Chapter two is finally on! Sorry for the delay, and enjoy!
Chapter Two : Explaining
High Hoyland, Yorkshire, 4th May 2001
"Maybe you have had enough glasses!" "Damn you, just say you don't like to hear what I'm sayin', don't try an' make me a drunkard, man! You know it's true!" The bartender looked uncomfortably at the middle-aged dark haired man with a ragged appearance that was looking at him with spirited eyes above his empty glass. "Merlin's eyeballs, they can say they're doin' their job, but they shoulda look between 'em before going and ruining the life of someone who never dreamt of takin' over the freakin' world!" He snatched another glass of Firewhisky from the reluctant bartender, took a gulp, then went on : "How many families in that blaster Wizengamot were involved in Dark Magic activities? Simple : all of 'em! Yet, did they got a well-deserved kick in their back after the War? Nooo! All they got was a 'Don't do that again!', and nothin' else! But we that were forced to do somethin' that wasn't right, things we didn't come beggin' to do, we are 'red-flagged suspects', and so no more jobs for you, scoundrel!"
The rambling was starting to annoy the others who sat in the pub, apart from a small man who had listened, apparently without reaction. He stood up, and with his goatee stuck high in a pompous way, he went to the man's side and declared : "You, sir, are nearly drunk. Some fresh air shall help!" At the same time, he put on the counter some money and made a gesture to the bartender, who shrugged, content to see someone taking care of that wreck of a man. Even the others relaxed visibly.
Passing an arm on the ragged man's shoulders, the small one guided him out of the room, in the fresh air of the incoming summer. The drunkard inspired, then he sighed. "Aw, man, I knew I shouldn't start talkin' like that. But right now, some whisky is the only thing that helps!" "I get you are quite unhappy with the new Ministry's stance against Dark Magic suspects." his companion commented. The other snorted. "Well, maybe I put it hard, but every single word I said it's true! They want to pass as the heroes of the century, since they defeated the Dark Lord and won the War, but in the end, nothing really changes, they're as complacent with the old 'traditions' as any other Ministry!" The goateed man rubbed his chin, then he murmured : "So, you wouldn't be too shocked to see it collapse!" "Of course not! I would be there sayin' 'Serves you right!'" That strong phrase was well liked by the small man, who smiled and said : "Then, perhaps, you could understand the requests of someone... who would be quite more reasonable about your merits, my friend!" The drunkard looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean? Are you... one of those Death Eater's fan that are bein' rounded up all over...?" "No, no, my man, I'm no Death Eater. Although I must admit... me, and some dear friends of mine, aren't really happy with this new Ministry. And since you aren't either, maybe our views aren't that much... different!"
The ragged man scratched his head. "Well... maybe... Aw, but I'm not interested, only things that matters now for me, is finding somewhere to stay... and a way to get some Galleons, 'cause I'm a little short on funds!" A hand disappeared in a cloak, and re-emerged with a small leather bag that let out a metallic sound, and a piece of paper. "Allow me to help you... and allow me to give you an advice... read carefully the paper, and maybe you will find plenty of job!" With that, he put the bag and the piece of paper in the ragged man's hand, turned around, and swirled while Disapparating. The ragged man looked down at the bag, then at the point where Mr. Goatee had left, then he turned around and walked away.
"Well done, Fatty, well done! That was a masterpiece!" Slughorn, with his hair now returning white and his trademark moustache springing out as the Polijuice Potion wore off, merely shrugged. "It was not that difficult. You know, it's easier to fool people if you make them think you're single-minded and things like that. But as you saw, I have a lot of other qualities people doesn't know about!" "Yeah. Never figured one of that would be acting." Ron's voice was dripping with sarcasm. He went on : "And I still can't figure out why you accept that stupid nickname!" Robert put an arm around his reluctant shoulders. "Ahh, that's just because my dad chose it, as it chose your uncle's, so I guess guarantee is over by now!" "Ok, just tell me why I'm stuck with Red and you can pass with Ace!" "Don't try it, it doesn't work that way, pitifully!" Horace intervened, giving the red-haired man a compassionate look. Robert then declared : "Ok, enough with screwing around! We have a mission to do! Our dear Mr. Goatee after a few evenings hearing our Chief Actor decided he was delusional enough to earn a single ticket to where they meet and decide which way they are going to conquer the Magical world, in three days. Of course, they are going to search him for a tracking spell and stuff like that, BUT..." And then he dramatically gave a devilish grin, while the others rolled their eyes, fed up with his shenanigans, "they are NOT going to detect THIS tracking spell my father taught me, which is precisely devised for people who'd rather not have it detected. So, Fatty goes to the party, and we discreetly follow him!" Ron lifted two fingers in a sign of mock respect. "Excuse me, Ace, and then what the heck do we do there? There are gonna be at least twenty, or even more, Rommell's lackeys; and as much as you've taught me spells after spells, still I don't think we're capable enough to take down that much of them! Or do you have some hidden ace we could use?" Ace nodded approvingly. "Excellent analysis of the situation, Red. You know, your girlfriend is right, you should train under a Chess Grandmaster, and in two weeks you would have your card with the title yourself! Anyway, I do have an ace : a spell which creates a sonic boom in a forty-feet area, with devastating effects. Problem is, it's a single-shot spell, after I use it, they're gonna protect themselves from that kind of an attack, it's quite simple. But I've got other tricks, so it's not that much. What do you say?" Fatty shrugged and said : "Well, I only hope you're going to show me how to protect myself from your spell, because I'd rather not have my eardrums blasted off!" Red said thoughtfully : "It could work. It would give us an enormous advantage at the beginning, but we must be careful for someone of them protected for something like this, because there are a few protective spells that could shield you from these effects, at least partially!" "Agreed. Did you understand, Fatty? Since you're going to be on the field, you'll have to take care of those who aren't going to fall; then it's going to be a cakewalk!"
Undisclosed location, 7th May 2001
"It worked. They're here, without even suspecting what's going to fall on their heads!" Red whispered disbelievingly, watching from the edge of the woods the group of men assembled aound a fire. Robert grunted and said : "Oh ye of little faith. Shut up and prepare yourself; as soon as I'm through with the scanning, just to see if they got any sentinels around there, I'm dropping the bomb, then it's traction city. You get it?" Ron nodded, and Robert began to move his wand in a circular motion, murmuring some words. When it was pointing at their left, he suddenly stopped and lifted his head, alarmed. "What?" Red asked. "Men. At least a dozen. Massed, about one hundred feet away, nine o'clock." Ron grimaced. "What the heck does that mean? If they're sentinels, they should be dispersed around, not massed in a single spot!" "Agreed. Which means they're not sentinels. And I would bet my head it's not a reserve hidden because they busted our game." The red-haired man nodded. "Then, we must discover who the hell they are and what are they doing here!" Robert approved, and moving silently, both after having Disillusioned themselves, they approached the spot where those men were hidden.
Soon, they spotted them; more or less fifteen men, they were wearing dark robes, to make themselves difficult to spot from the darkness, but they had no distinct signs as to identify them. "Blast it, what do we do?" Ron hissed, irritated. Robert thought for a moment, then answered lowly : "We better wait another few minutes; maybe they're going to blow up their intentions, and..."
But he couldn't go on; one of the strangers had gotten up and shouted : "NOW!" while sending a flashing spell in the air. The air soon filled with the light of differing spells and with the sounds of shouts and screams. "Damn it all! LET'S GO!" roared Ace, and he ran towards the clearing, wand at the ready, followed immediately by Red. The battle was already fierce, but unfortunately most of Rommell's men had a protection spell against those types of attacks, so few of them had been blinded; now they were fighting to the last with the mysterious aggressors. The two Rangers ran towards the center of the melee, shoving away four Dark Wizards that tried to stop them, and reached Slughorn, who, his cover blown, was under attack from other three enemies. Ace and Red quickly dispatched them, and Fatty took advantage of that by shouting : "What the hell happened? Who the hell are these guys?" "I don't know. Less questions and more fighting, Merlin's pants!" Robert answered springing forward to attack two enemies.
The battle raged for twenty minutes, but the damage had been done. Almost all of Rommell's henchmen escaped, leaving behind only two of the slowest and the whole bunch of guys they had called there for recruiting. And of course, the victors were divided in two groups, the strangers, and the three Highland Rangers, with wands drawn. The man who had started the attack stepped forwards and thundered : "In the name of Merlin, who the heck are you?" "I might have asked the same thing!" answered Robert, angry. Another man suddenly gasped and lowered his wand, exclaiming : "That's Ronald, the son of Arthur Weasley. Chief, they're with us!" Ron was surprised. "What the... wait, this voice... Dawlish?" The middle-aged Auror took off his hood and came closer. The others slowly lowered their wands, as did Robert and Slughorn. The Chief imitated Dawlish and revealed his face. Slughorn said : "Gawain Robards, lad! What are you doing here?" The Chief Auror shrugged and said : "We were trying to infiltrate those creeps, and we knew they would meet up here. So, we set an ambush." "Quite an ambush you've set up!" Robert said angrily. "You've ruined our operations; we would have got them by the hip, but you screwed up everything! Congratulations! Was this your idea, which succeeded in wasting all our efforts like few things could have, Mr. Robards?" The elder Auror's face went darker and his wand trembled. "No, Mr. Walshingham. It was the Minister's idea!" Ace's face went priceless as he let out such a word that made Ron whistle in admiration and made Slughorn's face redder than ever.
The Burrow, a few minutes later
"Oh, I am so going to get him!" Robert was striding furiously towards the lights of the Weasley home, followed by his preoccupied teammates. When they were near, Ron surpassed Robert with some difficulty and knocked briefly. Answering the door was Arthur Weasley, who smiled on seeing his son. "Ronald! What a surprise! What are you...?" But he was cut short when Robert growled in a menacing tone : "Out of my way!" And roughly shoved him aside to enter, followed by Ron and Horace, who gave an apologetic look at the startled Arthur.
The tall man arrived in the kitchen, with quite a lot of people inside. Apart from the Weasleys and Harry, of course, there were some friends, but the only thing that meant something was that the Minister of Magic was there. "What the hell did you have in mind?" Robert began, planting his fists on his hips, and sending Shacklebolt a furious gaze that would have melted iron. But the Minister was tougher than iron. "I'm afraid I'm not aware of what you are speaking about!" he replied with coolness. "Robert..." tried Ron, putting his hand on his shoulder, but the wizard went on nonetheless : "Then I shall tell exactly what you did, Minister : after having said to you clearly I didn't want interference and I wanted to work alone with my team, and after having received your word that I was clear to act, which I actually thought meant something for you, you did exactly the opposite : you sent a team of Aurors to infiltrate the enemy's camp and by doing so ruined an occasion that I'm quite doubtful it will represent itself!" The temperature went ice-cold and hot at the same time as everyone went aghast, disbelieving that anyone could speak in these terms to the Minister, while Robert's and Kingsley's gaze went harder than ever. The latter countered in an irritated voice : "May I remind you that as Minister, I have a duty to protect the people I swore an oath to give shelter from Dark Wizards?" "That's perfectly sound, Minister. But the best thing to do in this particular situation would be leaving the Aurors to protect strategic locations, and letting us Highland Rangers to do the hard work!" Shacklebolt's voice dripped with sarcasm : "Oh, you think you can manage better than a whole field team of highly-trained Aurors?" Robert laughed scornfully. "That's bull. Your precious Aurors in our meeting did only one thing : screwed up badly. Because the difference between they and us, is that we know the enemy we're facing, and they're not. So they better not get in our way!" The Minister went rigid, and for the first time serious irritation tinged his voice. "Let's talk clearly, Mr. Walshingham. After some research, everything I read about your father in the archives is that he got the job done, but with large use of some Dark Magic and other questionable proceedings; that's not a good reference, and apart from Mr. Slughorn's vouch for you, I have nothing, and I repeat, nothing to let me have a great trust of you and your methods. So, please, would you tell me why do you think you can handle the situation better than the whole Auror Department?"
This time, both Ron and Slughorn eyed Robert worriedly, but he broke out in a strange smile, then went in the dark hallway and he began to take off his cloak and his shirt. When he finished, he stepped up in the light and simply said : "Do you think this is enough?"
No one could answer, because everyone apart from Horace and Ron was horror-stricken. The robes had showed a large, muscled chest and arms, but at the same time his chest was full of scars; and what was worse, those scars were lined up regularly. "What... how..." the Minister sputtered. Robert was unfazed by their reaction. "Oh, if that's not enough, there's more!" And he turned around, showing his back, which was as muscled as the chest, but with an original set of scars; some of them appeared to be scarring made by regular flogging, but others were small and circular, spaced and lined perfectly. "Quite a show, huh?" Robert said plainly, turning around to face them. Kingsley at last found the voice to talk. "What in Merlin's name caused that?" The scarred wizard shrugged and sighed : "Well, Minister, I'm not sure if you're familiar with the ancient practice of the Beleach dar dàta pian." "The Way of the Pain? The ancient teachings to make a young wizard growing up powerful and with much knowledge of hidden things? But I thought it was banned long ago, because of their ruthless methods, which were nothing short of torture!" spoke up Hermione. Robert nodded and said : "Yep, that's it; and nothing short of torture can be defined what I passed for seven years of my life. Because it was 'officially' disbanded, but in secret, the Màistri dar dàta cumhacht continued to teach young wizards how to become strong and tough... my family had quite a tradition of sending its most skilled younglings to be trained in such a way. My father was... and so was I!" "That's terrible!" said Arthur, aghast. "Yes, it is. And I think it would be better if I talked you about that!" Sitting up in an empty chair, while Ron and Horace leaned against the wall, grimacing, because they already knew that part of the history and really didn't like it, he began while taking on his shirt : "It began when I was eight; my father had just returned from the final battle against Erich Rommell, and I had merely the time to recognize how badly he had been shaken by that experience, before he told me it was time to me to begin my training. Of course, he couldn't tell me the details of what I would be submitted to, but I would have accepted anyway, because it was the only way to reach the power level needed to fight things like that; and my father was sure Rommell would return. So he sent me in Ireland, when I met my master. He had been trained with my father, and was the last true Màistr dar dàta cumhacht. He had quite a method to bring out the hidden strength from a pupil... a spell that has the same effect of a hot iron, only enhanced. Then, whenever I couldn't do exactly what he wanted, he used to fling at me a screw." He stopped, then continued with a low voice : "Did you ever try to do anything with a screw planted in your back? Don't. When I got the first one, I wanted to die : every move I did, every breath I took, I felt that piece of iron lodged in my back, not long enough to debilitate me or impede me, but the pain never went away. I almost got used to that, but you can't get accustomed to pain, no matter how much you suffer. Well, to make things brief, I trained like that until I was fifteen. Then, my master felt I was ready, and challenged me to the Dùshlàn marfach, the Lethal Challenge; it's the only way to be judged worthy and complete the training. The master and the apprentice fight using the techniques they have practised, and the duel only ends when one of them dies. If it's the apprentice, then the master looks for another pupil; if it's the master, then the apprentice can claim the title of Màistr dar dàta cumhacht and can decide whether to stay and train others, or leave and do what he wants to do. My master fought me with everything he had got, and nearly overpowered and killed me; but at the last moment, I put all my hatred and rage in a single spell, and I defeated him. He lived long enough to tell me he was proud of what he had created with my training, and to tell me I had it hardest because I had an awesome potential. Then, I left, leaving behind his corpse to be fed to the wild beast, according to traditions."
Silence followed these words. "What did you do with the... with the screws?" asked Arthur. Robert shrugged. "As long as I was training, I couldn't remove them because they were tied to my master's lifeforce. After he died, I used a spell to remove them, but I left the scars." "Why?" asked the Minister. It was Horace to answer him : "Because, Minister, as with his father, what he passed in those years played an enormous role in defining what he is now." "Yes, it did. Of course, I'm glad the tradition died down with me, but I have to admit it had some advantages; first of all, I already passed through hundreds of hells, so now my skin is virtually whip-proof. Second, it didn't exactly boost my powers, but it allows me to use them more efficiently; the average wizards uses up normally more or less 30% of their power; I can use up to 80%, and under dire conditions, I would be able to use all of my strength. It comes quite in handy!"
Now Ronald spoke up; he stepped forwards and said : "You see, Minister, he has quite a motive to want autonomy in hunting those Dark Wizards. He knows how to beat them; Horace remembers how to fight at his side, and I'm learning fast. I've learned lots of things in those months, and, modesty forbids, I'm convinced we have the best shot at tracking down and defeating Rommell. We are confident in our strength and in our abilities; the question is, are you confident in us?" Another time, silence crept up as the Minister rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. No one spoke. At last, he banged his fist on the table, and said : "Ok, I think I stand corrected. You'll have complete jurisdiction about this affair. And the Auror Department will run no more interference!" The three Rangers nodded, while everyone relaxed. "At one condition." Kingsley added, and Robert, now completely calm, said : "What condition, Minister?" "All your prisoners, you will be able to interrogate them... interrogate them, not torture them or things as such, but then you shall have to hand them over to the Aurors or to other Ministry officials before twenty-four hours!" "No problem here. It's just fair!" Robert shrugged.
But Shacklebolt had another thing to say. "And, Mr. Walshingham... the next time you speak in such a way to me... let's just say the next days would not be pleasant for you!" The tall wizards, busy fixing his cloak under his chin, chuckled : "Don't worry, sir. Now that everything is settled, I shalt be your most faithful servant. You have the word of Robert G. Walshingham!"
Well, sorry for the most gruesome parts, but I think they explain a lot of things. Hope you enjoyed!
P.S. : my Gaelic is horrible, so please don't hate me if I screwed up!