Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
-oOo-
Chapter 14
01 June 2024
-oOo-
A/N: This chapter earns more of the M rating for violence.
-oOo-
September 20, 1996
Hogwarts, Scotland
Croaker watched the young redheaded man as he erected an intricate pattern of fiery runes in the air and spells to break through a rather nasty compulsion charm that should have seen anyone touching the tiara putting it on, letting the horcrux within possess anyone that did so.
It was a bit more complicated than he would have done himself, but Bill had been classically trained by the goblins and part of a team, so he built in extra precautions to protect those around him. Perhaps the Unspeakables should adopt the same precautions? He could think of few that had died in the decades he had been in the department because of carelessness or not paying attention to danger signs. Bill did, and Croaker suspected it was from years of experience in the field.
It took the young redhead fifteen minutes before the tension in his shoulders relaxed. "It's safe to touch now," Bill told him.
"Impressive," Croaker said as he cast detection spells on the diadem. There were no deadly curses or compulsions left. Only the original enchantments that Rowena Ravenclaw had cast almost a thousand years ago and the vial taint of a soul so corrupted that there was no way to save the artefact to be rid of it.
Bill looked at the diadem. "I can't believe he defiled such an artefact. We will have to destroy it."
"As much as I regret it, yes. Your American contact confirmed that the exorcism would only work on a living being," he said, feeling just as sad. He would like time to study what one of the greatest magical minds in history had done, but there was no time. After the failed coup at the ministry, putting an end to this madman was paramount.
"Yes, Walkingfeather confirmed that their methods do not work on the non-living," Bill replied.
Croaker nodded, then moved into to take the diadem with dragon hide gloves on his hand. Why take any chances?
He stepped back from the pile of junk the diadem was on. Looking around the room, he wasn't sure that this room wasn't the real treasure of Ravenclaw's legacy? He had never seen anything its like and wanted to study it. Once Riddle was gone, he would have a team of Unspeakables here to study and work on recreating the room in the DOM.
On the floor nearby was a seven pointed star with a runic array around it that would contain almost any magic. Bill stepped back, ready to act if needed. Croaker placed the diadem into the centre of the heptagram at the centre of the star. Stepping back, he pulled on the hatred he had for the man that had almost destroyed his family and his world. "Fiendfyre!" he spat out.
A fire of blue, white, red and yellow leapt from his wand into the centre of the star. Bill incanted something he now knew to be ancient Greek and the runic array glowed a bright purple as it fought to contain the hellish fire. A snake head emerged from the flames before plunging down onto the diadem. The screams of the hellfire and the black smoke that rose from the inferno mingled. It took less than two minutes before the fire snake started to flicker out. Its purpose to consume the diadem done and access to anything else to feed it cut off by the wards. Within three minutes, all that was left of the diadem and the fiery snake was ash and red glowing, melted flagstones.
"I felt that was a little anticlimactic. The locket gave a stronger fight than that," Bill said.
"I think this was meant to be more subtle and control someone, like the diary. Would you let it slowly dominate you if it was cruel and mean?" Croaker asked the young man.
Bill scratched his chin. "Probably not," he conceded. "So, you think there is only three more?"
"The calculations show it. I know you had the same answer," Croaker replied.
"Arithmancy wasn't my strongest subject, but I'm not bad either," Bill said a little modestly. Honestly, the man was better than good. The Exceeds Expectation he got on the exam didn't accurately portray the man's instinct on arithmancy and its relationship with the runes and deeper mysteries of magic. He had gotten points off on the prediction calculations, which, to be frank, were not that important as prophecy and predictions could often be wrong. What conditions existed at the time they were made can change, sometimes rather significantly, like having Potter run.
"I think you are more than sufficient. Now, we have an appointment with your former employers at two. I would like a meal before then." Croaker waved his wand to clean the floor of the seven pointed star. The scorch marks and melted flagstones would only go away if they were replaced.
Bill sighed. "Yeah, not looking forward to that. They were rather put out with me when they fired me."
"Have you found other employment yet?" Croaker enquired.
Bill did one more look over the place to make sure it was as clean as possible before turning towards the door of the huge room of lost things. "No one will even let me in their doors. The goblins have black marked me. I'll probably have to go somewhere the goblins don't have any influence."
Croaker lowered his hood to look at the man. He carried himself with confidence, but there was that dejection he had seen since meeting him at the cave. "What if the Unspeakables have a position available?"
Bill looked up to him. "Are you sure? I doubt the ministry will want me."
Croaker gave a small smile. "The Department of Mysteries may be funded by the Wizengamot, but we report only to the Minister and only when it involves national security or the Statute of Secrecy. I have leeway in who I hire. The department and the ministry need to have a complete ward review after the assault on Monday. If you are unsure, you can start under a short term contract."
Bill seemed to think of it for a brief moment. He knew this would be the best deal the young man was likely to get until the stigma of being fired by the goblins wore off, which could be decades from now.
"When do you want me to start?" Bill asked.
"You already have, if you want the position. We just need to take care of the paperwork, oaths, getting you your call sign and robes. Everything else can be worked out," Croaker told him as they made it to the doors.
"What's the pay?"
"Two thousand base with bonuses available. This job alone would be worth an extra thousand," he replied. That was a good salary, and most earned a few thousand extra a year for doing odd jobs like this or for research. It was the best paid positions in the ministry. "You also get full compensation for Saint Mungo's, and we offer scholarships for your kids to Hogwarts or a few international schools. I would recommend the Pacific Academy in the MACUSA or Bongadera in Australia. Lastly, I can smooth things over with the goblins and reinstate your family's access."
Bill quirked an eyebrow. "That would be nice. Why not Hogwarts?"
"It is a fine school, but far from the best. As you probably found, you had much to catch up when you were hired by the goblins," Croaker answered. They were going down the stairs of the main stairwell now. The halls were empty as the students were in class.
Bill snorted. "I was so proud to get an outstanding in my Advanced Runes and Ancient Magics classes for my NEWTS. In the first week at Gringotts, I realized that I was years behind the other four that I started with. They all came from the MACUSA. I've had to work hard to catch up and pass them."
"Seven years," Croaker commented.
"Seven years," Bill agreed.
They walked out the main entry way doors. He let the young man think over what he had said. "Will you support my masters license in ward weaving?"
"All expenses paid. Would you like to study under the Unspeakables or sent to a proper school?"
"What school would you suggest?" Bill asked.
Croaker grinned. "A year at Castelobruxo, then two at the Pacific School. They will have things you've never seen. I know a few people and can get you a friend to support that mastery. Do you want more on ancient magics as well?"
Bill looked curiously at him. "That's already three years you're going to send me away."
"Once an Unspeakable, always an Unspeakable. I figure you have a good sixty to eighty years before you might like to retire. Some of us never do. What is five or ten years of schooling to get capabilities we don't currently have?" Croaker put to him.
"Let's get this done and then I'll give you my answer," Bill told him.
Croaker knew he already had the man. He would be the best recruit since he had lost Lily Potter.
-oOo-
September 22, 1996
Austin, Texas, MACUSA
The last six days had been stressful. Harry had been questioned a dozen separate times about all the shite he had gone through, given memories of everything and then asked to go under veritaserum. Daphne had fumed at that. She confirmed as much as she could, while going through her own questioning on her family, last year, what she knew about the ministry and the Purebloods that she had grown up with. It had been made worse that they had confiscated all their stuff in the first meeting with the investigators.
By Friday the two of them were very irritable. They had come here to find sanctuary, not to be treated like… well, not criminals, but not totally nice either.
Thus, when they had been called to Ambassador Williams office, Harry felt belligerent. He was ready to run again, and Daphne was just as irate. The three Aurors that had been escorting them for most of the time led them down a long corridor in a rather nondescript office building. It was the southern headquarters of the MACUSA, and they had been trapped in here since leaving the gnomes.
If they could get their wands back, they were going to run for the gnomish embassy, which they knew wasn't far from here. They had offered to support them to go to another country if needed and had been the only ones to really help them, besides the Delacours, since leaving Britain.
When the door opened, Harry looked around the room. Ambassador Williams was sitting in a highbacked comfortable chair next to a woman in an impeccable light-blue ladies suit. Her blue eyes regarded them with curiosity and her blonde, shoulder length hair was styled without a strand out of place. Four men in black suits stood around the room.
Harry's sense of danger ratcheted up. He stepped to stand before Daphne when they were just inside the door.
"Mister and Misses Potter, thank you for joining us today. I want to start by apologizing for what you have been subjected to over the last few days," Ambassador Williams said, sounding genuine.
Harry huffed. "We came to you seeking asylum, and instead we have been treated like prisoners," he said hotly.
"Again, not what I meant for you. I did mean it that the MACUSA wants to offer you asylum, but there are things that have occurred that made it necessary we get all the information we could," Williams told him.
"What could have happened to submit us to such treatment? The only thing you didn't do was use legillimency on us," Daphne spat from behind him.
"You even stole our wands and all our possessions. I'm surprised you gave us our clothes back," Harry added bitterly.
"I apologize, again, on behalf of our government. All your belongings are on the table behind you. You are free to take them back," Williams offered.
Harry turned to see his wands, bag, cloak and all the items taken by both of them. He was so upset that he raised his hand. "Accio wands!"
His and Daphne's two wands in the holsters flew to his hands. The Aurors behind him didn't react, but the other four in black suits shifted and wands came to their hands. Harry grabbed the four wands, then looked to Williams. "Are your words as hollow as your promises?"
"Stand down," the woman commanded.
The two men and two woman slid their wands back up their sleeves. Harry still looked challengingly at them.
"I mean it that you are free to take back all your possessions. The Aurors in black are the body guards of our president." At their surprised looks, Williams went on. "Mister and Misses Potter, may I introduce you to President Carneau? Madam President, this is Mister and Misses Potter."
The woman got up and walked over to them with her hand extended. She had a slight Canadian accent. "It is good to meet you, Mister and Misses Potter. We've heard much about you and followed what the papers since you ran in August."
Harry was slightly surprised to be meeting the president of the MACUSA.
Daphne recovered first. "Madam President, it is a pleasure," she said, her years of lessons taking over, even if she was upset. She curtsied before taking the woman's hand. When the woman extended it to Harry, he cautiously took it.
"Madam President," he said wearily. "It is a pleasure, but why would you be here to greet us?"
"First, I wanted to apologize for the treatment you have been subjected too, but as Ambassador Williams has indicated, there have been events that required us to get information in as timely a manner as we could," she said, indicating for them to sit in the other two chairs facing the ambassador and the chair she had been in.
Harry shared a dubious look with Daphne, then handed her wands to her. Rolling up her sleeve on her right arm, she strapped her primary wand there as he did the same. Only then did they join the president and ambassador.
"Madam President," Daphne started.
"If you would, I prefer to drop the titles. You can call me Francis or Franky if you want," the president said.
Daphne stumbled for a second, "Ah… Francis, why have you submitted my husband and I to such obtrusive questioning? We were led to believe that the MACUSA was good to asylum seekers."
"Generally, that is a true statement. I know that you have been kept from any news in the last few days. Eric, would you show them the papers?" the president questioned.
Williams took a stack of papers from the table next to him. Harry looked at them as he handed them to Daphne. She let out a gasp. His eyes bulged to see a picture of the destroyed main atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
"Dear Merlin," she muttered.
"When did this happen?" Harry asked, taking one of the other papers in the stack. This one had a picture of Dumbledore fighting Voldemort.
"The day you arrived. Since that time, the British Isles have been in a state of war, but the assault and attempted coup on the government has been the largest battle," President Carneau told them. "The battle had the largest number of combatants since the Great War in Europe in the forties. It is a great concern. Great enough that others have called up their Auror forces to full alert. The MACUSA is on our highest alert to prevent any spill over."
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered reading the headline.
Echoes of the Grindelwald Wars heard in the Wizengamot. 347 Dead. 423 injured. Bloodiest day in Europe since the Battle of Geneva in 1944.
He looked up. "Voldemort lost?"
"He has been pushed back for now. From what we can gather, his forces are severely depleted, but they did great damage to the ministry, killed many and nearly succeeded if Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't confronted him."
Daphne reached across and took his hand. She held it tight enough that he felt his bones shift. "Dumbledore would have had you there in that," she said.
He had a hard rock form in his stomach, not doubting her suspicion. He had thrown Harry at the man every chance he could, never coming to aid Harry until it was too late.
"Why do you say that?" Williams questioned.
Harry snorted. "I guess you haven't listened to anything we told you over the last few days, did you? I'm prophesized to defeat Voldemort or die trying. Dumbledore has thrown me before the Dark Wanker every time he could. It is why we ran. I don't want Daphne to die. Too many have died for me. I don't want to die," he said in a softer voice. Daphne's hold became painful.
"We understand more than you think, Harry," President Carneau answered. "The information that you have given us has filled in some large gaps in our knowledge of the United Kingdoms and Voldemort. Our Aurors and Unspeakables have reached out to their British counterparts to offer aid in ridding the world of this threat. I know that you want to leave this all behind, but I fear there is one thing you must do, and I think it related to the prophecy you have told us about."
Harry tensed. The tip of his wand slid into his hand. "We are not going back," he told her fiercely.
President Carneau held up her hands. "I would never do that. The situation you ran from has only gotten worse and we would never send children to fight a war, even if you are emancipated. What I am talking about is related to the medical exams."
Harry didn't think Daphne's grip could get tighter. "What is wrong with Harry?"
"It has to do with his scar, Daphne. Our Unspeakables believe that the prophecy refers to a little bit of the man called Tom Riddle that is inhabiting Harry's scar. It has cursed him a way that makes it impossible for him to truly live while they both survive in the same body," the President said.
Daphne paled and Harry felt ready to toss up. His free hand went to his scar. "What do you mean a piece of Tom Riddle is in me?"
"I don't know all the details, but I would like you to join our Unspeakables when we are done here. They have contacted the First Nation people you told us about and they are waiting to help you. After that, I want to extend our thanks to you. The MACUSA is offering you sanctuary and asylum. Ambassador Williams has some options for you to consider. Daphne, I know you expressed the desire to complete your schooling. We have reached out on your behalf and can say that the top three schools in the MACUSA have extended both of you invitations to join as soon as you wish. I know you have missed most of the first month, but that shouldn't be an unsurmountable obstacle to overcome."
"How do we know you won't offer this and then take us again for questioning or worse?" Daphne said. "How do we know you won't send us back if the prophecy requires it?"
"I mean what I said, Daphne. I will not send children to fight a war. Even if the prophecy does apply to Harry, that would be his decision to do something about it. Just because one is prophesied to do something, doesn't mean they have too. Events will play themselves out and many prophecies go unfulfilled," President Carneau replied. "Or so I am told."
Harry tried to gulp down the large lump in his throat. "When do I get this thing out of me?"
"I am told the ritual is being prepared. It will happen on the night of the full moon in four days from now," she told him.
Daphne looked to him. He could see the concern in her features. He didn't want to wait that long. If he had something from Voldemort in his head, he wanted it out. After swallowing a few more times, he turned back to the president and the ambassador. "What about Britain?"
"Like I said, we have reached out to offer them aid. You will not go back unless you want," she affirmed.
"We can stay, and you won't bother us again?" Daphne questioned.
"Once you are done with our Unspeakables, you will be handed over to the Department of Immigration to help you integrate. Williams will give you your options, including the ability to obtain full citizenship in a few years," she told them.
"Why not now?" Harry asked.
The woman gave him a smile. "As much celebrity you are, Harry, we do have laws and ways of doing things. You will be given a special temporary citizenship that will allow you to freely move around, work and go to school in the meantime."
Harry made a face, hating the use of the word 'celebrity'. "Fine."
Daphne's hold loosened slightly. He was fairly sure his hand would be bruised later. "We have to wait four days to get this thing out of Harry?"
"Yes. Once you are done talking with Eric, he will introduce you to the Unspeakables. From here on, you are to be treated as members of state until you are transferred to the Immigration offices," she assured them.
Harry let out a long breath. What was four more days? It wasn't like his forehead had hurt since leaving Europe. Was it because of the distance? He didn't know. He absently rubbed his scar.
"Thank you," Daphne eventually said.
President Carneau smiled then got up. They got up with her. "Again, I would like to apologize for your treatment and hope should we meet again it will be under better circumstances."
"Thank you, Madam President… Francis," Harry said when she gave him a look.
"It was a pleasure, Harry. Daphne, you have an incredibly special man," the woman said.
Daphne gave a broad grin. "In more ways than you know, Francis."
The knowing smile the president gave back had Daphne blushing a little and him feeling flustered. When she left, Williams indicated for them to take their seats again. "Would you like some refreshments? I have a few residential packets available and would like to go over the schools that have accepted you, or others that you could apply too, if you like."
Harry blinked at the man, feeling like he was being turned around every few minutes. "Ah, sure."
"I take it that you were able to get our OWL results?" she asked.
"I have, Daphne. Though, I will have to tell you, you will both need to repeat your fifth year. The British OWL's do not meet our standards, but you both did well enough to be in the advanced courses," Williams told her with a smile.
"Can I see mine?" Harry asked.
Williams looked at him confused. "You didn't get them?"
Harry made a face. "Pretty sure Dumbledork had a mail ward on me. I didn't get any mail this summer before we left."
"I remember seeing that in one of the reports, but didn't realize," he said, opening a folder and shuffled some papers around until he found what he was looking for. When he handed the sheet to Harry, Daphne leaned in to him. Looking down the sheet, he felt a bit of pride. She had pushed him last year to do better and it showed in that he didn't get less than an exceeds expectations in anything, with all their core classes and Care of Magical Creatures being outstandings.
"I told you that you would do well," she said in a small voice before kissing his cheek.
"Only because of you," he replied back in a whisper. Williams gave the young couple a small smile.
"If you would, with your grades, I can say you have been accepted to Ilvermorny in Massachusetts, Arnelding in Quebec and Sagamore in California. All of them are top schools and as our thanks for your cooperation, there are options for places for you to live at the governments expense until you graduate and get jobs," Williams told them.
Harry gave the man a hard glare. "That was our cooperation?"
Williams looked a little grave. "I am afraid that was. If you hadn't so freely shared your information, then the Unspeakables would have been involved. They are not required to follow our laws."
A shiver went through Harry and Daphne shifted even closer, so she was only on the edge of her seat. "And you want to give us to them now?"
"I promise you that they will only help you. Everyone is confident you gave us the information you could, and the president has ordered us to make amends. I can tell you she was rather upset when she found out what you went through," he said. Harry had the feeling the man had been given an arse reaming. "I can also affirm that the Aurors will give you a guard to ensure that nothing else happens to you until you both turn eighteen or the danger has passed, even if that is years from now."
"We are not pleased either," Daphne coldly replied.
"I understand. If you would, I would like to go over these options, and others if you want," Williams pressed, obviously wanting to get over this. Harry focused when Daphne indicated they would talk later. They could always find a way to escape again, but he didn't feel like running anymore. Not if they were going to be hunted like they had been. But to have an Auror guard would make him feel safer for Daphne.
They would need to talk about this later.
-oOo-
That night…
London, England
Moody hadn't felt this tired in years. Even chasing after Potter, he hadn't felt this stretched. The last six days had seen the ministry in an absolute tizzy, not to mention the panic around the country. The Aurors had responded to dozens of sightings of Death Eaters and their forces each day. Scrimgeour had asked him to reactivate and lead a squad to hunt down who he could after spending two days in the hospital to recover.
So, for the last four days he had hunted down the forces that had escaped from the ministry. As close they could figure, more than three hundred and fifty had assaulted the ministry. One hundred and thirty-eight were dead. Ninety-seven were in custody. They had been able to capture or kill a further forty-nine. Their best estimates put the remaining forces of Riddle at less than eighty, including a few of the worst of his inner circle.
He hoped that he would meet Bellatrix or Lucius. He would like to see them turned inside out and left to suffer.
His annoyance at the moment was that he had to leave his team of twenty scoping out a place in Wiltshire that was suspected to be Malfoy Manor. If there was action, he wanted to be there. Instead, he had been summoned by Albus.
His eyes spun around rapidly, trying to assess any possible threat, ward or other magic that could harm him or others. His paranoia had made him incredibly angry in the last few days.
There were as many Aurors in the hospital as Healers. Scrimgeour was taking security of the most vulnerable places far more seriously than any minister he had seen. As he approached the room on the fourth floor, three Aurors stepped away from the wall.
"Please identify yourself," a rather short woman ordered, her wand in her hand and half raised.
He pulled at the badge on his worn leather cloak. "Master Auror Alastor Moody. Here to see Dumbledore."
She cast a spell to confirm the magical signature of the badge matched his. After a moment, she nodded, and they let him through. Moody knocked on the door, then opened it. The room was a little dark. Albus was sitting up on the bed but looking far worse for wear. What the man had done was both stupidly heroic and idiotically stupid. As much as he may have some issues with his old friend, the fact was he was the only one able to stand toe-to-toe with Riddle.
The man in the bed didn't look capable of doing much. He was pale, looking older than Alastor could ever remember him looking and his magic didn't fill the room like it normally would.
"Hello, my old friend. Thank you for coming," he said.
"Albus, you look like shite," he said in his usual bedside manner.
The old man on the bed gave a small smile, though no mirth met his eyes. "You always did tell me what I needed to hear, even if I didn't want to hear it."
Alastor shrugged. "Life is too short to bandy words. What do you want? We are getting ready for a major operation in the next few days."
Albus sighed. "I have heard of the teams hunting those that fled the ministry. So many lives lost."
"If we had done our job after the last war instead of letting people off and actually questioning or giving them trials, we might not have been here," he told Albus. Now that he understood what being lenient on the bastard had cost his family and others, he was not going to let them rise again.
Albus gave him a hurt look. "I truly thought they could be reformed and had been."
He scoffed. "Hardly. What do you want, Albus? I don't have the time."
"Time is all we have, old friend, and mine is running short. I must know, have you found Harry?" Albus asked, a certain desperation in his voice.
Alastor scratched his chin. "And if I have?"
"He must either face Voldemort or be killed. I fear that the cleansing William is suggesting will not work," Albus told him.
Alastor gave the man a hard glare. "And you want me to kill the lad?"
Albus had a grave look. "I would not ask this of you, but it is imperative if Voldemort is to finally be defeated. You know this."
"Aye, I do. I also know Croaker and Weasley are working on it. You let them worry about that. I will worry about the insurrectionists," he told Albus.
"Alastor, please. I need your promise. If it can't be done, you must get the boy before Voldemort or kill him yourself," Albus pleaded.
He shook his head. "No, Albus. I've done some despicable things in my life, but I won't kill an innocent like that. Either do it yourself or leave the lad and lass alone."
Some of the remaining life left Albus's face. "Alas, I am afraid I will not leave this room."
Alastor glared at the man. "What did you do?"
Albus closed his eyes. "It is a rather dark curse. One that my family developed many generations ago and one that I wished to have died with Aberforth and me."
"What is it, Albus?" he pushed.
"It binds two cores together. Voldemort and I are now inextricably linked. As one of our magics fails or grows, so does the other. I am allowing a curse that is slowly consuming me take me. When it does, it will take most of his power and his body. The horcruxes and Harry must be handled by then, otherwise, he can gain a body again. Especially if Harry lives, as the horcrux in him can pull on the boy's magic," Albus told him.
Alastor looked at the man like he had never known him. This was not the same man that always preached no dark arts, used others to meet his needs and never made sacrifices like this.
When he didn't say anything for a long moment, Albus said, "You must give me your oath and go find Harry. This must end. I can't see any more blood spill for this. The prophecy needs to be fulfilled."
Alastor's gnarled face twisted in a look of rage. "You completely daft old fool," he said angrily. "If you can't win your way, you make a martyr of yourself and the boy? No, I won't do that, Albus. Croaker and Weasley are getting close to the last horcrux. They were able to get one from Gringotts the other day. Only the snake is left and the mission I am on should give them that. Potter is going to the shaman Weasley talked about. He will be cleaned of that taint on the full moon. I'll hold off the assault until then, but I won't kill the lad or let anyone else to satisfy this prophecy you say has to be completed."
"Alaster, you must!" the old man said with more strength and emotion than he had since entering the room.
"No, Albus. You had years to resolve this. I won't take the freedom the lad earned. I know what he has lived and gone through now. If I had known before, you can be assured I would have gone against you in how you handled Potter. If you excuse me, I need to get back to my team," Alastor coldly said.
"Alastor. Alastor! I need your oath! ALASTO…" The yell was cut off as the door shut.
The three Aurors and a Healer looked at him. He nodded over his shoulder. "I think he's lost the plot. I think some strong calming drafts and a sleeping potion will help."
The Healer pursed his lips. "I'll have a look."
Alastor nodded and got salutes from the Aurors before he clumped off towards the apparition point. He was determined to end this more than he had been a few days ago.
-oOo-
September 23, 1996
Cannes, France
A worried pit had her feeling unsettled for days now. Things at home were a mess. Even at the height of the last war, things had never turned to open warfare. Four of their friends had been in the ministry the day that Riddle had attacked and died. Not going to their funerals was eating at her, but they couldn't risk it, not with things still in such a chaotic state in Britain.
What hurt her more was that she hadn't heard from Daphne in eight days, when they had been sharing letters almost every day for the two weeks before then. Fear that her daughter and her son-in-law had been hurt or captured was eating at her.
Standing at the large windows overlooking the grounds of the Black's manor they were in, she had her hands on her stomach. She couldn't let this concern hurt the baby she had in her, but she couldn't stop worrying about her first baby. The approaching black clouds and storm were apt for her mood.
A noise behind her had her turn suddenly. Grover had scuffed against the carpet. "Tabitha, are you alright?" he asked in a concerned voice.
"Have you received any word about Daphne or Harry?" she asked, hoping he had, but knowing that the only way they had been getting letters was through the gnomish satchels or Appoline.
He looked as worn as she was. "I'm sorry, Tabi, but I haven't. Any word from Appoline?"
He came over and she walked into his arms. "Nothing."
He held her close. "I'm sure they're fine. They can't be anywhere near the troubles back home."
She sniffed, trying to suppress her tears. "Merlin, I hope so…"
A chiming interrupted her thought.
"Is that?" Grover questioned.
She pushed off him, running to the side of their bed. The chiming of the satchel signalling a letter. It was most likely Susan or Astoria again, but it was Daphne… She let out a small cry of relief to see the flowing script of her eldest daughter. There were a few other envelopes as well. "It's from Daphne," she called out to her husband.
Not waiting for him to sit on the bed, she ripped the envelope open.
-o-
Dear mother,
I have received your last few letters. I apologize that I couldn't respond sooner, but Harry and I have been indisposed. I want to assure you that we are well, healthy and I think somewhere we will be safe.
We've been reading the news from Britain. Harry would like you to get the two letters to his friends. As far as we know, Ronald Weasley is at Hogwarts, but if not he lives in Ottery Saint Catchpole, Devon. Hermione Granger is supposed to be in Australia, but we don't know where. We have not been able to find if anyone we know has been hurt or killed and would like any information you can give us.
I am hoping to tell you where we are soon. I need to see you, Tori, Susan and father to know you are well. I also want you to meet Harry.
I'm sorry for running and worrying you so much the last weeks.
Please let me know you are all alright as soon as possible.
Love,
Daphne
-o-
She let out a small sob and put a hand to her mouth. All the fear that Daphne had been found and pulled into the catastrophic events back in Britain had been such a concern.
Grover wrapped an arm around her. "I want to see my daughter and tell her I don't hold any anger. I want to know she is safe," he said.
She broke down in his arms.
Grover kissed her head.
"When we know where they are, we will take the whole family there to see them," he whispered.
"I want to see my daughter," she got out eventually.
"We will," he promised. He may not show it, but she knew he was as worried about Daphne as she was.
-oOo-
The same day…
London, England
We wasn't sure how long he had been in this cell, but it had been long enough for his expensive trousers to take on a certain funk, his white shirt to of a distinctive off colour and his usually short cropped, perfectly styled hair to grow long enough to be unruly and snarled.
He had thought he would have been saved when there was a large disturbance days ago, but that had turned out to be nothing but noise. What he didn't understand was why he was still in this cell in the bowels of the ministry.
Why hadn't his mother gotten him out?
Why hadn't the Dark Lord or his father come to rescue them?
He had said that Draco was to be his best lieutenant when he completed his mission. It wasn't his fault that things went tits up. It was all that stupid Weasel's fault. When he got out of here, he was going to make the redhead scream as he cut small pieces off him.
It was only those pleasant thoughts that had him still in some spirits when his cell door opened. He looked up to see the solicitor that had been telling him about the upcoming trial. He hadn't seen the man for a little bit now. Not since they had heard all the commotion on the floors above them a few days ago.
Draco snarled at the man. "Finally decide to get back to me? When do I get out of here?"
The man stepped just inside the cell. "Mister Malfoy, I wanted to apologize that we have not been able to get you a trial before now, but there have been issues that have delayed them. I will still represent you, if you want. Before you make your decision, I must tell you that the charges against you are going to be moved from the Wizengamot to a war tribunal. Everyone with the mark of Tom Riddle is considered an enemy combatant and will be tried as such."
Draco blinked at the man, not understanding. "My mother will get me out of this," he said, for the first time starting to feel a little fear. He had heard about the war tribunals from his grandfather after the Great War before he died.
The man frowned. "Has no one told you?"
"Told me what?" he demanded.
The man looked a little sad, but Draco didn't think he really was. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but Miss Black was found dead in Spain two days ago."
Draco blinked. "Who is miss Black? There isn't anyone in my family with that title."
"According to the record book, your parents' marriage was dissolved on September sixth. We didn't know she was on the run until her death was reported to the ICW," the man told him.
"Impossible," Draco spat. "My father would never. You lie!"
"I'm afraid not. If you can be trusted, there is a clean pair of clothes, a shower and a warm meal ready for you. Your trial starts in about an hour-and-a-half. If not, then the Aurors will be back to retrieve you when it is time," the man told him.
Draco's face scrunched up in anger and grief. "You LIE! I am Draco Malfoy! My mother and father will come to get me. You'll see. Then I'll take a long bath. I don't need any shower here."
The man nodded. "Very well. Do you still wish me to represent you? You are underaged."
"I will have my normal solicitor," Draco told him in a haughty tone.
"I'm afraid Mister Parkinson is not available. It is me or another public solicitor," the man told him.
"Fine," he said like the spoiled brat he was. The man nodded and left him in the cell. It took him ten minutes to realize the man had just left him there. "What about that shower and clothes?"
No one answered his calls. He hadn't thought the man would be serious about accepting his refusal.
When the door opened again, Draco stood defiantly, until he saw that two large men with shackles were at the door. A woman was behind them with a wand. "Draco Malfoy, it is time to stand before the tribunal."
"What are you doing with those shackles?" he asked. He could see the rune work on them. They would block his magic.
"It is required you wear these. No prisoners can leave their cells without magic inhibitors."
"NO! I refuse. I am a Pureblood. My rights… ooohhhhmmmphhh," he let out as he doubled over. One of the big brutes had stepped forward and punched him in the gut. Before he could recover, he was roughly handled to a standing position. His wrists and ankles were bound with cold iron that chaffed and he was dragged out of the cell.
He was so dazed at the treatment, the he didn't fight it. As they pulled him down a long hallway, the air grew colder, and he felt a fear start to creep over him. There was no happiness. He started to hear screams… it was only after they had gone past the dementors and into the courtroom did he realize it was his own screams as he started to experience the terror that some of his victims must have felt.
He was roughly thrown into a black wood chair. Chains wrapped around his legs and arms. The cold iron of them shook him out of his fit. He looked to see the thick chains around him, realizing in a few seconds where he was. Looking up, he saw that five people in red robes sat behind two patronuses. A few dementors hovered nearby. A few people sat in the stands. A camera went off.
He started. "What am I doing here?" he called out in fear.
"Draco Malfoy, you are called before this war tribunal under the war acts of nineteen ninety-six to answer for your crimes in the insurrection led by Tom Marvolo Riddle and his followers. You are being charged with four counts of death by the death curse, three counts of torture by the Cruciatus, theft of family heirlooms at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and being part of the insurrectionist army. How do you plead?"
Draco looked dumbly up at the woman that had just spoken. "What?" he asked.
"You were presented with these charges in writing three days ago. How do you plead?" the woman demanded.
He blinked at her. He had received the letter, but since it hadn't come from his parents or the Parkinsons, he had ignored it. "I didn't read anything."
"That is not our issue. How do you plead?"
"You are barmy. You must be a mudblood. I'm Draco Malfoy!" he yelled.
"Scribe, please record that the accused refused to enter a plea. Aurors, please give the accused four drops of veritaserum," the woman ordered.
He started to fight the chain. "YOU CAN'T! I'm a pureblood! The laws! You can't do this!"
"The laws are different when in war. Aurors," she demanded.
Draco screamed when his hair was grabbed and yanked hard. A dropper was put into his mouth and the contents squirted in. The liquid didn't even need to be swallowed as his tongue absorbed it. It immediately started to work. Within seconds, he had stopped fighting and sat slumped in the chair. He felt odd, like he was floating and not really part of himself.
"What is your full name?"
"Draco Orion Malfoy, heir to the Malfoys and Blacks," he replied.
"Where do you live?"
"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire," he said.
"What is the exact address?"
"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire," he replied. Were they some kind of stupid? His home was Malfoy Manor.
"It's possible the location is unplottable, and Mister Malfoy is not privy to the actual location," someone said.
"Very well. Mister Malfoy, describe, in detail, what you did on the night of August eight of this year," the woman demanded.
Even through the monotone of the truth serum, the judges could hear his joy at what had happened that night. He had gone with his aunt, her husband and three other recruits to a Muggleborn's house. When they got there, her mother, father, a brother, two sisters and four other muggle friends were there. They had fun with the girls for a while before the Dark Lord had shown. As part of taking the mark, you had to take a life. He had been so proud to end the life of that mudblood as she gave him her virginity.
He missed the absolutely passive faces of those in the room. They were all absolutely disgusted but had heard the same or worse in the last few days.
When the truth serum started to wear off, he was starting to realize that he had ratted out all those he knew to be part of the revel, and the two others he had been privy too, not to mention most of the Dark Lords inner circle. The bone deep terror of what his master would do to him when he got him had him piss his trousers as he came too.
The Auror next to him sniffed then gave him a scowl.
"Auror, is Mister Malfoy free of the effects of the veritaserum?"
The Auror reached down and pulled his chin up. Draco didn't fight it, his eyes wide in terror. "He is," the Auror replied.
"Very well. Due to your own admission, this board finds you guilty of all charges, and several others that will be added to your record. Under the war powers act, you are to be given the harshest punishment available, even given your age. You are to be walked through the veil or given the dementors kiss within the hour. If you do not choose, the dementors kiss will be administered," the woman told him in a cold tone.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I… I was forced. The… the imperious," he said weekly.
"It is known the mark can only be done willingly. You admitted to the death of Sally-Anne Perks and three others. Do you choose the veil or the dementor?" the woman questioned.
He looked to the floating dementor behind the patronuses. He feared them almost more than the Dark Lord. Knowing what he had just told them, he knew he was a dead man anyways… "Veil," he said in a whisper.
"Very well. Aurors, take Mister Malfoy to the Department of Mysteries with the order of execution. He is to be passed through no later than eleven fifteen this morning. May Merlin or Morgana have mercy on your soul, though I personally hope they don't," the woman told him.
Draco was so shocked, that his shaking body had to be pulled from the chair and dragged up a level to be given to the Unspeakables.
He had decided this was just some sick nightmare and we would wake up on the hard bench in the cell in the morning.
-oOo-
Next time on Dear Order: The finale.
Will Harry be saved? Will Voldemort be defeated? Does Alastor understand that transfiguration isn't a punishment for students?