The Taste Of Your Magic Chapter 7, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: I have edited this chapter a little, and will do so again later.

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Narcissa's next meeting would be very different, and yet almost exactly the same.

Rufus Scrimgeour was one of the best Hitwizards still alive, a feat achieved in no part due to luck. It was all skill, cunning, and power. He had no wife or children, his younger, successful siblings would carry on the family line and it left him free to focus entirely on his career.

The man had no weaknesses to exploit, nothing to hold over his head, nothing to offer him. He had enough gold, and no vices save ambition. But even that was channeled legally. Narcissa had no doubt he would one day become Minister of Magic purely through his own merit and effort.

She could do nothing but offer to help him along his path.

His secretary knocked on his door twice before opening it for her, no announcement necessary as each and every appointment was held on time and scheduled beforehand. The office was a workspace, with wanted posters on the walls with notes scribbled next to them, charts of sightings and possible crimes next to them. A large table was covered with notes, while the desk was mostly clear to provide a clean space to work.

It reminded her more than a little of Bella's study. Meant for working, not entertainment or intimidation. Though the man handled that at her well by himself. Grizzly brown hair that had started to grey, a stern expression with sharp eyes and an all around aura of competence and directness left Narcissa well pleased with her choice. He was perfect.

"Mrs Malfoy," he intoned a little blandly, as if trying to hide his interest, and gestured for her to sit. "I was surprised to hear you wanted to speak with me. What can I do for you." It wasn't a question. It very nearly became an icy 'what do you want', but it was a start.

"Head Auror Scrimgeour. As you know, my ex-husband was convicted of being a Death Eater, with the help of my testimony. A testimony, I remind you, which has seen virtually all of You-Know-Who's servants imprisoned." It was important not to say 'the Dark Lord' in certain situations, and speaking to one of the hardest Hitwizards happened to be one of them.

"My ex-husband then escaped custody along with two mindless followers, and kidnapped my son after stealing almost everything of worth from my manor and killing my house-elves.

"I am surprised at how little has been done to rescue my son and see these three last remnants of You-Know-Who's terrorist organisation brought to justice. Lucius has the gold and the contacts, it would not be unreasonable to assume he is in the process of building up another army as we speak. It would be unreasonable to assume he is not."

His hard eyes watched her for any sign, any clue of her intentions. She gave him none.

"Mrs. Malfoy, while it is very regrettable what has happened to you and your son, I fail to see why you have come to speak with me."

"I want my son returned safe to me. I want my ex-husband," she spat the foul word, "suffering and dying for what he has done. The Ministry is too busy revelling in You-Know-Who's downfall, a feat they had no part in, and the capture of most of his followers, a feat they owe largely to me."

She held up a hand to ward of Scrimgeour's rebuttal.

"Let me be blunt, as I am sure you think me incapable. You and I both know that Lucius would have slipped through your fingers without my testimony, and thanks to my input you had several more pointed questions to ask under Veritaserum. From there you had every marked Death Eater in your grasp, and from there you got the rest. You know this is true.

"What I want is simple. I want a group of dedicated Aurors and Hitwizards hunting him down like the dog he is. I want my son back. I want every single Death Eater and those that aid them punished. If the Ministry is not willing to fund and back this noble and necessary pursuit to my satisfaction, I am willing to back it financially and politically myself. I believe you would be the best for the job, your skill, drive and ambition makes you perfect. You would rescue my son and see the filth dealt with.

"I will be making an announcement at the next open Wizengamot meeting, which is in three days. You have until then to decide and position yourself best to accept such a position. Such a visible, important position would highlight you further as competent and driven, provided you actually succeed. Which would be in my interests as well. Obviously. There, it is laid out before you as plain as is possible. I can see you need time to think about this. Let me simply say one more thing."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"The man to rescue my son will have my gratitude and support for the rest of his life. The man chasing that bastard and his ilk will have my full support. The current bounty on his head, and for the safe return of my son, is more than you would ever get here, but there is no reason you can't have both the rewards of gold and favours from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and success in the Ministry."

She stood and inclined her head slightly. "Good day, Mr Scrimgeour, future Head of the DMLE and Minister of Magic."

And with that she left the office, not bothering to check his reaction to her parting words. As if the choice was already made, and she could not fathom that there was even another option.

Huh. Maybe Bella's straightforward approach was rubbing off on her. She was being far more upfront and blunt then ever before. No matter, it was done, and done rather well. Now she just needed to leave the Ministry before she could take her portkey back to the safe house and feed her darling again. That it had not been an hour since she fed him last escaped her notice.

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Narcissa appeared in what had become the portkey room of the safe house and smiled at the sound of innocent laughter. She followed the sound to find little Harry sitting on Bella's lap on the bed, trying to read a children's book while she tickled his sides.

It was one of the happiest scenes Narcissa could remember.

Harry was glowing with mirth and giggling with every ticklish touch, green eyes bright and a smile threatening to extend past his face. Bellatrix laughing softly too, and was flushed with-

...Excitement?

"Hello Cissy! I'm reading now!"

The little voice broke her thoughts and made her smile once more.

"Hello my darling, such a clever boy you are! Bella and I couldn't read until we were much older than you. My darling really is a smart young man, isn't he?"

"Yup!"

She and Bella shared a laugh at his glib reply. Narcissa conjured a chair and sat in front of them so she was level with them. She raised an eyebrow at the faint flush still lingering on her sister's cheeks, making it grow deeper for a moment before Bella enforced her will on her body and the rosy colour faded.

"Harry, my love, why don't you go sit in Cissy's lap for a bit? I've had you all this time and she must be missing you. You can show how how well my clever boy can read, too."

He nodded and she kissed his cheek before helping him slide down. He moved in front of Narcissa who helped him up to sit in her lap, before he opened the book once more and started to read the childish words.

It was beyond amazing how well he could read. She offered him compliments and sweet nothings while he read, idly stroking is hair. Perhaps they should start on his French and Latin lessons already, and maybe some others as well. The Goblin tongue would be very helpful in his dealings with them. Yes, they should start his education in earnest soon.

Bellatrix watched them as if expecting something to happen, and soon enough the story was finished and the sisters offered even more praise for his intelligence. Then Bella struck.

"I think our little boy wants to be tickled again, Cissy. Why don't you do the honours?"

Narcissa quirked an eyebrow even as Harry protested but it was a token effort, so she started stroking his sides and digging in her fingers in just the right places to make him squirm and laugh that beautiful little giggle.

It was such a nice sound, such a happy thing that she missed the satisfied look that settled on her older sister's face. Harry started squirming in earnest and laughing even harder, urging her on, but his little movements against her and his echoing laughter sent vibrations through her lap, and then she understood.

Damn her. Little Harry's laughter was making her excited! The feel of a warm body moving against her there, however unknowingly, soon had her flushing like nothing else. Mostly though it was embarrassment at her thoughts, at her body's betrayal, and that her sister had tricked her into this and was looking on with an evil, knowing smirk. Damn her again.

Suddenly she couldn't wait for time to pass. And by the look on Bella's face, she felt exactly the same.

...Maybe an ageing potion...?

...No, it was best to wait.

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Sirius Black opened his eyes to see the cold, clammy solid rock walls that were the limits of his world. He couldn't remember if he had been asleep or if he had merely blinked. Entire minutes later he concluded he must have blinked, because he couldn't remember throwing up from nightmares.

Not that he had to be asleep to have nightmares anymore.

Had it been weeks since he was thrown in his terrible cell, or years? Nothing marked the time passed. The walls were warded, charmed, and protected with runes against any form of damage. Every scrap of filth was likewise spelled to remain exactly the same so he couldn't even mark time by scraping away grime.

Not that he had anything to measure time by.

The Demons came and went as they pleased, food came and went seemingly at random. He couldn't recall seeing a single human face since the doors were locked. Perhaps it had been only a day? No, he had eaten several 'meals' and he was sure they didn't feed him that often. Wasn't he?

The screaming from the other cells was almost as bad as the screaming in his head. Every horrible thing he had witnessed, experienced, or imagined played through him over and over, with only short breaks that made it all the worse for the short reprieve.

Sometimes he was almost sure he was the one screaming. Almost. It was rather difficult to be sure of anything. He was pretty sure he wanted to rip the Rat apart piece by piece after playing upon his agony with the blackest of magicks no Black Heir could escape learning. Funny how he was now almost glad for the forced tutoring.

Sometimes he became Padfoot and everything became so much better, and so much worse. The memories of running around with his friends in their animal forms came back to haunt him with more clarity than ever. So he tended to stay human and suffer the agony he so felt he justly deserved for failing his best friend and his family.

Little Harry would be getting close to two now. Or was it five? Ten? No, it couldn't be ten. Surely. Little Harry so much like his father only with his mother's brilliant green eyes. Lily's eyes. Oh God, Lily. Dead too, just like James.

Sometimes he wondered if he was dead too. If this was hell, punishment for failing his friends. For letting them die.

When he heard footsteps coming closer to his cell he almost thought the Demons must have grown legs. Dementors with legs. Ha. That was almost a joke. Then two men dressed as jailers, prisoners, no wait, that wasn't right. Wardens? Shepherds? Guards?

Guards. He was in Azkaban. Right.

A thin wand poked through a certain hole in the door and suddenly his body froze from the neck down. He looked down at his body in surprise. He wasn't entirely sure it was there anymore. Apparently it was. That was good, wasn't it? Then the cell door opened and someone stepped in.

"Sirius, dear cousin, you don't look so well! I think I should take you to see the family healer. Oh! I guess that's me! Well come along then, don't dawdle."

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Bellatrix looked down at the petrified form of Sirius Black with something bordering on glee. She had decided he would have the honour of being graced by her presence first out of all the scum in Azkaban.

"No no, don't get up my dearest cousin! Allow me!"

A swish of her wand had him transfigured into a small but fat pink pig. Another movement and he was bound in tight chains that squirmed around him threateningly as if waiting for the chance to strangle the life out of him.

"It's a shame we're in such a hurry, but don't worry little Sirry, we'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted later." She ended with a purr that sent visible shivers through his unnaturally altered spine.

Bellatrix turned to one of the guards and spoke in a sickly sweet voice. "Could you be a dear and open the chest? Thank you!" Two more guards walked into the cell carrying a great wooden chest and blank expressions. It was opened to reveal what appeared to be a typical dungeon, completely with chains, flickering torches and torture equipment.

"In you go, Sirry! We'll talk more later."

The pig was levitated in and dropped into the magically enlarged trunk where one of the numerous chains lashed out to bind his small pig form to the wall. Bellatrix smiled and gestured the four guards out, with two of them carrying the still open chest to the next cell.

Sirius was the first of many.

One by one, each and every prisoner held in Azkaban was transfigured into small animals, petrified, bound, placed under stasis, and tossed into the chest where they were further bound by the chamber within. A little overkill, perhaps, but it was good practice if nothing else. Fun, too. Hardened criminals, ex-Death Eaters, murderers, rapists, thieves, scum of all sort and of course the innocently imprisoned, none escaped her collection.

This was the result of much planning and several weeks of preparation. Bribes, threats, subtle compulsions and an elaborate distraction ensured only the minimum Auror guard was in place, and several of them were freshly graduated and on their first rotation. A few well placed drugged bottles of various spirits lowered their defences and allowed Bellatrix to control them all ridiculously easily with her well cast Imperius curses.

It was enough to make her laugh all by itself. The supposedly most secure fortress in the world, and there she was skipping down the corridors while essentially breaking out every single prisoner.

Not that she would be letting them to free.

She was even beginning to think all the preparation might have been overdone. With a little bit of luck she could probably have done the same thing without all the bother. Still, it was better to be sure and use the advantages one had. And Narcissa had been having so much fun setting everything up for her.

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Crouch, in an effort to visit his son undetected, inspired by Cissy, of course, had used his remaining power as Head of the DMLE to rearrange the guard roster so that it held several Aurors loyal to himself, and some idiots who wouldn't know a conspiracy if it hit them in the face. The shifting rosters though, for Crouch was subtle enough to make several small changes instead of one attention-grabbing alteration, allowed greedy or certain weak-minded individuals to change a few extra names on the list, unnoticed amidst the others.

Such a shame Crouch had come down with a dangerously high fever days before his planned visit, one that resisted all cures. Not surprising though, given the stress of recent events. And a certain poison in his tea.

Narcissa had no difficulty getting the Ministry to go along with her proposal to set aside several Aurors and Hitwizards to search for Lucius and, more importantly to her, her son. Especially when virtually the entire Auror and Hitwaizard sections were begging to have a shot at the last free Death Eaters, lead by the ever ambitious Scrimgeour.

The bounty didn't hurt either.

The Wizengamot and Ministry agreed that Narcissa would have a special role in advising the squad, given her connection to its cause and her knowledge of the man in question. That it was her son's life at stake helped cut through any potential power-plays, and her testimony proved her loyalty did not lie with the Dark. Besides, as she was helping to fund it as well, she was entitled to know what her money was being spent on. So it was that she had absolute, unquestionable independent influence over the entire investigation.

Since things had calmed finally down after You-Know-Who's downfall, the Ministry had agreed to send quite a large number of wizards, for the first while at least. The number would naturally drop as time went by without leads, but somehow the sisters just had a feeling that wouldn't happen, and that the Ministry would give the squad a bigger budget.

The mass escape of Azkaban might warrant a bit of attention, after all.

After that it was easy for Narcissa to 'hear rumours' of her ex-husband appearing in France, actually a polyjuiced Bella with help from leftover hairs, wreaking havoc at a ministry offical's house. The hours of debate over whether the hair belonged to her or Lucius...

So the Aurors and Hitwizards were scouring the country, and Magical France itself was put on guard against Lucius. The rest was simple, with small bribes and threats and curses used to further weaken the Aurors' grip on Azkaban when their attention was turned to Lucius and France, with peaceful interaction always difficult between the two Ministries, let alone cooperation.

All in all, a rather fun bit of scheming.

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Eventually there were only two prisoners left, sharing a single cell. How they managed that Bellatrix couldn't imagine, but perhaps it had simply been because they were captured together, or some twisted kindness. Barty Crouch Jnr had been in a cell quite separated from them though... She shrugged. It didn't matter anymore. One cell left.

When her little procession came to the cell she had been saving for last, expectation and vicious excitement bubbled up out of her as a high, cold cackle.

The two Lestrange brothers woke from their Dementor-inflicted nightmares at the terrifying sound, only to fall unconscious at her spell before they could even see her face. She wanted to take her time with them, and as much as she longed to revenge herself upon them, and play with them, she knew she wouldn't be able to do it properly here.

While she was trying to decide what to transfigured them into, a certain smell forced its way over the accumulated filth and made her gag and then scoff with realisation. Oh this was simply too much. She had always suspected the possibility, but never imagined it could actually come to pass...

Eww. Men were such filthy pigs. Well, maybe not all of them. But definitely most.

Suddenly losing all desire to rip her 'dear husband' and his brother to shreds, as she wanted to do it with her hands and she would not touch them like this, Bellatrix petrified, bound, and dumped them into the trunk without bothering with the transfiguration. By now she had long since run out of original animals anyway, and it was getting rather repetitive.

Azkaban was now completely empty of all two hundred and thirty nine prisoners, and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black now had the makings of an army. Weakened mentally by Dementors, they were ripe for the picking. Compulsion charms, memory charms, and addictive narcotic substances and potions would allow almost complete loyalty and control, with the full Imperius curse for the most delicate and important tasks. Or for fun.

Many of them were common scum, but quite a few were Marked Death Eaters, with several more sympathisers. Meaning they had access to wealth, be it legally theirs or not. Those bearing the Mark could be used for front assaults as all would assume them working for the Dark Lord or his replacement or some such, obviously Lucius. Leaving the Black sisters unnoticed and diverting attention, allowing stronger holds in the Ministry and Wizengamot to be taken by those with gold and cunning. Meaning them.

And with Narcissa's influence over the squad hunting for her dearest Lucius, she was already perfectly positioned to take advantage of the growing raids.

But that was some time off yet. First she would interrogate each and every single one of them and rape their minds, through whatever means necessary, of everything useful. Then and only then would they strip them of free will, or in some cases bind the more useful ones' loyalty. The Imperious curse had several uses for the skilled caster.

The first and most basic rendered the victim little more than a puppet, being controlled utterly without any free will or conscious action. While still very useful, it required a rather large amount of attention and focus for any useful purpose. The caster had to maintain the connection, thus drastically limiting the curse, but also allowing the caster to continually reinforce the curse, making it vastly more difficult for the victim to win free.

The second and higher form enabled the victim able to act on their own at a basic level, depending on the skill and power of the caster. This required less focus as the victim didn't need constant attention, and the victim could act based on their interpretation of their orders, almost to the best of their ability with a very skilled caster. This form of the curse required a greater amount of power and much more skill, as the curse had to be tied into the victim's mind and left there, but was the most useful and hence most commonly performed. If such a curse could be used 'commonly'.

In this case, curse was not 'streamed' as with the lower form, but placed upon the victim. It could be reinforced, and was often necessary depending on the strength of will and resistance of the victim. The caster 'pushed' an amount of power into the curse and skilfully wove it, or simply dumped massive amounts of power, over the victim, letting it remain in place to dominate their will.

The third and highest form required enormous power and skill, but essentially left the victim with complete free will, mind intact with all knowledge and skills, but left the victim utterly loyal and obedient to any orders given by the spell caster. Unlike the first and second forms, it required no further attention whatsoever as the victim was completely independent. Unlike the second form, it did not interfere with the victims mind or personality at all, save for the obvious obeying of orders or any changes desired by the caster.

And unlike the lowest form, it did not drain the caster's magic for the duration of the curse. Unlike the second form, it's power did not wane as the victim fought against it. It was performed in such a way that it was grafted into the victim's own magic, feeding of it to keep itself active. The caster could dispel it, but failing that or the caster's demise, as no matter the grafting it was still originally the caster's magic, the curse would remain.

Of course the victim might manage to fight off the effects of the lower forms of the curse at any point should they have the strength, but the beauty of the full Imperius curse was that as soon as it 'took', the victim would lose all desire to fight it, and could not in any case. It took a lot more power, and skill, to place than any other, by several orders of magnitude, but the end result was an utterly loyal, completely intact victim.

Certain individuals that possessed incredible skills and talents for the mind arts would be able to interfere with the curse, more often than not resulting in unpleasantness for all involved. Even at best, though, all it would result in was a temporary reprieve before the curse reassertion itself, drawing on the victim's own magic. Such was the power of this highest form of the Imperious Curse.

Bellatrix had only once managed to place the full Imperius curse on someone worth bothering with in service of Voldemort, and it had left her weak and drained for far too many days for her to risk it again. She fully believed that had she been alone, she would have died, too weak in body and magic to get assistance, too muddled and confused to think of a solution, and slowly fading away. Only Voldemort himself was said to be able to perform it without such drastic exhaustion and mental fatigue, though even then it was whispered he did not enjoy it as it did leave him weakened, not a wise thing for a Dark Lord.

That was not to say it was not done, but it was usually by the most powerful under controlled conditions. The victim would be bound and have their mental defences weakened and broken over several days at the least, and the caster would have companions ready to help immediately afterwards. Ideally the victim would be naturally weak-minded, as in that case very little power was required, just enough to overpower their puny will. Many peons of countless Dark Lords had been acquired by just this method, though in these cases it was often not worth it as the second form would work perfectly, as its power only diminished when fought against.

But thanks to her beautiful little Harry, Bellatrix would one day have enough power. The possibilities this opened to her were staggering.

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One of my least favourite chapters yet. I don't like this one at all, and will be changing it soon I think, but sometimes its best to just get something up before writer's block catches you. This chapter will be fixed soon, with much detail added and points expanded on.

Any thoughts on my take on the Imperius Curse? On the story so far?