illegal means of doing so. Do you perhaps know anything about this from them? We've heard that this town has quite the grapevine." The woman now has her pink eyes wide with utmost interest.
Feeling as if I can finally release all that my ancestors have taught me about how to deal with our feud against the Potters, do I seat myself appropriately and whisper harshly: "You don't have this from me, but those Dursleys are terrible guardians. They're complete opposites with all of their care, with both their son and their nephew. They try everything in their power to be normal, but most of their actions just bite them in the – well, you know.
Their son is a delinquent who only gets forward in classes because his dad thinks and bluffs about his high position at Grunnings. Trust me, compared to the employees who actually own Grunnings, the CEO and the Director and all, he might as well be someone's maid. He just made himself believe otherwise. Their nephew on the other hand actually has the rep that he goes to some criminal school and gets blamed for all the crimes.
No matter what their son does, those two idiots always manage to get the blame shot down on their nephew and they really know what is legal and what isn't, not that they care. Especially that male Dursley, he's the worst. He uses his belt, his knife, his fists, anything that isn't stuck to the house, he uses for punishment. He does always make sure to punish the lad on spots where the cloths can hide the punishment, but still.
You should see that nephew of theirs. He isn't home right now, some friends his family absolutely despises picked him up to let him sleep over just yesterday, but let me tell you this. How this neighborhood can even think he can be a delinquent when everything about him screams abuse will always be beyond me. Though unfortunately, I suppose it's because the neighborhood hates them so much, they just want to hate the family as a whole."
The two nod, the woman gleaming with excitement and she whispers: "Our crew found the perfect couple. I told you we hit the jackpot here." The man nods and asks: "Could you excuse us a moment?" I nod and the two move over to the hallway for a few minutes. And when they return the man says: "Okay, we were not supposed to tell you this, but there will be a secret plot twist in your episode. I just needed your intell to see if I could share."
I nod, intrigued and hiding my hope for the best as he says: "The gentle old lady, who has to watch her favorite neighbor get abused by his own family –." The man looks around and I bless myself for having moved my fireplace to the kitchen years ago as not even someone flooing me will be able to hear the man. Yet instead of that, do I smile and say: "Don't worry, I have double glass. No one outside will be able to hear us." The man nods and says:
"Uses charity and her own Health care to pay for the items the neighbor's guardians use for his punishment. They, namely, have a bad rep with the rest of the neighborhood – which is apparently more true than just for show - but the kind old lady's gentle words keep them where they are and in return she pays them to hurt him." He then looks at me, his eyes stern enough they remind me of Albus and he asks:
"Do you think you're up for that?" And finally I release all of the excitement I have been feeling since the two told me they were from a television network and I shout: "Are you kidding? That role is made for me! I've been doing nothing but since the brat got here. I am told by some friends of his dead parents to keep an eye on him, you know, but I've constantly sent out fake reports and I'm even the one that brought out the brat's bad rep."
The two share a glance and the woman, now stern and official ask: "So you'd be able to act as if you approve, even if the said guardian would – for example – try to strangle your so-called favorite neighbor?" And in my enthusiasm, as my dreams for the brat's death are laid out for me, do I shout: "Oh hell yes!"
The two nod and then suddenly, ever so flippantly, the woman says: "You know, you really should observe who you let into your house before you do. I really thought you would listen closer to your cats, little figgy." The nickname shocks me as it was one I left behind after getting released from Azkaban prison in nineteen-seventy-five. And then I suddenly realize something; I never gave these two my name.
"How do you know me?" I ask, wondering about that woman's statement about her research into the neighborhood and what they found out about me. And a voice I had hoped to never hear suddenly comes from the man on the left as he says: "Simple, I made the mistake of trusting you, Arabella." And before my very eyes do the two people working for ITC change into Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Nymphadora Tonks.
Shocked and scared at what I just revealed, do I hear my whole world crumbling apart as Albus says: "I already knew about most of this before I came here, Arabella. I had evidence against you coming from a special source. I will tell you, I have never been more relieved with time and dimension travel. It allowed for Harry's brother, Sora, to come to this world with books about the next three years and for us to remember who you once were.
I admit to have forgotten that you once held that reputation against the Potters, but even I would have never expected you to pull such crimes against a child, Bella. Especially one who apparently knows nothing about his heritage, nothing about the feud you have been living out on him for years, something you told me you have been fixing for the last five years. Too bad that's a lie, just like so much else about you."
This shocks me enough to make me fall back against my own couch and I ask: "That brat's still alive?" And Albus, who now actually has his wand aimed at me to prove how little he trusts me, says: "And so is James. Apparently Molly Prewett saved his life on Halloween Night all those years ago and kept him prisoner in her own basement. He was freed this morning after she was captured and he and his family are now reunited.
They're currently at Godric's Hollow and I also know that they have already returned Potter Place back to its former glory. I am certain the Queen also knows of this, which they will use to get Sirius the trial he so desperately deserves. Something – I can assure you – you will not be around to see, Fanatical Figgy." And with that the female Auror steps forward, her entire face furious and her voice grim as she holds her wand up and almost spats:
"Arabella Figg, you are hereby arrested for complicity to abuse, false illegal forging of documents and thievery of two Most Noble and Most Ancient Lines. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in the Wizengamot Trial. You will be moved to a Holding cell until trial."
And with that does she wave her wand, whispering a spell that, while making my arms turn behind my back and making metal cuffs appear, make me feel blocked off of the last bit of magic I have left and my eyes widen as I realize this before whispering: "You – you stole my magic." But she shakes her head and says:
"I simply put a spell on the cuffs that absorb your magic as long as you wear them. They will be replaced by whatever Auror guarding your cell and if you think you can bribe them, think again." The woman says, her voice now careless and she says: "Kingsley and I will personally chose whoever guards you at all times. And Kingsley, unfortunately for you, knows James is alive and was friends with him before all of this."
This makes me lower my head as I have no doubt that whatever Tonks knows about my crimes, her partner and senior officer knows as well and yet I ask: "How did you know about the thievery?" And Albus answers: "Simple, I asked Harry." Annoying me as I let myself be led out of my house, Albus faking to inspect my garden as he seems to be casting spells on my house and the house across the street, spells I recognize as searching spells.
Feeling my own curiosity peak as I know Harry is too embarrassed about not being strong enough to fight a Muggle to speak, do I turn to the man and ask: "How? How did you find out? What in those – those books – made you discover about all of this?" And the man, who actually looks like his 35 year old persona from before and almost has his back to me and has his anger hidden under a mask of professionalism, tells me softly:
"The choking example actually happened, you know? Three days ago. I'm surprised you didn't report it, but seeing the events of that day, you intercepting my Howler and changing it, not sending Harry ahead while he was outside after a Dementor attack and telling him enough for enemy ears to hear, I guess you simply forgot."
And just by his tone, do I know that the man is mocking me and with my last hope that the Greatest protector of Muggleborns will help me out gone, do I feel Tonks put a disillusion spell on the front door, before she hides us both with a Cameo spell, walks me out without actually tripping herself and Apparates me away. And this time I already feel sure that the Family Feud won't give me the chance to get a reduced sentence.
Albus' POV
Tonks' idea to go as agents of some kind of TV network, which we decided on after I informed them about the queen, worked out better than I could have expected and I can only thank the witch who was raised with a Muggleborn for a father for having suggested the actual network as it seems as if the young Auror Trainee thought of the rest of the story while we walked to our two targets – and that Alastor picked up on this.
I had heard the man almost mimic his Apprentice word for word as she spoke loud enough to make it ring in my ears slightly, but also loud enough that the whole neighborhood could hear. This was something the witch had recommended us as the whole neighborhood has a stronger grapevine than that of Mss. Patil and Mss. Brown.
So far the whole plan has worked; we got into the house of Fanatical Figgy without problem, the neighbors seem not to think anything suspicious of us visiting these two houses, which will make sure no one will be able to accuse of us breaking the Statute of Secrecy. We even got Arabella so interested in our idea that she confessed to her sick beliefs and her actions against Harry, something that both hurts and pleases me greatly.
I feel hurt as it proves that I had truly made a grave mistake when I chose this woman to look over Harry, while Bathilda Bagshot – who had lived close to the Potters in Godric's Hollow – had offered to take the job the same night – but also pleased as this will mean a permanent end to James' fear for the woman and her actions.
Knowing that Arabella cannot use the excuse of the Potter-Figg feud again as she used Muggles – who have never known about the feud – to do all of her dirty work, do I feel confident that her oath to never harm the Potters personally again became her own downfall – and perhaps even her ticket to a Dementor's kiss. And while I am normally morally against it, do I now wonder if I can Lucius on board on convicting the woman.
Then, while trying to find the ward that will lead me to everything Arabella stole from Harry or perhaps a cellar hidden with magic and perhaps teeming with all these gifts and other items, do my instincts suddenly – minutes after Tonks took Bella away – tell me to go back inside and I wonder why. Yet I don't question them as they led me to find out about Barty Crouch Junior and his actual plans the last time they guided me.
Going back into the house, I use my ancient family magic to fuse my instincts with my wand, feeling a surge of magic coming from the Elder Wand that, just like the few other times I did this, makes me feel ten years younger and whisper: "Point me." Glad that the Magic Detectors of the Ministry don't work in the houses of a Squib or when you are over 60 years old, an age I passed 55 years ago, even if only my brother knows my true old age.
The wand actually shoots out of my hand and starts to float in the air in front of me, the tip glowing like something muggles call a flashlight. It moves back into the living room and I follow it, silently making sure none of the windows show my presence to still be here as Dora's illusion made it look as if Bella, myself and my partner shook hands before we got into a car and left the street, something I find quite amusing seeing neither of us knows how to drive.
Having taken my driver's license if only to experience some laughter from the Muggle world back when I was young and stupid, I know the old piece of paper has long since been expired, not to mention replaced in civilization by a different kind of material, but then shake my head, focusing back on my wand.
The amazing elder piece of wood leads me through the living room and then to a small dresser that seems almost hidden by the large glass case holding several cute glass figurines of cats. I grab my wand again, determined to use the same spell later on, but needing it in hand for now. Using several quick spells to dislodge any kind of harmful spells off of the dresser, I then open it with magic as my trust in Bella is just gone.
Finding nothing but some papers that seem at least over a decade – maybe a decade and a half – old, I wonder why there would be so many spells on this one drawer as the rest of the dresser was proven by my magic to be just filled with memorabilia and cat food. Then my eyes see something on the paper and I think: "Impossible." And instantly my determination to tear this place down and search for anything and everything suspicious skyrockets.
Kingsley's POV
Dealing with these Muggles is unbearable and my respect for Harry has reached heights even James and Charlus could never try to reach for having lived with these monsters and still having come out the way he is. Ever since we said we were from a TV company have the two of them been all over us, annoyingly so. And the way they have been trying to hide their greed with smiles they believe are considered friendly makes my stomach churn more than once.
They've been trying to enlighten us about their so-called brilliant character, their wonderful figures, which I consider is their biggest lie so far, what they would do to be on the TV, what they thought would be good shows for them to be in, how they could grow in other programs already aired and other crap that only proves to me how arrogant these two really are. And the fact that they kept a faux-sweet tone the entire time aggravates me.
Not once have they allowed us to speak about the so-called subject of the show and I'm pretty sure Albus and Tonks are getting worried about us, but then – finally, does Dursley, who had actually pushed several awards into our hands and slapping himself on the chest while boasting, sit down and ask: "So, what do you think?" And Alastor, obviously having lost what little patience the man has in the first place, grunts:
"Shouldn't we be asking you that question? Say, after we told you the script?" The two share a glance and then turn red, both of them actually looking down and then, while turning his glance up at the ceiling, does Dursley say: "Sure, sure. Tell us everything. We're all ears." I take a deep breath, gather my patience and trying to remember the cover story that Tonks came up with back in the alley and not just give into my need to do my duty and I say:
"Our show is a mix between a soap and reality TV. It will be with real people in the real world, but then with scenes and plans set out by our company beforehand. My colleagues and I are sent all over England to search for several small towns where we can either show the beauty of England to the world and prove how well off our country's citizens are, but also air some – well, you can best call it disturbing and touchy episodes."
"Disturbing? Touchy?" The two ask and Alastor says: "As I'm sure you're aware, lad and lass, our country has been suffering from a slight increase in crime. Our show, while a reality show, is to be used as a way to make the teenagers who plan to go out on their own aware of what is exactly out there. It was asked to us by the official police of London, we couldn't exactly refuse, seeing we were told the orders were from higher up."
"Yes, yes, I fully understand." Dursley says and I turn stern, if only to keep my anger at this fat bastard, who obviously ate himself to his own death while his nephew is almost skin and bones if that, to a low minimum and then say: "Do you, Mr. Dursley? We haven't even told you the subjects we want to teach those teens."
"Like my Dudders?" Dursley female ask and while I try not to turn my eyes skyward at hearing the nickname, as I know just fine what nicknames Harry got thrown to his head in here, do I say: "Yes, ma'am, like your son. One of the subjects we want to make teens aware of is how dark neighbor relationships can be. To make sure that, when they go to live on their own, they will know what to look out for and whatnot."
The two seem confused but interested and I say: "Our plans for your neighborhood are as followed. You play the abusive guardians to a young boy, while also housing your own son, who fights bullies because he hates his parents for their behavior to his own nephew. In the mean time – and this is where your neighbor comes in."
The two nod and I go on: "In the mean time does your neighbor act to absolutely love your nephew and feel sorry for the abuse he has to suffer from. But while she shows this to the public eye, do you actually have a deal with her that works up your family's reputation in the neighborhood, while she provides your means of abuse. Your neighbors actually hate your guts, because you act as if you are above them, but she keeps you from being thrown out."
This seems to delight and shock the two at the same time and the male Dursley asks: "So we actually get to use – say – props to abuse a fellow player of the show?" Alastor nods, while my stomach practically turns itself inside out at how the man speaks about props and says: "We just need to know how well aware you are about legal and illegal means of abuse – and how well you handle the illegal parts, of course."
The two now seem worried and I show them a contract the Muggleborn woman, who we decided to include in our planning after she provided us our current outfits, was able to pull out of her shop register as I say: "Don't worry, this contract protects you against any and all law suits. It states that you knew of the legal and illegal means and that you only broke the law to participate in this mean to help the teens."
The two seem relieved at this, the woman a little more than her husband and then Dursley gets the same smug look on his face as when he was boasting. This makes me think: "Oh no, not again." As he crosses his legs and wraps his crossed fingers over his upper leg – in my opinion to help his lower leg carry the weight – as he asks: "Gentlemen, would you like to see my Justification room?" We feign interest and Alastor asks:
"Justification room?" And the woman sneaks a look at the windows, which I find ridiculous as she closed them after we entered, before she almost whispers: "We have this nephew of ours – he's not home right now, with some really wrong friends – who we had to send to St. Brutus' Institution. It just doesn't seem to work, so Vernon brought back some of his old means of trying to get the brat in proper living shape."
This, to me and Alastor, is instantly seen as our cue and Alastor growls: "Too bad starvation makes it impossible to grow a healthy body." The woman sighs, but then the man asks: "Wait, starvation?" And I smirk, feeling beyond glad that I can finally apply the sweet, sweet justice these two monsters deserve as I snap my fingers. This drops my Glamour, while Alastor removes his large boots and hat, revealing his handicaps.
The two look shocked and frightened and I pull my badge out of my inner jacket pocket as I say: "Never abuse a wizard if his family is friends with those of higher power, like Magical Police and whatnot." I then smirk and say: "And no, we don't have people working at your Ministry, we have our own, thank you. Your world has no one to blame for your world going to the dogs other than criminals such as yourself."
Petunia's POV
"The fame. The glory. The riches my sister never got when she married that scoundrel. It was all an illusion. How dare those freaks trick us like that. They must have stolen that contract. They – they must have used their – their freakiness to – to steal it from poor network producers. I'll still sign it. They can't arrest a star." I think as I make a grab for the contract, only for my eyes to fall on the first word on the paper: "Receipt."
Shocked that even the contract was a fake, I see the bald man, who had been so nice to show us the contract and who had actually done most of the talking, while his partner had seemed unable to do anything but grunt, aim his wand at my poor Vernon as he hisses: "And yes, I'd love to see your Justification room."
This seems to bring new hope into Vernon and I think: "Could his ways of punishment be a way for him to get a bail out? Will it lessen his punishment if he promises to punish other criminals like he did the little freak?" But apparently are my questions visible on my face as the scarred freak talks when they leave and says:
"Don't get any ideas, Petunia, Kingsley only wants to see that room, so he has further evidence. You might get a little punishment relief, because you apparently didn't know the Five Crimes of Muggles against Minors, but with your husband having committed three out of five of them, do I not see much good in your future."
This worries and intrigues me and I ask: "T-th-three out of five?" And the man grunts in disgust to prove he hates people committing these crimes before he raises one finger on his scarred hand at the time as he says: "Neglect and Starvation. Punishment: lifelong sentence to Muggle prison. Abuse. Punishment: Official trial by the Queen and her court. Rape and Murder. Punishment: Lifelong imprisonment – in Azkaban prison."
I whiten at the idea as it reminds me of what happened three nights ago and what my poor Dudders had to go through. And then the man asks me the one question I have been waving away since Potter first got here. "Tell me, Petunia, why did you and that husband of yours think we would have different laws where it concerned the protection of our minors? Because I think it's pretty obvious that we don't, isn't it?"
And I nod, hoping that what the scarred freak is true and that we will indeed get some relief of our punishment for not knowing about these laws. But then, while I wonder how he knows about Vernon's belief that freaks like him in our Ministry is the reason for the Ministry going wrong, do I remember the cupboard and how Potter had only willingly gone in there the first night of his stay and I think: "We're doomed." Before lowering my head in defeat.
Vernon's POV
I just know that – while this man might be a freak – he is at least someone reasonable enough to handle a deal with, something I am an absolute master in, seeing my position at Gringotts. I then arrive at the so-called broom closet on the left side of the hallway, directly opposite of the brat's room. I take a quick look at the man, who just raises his eyebrow at me, and I pick a key out of a small portrait frame to the right of the door. I turn to the man as I say:
"Behold, my good man, the ways of punishing those that don't belong in today's fine society." And while trying not to think of all the things I could have changed by becoming famous and then joining the parliament or maybe even the Queen's court, do unlock the door and open it to show him the many brilliant ways I made that brat's life miserable, ways provided to me over the years by that crazy-cat lady called Fibs or something.
Whips, canes, wooden clubs, iron clubs, clubs with round balls sticking out of them, balls with blunt spikes on them, clubs with one side completely flat, ropes, a few blunt knifes, my favorite lighter, tight fist gloves, boxing gloves, even foam fingers filled secretly with grind from some of my company's construction site.
The bald, tanned man looks at all of the items, even grabbing some of the whips to feel their fabric and asks: "And you have the receipt for all of these items?" And while I love the fact that I found a kindred soul, do I gently push him out of the way and show him the small metal box that I made sure was hidden in the very back of the closet as I say: "Make it disappear and they're all yours, my good man, all for the sake of justice."
But then the man says: "The only justice you will feel is that of the Queen's court. And she won't be happy, seeing her grandfather was friends with Harry's ancestor." This shocks the crap out of me and I ask: "You said you have your own Ministry." And the man spats back: "That is correct, but we also have several agreements with her Majesty. And one of those is that the queen handles our Abuse cases when they are committed by your kind against ours, fat tub or lard."
Shocked that the man tricked me I shout: "YOU TRICKED ME!" But the man calmly says: "I simply asked if you could show me the room. I never gave any reasons. Your own greedy little mind just came to the wrong conclusions. You yourself were stupid and arrogant enough that you thought you could bribe an officer out of doing his job." And I grumble as the man is stupidly enough right. Then suddenly he shocks me.
Opening the jacket the man is wearing, he doesn't pull his badge again, but his disgusting stick and actually aims it at me, making me shout: "YOU CAN'T DO MAGIC!" And the man, still apparently calm, says: "You really are proving more and more that you made the mistake of a lifetime not studying the world your cousin lives in. Minors can't do magic and adults can't do magic to tease Muggles, that's true. Aurors, however, are a different case."
This makes me growl and I ask: "What kind of different? And what do you mean Aurora?" And the man mutters: "And I thought he was bad when it came to those Dementors. Might just have the Auror Healer check him over before I chuck him into a cell for temporal deafness or something." But before I can even open my mouth half open, does he say: "I mean, an Auror, the magical equivalent of the Queen's Royal Army."
This shocks me and the man says: "Auror Trainees are like your standard police officer. A trainee who does his final tests, like one of the two people I'm sure you spotted entering Arabella Figg's home, is equal to a high ranked officer. An actual Auror – one who usually has a few years of experience under his belt – is also allowed to take a job as either a Guard for the Minister or even enter her Majesty's Royal guard."
He then goes on, while apparently swishing his wand and says: "Something our kind is only known to do if we face any kind of war, but we do come and stay in contact with our queen. After all, Muggle or Magical, we all serve her Royal Highness. And she takes abuse against Minors just as seriously as any other officer in duty or person with an actual moral compass." And while he ties me up with chains, do I – for the first time – hate our royal line.
Kingsley's POV
Getting that fat tub of lard arrested was the best feeling I've had since those books arrived and I can't thank Sora and Riku enough. I just don't want to even imagine any of these items being used on poor innocent Harry – who only has his dad's supposed guilt and his sharp wit to protect himself from this monster's actions. I have definitely been part of several cases of Muggles abusing Minors, but this one I almost consider on the same level as High-Ranked Death Eaters.
Add to that that there is another monster living across the street that approved of all of this and actually knew of it but didn't report it. I quickly swish my wand to connect the chain between Dursley's cuffs to the banister of the staircase and to make sure that the inside of the banister is made of very sturdy metal to keep him from breaking them, before drawing forth the standard bag of evidence collection from my jacket.
Unshrinking the bag, I pull out my drawing board as we higher Aurors are expected to be artistic enough to draw our evidence instead of simple paperwork or a picture like lower class Aurors and trainees and I thank my father's many journeys to Africa as drawing creatures like lions and zebras helped me develop this talent.
I swish my wand to make each item float out of the closet one at a time and float in front of me so I can observe it before moving into an evidence bag. Making sure to have every single detail of all of the weapons drawn onto my paper, I use my inner Auror magic – taught to me just before I got my promotion – to change the color of the ink to match the color of each and every item and use another spell to make my eyes search for hints of blood or flesh on the items.
Finding it on almost all of the items – with some of the blood even still looking quite fresh, making me know those items have been used this summer – I am more revolted by the age of the flesh and blood on some of the other items as it's almost a clear sign that those were used long before Harry even went to Hogwarts at age eleven. And I even spot three items that, I just know, even Crabbe and Goyle Senior wouldn't use on their victims.
Feeling furious that someone can use these kind of terrible items on a child, I suddenly coldly say: "Don't even think about it." As I had heard the banister break, which makes me wish I had just cuffed him against the wall instead. I had heard Dursley stomp over to me, his arms and the chain between them swishing with the obvious intent to wring his cuffs around my neck and choke me, but then the movement stops.
I turn my face swiftly and, felling the man with a stare that shows him how furious I am with him and how low I think of him, do I say: "I am of top elite, Dursley, if you think you can surprise me, you need to think again. I do field work all over England, including in the mountains, where you have to be more quiet than a hibernating bear if you don't want to cause an avalanche, so let that make it clear to you how sharp my senses are."
The man is white in shock and lowers his arms in front of him, but I swiftly swish my wand and a second chain erupts from the floor in front of him, grabbing onto the chain between his cuffs and closing itself around it. Dursley looks shocked and I take a step away from him as I say: "I should just chain you to the wall and let you break that if you want. Consider this your final chance." Before focusing back on my drawing.
Finally done with the last of the evidence, my reports on the traces of blood and flesh and their coloration and feeling as if all this drawing took the entire day instead of just an hour. Do I take a long look at every last bit of evidence, trying to determine which bit I will keep to myself to show to the guard of the holding cells. I then remember that the current one is more against Minor Abuse than I am and decide on one of the bats with old blood on them.
I then take a deep breath, trying to take solace out of the fact that I will soon have a kindred soul helping me out and think: "After this and some paperwork, I can get back to that reading. And back to Harry and his real family." And with the image of Harry, James, Sora and Sirius together in my mind, do I undo my latest bit of magic and grab and turn Dursley by the shoulder, before marching him out of his own house.
Arriving at the front door, I cast a few quick spells on it and the front yard and then open it, my magic seeing the illusion of us shaking hands with the Dursleys before a well-cloaked Alastor and I leave the perimeters. I push Dursley through, the man looking around scared, but I pay this no mind as I look around for witnesses, yet all of the Muggles around us seem to have left their windows after watching the illusion at work and I Apparate out.
Arriving at one of the only part of the Ministry not guarded by Anti-Apparation wards, I push Dursley into the holding cell in front of me and close the door, which in turn enchants his handcuffs to move above his head and push and merge themselves with the right wall, something that is only done with really harsh criminals.
Glaring at the further evidence of this monster's actions, even if all of the inner pockets of my jacket are also filled with the same, do I say: "Don't worry about your pitiful little reputation, Dursley. We Aurors, tasked with keeping the Statute of Secrecy, always make sure our arrestees have a cover-up before we arrest them, at least if they're Muggles. As far as your neighbors think, you agreed to a contract with ITC Enterprises."
I then turn on my heel and actually drop some of my professionality to replace it with my own raging turmoil and I say: "Too bad for you has your fate just been sealed. The magic of those holding cells is charmed to judge its inhabitants and if they judge them to be a really harsh criminal – well, you see the results above your own head, don't you?" I spat at him from over my shoulder, my brown eyes cold with fury.
I then turn to the left side of the hallway and while walking off, do I say: "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a report to send to the queen. She'll further deal with you and seal your fate. I personally hope you get send to some of those Muggle Military Academies and get sentenced to work there for life. Maybe that will teach you. It's more than you deserve, but then again, even Azkaban is more than a lowlife like you deserves."
And I walk away, actually feeling grateful that the man is too overwhelmed to make the same scene he did to Harry three days ago, making sure to report myself to the Auror in charge of keeping an eye on the arrestees and mutter: "Keep an eye on # 5634, he's incredibly violent and has no respect for us wizards whatsoever. In my professional opinion does he believe the only good wizard to be a dead wizard, so be on your guard."
The Auror nods and he looks down on the report card lying on his desk, which is set next to the entrance/exit, as he says: "Amazing that you brought someone in, Kingsley. Alastor Moody and your Trainee Tonks just brought in two others. They actually gave me the same warning – well, sort of." I nod and say: "Same neighborhood, same victim. Alastor and my suspects are even married, so keep them apart if you can."
The Auror nods and I say: "Here, this is the kind of people that you're guarding." And I show him the bat. The man's eyes widen and he asks: "What of Five?" And as I leave, do I answer: "Three. The Muggle I just brought in thought he could coarse me into reducing his sentence or joining with him when I asked him to show me his Justification Room as he called it. Max, the blood is eleven years old – and the Minor is currently fifteen." And instantly I know I have him on board.
Good for you, Kings,
I definitely enjoyed this. Writing about how characters, who try to act high and mighty and above their station, are viewed by those who actually have their head on straight and writing about characters we see so rarely in canon, even though they play a huge role in the Magical Society, is always just a ton of fun. That is one of the reasons I love writing in multiple POV's, it gives me the chance to flesh out more than just one character.
Always a blast,
Venquine1990
