CHAPTER 4
22 June 1993 - Dining Hall, Yaxley Manor - 6:37AM
An early riser, Giles Yaxley contentedly stretched his legs as he dug into his spinach frittata, delighting in the array of delicious flavors. Gib was an exceptionally talented culinary elf, not that Giles would ever overly praise the creature.
Both parents were currently out of the house, 'entertaining friends' as part of their personal summer holiday plans. For Lord and Lady Yaxley, that meant enjoying the company of their coterie of lovers they kept in discrete rotation. Though not too discreetly, since their Heir was quite aware of their separate dalliances with others. Vasilka was currently tucked away in Gstaad with her longtime lover Sinistra Lowe, the two having been quite close since their Durmstrang days. Corban had spent the weekend in Paris 'marking merry' with two witches young enough to be his daughters, recent Beauxbatons graduates if Giles remembered correctly. 'Lucky old sod'.
A groan interrupted the Heir's thoughts, smiling at the sight of his little brother Albert as the yawning and rumpled boy shuffled his way over to the dining table. Since it was the summer and neither parent was at home, he'd opted to remain in his embroidered silk pajamas.
"Morning," grumbled Albert as helped himself to a small bowl of sliced fruit. A soft pop saw a small feast of a full English appear in front of the boy, who perked up significantly as he uttered a soft "thank you Gib". While he frowned, Giles didn't correct him. Though the soft-hearted inclinations of the Red Star oft grated the Black Wolf's less than tender mercies, Giles nonetheless adored his little brother all the same.
As one the two boys ate in relative silence, occasionally broken by the sound of cutlery and just a bit of small talk about a myriad of topics. The two brothers openly laughed as they recalled Cassius Warrington's punishment at Cassilda's hand, though both were put out that neither had won their bet. The idiot boy and his foolish parents both still lived, and now, they would have to be responsible for babysitting the pompous little brat once he began at Durmstrang. "We'll have to suffer through a Bogatyr's whining for an entire year at least." They hoped Warrington flushed out of their school the same way he'd been expelled from Hogwarts.
The soft flapping of wings interrupted their conversation as a delivery owl dropped off a Prophet, hooting in appreciation as Albert fed it a few rashers. Both boy and bird jumped at the Heir's choking and coughing as he read through the cover of the morning's paper, baby blue eyes blown wide in shock.
Albert fed the owl another rasher before shooing it away. "Mon frère…what is the matter?" Giles didn't respond, just shakingly handed Albert the paper as he attempted to get both his breathing and masticated food under control. He summoned Gib to bring him a Calming Draught and two small snifters of brandy, knowing they would need it to get through the remainder of the day.
The younger Yaxley quietly read through the cover article, expression whitening in horror as he read through the dramatic yet quite detailed words of Rita Skeeter. If Father had truly been involved in this madness…
"If this is true…what in Merlin's name would possess him to do this?!"
Giles didn't respond, just summoned Gib to bring more Calming Draughts. "Ensure we are fully stocked with plenty of Calming Draught, we cannot run out." The elf dutifully nodded as he popped away, choosing to ignore the ominous tinge to the Heir's voice. A few seconds later saw a small tray appear bearing a few phials of the requested potions, and neither brother hesitated to help themselves.
"I am not sure." Heir Yaxley's tone was flat, though the keenly tight expression of weariness didn't melt away even after drinking the potion. "If Father somehow got involved with Lord Potter and Minister Fudge of all people to break out Dolohov, Rookwood, and the Lestranges…" He grimaced in spite of himself, wondering if he could stomach another draught without lessening its intended effect.
"...Then something truly wicked this way comes." The portentousness of Albert's whispered words caused a shudder to run through the older boy, hoping the Red Star hadn't been struck by a moment of prophetic inspiration. Food forgotten, the two brothers sat in relative silence until a truly terrible thought struck the younger Yaxley:
"Do you think…Mother has read this paper?" The tension grew tau as they exchanged horrified glances, before both brothers downed their brandy snifters without a hint of hesitation.
If their father had truly acted so brashly without their mother's foreknowledge, then all would suffer the consequences in House Yaxley.
Hell hath no greater fury than a Storm Queen scorned.
At the Same Time…
Amy quietly nibbled on her blueberry muffin, careful to not make eye contact with Lord Goyle as the obese lout greedily (and quite loudly) scarfed down his meal. 'Bloated git getting crumbs everywhere.' The witchling felt a touch bad for Euron who would have to clean up the mess, and even worse for her poor Aunt Hecuba who had to sit to the left of the pig as he practically ate through the table. Greg sat to his right a chair over, eating with considerably more grace than anyone would've ever thought of the hulking boy.
"Amaryllis dear," said Hecuba after a delicate sip of tea. "How are you enjoying Madame Milburga's classes so far?" Goyle Sr. grunted around a large mouthful of eggs (enough to make Hecuba wince), but Amy deftly ignored him.
"It's been going well Auntie. It's Madame Xeep's last week with our class, and we're expected to select an aria and sing in a demonstration." Amy shifted uncomfortably, well aware of her glaring lack of vocal ability. "I haven't yet decided on which piece I want to sing, but thankfully I'm in the last round of students so I have a few more days to decide on which piece I'll perform."
"Whatever it is, I am sure you'll be great," said Greg gently. Amy smiled in appreciation at her ever supportive big brother. Hecuba seemed pleased too.
"Worry not dear, you will do well enough, of that I am certain. If you'd like I can help you select something. What is your assigned fach?"
"...Um…I believe she said lyric mezzo-soprano?" Her aunt attempted to answer but was interrupted by the oaf.
"Hmph, not even sure why you bother with that deportment nonsense." It took every bit of restraint Amy possessed to not scathingly reply 'so I don't end up like you', but she didn't want the bastard to fly into another one of his rages. "I mean, is it even worth it now? Considering you ended up in bloody Gryffindor of all places." The disdain was clear, his expression twisted into an angry snarl. Greg's knuckles were white as he held his cutlery in a death grip.
"As I said before my Lord, I allowed myself to be Sorted into the Lion's Den to continue my father's legacy. No other House in Hogwarts houses as many filthy mudbloods and blood traitors as that which I have to call my own, and what better position can a true snake strike from if not from within the enemy's nest?" The words tasted like leaden ash on her tongue, but she'd forced herself to be as convincing as possible. The fat geezer arsehole needed to believe her.
"Hmph." A large serving of scrambled eggs was crammed down his gullet. "And I'm to assume that was the reasoning for pulling the fucking Sword of Gyrffindor OUT OF THE SORTING HAT?!" He slammed his hand down in a rage, causing all save Amy to jump. Unseen to him Hecuba gripped her wand - 10 ½ inch Rowan with unicorn hair - nestled in the hidden pocket of her dress robes. Confundus had been a reliable companion for the many years of her marriage in staving off her husband's temper.
"Obviously." The asperity in Amy's tone caused the puce-faced man to come short. "Gryffindors hold the fabled sword in the highest regard. It is only natural that they now hold me in equal respect since I was the one to retrieve it. The perfect means of slaying them all when the time is right." Dark gray eyes flashed with something…enough to make Lord Goyle back down. Greg and Hecuba gave her small nods of approval. The former was relieved to see his little sister take his previous advice to heart, while the latter was pleased to see her daughter-in-all-but-blood avert her husband's temper. It was never an easy feat.
A soft hoot interrupted the tense mood as an owl entered the dining hall and dropped off the morning paper, deftly snatching a piece of bacon off Lord Goyle's plate as if flapped off. As the closest to the paper the Greg and Amy leaned over to read the cover, only to balk at the cover title as their expressions rapidly paled.
"What the hell is it?"
Heir Goyle didn't bother responding to his father, just tossed the paper into his general direction. The man glared angrily at the boy, only to balk in horror as he finally read through the cover story. "This…this cannot possibly be." If the most dangerous…the truly loyal…of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle had truly been released from their prisons…
"Tha amannan dorcha romhainn." They all turned to stare at a pale Hecuba as she muttered in her native Gaelic tongue, that which she only did when she was truly frightened.
For once, Lord Goyle was in complete agreement with his wife.
Lord's Suite, Chênenoir - 10:49AM
A mighty yawn was all that could be heard as Sirius stretched his body proper, groaning at the pops his bones gave at the action. He'd spent the previous night bar hopping his way across muggle London, and he was definitely paying for it with the massive hangover he felt. Normally he would be recouping in the Black Hideaway, but poor Ophelia had practically cried when he'd attempted to merely drop in for his monthly check in during the previous weekend. Loathe to be the source of the sweet elf's distress, he'd acquiesced to stay full-time for an additional week.
His very late breakfast appeared, along with a small tray teeming with a plethora of hangover potions. Loudly thanking the elf, Sirius downed all the potions in quick succession before eagerly tucking into his meal. He planned on having Harry come over to spend the remainder of the week with him, planning on a series of pickup Quidditch games and Granian riding.
Those plans were immediately cut short upon reading the cover of the morning Prophet, choking on his serving on bangers and mash as he practically coughed out a lung. A horrified Ophelia popped in and snapped her fingers, clearing his airways.
"T-thanks Ophelia," he said shakingly.
"You're welcome my Lord. Are…are you sure you're alright?" She looked most concerned, wringing her hands nervously. Sirius insisted that he was fine, eating a large helping of his meal to reassure her.
Once she popped away Sirius set about reading through the entire Prophet article, expression growing in shocked disbelief. If the incredulous details were to be believed, Lord Potter and his new best buddy Lord Yaxley had somehow gotten the Minister of Magic to break out five of the most dangerous criminals in their society.
"Probably used the Imperius on Fudge too." Sirius snorted disdainfully. If you'd asked him a few years ago if he'd ever believed his ex-best friend would conspire with Death Eater scum, he would have laughed in their face. But after Howler-gate, the disastrous Potter Christmas Ball, and James' enduring 'friendship' and auror partnership with Corban-fucking-Yaxley, Lord Black was convinced that James could be easily swayed into participating in such madness.
"Blimey, and I thought things were finally in the bloody clear!"
Diagon Alley, 12:34PM
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
Dolores had been used to her fair share of strange looks in her 48 years of life. A halfblood sorted into Slytherin, her mere existence had oft caused many a pureblood schoolmate to level filthy looks in her direction. It didn't help that she was intelligent and magically capable, enough to consistently maintain her status in the Top 10 of all Hogwarts students and earn 7 OWLs and 5 NEWTs. It had been exceedingly difficult for her as a young witch, but she'd truly believed that she'd overcome that very tumultuous period in her life.
But seeing all these passerbys directing these intensely strange and almost…hateful looks in her direction caused those long-repressed nerves to bubble uncomfortably in her gut. She'd already had an emotionally draining morning visiting her father Orford Umbridge at his muggle residence, and she was really in no mood to deal with much else.
Eschewing her initial path to Flourish and Blotts, the witch took a detour to Florean Fortescue's to treat herself to a strawberry banana split. Making her way to the counter she briskly placed her order, startled by the look of terror Florean directed at her.
'What in Circe's name is going on here?!'
Her answer came soon enough.
"Madame Umbridge, please step away from the counter with your hands in the air."
Wide-eyed Dolores whirled around in shock to see a four-man squadron of Aurors with wands pointed directly at her. She vaguely heard Florean scamper away as many of the parlor's patrons began pointing and whispering.
"Shacklebolt?! Varens?! Proudfoot?! Robards?! What in Merlin's saggy y-fronts is going on here?!" The four men exchanged confused looks.
"Madame…are you being serious right now?" Dolores sputtered at Proudfoot's ridiculous question.
"YES! I've spent the past day with my infirmed father, only to be accosted with strange and frankly insulting looks from almost everyone I've encountered in the village these past few minutes! Now, I'll ask again - what the hell is going on here?!"
Kingsley gave her a strange look, before quietly summoning a copy of the Daily Prophet from a stack near the parlor's counter. He levitated the paper over to Dolores, who snatched it mid-air to read.
All four aurors watched with varying degrees of confusion and nervousness as the woman's expressions rapidly cycled between shock and outrage, jumping when the newspaper erupted into flames.
23 June 1993
(From the front page of the Daily Prophet)
MINISTER FUDGE, UNDERSECRETARY UMBRIDGE, AUROR POTTER, AND AUROR YAXLEY UNDER OFFICIAL INVESTIGATION!
WARDEN STARK AND PRISON PERSONNEL IN CRITICAL CONDITION!
RECONSTRUCTION FOR AZKABAN'S MAXIMUM SECURITY TOWER UNDERWAY!
25 June 1993
(From the front page of the Daily Prophet)
WIZENGAMOT TO ENTER EMERGENCY SESSION!
AURORS POTTER AND YAXLEY ON LONG-TERM SUSPENSION PENDING CONTINUED INVESTIGATION!
MINISTER FUDGE TO DEMAND REINSTATEMENT OF DEATH EATER LAWS!
CALLS FOR DMLE DIRECTOR AMELIA BONES TO ACT AS PRAETOR MAXIMUS!
1 July 1993 - Courtroom 7 - Ministry of Magic, 1:59PM
Libra paused in her dictation to flex her fingers, wondering if the overly loquacious man would finally get to the point of all his nattering. He was exceptionally lucky that neither he nor his Undersecretary had been ousted out of office, a unique loophole instituted by Hortensia Milliphutt during her tenure as Minister from 1841-1849.
The loophole stated that a sitting Minister more than halfway through his or term could not be ousted for misconduct if Wizarding Britain was in the midst of a national security crisis, since a change of power could further exacerbate whatever crisis was at hand. Since Fudge was technically one day past his half-term anniversary when the breakout had occurred, he was covered under the caveat. That his so-called involvement in the breakout could be considered an exacerbation went without saying, but since he'd presented an iron-clad alibi - a large birthday celebration for his nephew Rufus Fudge with multiple witnesses - he had officially been cleared of all wrongdoing and allowed to retain his position. Umbridge's alibi was considerably shakier, but she too had been officially cleared by the joint investigation report of Director Bones and newly selected Chief Auror Shacklebolt.
As for Aurors Potter and Yaxley, their innocence was still in contention. Both had presented very weak alibis of being at home during the breakout, that which could only be verified by their house elves. Jim was currently in Shamballa with the Weasley brood attending to Ron's healing, and Portkey records indicated that both Vasilka and her sons had been out of the country, the former in Switzerland and the latter two in Germany. Even if they'd wanted to, none could have lied in favor of the accused.
Looking around the expansive room, Libra fixed her eyes on the massive Viewing Gallery that encircled the entire room's perimeter, filled to the brim with seemingly all of Wizarding Britain. Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill was flying a mile-a-minute as she stared with an almost feverish intensity at the proceedings. Lady Gaunt was pleased that the balcony had been blocked off by various charms, wards, and spells to prevent observers from interfering, else the gossipy little insect would have leapt her way down to the Wizengamot proper. Emma Squiggle oscillated between subtly glaring at Skeeter and taking her own notes as Martin Carneirus used his wand to juggle eight cameras.
Seated a few rows away in more prime seating were some of the families of the assembled Lords and Ladies. Lady Vasilka (along with her two sons) sat stiffly under the canopied area, draped in resplendently cut robes in shades of aubergine and plum. Her neck sparkled with a massive amethyst choker necklace, paired with matching chandelier-style earrings, multiple rings, along with a small but no less ornate amethyst diadem atop her flowing black waves of hair.
Libra was reminded of an even more glamorous version of the Muggle storybook villain Maleficent.
To Vasilka's right and two rows over was Lady Greengrass and her two daughters, who looked at the proceedings curiously. Daphne kept leveling curious looks at Harry Potter, who stood some feet away with Heir Malfoy and Justin Finch-Fletchley, the latter of whom had been officially made a ward of House Prince a month prior. To Harry's left was Hestia Jones and Artie Podmore, who watched the proceedings intensely and murmured their observations to the three fascinated boys.
"To conclude," said Fudge dramatically, "I strongly believe that DMLE Director Bones will successfully execute the duties of Praetor Maximus during this most dastardly Death Eater menace. While I would normally occupy this position during the ongoing crisis, however, circumstances have…inspired me to have Director Bones occupy that mantle whilst I act in an advisorial capacity to assist in executing all magisterial tasks the role demands." With that, Fudge nodded rather dramatically in Dumbledore's direction before resuming his seat.
"Finally," grumbled Tom, causing Libra to giggle. Smiling sweetly at his wife, he clasped her right hand and gave it a quick and chaste kiss, peering to read over her dictations. He snorted at her notes on Fudge, not at all disagreeing.
With Dumbledore's signaling, Bones rose and thanked the Minister before addressing the gathered audience with the DMLE's plans to combat the Azkaban breakout. She was soon interrupted by Tiberius Nott raising a point of order inquiring as to whether Polyjuice Potion was used and, if so, whether it spoke to a failure of security on the part of the DMLE that hair samples from such illustrious personages could be obtained so easily by enemies of the state.
Amelia (and a few others) stiffened slightly at the implied rebuke from a man she was almost certain was a Death Eater who had evaded proper justice.
"As previously stated Lord Nott, our preliminary investigation indicates that the three intruders responsible for the breakout maintained their forms after at least two hours and two separate exposures to Thief's Downfall," Amelia said firmly. "This would seem to exclude the use of Polyjuice Potion. As such, we are proceeding under the assumption that the intruders were a trio of Metamorphmagi."
Tom felt his cuff grow warm as three mind links established themselves within his own.
Lily: "Are they seriously skipping the possibility of Polyjuice Potion? Granted, this works well in our favor, but it seems rather presumptuous."
Severus: "I imagine it's to avoid sheer and utter panic. If it is ever revealed that there is a formula for Polyjuice immune to Thief's Downfall created by a Fourth Year…well…"
Malfoy: "Indeed. Better the nation think that there were three rogue shapeshifters than a possible army of them that were immune to detection. However…do we have any conditions in place to prevent Fred Weasley from sharing his formula with law enforcement should they make inquiries? All of the Weasleys in fact? If I recall, Percy Weasley contributed a Polyjuice formula that lasts for a little under two hours. Granted we didn't make use of it, but still…"
Tom: "Libra's come up with an ingenious little plan to help on that end. The Weasleys are currently in Shamballa to support Ron on his healing venture, so I will connect with them as needed."
"Chief Warlock, I rise to a point of inquiry," said the venerable Griselda Marchbanks. The ancient witch rose stiffly to her feet, as she was recognized by the Chief Warlock. 'I was given to understand, Director Bones, that there is only one known Metamorphmagus in all of Magical Britain, a young woman currently studying at the Auror Academy. Has she been investigated in connection with these monstrous acts?"
"She has Lady Marchbanks. At the time of the prison break, she was on patrol with her mentor Alastor Moody, and both were seen by multiple witnesses in the village." The older witch nodded in approval, Mad-Eye's reputation exceeding himself. Very few would be willing to question him, witnesses aside.
Lord Nott, of course, was the exception.
"I also rise to a point of inquiry, Chief Warlock." There was a slight but noticeable hesitation before Dumbledore recognized the man who then turned his attention to the DMLE Director. Not only that, Tom felt a very sour flash of disdain from Lucius at the man's presence.
"Madame Bones, am I correct in assuming that the young Metamorphmagus of whom you speak is one Nymphadora Tonks, the daughter of Andromeda Tonks ... formerly of House Black! Specifically, the sister of one of the escapees, and the sister-in-law of two more?!"
There was a burst of excited whispers from the assembled peers at the invocation of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, whose Lord stood at attention as his gray eyes flashed in a fury at the man's temerity.
"If I may, Chief Warlock?" Dumbledore nodded his permission. "If Lord Nott possesses the capacity to recall (Tiberius' left eye twitched at the insult), Bellatrix Lestrange was officially expelled from House Black on 11 January 1982 at exactly 3:16PM for her guilty conviction of the crime of Cruciatus torture against Frank Lord Longbottom and Alice Lady Longbottom, a flagrant violation of the sacred bonds of life and sanctity between wizards and witches. She was henceforth denied the succor of my house in her time of need, and denied the right to sanctum in the hearth of any House Black abode of any member bearing the blood of my family. Which includes Mrs. Andromeda Tonks, in spite of her expulsion from House Black by my predecessor the late Artcurus Lord Black. An expulsion, I may add, is irreversible by my House's Charter." He leveled a scathing and disdainful look to a reddening Tiberius. "Does that sufficiently answer your question, Nott?"
Tiberius's eye twitched slightly. "... Indeed Black. I withdraw the point of inquiry, Chief Warlock," he said tersely before sitting back down. Lucius smirked at the sound of Lily's snide snickering.
Lord MacMillan stood to be recognized. "Chief Warlock, I rise to a point of order. Director Bones, setting aside the Tonks girl, that still leaves at least two other Metamorphmagi involved in the attack on Azkaban. If there are no other known Metamorphmagi in Wizarding Britain, what consideration is the DMLE giving to the possibility of foreign agents being responsible for the attack?"
Director Bones replied. "The DMLE is considering all avenues of investigation, Lord MacMillan. That said, at this time, we cannot exclude the possibility of involvement by foreign wizards and even foreign governments, though we as yet have no idea as to any possible motive for a foreign wizarding government to free Death Eaters from Azkaban prison."
Lily: "Well that's good. Great, even. If attention can be diverted to external forces, it'll occupy any unnecessary focus on our little Azkabal."
From across the room, Lord Parkinson (Pansy's father) gave a loud snort of laughter. "With all due respect, Director Bones, I think that bespeaks of a lack of imagination on the part of the DMLE."
Director Bones did not rise to the insult, though her expression made her feelings about Parkinson clear. Dumbledore apparently felt the same, as he ruled the comment out of order and chastised Parkinson for speaking without being recognized.
Suddenly, Augusta stood to make her own point of order. Though visibly surprised, Dumbledore nonetheless recognized the formidable Longbottom Regent.
"With respect to my learned colleagues," Augusta said. "I believe it is premature to speculate wildly on the nature of the threat we face when the investigation has only begun. While the prospect does have tangible very tangible merit, I believe we owe it to ourselves and the wizarding populace to confirm whether or not these agents are within our own society." She paused to stare significantly at Nott, Parkinson, and Yaxley, all of whom balked at the implied accusation and rebuke. The latter sputtered loudly and quite indignantly, before stiffening rather comically as Seneschal Selwyn delicately cleared her throat.
Expression flinty, Augusta continued on. "Bearing that in mind, I'd like to raise another point of inquiry: Chief Auror Shacklebolt, does your investigation have any leads on how the invaders were able to escape from Azkaban?"
Malfoy: "Am I to assume that was your doing Riddle?"
Tom: "...In a manner of speaking. Augusta is a respected member of the old guard with a very real investment in the prisoner outbreak…as it pertains to the Lestranges anyway. To have her raise such a point, helps redirect the more curious of attention away." None could disagree with that sound Slytherin logic.
"We do have some leads," said the Chief Auror. "It appears that the intruders have access to some kind of advanced portkey method, one capable of penetrating the anti-portkey wards of Azkaban Prison. Accordingly, we have instituted a crack-down on the illegal manufacture and sale of portkeys by unlicensed distributors."
After that pronouncement – that the (possibly foreign) shapeshifting invaders had access to portkeys seemingly able to slice through some of the most powerful wards ever devised – chaos naturally erupted.
Malfoy: "Well…looks like we're in for quite the treat this afternoon."
Minister of Magic's Office, Five Hours Later…
A tired sigh was all that could be heard as Fudge took his seat, before summoning a rather hearty glass of Firewhiskey. The emergency session had been headache-inducing at best, and Cornelius wondered if he wanted to truly split his head-center by ingesting alcohol. With a wave of his wand - 11 ¾ Reed with dragon heartstring - his bowler hat and overcoat gently levitated onto a hatstand stood in the corner.
There was a knock at the door.
"Enter," he said wearily as he set his drink down. Dolores Umbridge came in bearing a worried expression. She had changed out of her plum Wizengamot robes and into one of the reserved and sensible tweed outfits he'd come to associate with her. Today's was a cheerful lavender, in direct contrast to the reigning theme of the day.
"Bones, Shacklebolt, Potter, and Black are on their way. None look entirely pleased. I also received a missive from Saul Croaker, whom, along with the Head of the Unspeakables, will also be joining us." She looked distinctly nervous at the latter prospect. It was inevitable that the Department of Mysteries would be involved in the disastrous events, but to have the actual head of the vaunted Unspeakables organization show himself…or herself…
As though he'd read her mind, Fudge summoned a small glass and poured her a small snifter. Dolores hesitated at first, but ultimately helped herself to a generous sip. Her frayed nerves definitely needed it.
"Minister, you hired me as Undersecretary to advise you about the details of the Ministry's treaty obligations. Are you ... open to advice in other areas?"
He studied the woman for a moment. "Yes, if offered in good faith, I suppose."
She took a deep breath. "Then ... be honest with them. Swear them to secrecy if you must – and I understand why you feel you might need to – but you need them to be publicly on your side in this matter. All three have family at Hogwarts, and none will ever support you in this if they don't know the true reasons for your suggestion. Granted, Bones can disagree with you in her given proxy as Praetor Maximus, however…" she grimaced a bit at the end.
"Trust me, I am very well aware."
Seconds later, there was another knock on the door. Fudge's secretary came in to announce that their guests had arrived.
Bones and Shacklebolt entered first, taking the first set of available seats. Potter and Black followed in soon after, standing on opposite sides of the room. Saul Croaker filed in soon after, followed by the presumed Head of the Unspeakables. He…or she… was outfitted in a standard Unspeakables uniform and an advanced Glamor Charm, making him…or her…look as nondescript as possible.
With more finesse than any would have thought possible, Fudge non-verbally Vanished the Firewhiskey and activated the room's multiple privacy charms before addressing his assembled guests. Standing, he approached the portrait of Damocles Rowle and touched his right hand to the painting:
"Olympus decidit." The sleeping stern-faced wizard immediately awoke, ice blue eyes flashing with sharp intelligence. He nodded respectfully in the Minister's direction, before repeating the same to the Head Unspeakable.
"So," Rowle said in a gruff yet genteel voice. "The end is truly nigh." Fudge nodded with a sigh. "Alright then, let us begin."
"So we must." Cornelius sighed as he resumed his seat, before his tired expression hardened to steel. "Before we begin, none of this leaves this room. While I would normally have too much respect for all of you both to insist on a vow of secrecy, this current situation demands that I must. Save the Head and Voice of the Unspeakables who have already been read into this situation, the rest of you will have to swear a Vow of Secrecy. No exceptions." They all exchanged nervous glances at the uncommon graveness of the man's tone, but after a moment of hesitation, the four aurors and his Undersecretary in the room swore the necessary oaths under the two Ministers' gimlet eye.
"Good. The official story is that we are making use of Dementors because their innate magical senses can allow them to detect the magical auras of the escapees at some distance, which makes them uniquely qualified to act as hunters. That story has the benefit of being true as far as it goes. We are also stationing Dementors around Hogwarts – not on the grounds, mind you, but at the periphery of the wards and over the Forbidden Forest – in order to demonstrate our commitment to protecting the next generation of wizards and witches from the Death Eater threat."
"Dementors?! At Hogwarts?!" Sirius spluttered. "Have you gone mad, Cornelius?! My godson attends Hogwarts! His mother teaches there! Hell, many other children attend Hogwarts! Have you LOST the bloody plot?!"
"I'd like an explanation as well, Minister," said Amelia Bones just as angrily. "This seems incredibly reckless!" Kingsley nodded in agreement, wondering what the hell the man was playing at.
Fudge paused and took an even deeper breath before continuing. "All of that is ... a diversion from the real truth: We don't actually have any choice in the matter. Under the Treaty of Azkaban, the Dementors have the right to pursue the escapees. During his harrowing negotiations with the Dementors, Minister Rowle was able to work out an agreement with, well, the one that seems to be their leader if they even have such a thing. He succeeded in persuading the Dementors that any escapee could be recovered more quickly and efficiently if the Dementor Leader placed small groups of Dementors under the authority of aurors assigned to the national search. The bulk of the creatures could be confined to one area that the escapee would more than likely attempt to either breach or take refuge in. Hogwarts fits the bill for the former considering it houses the Boy-Who-Lived, his brother, and…Neville Longbottom, and as such, would draw the Death Eaters' attention. Despite my desire to have it be otherwise, they bought it and have agreed to station most of their number at the castle. Well…over by the Forbidden Forest where they can survey the castle without interfering with the students. They have only agreed to do so until the end of the school year, so we are, as I understand it, very pressed for time." Sirius and Amelia looked equally horrified at the end of the man's explanation.
James started to angrily interrupt, but Fudge held up his hand. "But make no mistake, James. If we sought to forbid the Dementors from pursuing the escapees, we would be in breach of the Treaty of Azkaban. And if that happens, all of the Dementors will be free to leave Azkaban en masse and hunt whoever and wherever they will. And I cannot risk that, no matter what the cost." His chocolate-colored eyes flashed in a fury, startling most of the room's occupants who would have never thought the overly affable (and quite frankly unctuous) man capable of such an emotion.
Dolores Umbridge stepped in. "By doing it this way, only a fraction of the Dementors will leave Azkaban for Britain, and most of those will remain stationary over the Forbidden Forest next to Hogwarts. The school has the largest concentration of magicals in all of Britain who know the Patronus Charm and can successfully cast it." That inspired little hope in her guests.
"That was the real reason I wanted the Death Eater Laws reinstated – this would grant Bones here the authority to conscript every wizard and witch in Britain who can summon a Patronus in the event of a Dementor invasion, as an auxiliary armed force in service of the DMLE under her direct control. Anyway, I discussed stationing the Dementors at Hogwarts with Albus during the afternoon break," Fudge said. "He has agreed to make the Patronus Charm part of the curriculum for all seven years of DADA."
"Albus agrees with you on this?!" James asked in shock.
"Very grudgingly, but yes. After we showed him the relevant treaty provisions, he reluctantly agreed that this might be the safest solution until the crisis is resolved."
"Still, the Patronus is a very difficult Charm," James said. "How many students do you think can possibly learn it fast enough for it to matter?"
"Apparently, a Second Year mastered it this past spring," said Umbridge, "and so the Headmaster is reevaluating his views on its teachability."
"Uh-huh," he replied sarcastically. "And have you mastered it?"
Dolores sniffed imperiously. "Yes, actually," she replied before pulling out her wand and softly incanting "EXPECTO PATRONUM", summoning a silver Persian cat patronus that pranced around the room looking for danger. "I learned it just in time for my DADA NEWT." The cat came to rest by her side, licking its paw as she tenderly scratched his chin. "No trouble here Wilberforce, just a demonstration." The being purred in delight before fading away.
James actually did a double-take. "Blimey…you have a DADA NEWT?!" he said in surprise.
"As a matter of fact, I do, Lord Potter," Umbridge replied somewhat frostily. "It was only a lowly 'Exceeds Expectations', dare I say enough to tackle on the Auror Corps if I had been so inclined." She sniffed once more before turning her head away, in a manner quite reminiscent of the feline she'd just summoned.
"We're getting a bit off-topic," Shacklebolt said calmly. "You said that only a limited number of Dementors were coming, with most staying at Hogwarts. How many Dementors are we talking about?"
Fudge licked his lips nervously. "About a hundred or so."
There was dead silence in the room.
"A hundred?!" Sirius shouted incredulously. "And that's a fraction of their total number? How many bloody Dementors are there at Azkaban?!"
"Scores." Rowle's gruff interjection brought Lord Black up short. "Literal scores." The man looked keenly haunted. "My first visit to that Merlin-forsaken edifice with my Auror-guard revealed a horde exceeding 1000 of those foul creatures." Sirius choked, having to summon a glass of water lest he coughed himself to an early death. "Many Ministers have kept me abreast of their population over the centuries. The last successful attempt at a census was in 1973 during Nobby Leach's tenure, revealing a total population capping just above 2800 in number."
Dead silence reigned once more.
"Is…is there a way to kill off their number?" Shacklebolt's voice actually shook a touch.
"Not that I know of, young man," replied Rowle tiredly. "After all these centuries, we still have no idea how Dementors reproduce or indeed if they truly do. It seems, in fact, that they simply ... spring into existence somehow. We do know that they cannot be killed by any means known to us, though there was speculation in my time that a sufficiently powerful Patronus might be able to do so. From what I have been told, Headmaster Dumbledore is likely the only one powerful enough, though I doubt he's ever been to that particular test."
"Merlin," Amelia whispered.
"Oh, the good news gets even better," Fudge said bitterly. "Dolores, kindly explain the Azkaban occupancy requirements."
Umbridge coughed delicately as she retrieved her notes, pausing to adjust her glasses. "Pursuant to the treaty, the Ministry is obliged to maintain a prison population within certain agreed upon limits. Relevant to this discussion, we are required to maintain a minimum number of convicts on the Maximum Security level at all times. The rules are somewhat complicated, as a prisoner who is Kissed by a Dementor is deemed by them as remaining a prisoner so long as his or her body is still alive even if it has been removed from the prison. That is why it is against Ministry policy to euthanize former prisoners who have been Kissed and why they are instead placed in a special ward at St. Mungo's and kept alive as long as possible. The longer those soulless husks endure, the longer we have before we are required to find someone else to replace them in Maximum Security."
She paused as if to collect herself before proceeding, even as she registered Sirius' gawking. "As of June 21st, we were and remain in violation of the Occupancy Clause. Previously, we maintained a cushion of two extra maximum security inmates in case any of them passed away unexpectedly, but with the escape, we are now six below the minimum occupancy, three over what we would be since three other prisoners perished in the blast created by the breakout Portkey. Not only that, we are obligated to repair and rebuild the damage done to the Maximum Security tower, which is well underway with the contracts we have with Lords Parkinson and Avery." She nervously adjusted her glasses once more. "In the span of the violation, we have to… pay alms to the Dementors." Dolores winced in spite of herself.
"Pay alms? What exactly does that mean?" Shacklebolt did not like where this conversation was going, noting Rowle's distinct wince at his question.
Umbridge cleared her throat nervously. "Exactly what it means I'm afraid; for every day we are in violation of the treaty, we have to provide an…offering to appease the Dementors. Said offerings cannot come from the current crop of prisoners, since that would violate the Occupancy clause."
"And pray tell whom will you be offering as alms?" Fudge and Rowle winced at James' question.
"...Any convicted criminal with a soul will suffice."
"Surely you don't mean what I think you do-"
"Yes Kingsley, it does. We haven't a choice in the matter, and as much as this sickens me to even think much less say…we will be relying on Muggle resources."
A wave of outraged voices sounded at the preposterousness of the idea, before a loud "BANG!" and a flash of fireworks from Fudge's wand stopped their shouting.
"Thank you. Now, while I understand the outrage, we have no other choice. If we refuse to give alms, those creatures will lay waste to all of us, including our children and families. There will be no Wizarding Britain left as those beasts will devour every viable soul in a Dementor Apocalypse! This…this is the only feasible alternative we have. Discreet missives have already been sent to our neighboring governments, all of whom are already quite aware of this disaster." The Minister sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "We have no other choice in the matter, I implore you all to understand." A few beats passed uncomfortably, but ultimately, the man received tense nods of agreement. Though they didn't speak, Saul Croaker and Control thought of the extremely uncomfortable conversation they would be having with Number 8 once this meeting adjourned.
Fudge gestured to Dolores to continue her report. "Yes…we have a year and a day to cure the violation, either by capturing at least three of the escapees and returning them to Azkaban, by arranging for at least three escapees to be Kissed ... or by finding at least three other people who have been convicted of crimes worthy of being sentenced to maximum security. Or, I suppose, some combination of those three options. Otherwise, on 22 June 1994, the treaty will become null and void, and the entire Dementor population will be free to ravage Britain at will."
Everyone stared at the woman with horrified expressions, before jumping at the soft clearing of a throat.
It was the Head of the Unspeakables, who nodded at Saul Croaker before turning to address the room's occupants.
"Have the Warden and his men been interviewed by the Aurors? Have they had their mind and memories properly assessed?" They all looked confused by the non-sequitur.
"At this point, no. They are all unconscious in St. Mungo's, on the mend from the ordeal." Kingsley's face twisted. "It's odd; our investigation revealed that the cause of their hospitalization was caused by the debris from the explosion, and not from any real spell damage. Any spell damage evidence came from first year, second year spells at best. Quite strange…"
"We will be conducting our investigation on that end as it pertains to their mind and memories, and will apprise you all as necessary." Confused nods were the only responses the two received.
"Well then," said Fudge after a few tense moments, "in light of the scope of the disaster facing us, do I have all your support?"
A Few More Hours Later…
Number 18 - the current Associate Director of the DoM's Mind Division and Tom Riddle's day job alter ego - only had one thought running through his mind as he listened to a furious Number 8 scream himself hoarse upon hearing Number 2 and Control's debrief of their earlier meeting with the Minister of Magic.
'Fuck, fuck, fuckitty, fuck, fuck FUCK!'
AN 1: McLaggen is a Scottish surname, an anglicized form of the Gaelic "Mac Gille Adhagain", meaning "son of the servant of Adocan (Adam)". In AD, House McLaggen will have some powerful Druid mage ancestors/ancestresses, details of which will be made apparent in future chapters regarding Hecuba. Despite her unfortunate marriage to the abominable Goyle Snowman., she is a very powerful and capable witch.
AN 2: According to HP Wandlore, Rowan wands produce powerful, hard-to-break Defensive Charms, a prized wand wood of protection. Rowan wands were also noted for its believed disassociation with the Dark Arts, often happily placed with the clear-headed and the pure-hearted, though Ollivander noted that this reputation for virtue ought not to fool anyone didn't mean weak-hearted as it could outperform more powerful wands in head-to-head duels.
AN 3: For Damocles Rowle I'm envision Rutger Hauer (fancast). House Rowle will be of greater relevance in future chapters, so stay tuned!
AN 4: Though Giles and Albert are both of House Chernobog in PoS, I decided to switch it up in AD, as Albert's sorting will be relevant come Year 4 or so. Vasilka as a Storm Queen (House Peruna) is quite fitting, considering she is shamelessly arrogant and egotistical if her aforementioned vanity is any indicator. Her name also means "Queen" in her native Bulgarian tongue. She only follows House Selwyn because they provide the resources she needs to be, well, herself. As mentioned, she is played by Catherine Zeta Jones (Legend of Zorro era). More on her later.