4th December 1995
The Burrow was enveloped in a crisp early winter chill, its crooked structure dusted with thin frost. Inside, the chaos of the Weasley household which was so prominent otherwise during the holidays, was now particularly absent. The atmosphere felt warmer with Arthur Weasley's expertly cast warming charms.
Ginny sat on the faded floral sofa in the living room, her hands protectively resting over her stomach. She was trying her best to ignore the knot of nerves twisting in her chest. Molly Weasley sat by her side, dabbing a cool cloth on her forehead as the young woman lay a bit pale and exhausted.
"Can I have another cup of your ginger tea, Mum?" Ginny asked.
"Of course, dear," said Molly and stood up, walking towards the kitchen. She glanced through the window and stiffened slightly when she saw Madam Pomfrey striding toward the house, her white apron distinct in the falling darkness.
"Sirius!" she exclaimed. "It's Poppy, quick!"
Sirius, who was relaxing on another sofa, rolled his eyes but immediately transformed into his Animagus form. He then went and plonked himself near Ginny's legs, his large black dog frame stretched lazily across the rug.
Molly rushed to open the door. "Poppy! Come in. Dreadful weather, I expect."
Poppy Pomfrey appeared, dusting a bit of snow off her traveling cloak.
"As it is during this time of the year. Hello Molly," she greeted.
She then gave the room a brisk once-over, her gaze softening when it landed on Ginny.
"Ah, Miss Weasley, good evening," she added before crossing towards her young patient. Sirius, in dog form, barked up at the arrival of the visitor, his tail wagging slightly as he observed her, as though offended that he wasn't included in the greeting.
The school nurse raised her eyebrow and just acknowledged his presence in her brisk no-nonsense tone, "And dog."
Sirius barked again.
"Down, Pad- Snuffles!" Ginny muttered, nudging the dog gently with his foot. Snuffles gave an exaggerated huff and laid his head back down.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Poppy? I am making Ginny one."
"Thank you, Molly. With no sugar, please," she replied, setting her medical bag down and pulling out Ginny's file. "How are you feeling, dear? Mr. Potter mentioned you had a small fever this Friday." Pomfrey asked, pulling out her wand and a small vial of diagnostic potion.
"Fine. A little tired, but that's to be expected, right?"
"Indeed. Tiredness is perfectly normal, especially given your circumstances," Madam Pomfrey said, her tone calm and reassuring. She opened her bag and began laying out various instruments and potions. "No fever anymore. You feel better now?"
"Yeah. But it feels like a Hippogriff trampled me," Ginny murmured, forcing a weak smile. "The nausea has settled, and I've been eating more."
The matron hummed thoughtfully as she waved her wand over Ginny. A soft golden light enveloped her abdomen.
"Everything looks normal."
"I hope so! Considering the amount of times it has been kicking."
The nurse smiled, patting her hand, "Almost there now."
Molly, who rejoined the others with the tray of tea, exhaled audibly, the tension in her shoulders easing. "As always, thank you for coming. The fever wasn't high, but still.."
"Mum," Ginny interrupted with a patient sigh, "I told you, I'm fine. It was just a touch of fever."
"How long did the fever last?"
"Just Friday evening through Saturday morning," Ginny replied. "Broke before noon yesterday."
Molly hovered nearby, wringing her hands. "She barely touched her breakfast on Sunday..."
"Because you were trying to feed me enough for three people, Mum," Ginny said with a fond eye roll.
"The baby's perfectly fine - strong heartbeat, good size for seven months," Madam Pomfrey said, turning her attention back to Ginny, "it seems you had a simple viral infection. Nothing to do with the pregnancy at all."
The tension visibly drained from Molly's shoulders. "Oh, thank goodness."
"However," Madam Pomfrey continued, reaching into her bag, "I'm going to leave you with a mild strengthening solution. Two drops in your morning tea for the next week should help ward off any lingering fatigue." She pulled out a small blue bottle and set it on the table. "And do try to rest more. Pregnancy is taxing enough without adding unnecessary stress."
"How much more resting am I supposed to do? Other than climbing the stairs up and down a floor and walking outside, but within the wards, there's not much I do." Ginny caught the look in her mother's eye and laughed. "Between you and Mum, I'll be lucky if I'm allowed to lift a teacup by myself."
Madam Pomfrey said with a knowing smile, "That's exactly how it should be. You are in the last stages of your pregnancy Miss Weasley. Soon you will have to care and nurture someone else more. So, my advice is to enjoy this phase." She began packing away her supplies, then paused. "And Molly? A cup of chamomile tea in the evening might help you worry less. The baby really is doing wonderfully."
Molly blushed slightly but nodded, and Ginny reached over to squeeze her mother's hand.
"And the delivery? Will it still be safe here at the Burrow?"
"It should be, provided there are no complications. However, you'll need to ensure I'm contacted immediately when the time comes. The Floo Network restrictions might be an issue, but a Fire Call should suffice.
"I'll inform Mr. Potter when I return to the castle," Madam Pomfrey said, setting down her teacup. "I must say, he's been taking this pregnancy very responsibly. Always asking me for an update after every checkup. He has also managed not to land in the hospital wing at all this year. Seems to me, he's ready for parenthood."
Ginny smiled fondly.
"Speaking of Hogwarts," Molly interjected, refilling Madam Pomfrey's cup, "how are things settling now that... well, now that that woman is gone?"
"The castle feels lighter without Umbridge's presence," Pomfrey replied, her usually stern expression brightening. "Minerva has taken up the job as Acting Headmistress."
"Any word from Dumbledore?" Ginny asked quietly.
"None. Though I suspect he's exactly where he needs to be, as always." Pomfrey's tone carried a hint of exasperation. "On a brighter note, the Club has been officially reinstated. Mr. Potter's been doing an excellent job leading it, even with his O.W.L. studies. Professor Flitwick is supervising, of course, but I've noticed he mostly just sits back and lets Mr. Potter handle things."
Ginny grinned proudly. "Good. He's always been a natural teacher."
"I am glad that things are beginning to look up," said Molly.
"Another thing the students are looking forward to -," Pomfrey continued, rolling her eyes slightly, "Horace Slughorn has announced his Christmas party for his Slug Club and also for fifth years and above. The evening before the term ends."
Snuffles let out what sounded suspiciously like a snort.
Madam Pomfrey gathered her things, "I should head back now. Remember – two drops of the strengthening solution every morning, plenty of rest, and I expect to hear if that fever shows any sign of returning. Goodbye!"
As she stood to leave, Snuffles stretched and padded over to her, tail wagging. The matron looked down at him with barely concealed amusement.
"Do try to keep the furniture fur-free."
From the window, Harry could see Hagrid's hut silhouetted against the darkening sky. No smoke curled from its chimney, no warm light spilled from its windows, and Fang's booming bark was conspicuously absent. The pumpkin patch lay empty and overgrown, with snow starting to settle in – McGonagall had asked Professor Sprout to tend to it, but it wasn't the same without Hagrid's enormous boots leaving tracks on the ground.
Harry frowned. If his memory served him right, Hagrid should have been back from the colony of the giants by now. With his half-brother Grawp of course. He wondered where the half-giant was, what kept him and hoped he was all right.
They'd all grown used to the absences now – Dumbledore, Hagrid, Order members appearing and disappearing. The latest one being Remus, who had once again gone underground with the werewolves. But that didn't make the waiting any easier.
Harry was in the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey returned, her traveling cloak still dusted with snow from the Burrow.
"Mr. Potter," she said, unsurprised to find him there. "I wondered how long it would take you to appear."
"How is she?" Harry asked immediately, falling into step beside the matron as she unlocked her office.
"Both of them are perfectly fine," Pomfrey assured him, hanging up her cloak. "A simple viral infection, nothing more."
Harry's tension visibly eased.
She began organizing her supplies, glancing at Harry with knowing eyes. "You keeping in touch with her regularly?"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied. "And the fever's completely gone?"
"Broke yesterday morning. Her colour is much better now." Pomfrey stopped what she was doing and fixed Harry with a gentle but firm look. "Mr. Potter, I understand your concern, but hovering and worrying won't help. It's not an illness, and she is handling it remarkably well."
"I know, I just..." Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair. "I should be there."
"You should be exactly where you are, completing your education," Pomfrey corrected, once again donning her nurse attire. "Though, I do have to ask - that big dog you have, he is up to date with the vaccinations, I hope?"
Harry couldn't help grinning at the mention of Sirius being vaccinated. "Yes. Totally. I hope he didn't disturb you this time?"
"Thankfully not. But he did leave an impressive amount of fur on Molly Weasley's rug. He does seem remarkably protective. Hardly took his eyes off me during my entire visit."
"He's always been like that," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Especially with... family."
"Well, he's certainly taking his guard dog duties seriously," Pomfrey continued, sorting through some vials. "And I must say, it's rather nice to know that you both have a strong support system. You don't always have that in such cases."
Harry nodded, shifting slightly in his seat. "Yeah, it's... different. Good different."
"It has had a positive effect - "
"Ah, so you are finally there where you are supposed to be!"
Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy stumbling in, flanked by his usual cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. He was cradling his stomach dramatically, his pale face twisted in exaggerated pain.
Madam Pomfrey pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Malfoy, what is it this time?"
"Who else?! The Gryffindors have let Dungbombs and a Garotting Gas in the Slytherin Common Room. Professor Snape sent me to inform you. I came by twice, only you were nowhere to be seen."
"Well, I had hoped that an hour of absence wouldn't warrant my attention," she answered dryly.
"This is absolutely unacceptable! The level of barbarism I'm forced to endure at this school. My father will hear about this—"
"Yes, yes. Now, how many of the Slytherins have taken a turn for the worse?"
"Almost all of us!"
Pomfrey shook her head, moving back to pick up her medical bag. "Go on, Mr. Potter. You've done your hovering for the day."
Harry grinned, heading for the exit.
"Tell your proud Gryffindors that this isn't over yet, Potter!" came Malfoy's threatening voice behind him.
Harry just kept walking, ignoring him. Ever since Umbridge had been removed from Hogwarts, the tide had virtually turned in favour of him. The Club was reinstated and now twice a week the Great Hall filled with students eager to learn proper Defense, alongwith interesting glimpses into the Muggle world.
"I'm talking to you, Potter!" Malfoy's voice echoed down the corridor, but it lacked its usual bite. His influence had waned considerably.
"Mr. Malfoy, the Common Room, if you please!" said Madam Pomfrey, ushering the three Slytherins away.
Harry continued walking, his mind already on the previous Club meeting. They were working on Patronus charms again – Neville had nearly managed a corporeal form last session, and Luna's rabbit was getting stronger by the day. Most of them had mastered the Disarming Charm successfully.
As Harry headed back to Gryffindor Tower, the corridors were alive with chatter about Slughorn's upcoming Christmas party. The Potions Master had taken it upon himself to inject some cheer into the school before the holidays.
"I encourage you all to make the most of this festive opportunity. After all, we deserve a little merriment, do we not?"
Enchanted mistletoe had already begun appearing in doorways – though after the incident with Neville getting trapped under a malfunctioning one for three hours yesterday, they'd been modified to be less persistent.
Harry, however, couldn't shake the unease that settled over him. The war was closing in, and the idea of celebrating felt like tempting fate. Still, he knew better than to begrudge others a brief escape from the darkness.
If only his wife had been here, he would have had a date. That left him without a partner for the party. Unfortunately, his only other option, like in the last timeline, was not available. Neville had got round to asking Luna first. Although, he always felt a bit awkward going to such parties, Ginny made it very bearable. He was thinking of going solo. After all, he hadn't kept attending the Slug's Club meetings for a while now.
He was about to round a corner, when he heard familiar voices talking.
"So," Hermione was saying, her voice trying for casual but not quite managing it, "what made you decide to ask? Finally, I mean."
Ron's ears were still pink. "Well, I... that is..." He took a deep breath. "Wanted to ask before someone got there first."
Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed him yet, too absorbed in their conversation.
"Ronald Weasley!" But Hermione was laughing. "Is that the only reason?"
"No!" Ron looked horrified. "No, I've been wanting to... I mean, I thought maybe...last year it dawned on me a bit late that you were a girl..."
Harry winced and began to quietly back away, but caught Ron's next words.
"And then at the Yule Ball it hit me that you have looked so...," He stopped, ears now positively blazing.
"I looked so...?" Hermione prompted softly.
"Beautiful," Ron mumbled. "Anyways, I know I'm not in the Slug Club... I mean, Slughorn's party is fancy and all, but Fred and George gifted me new dress robes, and I promise I won't step on your feet and be a better date... I mean partner."
There was a moment of silence. Harry could see Hermione's face softening in that special way it only did for Ron.
"Oh," Ron continued when she didn't say anything, "Well - if you don't, then -"
"Yes!" Hermione interrupted. "Yes, I'll go with you!"
Ron's voice felt rather faint. "Good! That's… good. You said yes, right?"
"Yes," Hermione said, grinning, "I said yes. I'll go with you."
Harry smiled to himself as he retreated and took another way back to the common room. He was surprised that Ron had summoned up the courage without him having to nudge him at all.
When he conveyed the same to Ginny over their nightly mirror talks, she was unsurprised.
"It was always going to happen Harry, with or without your help. The only question was whether it would be sooner than last time. Although, you know, it's only because of your indirect influence that Ron wised up."
"My influence?" asked Harry.
"You don't realise it love, but you always had a certain influence on Ron. Even if he won't say it, he looks up to you. You are his best mate after all. Considering you are now a married man, he has had since summer to observe you and see how you behave around me."
"So you say I bring out a more romantic side of people," said Harry in jest, waggling his eyebrows at her.
"Well, it's not hard to be in love with me."
"No, it's as easy as breathing," Harry finished, his voice warm and sincere.
Ginny's expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing air between them melted into something more tender. She wanted to reach out of the mirror as if to touch his face, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the mirror.
Harry mirrored the gesture, wishing—not for the first time—that he could reach through the glass and hold her properly.
"You always know just what to say," she murmured, tilting her head slightly.
Harry shrugged. "Only for you."
Ginny rolled her eyes fondly. "Flatterer."
Harry let out a laugh.
"As always, Mrs. Potter," he replied with a grin.
Ginny's gaze softened at the sound of her married name, and for a brief moment, they simply looked at each other through the mirror, lost in the quiet comfort of knowing they were together, even across the distance between them.
The small group of Aurors stared through a wrought-iron fence at the gloomy outline of the Lestrange house, that was previously kept off the Ministry records.
"Proudfoot, ward the area," Kingsley murmured. "Robards, take the back. Tonks with me." His deep voice was barely audible above the rain. "Remember, they're expecting Jugson. They won't know he's already in custody."
That was a stroke of luck - nabbing Jugson earlier that day. The escaped Death Eater was caught in one of the hidden shops of Knockturn Alley, Harry had so conveniently informed him of. He and Tonks had grilled him till evening, when their patience was running off. It was Moody who had actually grabbed the convict by the scruff of his robes and poured Veritaserum down his throat.
Kingsley was already toeing the line by not only not taking Jugson to the Ministry first, but rather to one of Order's hideaways, but also by allowing a retired Moody on this raid. After securing Jugson in a containment facility at the Ministry, Kingsley and Tonks had gathered two of the reliable Aurors - Robards and Proudfoot. The Department was already stretched thin with the Dementors' flight. All of the were working overtime (most of them answering calls of Dementors), now that Scrimgeour had given them permission to move forward aggressively.
Alastor Moody growled softly, stumping forward. "There's another exit. Hidden panel behind the counter."
"Alastor," Kingsley acknowledged, adjusting his plan. "Take the side with me."
"Wait a minute! He's not an Auror anymore - ," protested Robards.
"Do you really want to object at this time Robards?" said Moody.
Robards exchanged a look with Proudfoot who shrugged.
"We need all the help we can get," said Kingsley simply.
Tonks, her usual playful demeanor absent, nodded sharply. Proudfoot began laying simple wards with practiced efficiency, while Robards slipped into the shadows. Anti-Apparition Wards had to be done from inside the house, and if any of the Death Eaters were on their game, they'd notice the moment the wards were cast.
Inside, they could see shadows moving – four distinct figures. Kingsley had a notion that they were about to hit the jackpot by capturing the ones who had been believed innocent by the society at large.
"Wards are up," Proudfoot whispered, taking position.
Darkness had completely enveloped the street by the time the go-ahead to move inside was given. With the synched rhythm of a silent predator, the Aurors moved quickly and stealthily toward the door, wands drawn.
"Alohomora," whispered Kingsley. Tonks marvelled at their carelessness.
They waited a moment, before quickly storming inside. Moody muttered a quick spell to keep the heavy door from latching as it closed.
The four Aurors cautiously entered the elaborate hallway. Marble columns rose on each side, giving plenty of cover. The murmur of voices from a room along the hallway were heard, but no one was keeping watch outside the door.
Quick as a predator, Kingsley slammed open the door and the night erupted into chaos.
Moody and Tonks burst through behind him as Alecto Carrow sent a killing curse sizzling past them. Proudfoot's shield charm deflected Gibbon's blasting curse, which took out half the derelict furniture instead. Glass shattered and dark artifacts went flying.
The roar of shouts and spells echoed through the corridor, making it impossible to distinguish any of the voices or what they were saying. It was chaos.
"Tonks, they're coming your way!" Moody bellowed, his magical eye spinning as he tracked movement through the walls.
The Death Eaters fought back-to-back, their synchronized spellwork making them dangerous opponents. Gibbon's cutting curse caught Robards, who had jumped into the fry, across the arm, but the Auror didn't falter, returning fire with a bone-breaking hex that found its mark in his opponent's leg.
"Incarcerous!" Tonks's voice rang out from the back room, followed by McNair's enraged roar and the sound of someone hitting the floor hard.
Kingsley dueled Alecto with fluid grace, his shield charms flowing into offensive spells without pause. Behind him, Moody was systematically destroying every piece of cover the fourth Death Eater tried to hide behind, herding him into Proudfoot's line of fire.
"The panel!" Moody shouted suddenly. "She is going for-"
But Robards was already there. His stunning spell caught Alecto square in the back as she tried to reach the secret exit. She crumpled, and in that moment of distraction, McNair's defense faltered. Kingsley's silent body-bind took him down mid-curse.
The last Death Eater, seeing his companions fallen, tried to trigger what looked like a darkness powder bomb. Moody's spell caught him before he could release it, and Proudfoot quickly summoned the device.
"All down," Kingsley said, breathing heavily as he secured Alecto's bonds. "Good work, everyone. Proudfoot, check them for portkeys."
Moody stumped over to examine their captives, his magical eye examining each one thoroughly. "This one's still got a wand hidden in her boot," he said, pointing to the stunned Alecto. "And let's see who's the mystery one - of course, Avery."
"Even better," Kingsley said grimly. "That puts another name on our list." He turned to survey his team. "Robards, get that arm looked at. The rest of you, good work."
Gibbon screeched in fury. "You'll never win! The Dark Lord —"
"Silence you fool!" shouted Avery. "You have no proof of anything. You Aurors have no right to storm in here like common thugs. I demand to be taken to the Ministry immediately. I'm a respected—"
"We'll see about that."
In strode Rufus Scrimgeour, his sharp amber eyes surveying the scene with an air of barely restrained fury. He was flanked by two additional Aurors, their wands drawn and eyes scanning the room for any remaining threats.
Avery straightened up, his expression shifting to self-righteous indignation. "This is an abuse of authority! The Ministry cannot go around rounding up innocent citizens without proper cause!"
"Innocent?" Kingsley let out a low, humourless chuckle. He gestured to the wreckage around them—the shattered glass, the overturned tables, the scorch marks from the duel. "This doesn't exactly look like an innocent gathering, considering you are in the presence of an escaped Death Eater," he said, pointing to Gibbon.
Avery scowled. "We were defending ourselves! You broke into our home! We have the right to resist unlawful aggression! We were attacked without provocation by Aurors on a private property!"
Tonks gestured to the scattered debris of dark artifacts. "I was under the assumption that this house belonged to Rodolphus Lestrange. With illegal cursed objects?"
"We are collectors!"
Tonks merely flicked her wand, and with a wave, the sleeves of the captured Death Eaters yanked up their arms, exposing their forearms to the dim torchlight.
There, black as night, the Dark Mark twisted against their pale skin.
Tonks made a sound of disgust. "Looks like you are in the same cult."
McNair who had been silent up to that point, hissed through his teeth, glaring at them. "You think you've won something?" he sneered. "You have no idea what's coming—"
Avery struggled against his bonds, his eyes darting between the Aurors. "You've no proof we were planning anything!"
Moody let out a low, growling chuckle, stepping closer. "Oh, you were planning something, alright," he said, his magical eye whirring as it fixated on Avery. "My eye doesn't just see through walls, you know—it sees intentions."
Avery's face twisted with rage. "You're mad, Moody! You're not even in the Auror Office anymore!" His protests were cut short as Moody silenced him with another flick of his wand.
"Are you going to send us to Azkaban then?" laughed McNair. "We'll be out before you know!"
Scrimgeour instructed the others to take them away, "Wait for us outside." Proudfoot, Robards and the other two Aurors stepped forward, levitating the captives with their wands.
"What are you doing here Mad-Eye?" asked Scrimgeour.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the scarred veteran Auror.
"Needed a little excitement," Moody said gruffly. "I have a personal score to settle with these bastards. Besides, you lot are stretched thin. Someone's got to keep you from getting hexed in the back."
Scrimgeour exhaled sharply, his frustration barely restrained. "I understand you were held captive for almost a year. By Barty Crouch Jr."
Moody nodded, his expression clouded.
Kingsley stepped in, his deep voice calm. "Alastor's presence helped secure the mission."
Scrimgeour's jaw tightened.
"This is quite the capture, Auror Shacklebolt. But legally? This is all circumstantial."
Kingsley's jaw tightened. "Circumstantial? We caught them mid-duel with known dark artifacts and known Death Eater. They all bear the Dark Mark."
Scrimgeour exhaled sharply, running a hand through his graying mane. "Gibbon yes. However, none of that proves they were actively plotting. If they were smart enough not to keep written plans, then all we have is a collection of known people with an unfortunate knack for getting caught in bad places at bad times."
Tonks let out an exasperated noise. "We interrogated Jugson, sir. The escaped convict. He gave us this location. He admitted that Avery, the Carrows, and McNair were still active in recruiting sympathizers. It's a shame that brother Carrow wasn't in attendance."
Scrimgeour's gaze darkened. "Jugson's testimony might help, but this all seems eerily like the Barty Crouch method. Capturing anyone who is suspicious—"
"They attacked us," Tonks interjected. "Caught with dark objects and devices. That's good enough for me."
"It's not about what's good enough for you," Scrimgeour snapped. "It's about what will hold up before the Wizengamot. And that is an entirely different matter."
"We can get warrants to search their private homes. I am certain we can find much more of interest. I have submitted all the intel that I have picked up over the years, sir," reminded Kingsley.
"Yes, yes - the intel. Tell me, Auror Shacklebolt, does this intel come by any chance through Albus Dumbledore?"
"No, sir."
Scrimgeour frowned. "There's only so long I can keep these unconventional raids hidden from Fudge's eyes. Let the Aurors do their job, properly."
Tonks stepped forward. "With all due respect, sir. The Aurors are running themselves to the ground. We are handling twice the caseload."
"That doesn't mean to associate the Ministry with outsiders!"
There was a tense silence.
Scrimgeour gave Kingsley a hard look. "Pooling resources is dangerous. Involving people close to Dumbledore in this—," he hissed. "There is a fresh warrant out for that man. Abandonment of public duty and misuse of power."
"Dumbledore has nothing to do with it," Moody countered. "This is about taking Voldemort's remnants off the board. If we don't work together, we'll be pulling bodies out of the rubble before spring."
Scrimgeour's face was unreadable for a moment.
"If you do want to know, then I am the source of Kingsley's intel. I have been the one gathering information. Turns out living with a Death Eater has its advantages. " Both Kingsley and Tonks shared a covert glance at Moody's white lie.
Then, finally, the Head Auror sighed. "Wizengamot is out for the holidays. The trials will take place now directly after Christmas. Until then -"
"I hope you are not suggesting we let them out on bail," said Kingsley.
Scrimgeour shook his head. "No, I know that alone will put us on the backfoot."
"Where do we put them?" Tonks asked grimly. "Azkaban isn't an option anymore - not with the Dementors gone. Most of the guards we have are trainees. Too risky."
"Auror holding cells can't keep them indefinitely," Kingsley added. "They weren't built for long-term containment."
"And Fudge will hold a public press conference to show his administration in good light," scowled Tonks. "That alone will do more harm, if he continues to meddle."
Moody growled, "Then put them somewhere they won't escape."
"Like where?" Scrimgeour snapped. "If you have a brilliant idea, Mad-eye, do share."
"You still in good books with the Muggle law enforcement?"
"Yes," answered the Head Auror skeptically.
"We put them in a Muggle high-security prison," Moody said simply.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Scrimgeour's sharp amber eyes narrowed. "You want to put wizards - some of whom are trained killers - in a Muggle prison? Without their wands, yes, but still with the knowledge of magic?"
Moody's expression remained calm. "Exactly. They won't have wands, they won't be able to perform magic, and they won't have outside magical support. The Muggle world has facilities built to hold the most dangerous criminals without magic. Walls, locks and twenty-four-hour surveillance. It's a place none of them would ever think to escape from because they don't understand it."
Tonks tilted her head. "Actually… that's brilliant."
Kingsley let out a low chuckle. "Hiding them in plain sight. None of their supporters would think to look for them there. And these Muggle places… they don't have Dementors that can be bribed. No secret passageways hidden by Dark Magic. Just solid steel and no way out."
Scrimgeour still looked skeptical, "How would we handle this? Muggle prisons aren't prepared to deal with this kind of risk."
"We still use enchantments," Kingsley replied. "A layer of magic to reinforce the Muggle methods. Anti-Apparition wards with unbreakable restraints. But the core of their imprisonment is Muggle-built. It's an entirely different system—one these Death Eaters aren't prepared for."
"It's either Azkaban, Ministry holding cells or the Muggle prison. Although, I do have a trunk to put use to," said Moody.
"Madness," murmured Scrimgeour under his breath. "I will have to take this up with Amelia Bones." He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly weighing the options. "She's level-headed, but even she won't approve of placing magical criminals in a Muggle facility without proper oversight. If this gets out - if even one of them escapes - it won't be them who are blamed. It will be us."
Kingsley crossed his arms. "If they escape from Azkaban, the same thing happens. The only difference is, they expect Azkaban. They have already been there. They know how it works. The Muggle system is foreign to them—no wands, no magic, no allies on the inside."
"Just now, you admitted to the fact that the Aurors are overworked," Scrimgeour pointed out. "We will need to spare more workforce."
"Then we assign a House-elf to every one of them. They will be discrete, out of sight and their magic is also just as powerful as ours, if not more."
"Seems to me you have thought this out in detail. This is a bold move. If it goes wrong, the Wizengamot will have my head."
"Not to mention," Tonks added, "it'll be poetic justice, in a way. These pure-blood fanatics would rue everyday surrounded by Muggles. They'll hate it more than Azkaban."
"Besides, it's only the matter of keeping them in one place until their trials," said Moody.
A long silence stretched between them.
Finally, Scrimgeour nodded, his expression unreadable. "Get started on the preparations. If Bones agrees, we won't have much time to make this work. I'll push the warrants through first thing in the morning. But, no outsiders without informing me first."
Kingsley exhaled, a slow nod of understanding passing between them.
Scrimgeour turned sharply. "Let's move out. We're done here."
He then left with Kingsley to prepare the report.
Tonks turned to Moody, as they started documenting the evidence. "Think they'll last long?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"These Death Eaters are crippled without their wands. Depends on whether they know how to throw a punch, if they mouth off to the wrong Muggle."