Reporters flocked to them again as soon as they set foot off the apparition point in the ministry. Finley pushed through them, giving them just enough space to walk through the sea of people that didn't stop asking questions.
He wisely kept his mouth shut, even though he wanted to give Theodore a piece of his mind about the amount of pressure he applied to his back with his wand. Regardless, he had more important things to think about, like how was this happening, and why.
The reporters tried to follow them through the checkpoint, but the guard stationed there held them at bay as they slipped through.
Collins silently greeted him on the other side, a worried and grim expression on his face.
"Fucking hell," Ron mumbled as Collins stepped in pace. "There better be a good explanation for this Collins."
"Me and the lads are working on i'. Jus' keep your head down." He said, tossing a hard look at Theodore as the latter shoved Ron forward roughly. "You wanna ge' smacked, boy?"
Theodore had the decency look halfway between embarrassed and scared.
"Forget him. Just tell me what is happening," Ron said hastily as they entered the lift. Thankfully, Finley had no objection about him talking to Collins, and mainly pretended like he wasn't there.
"It's bad Ron," Collins said as the lift jerked downwards. "The body just disappeared from the coroner's hall."
"I thought I told you to guard that place."
"Yeah. But someone got in somehow, took the body and the notes and obliviated the coroner," he said. Ron's lips pressed together. "I had Moon check her for memory charms, but he couldn't find anything."
Ron sighed.
"Fuck." There was a moment of uneasy silence. "Look. That whole area is under an anti apparition ward. Try to find out if someone messed around with them last night. Also, check the room for another entrance. Someone's obviously gotten in somehow. We find them, we find the killer."
"You think this is an inside job?" Collins asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Bloody hell, Collins. What does it look like to you?" he asked heatedly and instantly regretted it. Ron sighed as he saw the small change Collins' expression.
"Look... I'm sorry. I think you can understand why I'm on edge here."
Collins just nodded. The silence was almost unbearable.
"I've... some idea as to who's behind this."
"Oh?" Collins said, turning to look at him. Ron couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard Collins' knuckles cracking.
"I don't want you confronting them, Collins. I want you to exclude them from your investigation. Keep them in the dark," Ron said hastily as the lift stopped with a slow, shuddering groan. The chains started rattling.
"I do not wish to intrude, gentlemen. But it'd be best if you two weren't to be seen together," Finley stated calmly, finally acknowledging Collins' existence. Collins shot him a quick calculating look, but the man just kept staring forward.
"Who is it then?" Collins asked Ron as the doors started opening.
Aware that there was at least one hostile set of ears listening in Ron opened his mouth and considered his words carefully.
"It's... the poof from last night," he said, barely managing not to wince as Theodore buried his wand between his ribs yet again. He sighed in relief as he saw the glint of understanding in Collin's eyes before he was shoved out of the elevator. They rushed out and turned right, immediately descending a dimly illuminated stone stairwell after being admitted by a full squad of Aurors who were guarding it.
He knew where they were going.
There was only one department on this level. The Department of Mysteries. As they passed the intersection he couldn't help but glance down the long corridor that had plagued his best friend's dreams for the better part of a year.
They could only be bringing him down here for two reasons. One was to intimidate him, as the government had tried to do with Harry when they blew up his misuse of magic case out of proportion. A second reason would be privacy.
With only the Unspeakables on this floor, who were the very definition of privacy, they would be guaranteed a closed doors trial. No eavesdropping and no interruptions.
It could mean only one thing.
This was politics.
And whenever politics was involved, the man in handcuffs was hung out to dry.
Case fucking closed.
He felt nervous even though he knew the outcome before he walked in. With each step he took the lump in his throat grew bigger as fear overtook half his capacity to think.
He could see, in the candlelight, the great double winged door of courtroom number one, by far the smallest of the courtrooms. It couldn't fit more than twenty people inside it, which gave him another clue as to how his trial was going to go down.
With a groan of impending finality, a sound of the beginning of the end, the doors swung open to reveal the grey empty bowels of the smallest room of justice in the Ministry.
He was half pushed and half shoved toward the chair in the middle of the room, and watched numbly as Theodore twitched his wand at him a bit too savagely. The chains on the wooden chair came alive and wrapped themselves around his arms, legs and torso.
Shooting a murderous glare at the grinning Auror, he pursed his lips and waited for the Wizengamot members to file in.
He didn't have to wait for long.
The room started filling with several of its members sans their customary purple robes, their faces dispassionate as if this was a daily occurrence. And it was. Thanks to he and his team, the courtrooms were used at least twice a day for the last six months.
Kingsley, in his immaculate golden robes with silver patterns waived his hand at the Aurors, and they gave him back a brief respectful nod. Ron spotted the disappointed face of Theodore as he turned around, and walking alongside Finley, left the courtroom.
"Mr. Weasley," Kingsley said slowly, after the attending members had settled, and Ron winced at the minister's use of his last name. Before, he would only address him by his first name, and he would flat out refuse to be called by his title.
"Minister Shacklebolt," Ron responded, and noticed the relief in Kingsley's eyes.
To be honest, Ron didn't expect any bias from the man towards him, even though he hoped for an ally in this matter. As it was, he was alone.
"Do you realise why you are here?" Madam Fairbanks asked from her seat, her small eyes peering down at him from behind glasses as thick as jar bottoms.
"Yes. I am accused of murdering a muggle," he said. "Something I didn't do."
"A muggle," an old man with a beard that reminded him of Albus Dumbledore said. "A muggle you say. Do you have any idea who this girl was?"
"I don't think it matters who she was. I didn't kill her," he shot back heatedly, before he could stop himself. The chains around him rattled and tightened for a second, before he took a deep breath and calmed down. The chains gave way after several seconds, allowing the blood in his arms and legs to continue circulating.
"Nevertheless, this is the only likely thing that could've happened." Kingsley said, his deep, firm voice suffocating the tense silence in the room. "Are you able to produce any evidence to support your claim of innocence?"
"No," he said with a sigh after a few seconds of furious thinking. "Another wizard killed her before we had the chance to take him down. His body disappeared from the morgue and the coroner doesn't remember anyone bringing a body in."
Kingsley took a deep breath.
"Were there any other witnesses of this... wizard entering the pub and killing her?"
"My team," Ron said, already knowing that they wouldn't be credible witnesses since they had a long history with him. All but Ashworth, and he sure as hell wasn't going to help him.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but those witnesses cannot be admitted to testify," Kingsley said, his voice betraying nothing.
"So, I'm going in a holding cell until the case is solved?" he asked, even though he knew that he was going to Azkaban. The small number of Wizengamot members, the high profile of the case, the urgency of his arrest... It all reeked of politics.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley," Madam Fairbanks said. "The woman that... that was killed was Stacy Davis... Yes, as in Tracy Davis' sister. And you know just who Tracy Davis is, Mr. Weasley."
"We must have immediate results if a civil war is to be avoided," the old man said, stroking his beard.
None of the jury were brave enough to look him in the eye when they passed their comments, either choosing to look at one of their members or down at their papers.
He had half expected for Harry to kick the double winged door in, wand blazing, and start swinging some serious magic in order to help him escape, but he knew Harry wasn't coming. This was Harry's intention as well – to stop a civil war.
"Do you have anything else you wish to add to your... ah... defence?" Kingsley asked, his eyes roaming over the documents laid on top of his bench.
He could always tell them about Harry's involvement in the incidents of late. He could tell him that the muggle girl wasn't dead. That would get him right off the chair, he was sure of it.
Yet the only time he hadn't believed in Harry turned out a total disaster, the ramifications of which were still with him even to that day. No, he owed Harry his allegiance, in good times and bad. He had faith in his friend. Somehow, Harry would pull him out of this mess.
Let it never be said that Ron Weasley wasn't a loyal and trusty friend.
"No, sir."
"I see. You are hereby sentenced to serve a ten year sentence in Azkaban Prison. You can file a plea for revision of your case in no less than seven days. Court adjourned."
Slowly and silently, the Wizengamot members left the courtroom, disappearing through the side entrance one by one. In the end, it was only him and the minister left.
"Ron," He said, finally looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry about this."
"I understand, sir."
It was now Kingsley's turn to flinch. Ron didn't feel guilty about his emotional manipulation at all. After all, he was the one left on the coals to burn.
"Thank you for your... understanding of the situation, and for not creating any useless drama," the Minister of Magic said after he collected himself. "You seem unconcerned about your situation."
"I know I didn't do it. It'll be only a matter of time before someone clears me. You don't get to work as an Auror without collecting a few debts in the department over the years," He said stoically. "You should know that best, sir."
"Yes. I do. I hope your people can conclude the investigation soon. People have lost their minds in Azkaban in less than a day."
"I'm made from sterner stuff than that," Ron shot back.
But there was only bravado in his voice. The truth was that it was what he was most afraid of. He could snap in Azkaban, under the dreadful influence of the Dementors. He was scared just thinking about it.
"I hope it turns out alright for you, Ron. It's a brave thing you've done today," Kingsley said before walking through the side entrance, leaving Ron alone in the chair.
It took the Aurors only a minute to get the memo, and soon Finley and Theodore entered the room and unleashed him from the chair. His spine, stiff from the uncomfortable position it was locked in the chair, cracked with an echo in the stone chamber. He didn't have time to enjoy a stretch as Theodore shoved him forward and marched him through the door.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice when they reached the one way apparition point, and only the intense pressure of sidelong apparition with the rookie snapped him out of his daze.
Chills went up his spine as soon as the pressure let up, and he opened his eyes to see a fog covered sea. And it wasn't an ordinary fog either, otherwise last night's rain would've wiped it out.
He was guided down a set of crooked and mossy stone steps, which soon started curving inwards, leading into a cave half filled with water. The steps soon led to a narrow wooden walkway just feet above sea level. They walked forward until the light weakened, and in the darkness, Finley silently lit his wand.
The glow of artificial sunlight fell on a half rotten wooden boathouse, which looked like the only reason it wasn't reduced to flotsam was the strong charms that kept it up. Rats scurried from the rickety looking boats and jumped into the water as soon as light reached them, and looking up, Ron could see a flock of bats stirring from their sleep, their little demonic eyes staring at them intensely, following their every move.
The small craft creaked underneath their weight as they boarded it. Theodore shoved him down as Finley tapped his long wand to the back of the small boat. It immediately started propelling itself forward, out of the cavern turned dock and towards the open sea.
Towards the large cloud of fog in the middle of nowhere.
The cries of seagulls became rarer and rarer the closer they got, and the waters turned violent. Large waves splashed against the sides of the boat as it ploughed relentlessly through them, only magic keeping it afloat and the inside dry.
Soon, the cold set in.
It was unnatural, that much Ron knew. He didn't know how or why the Dementors exuded this cold aura, but he knew that it was the third worst thing about them. Their appearance came in second, and first was the mental effect they had on living beings.
A sense of unease rippled through him. He believed Harry would somehow make this right, but he was frightened nonetheless. He'd heard that Occlumency helped against their mental and emotional attacks, and though he knew some, he didn't think it would be enough to completely protect himself from their influence.
"Feeling scared?" Theodore said with a sneer. His face was pale and his hands were shaking. It was understandable. The Auror that was barely old enough to be considered a man wasn't as mentally strong as Finley or himself. However, he wasn't going to Azkaban to stay.
He didn't say anything back, deciding to reserve his mental energy for the fight of keeping his head straight. It was several minutes until he could feel the mental effects of the Dementors. Faint screams seemed to echo through the fog that surrounded them. He focused on Finley, who now had to use a compass in order not to get lost in the fog, but he couldn't rid himself of the dread and hopelessness that rose within him. He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, a black blur that flittered before it blinked out of existence as soon as he turned to get a good look at it.
Before the Dementors' influence on his mind got any stronger, he employed what little Occlumency he knew, and slowly his mind grew numb. He could barely feel Theodore's wand digging in his back as he urged him to step off the boat.
Azkaban stood before them now, and for a moment, he could sense the desperation and pain the place seemed to ooze from its very image. The steep slope was challenging with his hands tied behind his back, and he would've fallen off the stairs carved into the cliff's side into the cold water below if it wasn't for Finley's quick reaction. The look of disappointment in Theodore's eyes made him take a note to himself to ruin the man's life as soon as he got out of the sticky situation he was in.
The entrance stood like a gaping maw in the solid rock of the first floor of the prison, the darkness in it almost physical. From within, he could faintly hear a child scream in utter terror, the sound of it making goose bumps appear all over his skin.
He doubted he could last more than a couple of days inside