CHAPTER 8: The Game That Moves As You Play (Part 1)

There were still nearly two hours before the Ministry started properly running, and Rufus was already on his fourth cup of tea. From the moment Kingsley warned him about the Death Eater attack in London, Rufus knew he was in for a long morning. The Auror preliminaries would take hours, and despite how much he wanted to involve himself in the working operations of the DMLE and the DOM, Albus and Bedivere had placed rather firm boundaries. What he hated the most was that he understood why they did so. Back when he was Head Auror, there was nothing that would piss him off more than having Fudge looking over his shoulder or when he sent his Ministry stooges to pressure him into doing what he thought was right.

So he did the best thing he could do, he downed a sleeping potion and had a comfortable three and a half hours of sleep before his alarm woke him up. After cleaning himself up and putting on a set of pressed robes, Rufus flooed over to his office at a little past three in the morning. He went through everything on his desk; the initial Auror statements of the Death Eater attack as well as the profiles of all the Death Eaters that were captured, the dozens of letters from the press asking for a statement from the Ministry, and the reports from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes detailing the extent of the damage caused by the attack, and of course, the various letters from governments from all over Europe demanding to know what's been done about this most recent attack.

By this point, these types of letters were coming in weekly. Rufus had dealt with them enough to know that it would just take a few hours for the Asian and American countries to follow up. He was surprised when his secretary told him that the Supreme Mugwump, Babajide Akingbade, was trying to connect to his floo.

"Put him through," Rufus said, mentally steeling himself. In the days after the sieges, it had been Fudge who had dealt directly with the Supreme Mugwump. He was the one who had taken the brunt of the scrutiny, and everything from the Ministry's response to the ICW to next month's assembly had been handled by him. For Rufus, this was the first time he would be dealing with him directly. It wasn't a comforting feeling.

Not even a minute later, he saw the shift in his fireplace as Akingbade's face formed in the logs.

"Minister Scrimgeur," the Supreme Mugwump's deep voice echoed all over the

"Supreme Mugwump," Rufus greeted stiffly. "I presume you're calling about the most recent attack."

"Don't act coy," the man scolded him, making Rufus feel like a schoolboy all over again. "If this had been an isolated incident that had been properly dealt with, we wouldn't be talking here today. As it stands, you've had a stream of non-stop attacks on the Muggle population that your government had been clearly unable to handle."

"I can assure you, the situations are being contained," Rufus spoke up before the Supreme Mugwump could continue. "Our Auror's response is getting quicker with each day, and the reports from the Unspeakables show that fewer Muggles have to be obliviated each day."

"Cleaning up your mess doesn't mean you aren't making it. Britain has become the leading country in breaches of the Statute of Secrecy by nearly fifty times the runner-up."

"With all due respect, Supreme Mugwump, no other country is facing what we are. We're at war here, battles have to be fought, and the Death Eaters are forcing us into Muggle ground. What isn't out of our control is our response to these attacks, and we have been steadily improving compared to the month of May."

"This has turned into a blown-out war because of your country's mediocre handling of the Death Eater organization and their so-called Dark Lord. Don't act as if this is some unprecedented, unstoppable force you couldn't control. If your government hadn't allowed that terrorist faction to thrive and expand, they wouldn't be causing trouble for our entire kind."

"Be that as it may, my administration is handling this threat as best as it can. This isn't the first war being waged since Grindelwald's fall. The Statute has remained in a constant state of instability ever since its inception."

"That may be the case, but this is the first time a country's incapability of handling its populations is affecting wizarding-kind at a global level. The word is spreading, Minister, every day more and more Muggles wake up to the fact that the world isn't as it seems. It isn't just your Unspeakables having to deal with rogue Muggles, it isn't just your government that's compromised. That plague you allowed to fester is now spreading worldwide, you've made your war a problem for all of us."

"Then let us deal with it. The faster we do so, the faster we can go back to the status quo. Because, frankly, Supreme Mugwump, having to deal with dozens of letters and calls from every government wanting answers is only slowing our work."

Akingbade stayed quiet for a moment, not a single muscle on his face moving. "Put your house in order, Scrimgeour. Stop this war from spilling into the Muggle world more than it already has. You won't like what'll happen if you don't."

As the morning continued, Rufus' desk kept piling up with parchments and further reports. He continued going through all of them, everything started feeling off. The first thing that caught his eye was the report from the Unspeakables. In all the other Death Eater raids, it had taken days, sometimes even a full week to confirm that all Muggles in the area had been Obliviated and that any loopholes it might create had been closed. Only this time, Bedivere had sent this letter less than an hour after the Aurors had been notified of the attack. There was also the fact that all the assets the Ministry had in the Muggle world had given the all-clear. There wasn't any suspicion of magic or wizards, no mentions of everything that would compromise the Statute of Secrecy.

As far as the Prime Minister is concerned, this attack isn't connected to us in any way, one of the men Rufus had placed directly in the Prime Minister's office reported. Remnants of Muggle explosives such as dynamite and C4 were found on the scene. There is satellite footage of the encounter between the Death and Aurors, but the curses are too small, and the image resolution isn't as clear, so they have been written off as anomalies in the footage. And with the Manchester bombing from last month, the entire government is more than ready to believe that this is yet another attack from the Muggle organization known as the IRA.

The Muggle media was already printing this story, and the lack of Muggle witnesses in the scene only helped to ensure that there was very little clean-up necessary to maintain the Statute of Secrecy. This was the type of thing that Fudge would have just adored, he would have taken it all for granted and claimed that this was a result of all his hard work and effort and clever planning inside the Ministry to accomplish something like this. A Death Eater attack with no deaths of wizards, no footage or images to connect them to the scene, no need to obliviate anyone or risk opening more loopholes inside the Muggle population, and a scapegoat already in place. His assets wouldn't have to risk exposure by meddling with Muggle affairs, and if the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes deemed it so, no need to rebuild the Royal Opera House given how it's being considered as a Muggle attack.

When Albus came over a few hours later. He was still wearing the same robes as yesterday, in fact, he looked just as fresh as he had nearly twenty-four hours ago. Nothing about him would have told him this was the man who stayed up all night working on cleaning up the Death Eater's mess.

"Did you find anything else?" Rufus asked.

Albus shook his head. "Beyond a few details here and there, I dare say the preliminaries we shared with you are still accurate."

"So it was clean? No deaths?"

"Half of the Opera House collapsed. Most Muggles inside died," there was something powerful behind Albus' words. Something that reminded Rufus that despite being his superior, for the moment, this man had once been his teacher. "I wouldn't call that a clean response."

"I'm well aware. But as much as those deaths weigh on me, they are not my concern at the moment." Albus wasn't pleased with his response, but Rufus didn't care much about whatever the man thought of him. He remained quiet, that feeling of worry gained after decades at the DMLE started creeping into him. "Was there anyone else on the scene?"

"There was no one outside my group of the Aurors. No other wizards or civilians in sight."

"What about vigilantes?"

"Vigilantes?"

"Potter wannabes," Rufus pressed. "Members of the Order, anything of the like?"

Albus stared at him for a moment. "Not that I saw. The Aurors on the scene didn't report anything of the such to me."

Rufus gave a vague grunt before slumping back in his chair.

"Something on your mind, Minister?"

"I don't like it. We've been dealing with Death Eater attacks like this for months now, and every time, the Muggles on the scene are always an issue. Yes, this attack was more elaborate than the others, but that doesn't change the fact that there should have been an external presence out there. Not even one Muggle in the vicinity. A half-mile radius is what Bedivere has to cover, and he couldn't find anyone there. Either all the Muggles managed to escape from the Unspeakables, something I find highly unlikely, or someone made sure there weren't any there to begin with."

"Yes, that does seem worrying," Albus said calmly, without delving any further.

After a long moment of silence, Rufus finally spoke. "I'm going to need a copy of all the Aurors involved in the response. Anyone who even knew about the attack, on my desk, as soon as possible."

"Consider it done."

When Albus left the office, Rufus wrote up a letter with the same request and sent it to Bedivere. But instead of staying put, he began reviewing the files again. He read the Auror statements, the interviews, and the timeline created of the events, but it wasn't until he focused on the list of suspects that something stood out to Rufus. There were the expected snatchers and lowlifes in it, but that wasn't what sparked his attention. For most of the notable members from relatively wealthy families, the suspects were paired up. Brothers. Fathers and sons. Mothers and daughters. Sometimes even full families together. Some came alone, of course, but they were in the minority. And while most who had come alone had been older or middle-aged men, there was only one boy in the mix.

Richard McNair.

Barely an adult and still missing a year at Hogwarts. He didn't fit with the pattern of the others, which made Rufus wonder: who had come with him?

After a quick floo conversation with Albus, Rufus left his office. With a quick notice to his secretary that he would return shortly, he left the Ministry and as soon as he was outside in the Muggle world, he apparated away. With his location in mind and determination driving him, Rufus appeared only a few meters away from the gates to the house. A house-elf immediately appeared.

"What is mister's business here?" It asked him

"I need to speak with Edward and Ella McNair," he answered.

After an odd look, the creature apparated away. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he was attended. Only, instead of both Mister and Mrs McNair appearing, it was only the latter.

"Minister," she asked with a tight voice, from the other side of the gates. It didn't look as if she had slept much that night. Good. "Forgive me, I was not ready to receive people this early."

"Think nothing of it. I'm sorry to say this isn't a social visit. Your son was apprehended late last night." The woman turned pale in front of him. "I think it would be best if you and your husband came with me, your son is facing some serious charges."

"Yes, yes, uhh… of course. Let me just clean myself up."

"Don't worry," Rufus said kindly. "Take your time. Your husband can take over for the both of you while you get ready."

"Yes… it's just. Edward, he's- he's woken up rather ill. I don't think he'll be able to make it to the Ministry today. But if you'd give me a few minutes, I'll return shortly."

Bingo!

"Of course, Mrs McNair," he gave her a small smile. "I'll wait right here."

The dungeon felt empty. There could have been a hundred people inside, and it still wouldn't be enough to convince a blind man that he wasn't alone. McNair was staring back at them. From what Yaxley had told them, he'd lost his voice. After Rookwood and Bedivere had fixed him up and readied him for the process, he had banged his arms against the bars, futilely crying out the entire night, screaming until his voice gave out. His arms were now filled with bruises, there was even some dry blood mixed up with all the grime on his face. He was staring at them and wasn't even saying a word.

"Is… is it working?" Theo asked.

Harry had seen that look on his face before, it was back in the third year when the twins gave them some of their weird prank candy and made him sick for nearly three days. He was the worst out of all of them. Yaxley was more fascinated with their prisoner than anything. Rookwood was, as usual, unbothered. The bloke could face the Grim Reaper himself, and he'd simply urge him to kill him quicker. Bedivere and Pansy seemed lost in their own worlds, something he was only now realising they both shared. Flint was still at the Ministry, but if he was here, he didn't think he'd be reacting to this much. The only one who could compete with Theo was Kieran, and the moron had been too much of a coward to come down here.

"Of course, it's working," Rookwood drawled. "Why the fuck wouldn't it be working. He has the necklace, doesn't he?"

"Locket," Bedivere corrected.

"Yeah, yeah, I see that," Theo faltered. "But… well… he doesn't look any different, doesn't he?"

"Did you expect him to go bald? Turn pale? To have his nose fucking fall from his face?"

"Well, no-"

"What our dear Augustus is trying to say, it's that this is something that takes time," Yaxley jumped in. "You won't see those types of changes in just a day or two. You have to wait. Horcrux possession, is, at its core-"

"Horrific," Harry offered.

Yaxley scrunched up his nose. "Tedious," he said. "It takes a lot of time, it's not really worth it for the bloke who actually created the Horcrux, it's just… it's a whole process. I mean, honestly, this thing's lucky we found it a good host. Usually, those things have to jump around a few of them before they find the one."

"I don't think it'll be thinking that when we kill it," Pansy said

"A Horcrux spends most of its life not doing anything. This little soul-bit will finally now get a chance to have its fun."

"But how will we be sure if it's working?" Theo asked. "Will there be, like, signs? His nose won't actually fall off, yeah?"

Rookwood sighed.

"Harry's didn't," Pansy shrugged. "He did look really sickly back then. Like a leper, almost."

"There you have it," Rookwood shouted. "If the fat man seems like he's dying, it means it's working. The more he seems like he's about to die, the nearer the locket is to fully possessing him."

"We'll just have to make sure we kill it right as it's about to possess him," Harry said. "These things are powerful, even without a wand. We don't want that type of trouble around."

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? You don't want that?"

"Not particularly, no."

Pansy didn't look like she believed him.

"Is there an average possession period, Corban?" Bedivere asked. "Perhaps some way to calculate an exact date."

"Maybe," Yaxley said non-committally. "No possession is similar to another. Countless esoteric factors are constantly affecting it. Then there's also the power of the Horcrux itself, what went behind the whole ritual, how… corrupted, for lack of a better term, the Magic behind it truly is. Who knows, could be a fun project."

"You have some fucked up view for fun, don't you, mate?" Rookwood said. "Tell us the truth, how many small squirrels did you smother as a boy? Five? Seven?"

"Ehh… I lost count after ten."

Theo shook his head, slowly backing away from them. "I can't- I can't do this right now," he repeated under his breath before walking up the stairs to the main floor of the manor.

Yaxley and Rookwood barely batted an eye at the sudden outburst, and though Pansy, too, seemed keen on ignoring it for now, Bedivere turned to him. It wasn't much of a meaningful look, and quickly after he had pulled out a few pieces of parchment and conjured a quill, but Harry still knew what the old man expected him to do. If it had been any other person, Harry would have probably let them stew. But this was Theo. And if that wasn't enough, the quick glance Pansy threw at him, basically begging him to do something, did the trick.

He found Theo sitting in the living room. Spine rigid, cracking his fingers, and looking like the type of person you would not want to approach on the tube. Even as he was looking to the other side, Harry could practically imagine the look on his face. For someone who was always as upbeat and sometimes a bit of a pushover, Theo still managed to constantly remind him he isn't some harmless firstie.

"I know we have to do this. I- I understand, don't think that I don't. It's just going to take a while for it to fully sit with me, alright?"

Pushing away some of the cushions, Harry sat down on Theo's right side. "You think this is wrong."

"Don't you?"

"I've spent enough time worrying about what's right or wrong to tell you that it doesn't really lead anywhere. Here's what I do know: Voldemort is going to kill a lot of people, and his Death Eaters are going to kill even more. Destroying those things is the only way we even get a chance to stop him."

Theo nodded. "I know. I know. I said-" He sighed, dropping his face on his palms and tugging at his ears. "Graham attacked you first, as far as I'm concerned that was self-defence. Davis nearly got you killed, she deserved Azkaban. Even Elijah, after everything that bastard did, he deserved what he got. But this… you felt that thing, didn't you?"

"I did."

"I mean, you were nearly possessed by the other one too." Theo continued his rant, and Harry felt himself sink onto the couch.

He'd first gotten the diary nearly four years ago, and yet, those months he spent with it were some of his most vivid memories. It wasn't just the betrayal of another friend. It had taken for the damn thing to be destroyed and the years to pass for Harry to fully remember just how it felt. The Horcrux consumed you, it fed on your energy, your drive, your very soul. It rotted everything inside the person until they could barely stay awake. During those final days, it was like his body was moving on its own. His mind was clear, thinking of anything became even too draining.

The dementors were horrible, perhaps even worse in some aspects. But their effects only lasted for a few moments. Getting possessed by a Horcrux was like having a dementor inside you, endlessly feasting on anything that makes you human.

"You know how fucked up this is more than I ever will!"

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "I know."

"Then how can you be so calm about all of this?" Theo pressed. "Why am I the only one freaking out about it."

"It's not that you're the only one freaking out, but we don't have any other choice. There is no good decision here, Theo, I'm sorry. As much as it sucks, sometimes we need to take the fucked up choice to make sure we're still in the game."

Harry felt the incoming fight. He steeled himself for what was about to come, and prepared any arguments he could to convince Theo this was the only move they had. But instead, Harry watched as something reached into Theo and pulled out any fire in him. Like a husk of his former self, Theo slumped into himself, his back arching so much it looked like it had grown a large lump.

"Harry… I chose to stand against Voldemort so that I didn't end up becoming my father. Right now, you just sounded like him."

The words barely registered in his head, it was like he couldn't process them. Before he could do anything, Theo suddenly stood up and began walking away.

"Theo-"

"I'm fine," he waved him off. "Just need to be alone right now."

Chichester

July 16th, 1996

3:25 a.m.

Remus stumbled in through the crooked door, steadying himself against the wall as he kicked the door closed. He clutched a hand to his chest, feeling the blood crawling down his arm. The dittany was already on the kitchen table. Throwing himself onto the chair, Remus grunted in pain before tearing what was left of his shirt and rubbing the mixture all over his chest. Being a werewolf himself, the scars would heal in a couple of days, but that didn't mean the process was any less painful.

The meeting with the pack had gone just as he expected. His earlier attempts at reaching out to the werewolves had all left it clear Greyback had named him persona non grata to the entire country. Even without him actually there, the werewolves all feared him enough that they wouldn't disobey. It was something Albus realised since the night of the sieges, instructing him to avoid the werewolves until further notice. Even if there was still an Order, maybe he would have actually obeyed. Then again, they all moved over to the DMLE, and they still weren't looking for Sirius. So what difference would that have made?

After drinking a few vials of blood-replenishing potions, Remus bandaged the injuries spread all over his torso and summoned the notes he had been keeping underneath his pillow. It had been nearly three months since he went off on his own, and he still had nothing. The rumours that Bellatrix had been the one to kidnap Sirius weren't surprising, she was at the Department of Mysteries that night and her hatred for her cousin was almost infamous at this point. That had been his first theory when he started all this in the first place. It would have been worth something if he could actually use that information to find him. But Bellatrix had either taken Sirius to Azkaban, leaving it almost impossible to sneak in, much less break him out, or she had taken him to the Lestrange manor. He hoped it was the latter, he was taking it for granted at this point, but even then, he hadn't been able to pin down a location.

It had been months of aimless searching. Long nights and early mornings with booze, caffeine and deep gashes as his only companions. He scratched off the Fowler pack and the rest of the werewolves he hadn't interrogated for good measure. No one was saying anything. Snatchers and werewolves aside. Even the Ministry didn't have any records that could give him any insight as to where he could find Sirius. He was running out of options. And even as he kept going, he knew that Sirius was most likely dead already. There was no reason to keep him alive, no use he could serve that would spare his life for more than a few weeks. Considering Sirius' luck, if they were keeping him alive for fun, they would have kept him at Azkaban.

Maybe Albus knew that already, why else would he choose not to waste the DMLE's resources on him? Maybe because they all knew that Sirius didn't bring anything to the table in his state. Remus shook those thoughts away. As pissed as he was with Albus, he wouldn't do something like that. Or maybe that's exactly what he would do. This wouldn't be the first time Sirius had been left to rot because there were more important things going on.

A pained moan escaped from his mouth, he felt the sting of his eyes as he looked at the picture of Sirius that he'd stuck to the piece of parchment. He'd failed everyone in his life, hadn't he? He hadn't been there when James and Lily were murdered. He turned a blind eye as Sirius was sent to Azkaban. He failed Harry in every way imaginable. Hestia. Tonks. Even the Weasley boy at the Department of Mysteries. And now Sirius again. He felt that pain deep in his chest, like a shock running through his blood, paralysing his entire body. And then, a scream pushed its way from deep within his chest. It was guttural, painful to even listen to, and he couldn't stop it. Remus hit the table and smashed his fists into it three, four, five times before sweeping his arms over it and throwing everything onto the floor.

Slumping onto the ground, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his pounding heart. It was disconcerting, aching, it even became hard to breathe. He hadn't felt like this in a very long time.

"No luck with the wolves?" A voice growled from behind him. He heard the stomping of the wooden leg before he finally saw Moody. The man looked completely unconcerned as he sat down on the kitchen chair and stared down at him. "Get up here, Lupin. I'm getting a sore neck already."

Pulling himself up, Remus let himself fall on the chair. He couldn't look Moody in the eye, but the scarred man didn't seem to mind.

"So?" He barked out.

"Nothing," Remus answered. "They refuse to talk."

"I told you you were wasting your time. They got you good, as well. Constant vigilance!"

"What do you want, Moody? We weren't supposed to meet until next week."

"Aye, but Dumbledore is still looming over my head. If he gets wise and puts someone who'll actually rat on you on the case, this will be the first place they'll look for."

Remus groaned. The house had been where his father originally grew up. It grew tarnished and decrepit after years of standing as nothing but eerie decorum. There wasn't any paperwork that would actually link him to it, but it hadn't taken long for Moody to find him. Any other competent Auror could easily follow his steps.

"What does he care where I am?" He asked darkly. "It's not me he should be looking for."

"He wants to make sure you aren't running around," Moody shrugged. "Vigilantes are bad for business, and unlike Potter, I don't think you'll manage to find some worthless scum to polyjuice as yourself and attack an entire school full of witnesses."

"Maybe if I could actually join the Corps without the entire Wizarding World yelling for my head, I would have done so," Remus growled.

"Compose yourself, Lupin." Moody snapped at him. "Stop whining and be a fucking man, will you?"

Remus felt the surge of anger immediately take over, the wolf inside him aching for blood. His hands were shaking and his chest heaving. But instead of attacking, he stood down. "I'll find another place soon. You can tell Dumbledore you came across this house in a week or so."

Moody nodded sharply. "Send me a note with your next address." He stood up, pushing back his chair and running it over the various pieces of parchment on the ground. But instead of leaving, he reached into his robes and pulled out a file. He threw it on the table and leaned against his cane. "You might find that interesting."

Apprehensively, Remus opened the folder and pulled out the stack of parchments. They were different Ministry case files, nothing he hadn't read about from the Prophet. The Death Eater attacks, wizard-on-wizard violence, even some werewolf sightings. He focused on the passages that had been circled, the pictures that came with the rest of the parchments. The more he went through, the faster he read them. That fire inside him returned, he could practically feel the wolf inside him scratching at his skin, begging, trying to tear its way out. Hate unlike anything he felt in his life began to consume him as he was driven back to that night.

"If you want to find Sirius, focus on finding him first," Moody growled. "He killed Potter and his wife. Tortured you the night of the sieges. If the Death Eaters have Black, you can be sure he'll be there to watch."

"The werewolves won't talk," Remus said tightly. "Snatchers won't either."

"They don't have to. Do what you do best, Lupin. Read the files, find the pattern. Whatever you'll find will be worth ten times the words of some lowlife."

As Moody walked away, Remus turned back to the parchments on his lap. He traced his hand over them, reading the Aurors' assessments of the attacks. And as his fingers ran over the picture of Peter Pettigrew, he ripped it out of the page and crumpled it in his hand.

Thank you for reading! Hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter.

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