Rufus Scrimgeour was not a hero. That sort of thing got one killed nine times out of ten, and the tenth time, while saving one person, more or less guaranteed the next nine died as the one that worked somehow became the gold standard for solution. Honestly, nine dead for every success should be a strong argument against heroism, yet it was part and parsel of Auror mythology.
Slytherins distrusted mythology. It was all cautionary tales describing all the terrible consequences of doing a stupid thing. Gryffindors interpreted that as a plan for what to do if you ever had the chance. That was rank idiocy, and here he was, leading ranks of idiots in a doomed charge on broomsticks down the Hogwarts express line.
No scouts, no careful dissilusioned dismounted survey to assure they were not racing directly into a Death Eater trap using the Hogwarts children as bait. I mean the fact that Rufus Scrimgeour was now the second most seasoner Auror in the corps should tell you how very many of them died in traps like that in the last war. He was a bloody recruit when it started! Now, he was having to use a bubblehead charm on himself so he could see, because his broom was flying so fast it would flay the skin from his eyes and blast his lungs to bits if he tried to breathe without it.
Eight Hundred and Forty. There were eight hundred and forty wizarding children on that train, and a dozen Dementors of Azkaban had been ordered to attack the train. Rufus had been part of the clean up team. Body collection and identification, when Voldemort had ordered the attack on St Percivals Rest and Recovery Center in the last war. Dementors loose against a population of wizards without the ability to use magic to defend themselves. He was a Slytherin, and a master Occulemens he was the master of his mind and his emotions, but by Merlin he would not be too late AGAIN!
He could see the train, and he snapped his wrist forward to put his wand in his hand. He snarled "oculus aquilae" and his vision became that of an eagle.
The train rumbled on, unstoppable and uncaring as only the magics of the Great Families and the masters of Hogwarts could make it, unaware that it's precious cargo was likely dying screaming as it steamed onward. Rufus focused his eyes on the motion at either end of the train.
The Dementors were leaving. Rufus felt his rage turn to a poison within his veins, for all his ruthlessness with himself and his men, for all the risks they took, he was too late again. Before he could lose himself to emotion, the cold calculator that was his mind continued to process the intelligence his eyes were reporting.
The Dementors were not leaving, they were fleeing. More accurately, they were clawing at each other in desperation to escape. Dementors do not flee from school children. A dozen Dementors being driven by a handler could overcome a warded and defended business, a Noble if not Noble and Ancient manor, or wipe out a tactical team of Auors and Hit Wizards caught in the open.
What Made Rufus Scrimgeour a decorated Auror was his cold, almost reptilian detachment from what was going on around him. While others reacted, Scrimgeour noticed things. It helped that most of those who described him as cold and inhuman died while being emotional in a firefight. He remembered the Hufflepuff who drilled it into him during his first field deployment. Constant vigilance. You will have time to process and feel only if you don't step on your wand being emotional while the curses were flying.
The flashes of light that hit the Dementors were red, but not like the stunners of Stupify which was all the children (they were clearly children, not later teens) should be able to cast. This light caused the very flesh of the Dementors to glow scarlet from within, and the Dementors fell to earth when struck, and crawled, rather than flew away from their...tormentors.
"Merlin's bloody ballsack. That's Cruciatus!" Rufus felt shocked on multiple levels at once. The problem of a highly developed Occulemens mind is that by dividing your consciousness into multiple streams to allow you to act tactically, think strategically, and process anomalies in the data without getting yourself killed thinking when you should be ducking, you will very occassionally find something that shocks equally on all levels at once.
Item the first, the battle is being waged by what look like second or third years. He didn't particularly like children. He hadn't when he was one, and now that he didn't have to be around them, he liked them even less, so he was a bit weak on judging age. Item the second, the Cruciatus curse isn't just Unforgivable, it is difficult. It is requires a lot of fuel.
Soul magic is strange, and its link to survival imperatives is very strong. As a result a lot of the more potent soul magic effects are rooted very strongly in the fight/flight emotional response, and very few of them favour flight. They favour hitting back. There are ones like the Patronus that feed of the desire to protect, but that is an abstract thought and requires a very delicate state of mind, a whole lot of focused intent, and a whale load of power. It was a high cost, highly flexible, and highly advanced spell.
Cruciatus is different. You can spend a huge amount of magic and end up with a Cruciatus that will hurt like a bad burn on one hand, but for a fraction of the same power you could just burn the hand. If you hated well and purely, and I do mean, hate with every fiber of your being, hate with an intensity so pure that when you scream your hate to the universe that the universe screams back, you could use a tiny sliver of power and bring the greatest mage in existence to his knees, helpless and broken.
Closer now, Rufus could see children at either end driving the Dementors from the train like whipped and broken dogs, so beaten and broken that their only thought is to escape. The children wielded cruciatus like the most hardened of Voldemort's inner circle, and did so effortlessly. He counted five of them. Five just barely teenagers opperating at the same level as the top Death Eaters, and yet they were defending eight hundred and forty irreplaceable wizarding children while the elite Auror corps played broom racer, too late to have any effect on the battle.
On the deeper levels of his mind where anomalies were processed, Rufus Scrimgeour, senior Auror and veteran of the first Blood War was discovering only today that the cruciatis curse worked against Dementors. Auror training and Hogwarts Defesne Against the Dark Arts taught that ONLY the Patronus charm, a light magic charm of potency so powerful that only about half the Auror corps could manage it. This was a lie. A lie five students not old enough to shave all seemed to ignore.
On the tactical level, Rufus knew that only the Patronus could work against Dementors. On the strategic level, he understood only the Patronus could work against Dementors, on the anomaly level, he never understood how Death Eaters could all fight off Dementors without problem when only one in twenty of them could cast a Patronus. He could even recall specific case law dictating when it was legal to use Cruciatus against Dementors, yet both his strategic and tactical mind streams refused to consider using it.
He slowed his broom and gave the hand signal to his troops to go into tactical dispersion and round up the Dementors. He was no longer worried about fighting them. There was less resistance left in those Dementors than Cornelius Fudge for a good bribe. Instead he opened up a fourth thought stream. Given the data of todays personal observations and the reactions of my mind to those observations, what are the odds that I have been charmed or cursed to not believe the Cruciatus can be used against Dementors?
By the time Rufus landed his broom on the train platform and dismounted, his face held his best "The Auror is your friend" professional smile, even as inside he burned to murder someone, possibly several someones. His last thought stream hadn't required more than thirty seconds to conclude that his surface and tactical thoughts automatically discarded any notion of the Cruciatus curse being effective against Dementors or other spiritual threats. Whoever had done it had to have been an Unspeakable, as every time Rufus picked up a Remembrall to testify, the modifications of his memory and active interference in his thinking should have set it off.
The odds of no Auror noticing this in the last war were non-existent. Dementors were front line combatants in the beginning for the Ministry, and then by the end of the war, just for the enemy. This would have been seen by dozens, if not hundreds of Aurors, all of which must share his programming to ignore the data. Only the Ministry itself, through the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries, could do this. The Ministry he fought for had let hundreds of his fellow Aurors die to keep this secret.
The strongest Auror could cast Patronus perhaps a dozen times a day. The strong Aurors like himself perhaps eight, if they didn't have too much other magic to do as well. Scrimgeour could cast the Cruciatus curse once every ten seconds for probably about an hour straight. Mad Eye Moody could probably cast it every breath for about three days straight, but Alastor had issues, and even Scrimgeour considered him a bit extreme. Half the Auror corps couldn't cast Patronus at all, but every recruit could cast Crucio. Worse, the more they fought, the easier that one became. Nothing is supplied more freely to Aurors than trauma, and trauma makes the cruciatus go around. That brought him back to those kids. How in Merlin's name are five Hogwarts students so deeply traumatized that they can cast torture curses like they were lumous charms?
Starting at the front of the train, Rufus Scrimgeour found himself staring at what looked like a Longbottom (the boy could be Frank's twin, if he hadn't aged from the last war), something that looked like a Malfoy (born with a silver spoon up his ass, and malice in his hair gel), and a girl who looked like someone tried to dress a Hit Wizard up like a princess but forgot to tell her to rein the crazy in before talking to authorities.
Flashing his Auror badge, he put on his serious face and applied all the pressure of his office. The honest ones (Longbottom) would crack because they had been trained that the law was always right. It wasn't but Longbottom was rich enough that it would rarely happen to him. The guilty ones (Malfoy) would crack because they just HAD to know which of their crimes you knew about and which of them you only suspected. They would play dangerous word games, and being rich enough, had grown up around servants and sycophants that told them how brilliant they were often enough the believed it. The Malfoys of the world always delivered themselves to Rufus. They had to show how smart they were, and talked their way into the prisoners box.
"I am Rufus Scrimgeour, Senior Auror. So children, we came because a professor sent a Patronus message saying Dementors were attacking the train. We got here in time to see the Dementors being driven off. Firstly, were any of the students hurt or killed?"
Neville responded like a good Hufflepuff, justly proud of his defense of the defenseless. "No, we kept the Dementors from entering any of the cabins, and between us and Harry and Hermione, we drove them from the train."
Rufus smiled. He remembered Frank Longbottom. First class Auror, but the man talked himself into every punishment detail known to Auror kind. He didn't do shades of grey, and didn't let himself make excuses for bending the rules. Rufus liked the guy, but honestly, he was too Slytherin to accept punishment for doing what needed to be done, rules be damned. He figured if anyone would volunteer what should be hidden, it would be Frank's kid.
"Secondly, I couldn't help but notice the spell you were using. That is pretty dark magic. The Unforgivables can earn you a one way ticket to Azkaban. Help me to understand what happened here, and perhaps I can put in a good word, and find a way to not dwell on what spell you used to save the other children." Rufus gave his best 'The Auror is your friend' smile, which had gotten him an amazing conviction rate, and landed a number of surprised people in Azkaban, and cost a dozen more a fortune in fines, bribes, and legal expense. The person interrogating you is never your friend.
Before the young Longbottom could open his mouth, and before the little Malfoy got done sneering and into saying something incriminating, the berserker/princess snapped an order that both took without question, causing Rufus to raise his eyebrow ironically. Since when did Longbottoms take orders from Slytherins, and since when did Malfoy's ever shut up?
Milicent heard the Auror give his "confess your sins and your good buddy Mr Authority will surely ask the Ministry to not bury you in an umarked grave and steal all your assets" speech and was not impressed. They had tried that when she seized her house, knowing the law was on her side, but she could confess her way into Azkaban if she said just the wrong thing. She barked her command, and took charge.
"Zip it. Longbottom you are too honest to talk to Auror's without them tricking you into saying something they can twist into you being guilty of stabbing Merlin and raping Morgana just because he made you feel guilty about something else. Malfoy you are too arrogant to talk to an Auror without them tricking you into boasting you stabbed Morgana and raped Merlin, just to impress him."
The Auror suppressed a smirk, but she was raised Milicent Bulstrode, the half blood unwanted extra heir in a Pure Blooded house. She could read him about as well as he could read her. She pulled out her parchment.
"Pursuant to the legislation cited, we have used the cruciatus curse on Dementors attempting to murder defenseless wizarding children in the absence of or upon the failure of competent teachers and guardians from acting to defend our lives or those of our fellow students. Pursuant to the guidance legislation on the cruciatus curse it is specifically listed as unrestricted when used against Dementors, Boggarts or Lethifolds if the witch or wizards using it felt they or others were threatened."
The girl stepped forward and tapped Rufus in the chest.
"Auror, I felt threatened like you would not believe. Neither I nor any of my comrades will be answering, now or ever, any questions relating to our use of this curse against Dementors. All questions can be forwarded to our solicitors, Goldfarb Goldfarb and Queef."
Rufus looked down at the parchment. "The Notty book?" He inquired.
The girl smiled broadly, pulling out her copy. As if cued, the two boys pulled out their own copies. Rufus began to laugh. He had no interest in railroading these children. He had arrived expecting to tag and bag the greatest loss of wizarding children life in living memory. Instead he is getting SCHOOLED on use of force legislation by a school girl. The day was going to shine in memory. Probably give Amelia Bones a heart attack and make Cornelius Fudge need an underwear change, but Rufus was loving it.
"It is good to see a well educated and effective Slytherin. May I know your name, my Lady?" Rufus asked, putting on manners his mother would be impressed he remembered.
"Milicent Bulstrode, Lady Selywn by right of conquest. These are my companions, Neville Longbottom, Heir Longbottom and Draco Malfoy, Heir Malfoy." The girl said, putting out her hand. Rufus kissed her knuckles without any sarcasm at all. This child was doing what the sacred twenty eight claimed all that privilege for; using the power of the strongest bloodlines to protect the weaker witches and wizards in their care. As much contempt as he had for the way the system worked in practice, he could not argue the fact these ignorant children had made that ancient lie come true.
"Rufus Scrimgeour, my lady. At your service. I must say, I had anticipated a much grimmer task than I have at the moment. I am a bit surprised at your effectiveness, as when I was at Hogwarts Professor Dumbledore was in favour of limiting his student's use of any magics he found unpalatable." Rufus said softly.
"Bloody don't leave it up to him do we? Be dead already if we left it to that duplicitous turd." Neville Longbottom muttered under his breath. The flash of a grin from the Malfoy boy and innocent look on Bulstrode's face gave him to understand that whatever these children were, under Dumbledore's control was not it.
How very interesting indeed.
Rufus made his way to the back of the train where he found Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt making an absolute fool of himself.
"You will surrender your wand, or I will take it from you." Auror Shakelbolt again demanded.
"You will read this bloody parchment or I will shove it up your arse!" A mass of brown curly hair with a small witch underneath retorted.
"Twenty points from Hufflepuff for disrespecting an Auror. Now I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, this train is part of Hogwarts and I am ordering you to surrender your wand and yourself to Auror Shacklebolt, you used an Unforgivable curse, and did so in front of students!" Remus Lupin barked, his post full moon headache and magical depletion making his head one throbbing mass of pain and exhaustion, and stripping away the urbane sophistication and gentle tolerance he was known for.
"Watch your tone, sir." Warned what Rufus recognized instantly as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. "Hermione here has helped kill one DADA professor and sent the second to Azkaban. You can be the third before you even get in the castle gates. Read the damned parchment. What we did is not just legal, it is spelled out in the law that the use of the cruciatus against Dementors is UNRESTRICTED if the witch or wizard using it feels that they themselves or anyone else was threatened. It is not up to you, or Auror Shicklegruber here."
Auror Shacklebolt drew his wand, both the mass of hair and information disguised as a witch and the Boy Who Lived drew faster, and judging by the way the ambient magic was forming a vortex around them, prepared far more powerfully than his fellow Auror had. Battle was seldom long when only one side took it seriously. Honestly this was not the Auror corps finest hour.
"Auror Shacklebolt, remind me son, what was the second line of the oath we all swore when we became Aurors? Rufus said, as he slid past the very small witch with the very large hair.
Kingsley Shacklebolt hadn't been one of Rufus direct trainees, but he had Rufus for the unit on magical law, and like any student who had to repeat a class, he reacted reflexively when his least favorite teacher made him repeat the correct answer to his mistake.
"Sir, to enforce and uphold the laws of Wizarding Britain as laid down by the Wizagamot under the administrative direction of the Ministry of Magic, its elected and appointed officials" Kingsley recited, his rich baritone making it almost a song.
Rufus gave a small bow to the small witch and took the parchment from her hand, glanced at it to confirm.
Rufus then handed it to Auror Shacklebolt. "Well then Kingsley old chap, perhaps you should read it. The parchment happens to be the relevant legislation. The young witch is entirely correct. Use of the cruciatus curse against Dementors in entirely unrestricted. She could go to Azkaban on a fishing trip and if one accosted her she could turn it over a slow fire of torment while trolling for Atlantic salmon."
Turning to Remus Lupin, he suddenly remembered how he knew the man, well, boy when he met him.
"Professor Lupin, I am surprised that someone in your condition is not more aware of the race specific legislation on magics normally restricted or proscribed against other witches and wizards. Further, as a professor, I find that while you showed good sense summoning me with your Patronus, you are showing both poor judgement and worse taste by attempting to get arrested and expelled the saviours of eight hundred and forty wizarding children."
Turning back to Auror Kingsley. "Auror Kingsley, one of two things is going to happen. You are either going to prepare grave registration tags for each of the eight hundred and forty students on this train, and think long and hard about how today almost turned out, or I will let Alastor Moody know you tried to snap the wands and imprison the witch and wizard child who stopped Dementors from turning the Hogwarts express into an abattoir."
He saw Kingsley react in fear. Too many of Dumbledore's little Order of the Phoenix pets forgot who they worked for. They bought into the whole Champion of the Light propaganda and forgot that the only reason any of them had survived at all is that a few people like Frank Longbottom, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody put their ethics aside and killed Death Eaters faster than Voldemort could recruit them. Kingley had been Alastors trainee. Kingsley may worship Dumbledore, and take his word for gospel, but Mad Eye Moody was the one he feared, and the one whose training had kept him alive every time it turned out violence really was the answer.
Rufus sighed. When had he become too old for this? He swore, in the last war, even the youngest recruits were not as childish as the so called experienced Auors he wsa stuck working with today.
Rufus turned around and looked upon the famous Boy Who Lived. He held out his hand.
"Harry Potter, I presume. I am Rufus Scrimgeour. Senior Auror. I served alongside your father a thousand years and some number of grey hairs ago." Rufus offered with his best disarming smile. His occulemency was still running on several different thought streams trying to deal with the mind control compulsions he had just run into, so he wasn't attempting any Legilimancy tricks. This was good, because when he met James son's eyes he was shocked.
The boy was a bit muscular for thirteen, but not honestly as tall and broad as either the Longbottom boy or Bulstrode girl, but his face was, ancient. His eyes had the same flat cold look of a predator he saw in the mirror, but one who accepted that every one and everything was a potential threat that must be tracked at all times, and still chose to laugh, to play, and to revel in every moment of life he could. The boy had the eyes of those veterans of the last war that had seen it all, done it all, accepted all the pain and horror and still took the time to splash in puddles, prank each other in barracks, and make a fool of themselves over every pretty girl that crossed their path.
On some level he took in the scar, the one Voldemort gave the boy. He took in the goblin silver working it into a rune of power. On some level he took in feeling of magical power easlily the equal of an adult wizard already, promising to be truly monsterous when he grew up. Mostly though, he took notice of the fact that he stared into eyes that weighed Rufus Scrimgeour's soul upon a scale whose balances he could not see, and decided he found it at least marginally acceptable. Merlin's bloody beard. The boy was thirteen, and almost as intimidating as Dumbledore.
"Yeah, good to meet you Mr Scrimgeour. Thanks for your help with the other Auror. I wouldn't want to set my lawyers on him for crossing the line. They are goblins, and he would be lucky if he still owned his shoes when they were done with him." Harry Potter said without any trace of fear at all.
Rufus always thought those ridiculous stories about the Boy Who Lived were complete fakes, but it seems the truth may be more interesting than the lies Dumbledore's pet writers have been weaving for all the years he was hidden.
Rufus smiled, this time genuinely, and responded. "Good to meet you too, Mr Potter. Glad to be of service. Will you introduce me to your lady friend?" Rufus offered, seeking to at least get a girlish blush, to get her out of the somewhat intense anger she had focused on Auror Shacklebolt when he was making a fool of himself.
Harry Potter turned and with minimal ceremony that made it clear neither goblin raised nor Hufflepuff trained had instilled anything like social niceties in the boy, he introduced his friend.
"Auror Scrimgeour, meet Hermione Granger. Muggle born third year Hufflepuff, and top student in our year every year so far."
Rufus Scrimgeour bent to kiss the girls knuckles in a degree of courtesy a muggle born didn't rate from a pureblood, but flattery was social lubricant more effective than either bribery or intimidation.
"Pleased to meet you my dear." Rufus began, as he straighened up he finally got a look at the witch under all the curls. His shock got the better of him to a degree that would have his mother hexing his backside so hard sitting would be optional for a week.
"Blood hell, you are 'Our Lady of Fire!' " Rufus blurted.
"Dawlish, the poster boy for muggle hating blood purists did a series of four paintings of you and the basilisk from the Chamber of Secret affair. One of them hangs in the Morgana be damned Ministry!"
The girl, one Hermione Granger, a name he determined to look up later, pulled her hand back with a scowl.
"That painting was a lie. He wasn't there, and I don't even own a sword. Besides, that wouldn't be enough to kill it." Rufus parsed the grammar on that one like the skilled interrogator he was. She denied Dawlish saw it, not that it happened. Denied the weapon she did use was a sword, which of course meant that somehow the bit about her standing eye to eye with a basilisk, wreathed in flames as she destroyed its eye were at least true.
Wasn't that interesting. Rufus smiled back at her and offered a bit of Slytherin wisdom.
"I think you will find that for Ministry intents and purposes it will become a truth. The truth of what will be recorded into history, if not the literal truth of what happened." Rufus offered kindly.
"Morgana save me, why does everything have to be so Slytherin. Why can't people just tell the truth, instead of having to keep track of fifteen different stories to tell fifteen different sets of people based on what they are allowed to know, if the moon is in the right phase, if the minister had a good bowel movement, and if the latest poll numbers suggest lies involving werewolves trendbetter than those about trolls!" Hermione said throwing up her hands.
Just then a rock viper than had to be about four meters long and a good eight kilograms, with glowing silver runes somehow worked into its skin slithered out the car door behind the girl. Just as Rufus was preparing to draw his wand, the snake hissed.
"$ Mouse Giver, I have partitioned the memories of all those nestlings who cannot bear the Dementor's mark in them. They are resting with Root Singer who has put on his fursonna and is administering cuddle therapy. I too wish cuddle therapy. Now. I have spent hours in Dementor fear and need my Mouse Giver. $" Noodle hissed imperiously.
Oddly, while the snake's hissing was expected, and the boy Harry Potter was rumored to be a parselmouth, it was the girl the snake went to and the girl that hissed back. She reached down and picked up the snake, that imediately began rubbing his face against her before wrapping itself around her like a fashion accessory and glaring at Rufus from beneath her curly hair. The girl was a parselmouth? A muggle born? For that matter, when had their ever been a recording of two parselmouths at Hogwarts or any school at the same time?
"$ Noodle my brave boy. You have been the best snake ever. When I get to Hogwarts, I am going to make a whole new series of potions for your mice! $" Hermione hissed at Noodle happily.
Scrimgeour looked at Harry and then back at Noodle. "I was given the impression that the snake was your familiar."
Harry shrugged. "Noodle has a weakness for pretty girls. Plus she lets him hunt perverts in the girls showers, and that is pretty hard to compete with."
Rufus Scrimgeour was proud he kept his smile small and more a suggestion than the burst of laughter and wide grin that almost snuck out. He had standards after all.
"That would indeed be hard to compete with Mr Potter." Scrimgeour concluded, deciding that he would have to call upon his old friend Alastor Moody to compare notes. He had a feeling trusting Dumbledore and the Ministry authorized version of what was happening at Hogwarts this year would be a disaster.
No. These children bore watching. Rufus smiled. Mr Filch will be happy, if Rufus was any judge, when Dumbledore heard the news about the Hogwarts express, the Headmaster will have kittens!