Chapter two: the box
Harry didn't resist as he and Mundungus were roughly escorted down the corridor, after the odd girl, at the head of the group. Obviously their leader, despite being the youngest one present. There was no chance against so many, not without his wand. Maybe if he were alone he would have taken more initiative, but with Mundungus to protect too…
His mind reeled, a maelstrom of thoughts and confusion. Natasha Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange. That was the only possible connection. How could they have been related? Was this girl Bellatrix's cousin? Niece? Daughter? Harry had never heard of Bellatrix having any children, but he supposed it was possible. And it could be reason for her to want revenge on him, for her mother's death.
But if Natasha was Bellatrix's daughter, that made the situation that much worse. Bellatrix had been mad, evil, a murderer. She had killed Sirius Black, Harry's closest thing to a father. She had been strictly loyal to Lord Voldemort, his favorite servant. She had stayed with him until the end, though she had finally been slain at the battle of the Hogwarts, by Harry's later mother-in-law. She was gone, and she was a person Harry would rather forget. Of all the Death Eater's he had known, Malfoy senior, Dietrich, Toht, Vogol, Greyback; Bellatrix was the worst. If this girl was in fact her daughter, and if she was half the woman her mother had been, magical society was in great danger. And the fact that she was surrounded by ruthless followers, who had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic without breaking a sweat, was in no wise encouraging.
The door at the end of the corridor was all too familiar to Harry. Twenty years ago, it had haunted his dreams constantly. The entrance to the Department of Mysteries. It was where he had first met Bellatrix, where his godfather had been killed. He wondered if the girl before him knew this.
The door placed no resistance to the Death Eaters. That's what they were, Harry realized, Death Eaters, disciples of the Dark Lord. Twice before he had thought them exterminated and proved wrong. It seemed as though Voldemort, though finally dead, lived on through them. Either way, the door was easily blown of its hinges. The group proceeded in.
The room inside was familiar as well. A circular room, lined with dozens of doors, illuminated subtly by scores of floating blue candles. After a moment's consideration, Natasha went to one of the identical doors. It opened easily, especially after Dovchenko blasted it to bits. Harry and Mundungus were bustled inside, and joined by the Death Eaters.
Harry only been inside the Department of Mysteries once before, but felt he had explored a sizable amount of it, including the room filled with hundreds upon hundreds of glass orbs, containing prophecies, and the mysterious curtained arch that was supposedly a portal between life and death. But he had never been in this particular area, and it took his breath away.
They were standing within a massive warehouse. Rows and rows of wooden crates were stacked neatly, extending into the distance, and stretching up to the ceiling above. The floor was of black stone, and strips of luminescent metal extending across the ceiling lighted the room.
"Welcome to the warehouse section," said Natasha, Harry felt it was for his benefit. "A collection of magical artifacts, weapons and powerful memorabilia. Items the Ministry has filed away and forgotten. Nothing will be missed, but finding what you want is the equivalent of searching for a needle in a haystack."
The men let go of Harry, pushing him foreward until he faced Natasha. "What do you want me for?" he said, "Looks like you're in pretty good shape."
She smiled, coldly; it reminded him of someone, but not Bellatrix. "I want to kill you, Mr. Potter. It's as simple as that. However, I also seek something a great deal more valuable and worthwhile. A rectangular storage container, two meters by one meter, by two hundred centimeters. The contents are highly magnetized. You should remember it, no?"
"No. What is it, a weapon?"
"Perhaps, but currently it is a corpse."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Harry truthfully.
"That's very odd, considering that you studied and classified it under the strictest confidentially."
"I'm not lying, I really don't know." Harry wracked his brain, but he could not remember anything meeting those specifications. He was glad not to offer any assistance to the Death Eaters, however this was offset by the fact that it made his life meaningless to them.
"Fair enough," she said, her face free of any trace of annoyance, "there are easier ways."
Dovchenko came foreward. He removed his wand, and aimed it directly between Harry's eyes. Harry considered running, or attacking, but he was surrounded. There was nothing he could do anyway.
"Legilimens."
The memories rushed past Harry's eyes, washing him away. He tried to resist, to close his mind, as he had been taught, but he was swept away by the remnants of his life's story.
Harry was six years old, trying to avoid Dudley's plastic sword- He was holding a heavy letter addressed to him, upon it the seal of Hogwarts school- He was in the Chamber of Secrets, sprinting away from the massive feathered basilisk, as the memory of Tom Riddle laughed, eking the beast on- He was squashed in a compartment of the Hogwarts express, as a dark robed figure opened the door with a skeletal hand- He was tied to a gravestone, watching the wasted inhuman body of Lord Voldemort rise whole from a steaming cauldron- He watching Bellatrix and Sirius duel, the woman kicked out, laughing, knocking Sirius back through the misty curtain- He was huddled next to a delirious Albus Dumbledore, as water-logged corpses crawled from the black lake around them- He stood, calmly, as Voldemort raised his wand, uttering the killing curse- He was in the Auror office, applying to begin training- He was watching the sunlight amplified through the headpiece of the staff of Ra, a stream of light falling across the model Tanis- He was clinging to a shaking rope bridge as it slammed into the side of the canyon, the screams of falling men echoing in his ears- He was aboard a massive tank, barreling through the desert sand, fighting for his life- He was before the alter, across from Ginny Weasley, never more beautiful- He was excepting leadership of the auror office- He was holding Ginny's hand, in her arms a sleeping baby boy, James- Then Albus- Then Lily- Watching his firstborn depart of the Hogwarts express- and then he was there, in Cardiff, attacked, bundled into the trunk of a car-
And then Harry was kneeling on the stone floor, covered in a cold sweat. It took him a moment to realize he was back in the Department of Mysteries. "He is telling the truth," said Dovchenko, replacing his wand. "He remembers nothing. I suspect a memory modification. I may be able to usurp it, but not without significant damage to his mind."
"Don't then," she sighed, "not yet, at least."
Natasha began to pace, head downcast, obviously thinking. The Death Eaters and, in turn, Harry watched her intently. "There's nothing distinguishing about the crate," she murmured, thinking aloud. "It looks like every other crate in the warehouse. But, it's magnetic. Yes, that's it."
Natasha reached into her jacket and when her hand emerged, it was clutching a small automatic pistol. She had obviously been wearing a shoulder holster beneath the jacket; Harry cursed himself for not noticing. But, even stranger, why did she have one in the first place?
Unsurprisingly, Natasha answered none of these questions. She ejected a handful of bullets from the gun, and made a small pile on the floor. "Hammer." She ordered.
Dovchenko seemed just as confused as Harry, but he immediately conjured a hammer of silvery metal, and handed it to the girl. She brought it down on the bullets, the clang echoing throughout the empty space. As the bullets ruptured, black powder spilled out.
Natasha took a handful of the black powder, and threw it up into the air. And that was when Harry realized what she was doing. The powder hung in the air for a moment, and then, pulled by an invisible force, straightened into a long line, pulled down a nearby aisle.
The Death Eaters wasted no time; the group ran through the maze of crates, following the floating gunpowder, attracted by the crates magnetism. They halted as the cloud thickened along a wide stretch of crates.
"Which one?" Mundungus coughed, startling Harry. He had nearly forgotten about the other man. Natasha stood thinking for a moment, and then rummaged in the cargo packet of her seemly tight trousers. She removed a shotgun cartridge, and wasted no time in tearing it open with her teeth. The pellets of shot poured out, and rolled across the floor, toward the wall of crates. Harry watched in disbelief as the shot, increasing speed, rolled up the wall to coalesce around a single crate, rummaging inside through the cracks between the slats.
"That one," Natasha whispered, allowing herself a small smile. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly impressed. Dovchenko and another Death Eater pulled the crate out, careful not to disturb the others. They set it gently on the floor before Natasha.
Dovchenko, with a nod of approval from Natasha, tore the lid off the crate with his bare hands. Inside, nestled within a sea of Styrofoam peanuts, was another box, this one made of solid steel. It glinted under the light, only slightly smaller than the crate.
"Alahamorha."
With a word from Dovchenko, the box slid open. Inside was a figure, mummified in black rubber. It was humanoid, but in no means human. It was five feet tall, and slim. Its limbs, especially its arms, were unnaturally long. Its head was large, and oddly shaped. Harry's only thought was that it must be some type of extinct magical creature, one he had never heard of, let alone come across.
Natasha knelt over the body, producing a switchblade from her boot. She snapped it open, and made a careful, almost surgical, cut across the thing's head, slicing through the rubber wrapping. Harry was to far away to see properly as she peeled back the covering, but caught a glimpse of pale gray flesh.
She stood, satisfied, closing the container. "This is it," she said, quetely. Two Death Eaters lifted the box out of the remnants of the crate, to transport it easier.
"Well, Potter," she said, closing the switchblade with a flick of her wrist. "You have ceased to be useful to us, not that you ever began."
Harry realized that he couldn't wait any longer, it he wanted to stop these people from escaping with their unidentified spoils, it was time to start winging it. At least that was something he was good at.
There were two men next to him, guarding him. And Harry was moving, slamming his elbow into the gut of the man on the left. As the man doubled over, he turned his attention to the man on the right. He seized the man's wand as he jabbed his fist into the man's throat. He swept the Death Eater's legs out from under him, and then spun, backhanding his first captor, sending the man spinning away.
With a flick of Harry's wand, Dovchenko's own wand went flying from his grip, and into Mundungus's hands. Harry then aimed his newfound weapon at Natasha's chest. The whole action had taken place in less than a minute.
"Nobody move. Wait, on second thought, put down your wands. Or the girl is dead."
Natasha blinked. And then she began to laugh. "You are everything the tabloids make you to be," she snorted. "Though you may want to look to your left."
Harry did so, a sinking feeling in his stomach. A few feet away, the tip of Dovchenko's wand was leveled at his temple. Held in the grip of Mundungus Fletcher.
"Dung…" Harry began, half question, half protest.
Mundungus flashed him a sad smile. "Sorry mate. Money's money, doesn't matter where it comes from."