Aaaaannnnnnnnddddd here's another! (By the way, yes, I made up Lucretia on the spot) Really, though, only one or two reviews? I'm disappointed….but *sighs* here it is anyway.
Carina stared down at the vial in her hand, at her already disguised friends, and the bodies they had hidden in the dark, narrow alley. Did she regret it?
No, not a bit.
Was she sorry for these people?
Not really.
Did she want to take the murky green colored potion?
Definitely not.
But, here she was, being the last to down the contents and feeling her body shift into the business partner of Albert Runcorn, Lucretia Spindlewood. She gazed down at her new body with undisguised disgust and was happy she had switched clothing before the potion, for her own would not have fit this short woman, who had to be at least five foot compared to her own five seven.
And boy, was she ugly. Mousy brown hair, a long nose, thin lips, sallow skin and mud brown eyes that seemed to hold a permanent wicked gleam in them—it was terrible. But, she tried not to think about that, though she would have rathered she become any of the others than this.
"Ready?" said Harry, sporting the deep and gravelly voice of Albert Runcorn, who towered over her.
"Yes," she replied, though rather ruefully. "Let's go."
Ron and Hermione followed along behind them as Reginald Cattermole and Mafalda Hopkirk, apparating just behind them to the entrance of the ministry, where they identified themselves and made their way to the stalls.
Carina shut the door of hers and stared down at the toilet; she knew they had to flush themselves down, but it didn't make it any less appealing.
Oh well. At least I'm doing something.
She sighed and stepped into the toilet, reaching up to flush herself down; she was spinning, spinning, spinning, and then….
...then, she found herself stumbling into the form of Reg Cattermole, catching herself just in time before she fell. Curse those bloody heels the woman always wore!
"Er, sorry," said Ron, wincing. "Didn't see you...disgusting, isn't it?"
"Not near as revolting as that," Hermione interrupted in a whisper, coming to stand beside them. She inclined her head toward the statue they had at the center of the atrium—underneath the various wizards were naked depictions of muggles, holding the rest up. "Muggles...in their rightful place." She said this reluctantly as Harry towered over them, pointing toward an elevator.
"We need to get moving," he told them. "Let's go."
Carina trailed along behind them, straightening her spine—there was no way she was going to fall in these heels in front of everyone in the ministry, no matter what form she was in. She squeezed into the elevator alongside the others, edging as far away from Umbridge as she could when the woman herself strode inside.
She could feel her right hand tingle, and she was sucked into a memory.
"You two are to write lines until I instruct you to stop," instructed Umbridge, while Harry and Carina both eyed the quills she had supplied. "Is that clear?"
"Yes," said Harry, at the same time Carina purposefully chimed in, "Sorry, didn't catch that."
"Is that clear?" the professor repeated, louder this time.
Carina stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it around. "Pardon?"
"I SAID, is—that—clear?"
"Still getting nothing."
"Is. That. Clear, Miss Black?"
"I really can't hear you. There's something wrong."
Umbridge had gotten angry by now, though she had not seen the way the girl's lips twitched. "IS THAT CLEAR, MISS BLACK?"
"Yes."
"Good." The woman sat back down, though the red in her cheeks would not fade for several minutes as Carina picked up her quill, just about to set it to the parchment when Harry spoke up.
"Professor, there isn't any ink."
"Oh, you won't be needing any." Umbridge folded her hands and smiled that sickly smile that made the two teens inwardly cringe.
"But, professor—"
"—another night's detention, Mr. Potter."
"But we need—"
"—you as well, Black." The eyes of the hideous woman narrowed at her, and Carina grumbled under her breath as she set the quill to the parchment and began to write.
However, the first word made her hand twinge with pain, and she paused for a moment, staring at the faint pink word that had formed on her skin. It was only one letter, the letter I—for I shall respect my betters—but already it had disappeared. She furrowed her brows and stared at her parchment, where the letter was written in red ink...no. Blood. It was written in blood.
"Is there a problem?"
Harry had stopped as well, it seemed, and exchanging glances, they said in unison, "No, professor."
They kept writing.
But, the more and more they wrote, the deeper the words were etched into their skin and the more the pain came.
After the detention, Umbridge assigned a week more.
~~~xxx~~~
The week wore into two, and two into a month, and already were Harry and Carina's hands scarred with "I must not tell lies" and "I shall respect my betters."
Hermione had thrown a fit and insisted to treat their hands afterward, but the scarring had remained. It would not go away, Carina was sure.
And it hadn't, even two years later.
Carina shook her head when she felt a sharp nudge to her side, and noticed that Harry—Runcorn—was motioning for her to follow him out of the elevator. She did so, but when she glanced back, she saw the terrified face of Hermione—or, Mafalda—peeking out from behind Umbridge. She clenched and unclenched her fist, not wanting to leave her friend alone with that woman, but she had no choice.
So, Carina steeled herself and turned away from the elevator, not looking back as she followed Harry through the halls.
~~~xxx~~~
"You're Undesirable Number One," Carina murmured, staring at the face of Harry Potter that gazed up at her from the paper. "Of course you are."
They had invaded Umbridge's office and were now going through her things, though made sure things were not too out of place that it might be noticed that they were there.
"Yeah, well, you're number two," he whispered back, shuffling through the papers. "And, look—Hermione is three, and Ron is four. You know, Mr. Weasley is being tracked..."
"We're the most wanted wizards in Britain. And, I figured as much." She peered over at the paper of Hermione, whose face stared back up at her with a scowl. The picture was old, taken around their sixth year by some reporter who had gotten hold of them after the funeral of Dumbledore.
"I know, but it doesn't make it any less worse." He rifled through one drawer as she took the next, but they came up with no locket.
"It's not here."
"Then that means—"
"—she has it."
Harry scowled at that. "That just means more work for us, having to steal it off her."
"But getting revenge is a good idea." Carina idly traced a finger over the face of Hermione. "Think it would be a good idea if I killed her? We'd definitely get the locket."
He rolled his eyes and flipped through a book he had found about Dumbledore. "Yes, but then others would be alerted, remember? We'd be caught."
"Oh, I know. But a girl can dream." With a sigh, she pushed herself off the desk and suddenly froze, catching wind of a not so pleasant smell—a man—headed their way. "Someone is coming—quick, get the cloak!"
Harry hastily flung it over the both of them and hunched over her, his entire body seeming to engulf her then so they would not be seen just as the door opened.
If Carina had not smelt Thicknesse before he entered, Harry might not have had time to pull the Invisibility Cloak over them. As it was, she thought Thicknesse might have caught a glimpse of movement, because for a moment or two he remained quite still, staring curiously at the place where the teens had just vanished. Perhaps deciding that that all he had seen was Dumbledore scratching his nose on the front of the book, for Harry had hurriedly replaced it upon the shelf. Thicknesse finally walked to the desk and pointed his wand at the quill standing ready in the ink pot, which sprang out and began scribbling a note to Umbridge. Very slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Harry backed out of the office into the open area beyond, dragging Carina with him.
Once outside, sure that they would not be seen, he removed the cloak and straightened, allowing Carina to suck in a deep breath. She let it out a moment later, slumping in relief.
That had been a close one.
They headed out of the building and into the next hall, where they boarded an elevator with a soaking wet and wide eyed Ron.
"Hi," he mumbled, obviously not realizing who they were.
"It's us, idiot," Carina hissed.
"Oh." He relaxed, then began to rant about how Yaxley's office was still raining as Mr. Weasley boarded the lift beside them and began to speak.
Carina did not pay attention until they reached the foot of the stairs, and when she turned to her right she saw a dreadful scene. The dark passage outside the courtrooms was packed with tall, black-hooded figures, their faces completely hidden, their ragged breathing the only sound in the place. The petrified Muggle-borns brought in for questioning sat huddled and shivering on hard wooden benches. Most of them were hiding their faces in their hands, perhaps in an instinctive attempt to shield themselves from the dementors' greedy mouths. Some were accompanied by families, others sat alone. The dementors were gliding up and down in front of them, and the cold, and the hopelessness, and the despair of the place laid themselves upon Carina like a curse...
She could feel her hands begin to shake as the familiar cold seeped its way to her core, chilling her to the bone. She swallowed hard as visions flashed before her eyes, the same ones she had experienced for that year in hell, many worse, and her legs buckled.
However, she kept herself upright by sheer willpower, and her wand slid into her hand; she quickly returned it to the holster. She could not cast a patronus here, not now, no matter how much she wished to. And she could also not help the muggleborns, who she managed to feel sorry for; it made her sick, thinking that this could have been Hermione had they been captured. Or could be Hermione, if they were captured.
Hermione, sunk to the floor with her arms shielding her face, wandless as the dementors closed in upon her to rip away her soul…
No, Carina told herself firmly, sharply pinching herself on the arm. That's not real. She's in no danger yet. Not yet. Definitely not with the dementors. She's not here, she's not being questioned, she's okay…
She silently followed along behind Harry, whose obvious intention was to get into the courtroom as they drug a man out screaming; Mary Cattermole was next, and they slipped into the large questioning room.
It was the same one her trial had been in.
Carina clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep moving, repeating to herself like a mantra, Not real, not real….she's safe, she's safe...we'll get the locket and get out...
Finally, she found herself in the stands with Harry, and it seemed that the effects had worn off, for she could now think clearly. It was more than likely due to the cat patronus, which would only protect the accusers and not the accused from the dementors.
Umbridge started the questioning, but at the moment Carina could not bring herself to care. Instead, she found herself tapping Harry and slipping down beside Hermione, who jumped so violently she nearly overturned a bottle of ink when she was supposed to be recording the interview.
"It's me," whispered Carina.
The interview wore on, and finally Umbridge held out a small hand. She looked so toadlike at that moment that Carina was honestly wondering why she had yet to see webs between the stubby fingers. Hermione's hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled in a pile of documents balanced on the chair beside her, finally withdrawing a sheaf of parchment with Mrs. Cattermole's name on it.
"That's pretty, Dolores," she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge's blouse.
Carina hid a shudder at the visual.
"What?" snapped Umbridge, glancing down. "Oh yes, an old family heirloom," she patted the locket. "The S stands for Selwyn...I am related to the Selwyns...indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related. A pity," she continued in a louder voice, flicking through Mrs. Cattermole's questionnaire, "that the same cannot be said for you. 'Parents professions: greengrocers'."
Yaxley laughed jeeringly. Below, the fluffy silver cat patrolled up and down, and the dementors stood waiting in the corners.
Carina glanced back to see the angered look on Harry's face. He raised his wand, not even bothering to keep it concealed, and said, "Stupefy!"
There was a flash of red light; Umbridge crumpled and her forehead hit the edge of the desk, while Mrs. Cattermole's papers slid off her lap onto the floor and, down below, the prowling silver cat vanished. Ice-cold air hit them like an oncoming wind; Yaxley, puzzled, looked around for the source of the trouble and saw Harry and the wand pointing at him. He tried to draw his own wand, but was too late, for Carina beat him to it. "Stupefy!"
Yaxley slid to the ground, unconscious. As she studied him, she regretted that she had not cast a more permanent spell to blind him or something of that sort-he certainly deserved it.
"Harry!"
"Hermione, if you think I was going to sit here and let her pretend—"
"Harry, Mrs. Cattermole!"
Harry whirled around. Below, the dementors had moved out of their corners; they were gliding toward the woman chained to the chair. Whether because the Patronus had vanished or because they sensed that their masters were no longer in control, they seemed to have abandoned restraint. Mrs. Cattermole let out a terrible scream of fear as a slimy, scabbed hand grasped her chin and forced her face back.
Carina was ashamed to say she had not been able to move to help when the cold had suddenly overtaken her.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The silver stag soared from the tip of Harry's wand and leaped toward the dementors, which fell back and melted into the dark shadows again. The stag's light, more powerful and more warming than the cat's protection, filled the whole dungeon as it cantered around the room.
"Get the Horcrux," Harry told Hermione.
He ran back down the steps, stuffing the Invisibility Cloak into his back, and approached Mrs. Cattermole. He spoke quietly to her and bickered with Hermione on the side as she got the locket and duplicated it so that Umbridge would not know the difference.
Hermione came running downstairs, but Carina carefully drew her wand and pointed it at the chains on the chair.
"Relashio," she murmured.
The chains clinked and withdrew into the arms of the chair. Mrs. Cattermole looked just as frightened as before.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"You're going to leave here with us," said Harry, pulling her to her feet. "Go home, grab your children, and get out, get out of the country if you've got to. Disguise yourselves and run."
"Harry," said Hermione, "how are we going to get out of here with all those dementors outside the door?"
"Patronuses," said Harry, pointing his wand at his own. The stag slowed and walked, still gleaming brightly, toward the door. "As many as we can get; do yours, Hermione."
"Expec-Expecto patronum." Nothing happened. She tried again, and it worked the second time. A silver otter burst from the end of Hermione's wand and swam gracefully through the air to join the stag.
"C'mon," said Harry, and he led Hermione and Mrs. Cattermole to the door. However, Carina found that just those two were not enough as an entire hoard of dementors closed in on them; Carina lifted a trembling arm, wand in hand.
"E-Expecto Patronum," she tried, but nothing happened. They closed in, and the otter disappeared, leaving only the stag to defend them. "Expecto Patronum." A small flicker, but otherwise nothing; one dementor drew close to Hermione, and a surge of panic hit Carina. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The wolf bounded from the tip of her wand and chased down the dementors with a visible snarl, lighting up the darkness. The faltering stag glowed brightly than before, and the otter came to join them both, sending cries of shock throughout the dungeon. The dementors flew back, and she felt her strength slowly return to her.
When the Patronuses glided out of the dungeon there were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. Harry looked around; the dementors were falling back on both sides of them, melting away as far back as they could get.
Feeling more like herself, Carina was the one who spoke up with obvious authority. "It's been decided you're to go free." She sharpened her tone at the still owering muggleborns. "All of you. Get up now, find a partner with a wand, and get out of here-get out of the country, actually. Go on, pair up. Now!"
It was funny, to think that she could still hold this much authority over a group of people even though she was under the guise of a very short woman in her mid forties.
They made it up the stone steps and to the lifts without a hassle, but Carina could see that everything looked rather suspicious and attention was sure to be drawn to them soon.
"Reg!" screamed Mrs. Cattermole, and she threw herself into Ron's arms. "Runcorn let me out, he attacked Umbridge and Yaxley, and he's told all of us to leave the country. I think we'd better do it, Reg, I really do, let's hurry home and fetch the children and...why are you so wet?"
"Water," muttered Ron, pulling away from the distraught woman quickly. "Harry, they know there are intruders inside the Ministry, something about a hole in Umbridge's office door. I reckon we've got five minutes if that."
Hermione's Patronus vanished with a pop as she turned a horror struck face to Harry and Carina.
"If we're trapped here—"
But Carina was not going to allow that to happen.
"Everyone," she called. "Keep hold of your partner and head out—hurry!"
They managed to cram themselves into two lifts. Harry and Carina's patronuses stood sentinel before the golden grilles as they shut and the lifts began to rise.
"Level eight," said the witch's cool voice, "Atrium."
Carina exchanged a look with Harry and knew at once that they were in trouble. The Atrium was full of people moving from fireplace to fireplace, sealing them off.
"Harry!" squeaked Hermione. "What are we going to do?"
"STOP!" Harry thundered, and the powerful voice of Runcorn echoed through the Atrium: The wizards sealing the fireplaces froze. "Follow me," he whispered to the group of terrified Muggle-borns, who moved forward in a huddle, shepherded by Ron and Hermione, Carina bringing up the rear.
"What's up, Albert?" said the same balding wizard who had followed Harry out of the fireplace earlier. He looked nervous.
"This lot need to leave before you seal the exits," said Harry with all the authority he could get.
The group of wizards in front of him looked at one another.
"We've been told to seal all exits and not let anyone through, though…"
"Are you contradicting me?" Harry towered over them. "Would you like me to have your family tree examined, like I had Dirk Cresswell's?"
"Sorry!" gasped the balding wizard, backing away. "I didn't mean nothing, Albert, but I thought... I thought they were in for questioning and..."
Harry glowered at him and then sent many of the muggleborns on their way, but they were soon interrupted by a shout.
"Mary!"
Mrs. Cattermole looked over her shoulder. The real Reg Cattermole, no longer vomiting but now very pale, had just come running out of a lift.
"R-Reg?"
She looked from her husband to Ron, who swore loudly.
The balding wizard gaped, his head turning from one Reg Cattermole to the other,not seeming to know what to make of this situation.
"Hey, what's going on? What is this?"
"Seal the exit! SEAL IT!"
Yaxley had burst out of another lift and was running toward the group beside the fireplaces, into which all of the Muggle-borns but Mrs. Cattermole had now vanished. As the balding wizard lifted his wand, Harry raised an enormous fist and punched him, sending him flying through the air.
"He's been helping Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!" Harry shouted, and she felt a stab of satisfaction at that. At least he was thinking clearly now.
The balding wizard's colleagues set up and uproar, under cover of which Ron grabbed Mrs. Cattermole, pulled her into the still-open fireplace, and disappeared. Confused, Yaxley looked from Harry to the punched wizard, while the real Reg Cattermole screamed, "My wife! Who was that with my wife? What's going on?"
Harry saw Yaxley's head turn, saw an inkling of truth dawn on that brutish face.
"Come on!" Harry shouted at Hermione; he seized her hand and then Carina's, taking her by surprise. They jumped into the fireplace together as Yaxley's curse sailed over Harry's head, and they spun for a few seconds before shooting up out of a toilet into a cubicle. Harry flung open the door; Ron was standing there beside the sinks, still wrestling with Mrs. Cattermole.
"Reg, I don't understand…"
"Let go, I'm not your husband, you've got to go home!"
There was a noise in the cubicle behind them; Harry looked around; Yaxley had just appeared. Carina roughly pushed Mrs. Cattermole into her actual husband, who had appeared by her side.
"LET'S GO!" Harry yelled. He seized Hermione by the hand again, and this time she reached for Carina, who hastily grabbed Ron by the arm as they turned on the stop.
Darkness engulfed them, along with the sensation of compressing hands, but something was wrong... Hermione's hand seemed to be sliding out of her grip...
She could not breathe, could barely think, and she could almost feel the others sliding away….
And then she saw the door to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, with its serpent door knocker, but before she could do anything, there was a scream and a flash of purple light.
Hermione's hand was suddenly gripping hers tighter than ever before, and everything went dark again.