Hello y'all! One essay and one test left of uni. Thank you so much for your reviews, and alerts as well. If you keep doing your thing, then I'll do mine faster:) This chapter focus solely on Scabior, just like the last was entirerly written from Hermione's POV. Hope you approve of this chapter! Have fun!

Inspirational music: Dance with the devil by Phenomena

Chap. 20 Crises

The birds sang no more. The only sounds in the forest were the rustling leaves and the eerie creaks from the trees. There was a rainy weather coming in, Scabior could smell it. Gone was the sun and he suspected it was the work of the Dark Lord.

Scabior scanned the camp and hissed when he accidentally bumped his left, throbbing arm into his own hip. 'Crazy bastard,' Scabior thought bitterly, not amused by the Dark Lords' games with both victims and Death Eaters.

A cough brought him back to reality and he turned his head to the right. Rusty was on all four with a very white face that did not even complimented his flaming hair. Scabior went to hoist him up and asked in a concerned voice, "Alright there, mate?" A heavy arm was thrown over Scabior's shoulders and the weight nearly made his weak body drop to the ground; a clear sign that both snatchers were in a bad state.

"Thanks fer lendin' a 'and, boss," Rusty said hoarsely and blood was slowly returning to his cheeks, although Scabior caught look of red drops falling from the fingertips of his left arm.

"Same thing happened to you, yeah?" he spoke and Rusty finally met his eyes and betrayed fear, insecurity and pain.

"Why did 'e call us this way?"

Scabior had no good answer but his position as leader required that he helped restore the confidence of his snatchers. "Why don't we ask the tosser when we see Him? I reckon it was just a badly peeled orange," he joked and Rusty smirked but said nothing.

"Can you stand here while I get the others? Scabior asked, feeling himself draining of all stamina the longer he had to support Rusty.

"I'm not one of them first years at 'ogwarts. I think I can manage," the man answered but when Scabior lifted the arm off his shoulders, Rusty swayed a lot.

"Go fetch the others, already," the red-haired man insisted, as a look of determination settled on his face and he seemed to will himself to stop tremble. Scabior turned away with a grown admiration for his brave man and looked for the rest of the Death Eaters.

Some were just outside the camp area, growling and limping their way back, and others were struggling to get to their feet again in their own tents. At the present there were eight men, Scabior included, among the snatchers who bore the Mark. The Dark Lord only accepted the ones he considered smart or useful, to join his large number of close followers. But even the common snatchers, who did not have any allegiance to the Dark Lord except spoken words of loyalty, gathered in the middle of the camp, anxiously holding up their fellows.

Scabior saw black stars before his eyes from the exhaustion of bringing all Death Eaters together, and yet he refused to conjure a chair to lean on. It would frighten his snatchers, perhaps even more than the summoning from the Dark Lord. He cleared his throat to stop the mumbling.

"This was a surprise to us all. Did no-one tell the Dark Lord that if He had any experience of anger, he ought to just write down His feelings on a fucking paper?"

Scabior's feigned scolding voice caused many sets of shoulders to slump but perceptive eyes still lingered on him.

"I have no idea about what's going on but it could be big. I want you who comes with me to stand in the background as much as possible and be invisible as ghosts. You don't want to get in the way of the Dark Lord's rage." He spoke sternly for he did care about the welfare of his men and was aware of the Dark Lord's habit of firing spells randomly at his followers.

"Those who are left behind are going to stay here and protect the camp. I don't expect you to risk your lives for my mudblood…" How wrong that word tasted in his mouth after having Hermione's sweet tongue caressing his. "But please stay put and be ready for attacks. If anyone runs away, he's not welcomed back. Snatcher rule No. 2 still stands. Respect your leader and obey his commands. We stay as a group and we die as a group if we have to, and that's an order."

The healthy men understood him and nodded while they pulled out their wands and already began to look around for assailants. Scabior held up his own wand to disapparate until he thought of something important.

"Oh, and are everybody fit for disapparating on their own? We must all attend and I've no time for lost snatchers or splinchings. If anyone feel unsure; forget your pride and grab onto a stronger mate."

Only one man stumbled to another Death Eater but Scabior let his dark eyes scan the other six men and was worried about Rusty, who still clutched a man's arm. But the choice was Rusty's own and with a shake of his head to clear his mind, Scabior concentrated on getting to the Ministry where the Dark Lord wanted them.

He began to fly away, getting dizzier with the swirling images before him. Suddenly he could only make out a brown colour and was confused until he realized it was the floor in the Ministry of Magic. He had not prepared his body for the landing and crashed on the hard wooden surface, inflicting pain on his already beaten form.

He groaned against the polished floor and watched how his breath made a small mist on the wood; a merciless proof of his still living body. In his mind, Scabior felt so tired of the darkness that continued to harm him when there was a young beauty with doe-eyes and earnest heart waiting for him in his tent. He lifted himself from the floor, his arms protesting against the required effort, and brushed off his coat. The fireplaces were all closed and the Ministry was unusually silent despite the throng of Death Eaters that kept growing with every apparition.

Scabior looked around for his men and spotted them all standing with lowered heads by the wall, trying to look anonymous. He made his way over, warily avoiding colliding into anyone; he did not wish to raise attention to himself. A discreet nod to his snatchers was the only thing Scabior dared at the moment. With his tall form, he could spy at the mass of people who slowly moved towards the grand statue in the middle of the Ministry entrance. The Death Eaters who were close to the Dark Lord were dressed in fancy black robes and had gathered in a crescent in front of the others, facing the statue.

Scabior stood on his toes to see more and managed to make out Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy at the end of the crescent, on the other side of the room. The lady seemed very troubled and took a step nearer Lucius' left side and kept her left arm behind her back in a very odd way. Then Scabior discovered with his sharp eyes Draco Malfoy standing directly behind his parents, looking like a sad puppy and covered his head by leaning it on Lucius' broad back. The husband and the wife tried to hide their son the best they could, with arms and torsos. The display of true family love only made Scabior think about his moment of warm closeness to Hermione. He let his tongue explore his mouth and found her sweet taste still present. He savoured it, conjuring his own moment of sanity and privacy among hundreds of dark wizards and witches.

Without comprehending what was happening, his tongue suddenly glued itself to the bottom of his mouth and his lips sealed shut. Scabior looked around and people were clutching their throats and staring forward with a look of panic etched on their faces. Scabior turned his gaze too and saw once more the terrifying figure of the Dark Lord.

"I have silenced you so you can hear what I have to say," his silky voice whispered but the words spread around the mute hall.

"Let me show you the reason for my summoning." The powerful wizard simply waved his wand and behind his back, the solid statue began to levitate, rising higher and higher until a shadow was cast upon the Death Eaters. Scabior could smell fear in the air, but then a metallic scent reached him. The bottom of the grey stone was smeared with old, brown and fresh, red blood. A pair of thick shackles were attached to the hard material but hung down, broken at the ends. Harry Potter was not there.

"I have been merciful," Voldemort whispered venomously and lowered the statue. "I let Harry Potter live, granted him his deep wish to breathe. I gave him what he did not allow me; life. I even made sure he knew what was night and what was day in this permanently illuminated hall."

'No shit?' Scabior thought as he recalled the story he had heard this very morning about creatures in the daytime and spells during the nights. The Dark Lord frowned.

"Apparently there are those who do not appreciate my care for the boy. A battle began here when the Order of the Phoenix arrived in the company of mudbloods and blood traitors." The wizards mouth twitched and his face was the face of malcontent. "They charged and carried with them dishonouring weapons from the muggle world. Three of my most loyal servants died from holes in their bodies. The Order took Potter and Ronald Weasley and left within minutes."

Scabior widened his eyes at the news, as did several Death Eaters in the midst of the crowd. Voldemort sneered loudly and whispered something Scabior did not understand. From behind the massive statue slithered a giant snake who's sheer size was a sign of its need for quantities of food.

"I do not see how skilled Death Eaters can lose against filth. And every guard who was here this morning blame the others. So I have decided how to make sure you all do not find yourselves defeated again by children and mudblood friends."

The snake crawled around Voldemort and hissed menacingly.

"Nagini here get to choose her meal today." With a flick of his wand, the Dark Lord made a dozen men and women step out from the crescent and Scabior stared intensely at Narcissa Malfoy who was forced to move forward.

The Imperius stopped her from turning her head but her irises darted to her left. She could probably make out her husband and son from her peripheral sight, because she began to tremble as if fighting the curse. Lucius Malfoy had his eyes fixed on her as he struggled to hold back his frantic son. No sound was heard from the tragic scene but Scabior felt his heart beating faster. He caught a strand to smell it, desperate for an ounce of Hermione, if only a faint scent of apples caught in his hair.

The snake opened her mouth and showed the victims her fangs. She moved her head back, preparing her attack. Scabior actually felt true pity for the small group in front of the snake. And then Nagini launched herself at a young man who fell to the floor with an echoing thud, cracking his skull. He remained still, not even free in his dying.

Scabior chose to look away when the snake began to swallow the body inch by inch. He narrowed his eyes at Voldemort who now grinned openly while caressing the tail of his precious snake. The snatchers around Scabior turned their dilated pupils to him but he had to ignore them. He could not give them any comforting words.

After hearing bone cracking and seeing blood stain the floor of the former crown jewel of wizarding Britain, Scabior observed how Voldemort clapped his hands like a happy child. 'Bonkers, that one,' he thought and unconsciously clenched his fists.

"Well done, Nagini. We are better of without him. And this, my friends, is what you are going to face if you lose one more time." He lifted the spell from the group before him and they turned their backs to run back to safety in the crescent.

Not a second later Voldemort cried, "Petrificus Totalus," and made the running people stop dead, now facing the other Death Eaters. Voldemort rolled his eyes.

"How could I forget to ask. Nagini, you want desert, of course." The snake bobbed its head and flicked its tongue. It slid forward and Scabior felt nauseous as the horrible display would repeat itself. The petrified faces he could see would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. The snake slid behind the backs of the victims before it halted right at the still rustling satin dress of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Mother!" Young Malfoy managed to break free from the silencing charm but not from the tight grip of his fathers arms. "Let me go! Mother! No!"

Scabior admitted he was impressed by the fight Draco put up to reach his mother. Tears ran down his gaunt but enraged face and he managed to hit Lucius in the abdomen. But the father did not let go.

"Draco Malfoy. Toujours pur. I am aware of your familys' loyalty, but why are you always disappointing me?" Voldemort walked towards the Malfoys and said something in Parseltongue to Nagini who lowered her head. "Do you not think you would be able to help me more in the future if you got rid of your pampering mother? Do you not want to be a man?"

Draco panted from his struggle and mumbled something Scabior could not hear. "Take you in stead of your mother? No, I learnt my lesson about sacrifices a long time ago," the Dark Lord taunted and took a step nearer. A white hand extracted from his black robe and brushed away the blonde fringe from Draco's damp forehead. Lucius looked positively scared shitless but could not find the strength to throw Draco behind himself.

"If I spare your dearest mother, will you do anything for me, and succeed, Draco Malfoy?"

The boy swallowed and looked over Voldemort's shoulder, Scabior guessed he sought out the eyes of his mother.

"Yes."

No-one besides the males in the Malfoy family moved.

"Beg."

Scabior had a bad feeling about this and felt his snatcher nature begin to fill his system, demanding him to flee, to find freedom and clean air.

The boy blubbered out to the whole hall to hear, "Please, my Lord. Show mercy and spare my mother. Let her go, please." "Good boy," Voldemort whispered sadistically and continued with a clearer voice, "Take my servant back to your Manor, Lucius. Make sure he is a man of his word."

Lucius looked ready to faint but kept a fairly composed appearance. "And do not forget your wife."

Nagini's master turned back to her and talked to her before he nudged her head away from the still woman. Upon returning to his place in front of the sullied statue, Voldemort waved his wand and the eleven humans, who had been so cruelly treated, inched their way back into the black lines of quiet people. Narcissa took a leap forward and was immediately embraced by her crying son and relieved husband. Instead of snorting at the scene like he had done at the Manor, Scabior found himself, in a way, very affected by their shared love and devotion to each other. That is, until Narcissa leaned back and slapped her only child before beginning to kiss his forehead repeatedly, apparently not caring who's hand had touched her son there.

The trio quickly disapparated from the Ministry and Scabior discovered that he had not been the only one carefully following the event. Many heads turned to face the Dark Lord who did not appear to be furious.

"I order you to search for Potter. Find him and bring him to me alive. And if you capture anyone within the Order, you will receive a generous reward. But make sure they are alive, too. Look for members of the Weasley clan, even the most distant relatives and bring them to me. I am going to gather so many hostages I possible can so that Harry Potter simply have to bargain with me. Surely his Gryffindor heart will understand that his life is less worth than one hundred of his friends."

It was as if the Dark Lord was more talking to himself at the last sentence but his words carried over the crowd like sinister vultures. Scabior crossed his arms before him and lowered his head to not stand out in the crowd. He who currently had the most valuable witch waiting for him in his tent felt no want whatsoever to turn her in, in return for a mighty bounty. Voldemort waved his hand in dismissal.

"Everybody can go and begin the hunt. Except the snatcher called Scabior. You will come forward."