Chapter 45
The mood within the office was one of curiosity as the Aurors waited to see who would be replacing Smith. With all that had happened in recent days, it had all but slipped Amelia's mind that the man would be leaving the previous day.
Smith had made his rounds throughout the week, bidding farewell to his subordinates, but for most, they'd been too exhausted to truly comprehend what was happening.
Now, Smith was gone, and they were waiting on tenterhooks to see who would arrive instead.
"What do you think?" Imelda asked.
"I don't know," Amelia answered honestly. "There are very few who would even want the job, let alone with everything happening. It's a tonne of stress to take on."
Imelda nodded her agreement, and Amelia quirked an eyebrow as Grimm entered with another man in tow.
"Well, bugger," she murmured.
Imelda frowned as she took in the man's appearance before looking at Amelia questioningly.
"Barty Crouch," she explained. "He's been a prosecutor for the Wizengamot for years. Most of the people in Azkaban are in there because of him. I shouldn't be surprised that he's taken this job. He's ambitious but should be competent."
"What's he like?"
"I can't say I know him, but from what I've seen during trials, he's ruthless and unforgiving. It will be interesting to see the approach he takes."
"What do you think he will do?"
"He will want to go for the throat," Amelia answered. "He will want Riddle defeated quickly and his supporters in Azkaban. The one thing he has going for him is that he will not be bribed, blackmailed, or intimidated by anyone. He might just be Riddle's worst nightmare in office."
"Alright, that's enough out of you lot," Grimm called, silencing the room. "As you are all aware, it was Smith's last day as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and I am pleased to introduce his replacement. I expect many of you will know of him, but for those that don't, this is Bartemius Crouch, long time prosecutor on behalf of the Wizengamot. I'm sure you will join me in giving him a warm welcome."
Crouch did not even flinch nor did his expression change as he was applauded.
His gaze merely swept across the room and he nodded, his moustache twitching almost irritably.
"Thank you, Grimm," he said confidently, gesturing for the man to take a step back so that he could address the Aurors. "As things stand, we find ourselves at war with a man and his followers who wish to sow the seeds of fear amongst us and see them thrive. I will not tolerate it, and I expect Riddle and his ilk to be dealt with quickly and dealt with by us. I must say, I have been rather disappointed that it has taken a member of the public to do our job when it mattered, and it is high time you pull your damned socks up. I will be reviewing your files, and all of you will be completing a new training programme approved by me. That is all, for now."
Crouch marched from the room and slammed his office door behind him, leaving behind a group of confused and unhappy Aurors.
The jab he'd taken at Harry had not been missed by Amelia, nor any other as they discussed what had happened amongst themselves.
"I'd like to see that git in the thick of it," one of the Aurors snorted.
Amelia nodded her agreement, though she didn't say anything.
She was rather peeved by Crouch's comment, and even Grimm appeared to be rather displeased.
The new Head of the department had not endeared himself to the others, and Amelia didn't expect he intended to.
Crouch might just be Voldemort's worst nightmare, but he might just be that of his subordinates too.
"Well, he doesn't pull any punches, does he?" Imelda asked.
Amelia shook her head.
"No, he doesn't," she agreed.
"Still, he shouldn't be talking shit about Jameson," Imelda sighed. "If it wasn't for him, we'd be much worse off than we have been. Just imagine how many more would've died at Hogsmeade and in Portsmouth."
"Crouch is old school," Amelia said with a shrug. "Maybe he'll realise soon enough what it is we are up against, and then he'll be grateful for Harry."
"How is the man in your life?" Imelda asked with a grin.
"Away," Amelia replied. "He's been gone for almost two days now, and I don't know when he'll be back. Hopefully at least a few days before he returns to Hogwarts."
"I wish I had a professor like him," Imelda said with a grin.
"What's that supposed to me?" Amelia questioned amusedly.
"Just that my education would've been better," Imelda returned. "He knows his stuff."
Amelia hummed as the younger woman grinned.
"And it doesn't hurt that he's…"
"I would choose your next words very carefully," Amelia warned.
"I was only going to say that people think highly of him."
"They do."
"And that he's rather easy on the eyes," Imelda added, leaving the office quickly.
Amelia could only shake her head as she followed and made a note to mention the woman's the next time an opportunity presented itself when Harry was around.
It would be rather amusing to see her reaction when she did.
Still, Amelia didn't know when that would be, and given the revelation that Crouch had replaced Smith, she certainly had more than enough on her plate to keep her occupied until Harry came home.
(Break)
The first thing he'd noticed when he'd arrived in Minsk was that the city still very much bore the marks of the muggle some two decades prior. Although the Russians had gone to great lengths to restore and rebuild, the damage remained to serve as a reminder of all that had been lost.
Harry wouldn't pretend to know or understand the history of what had happened, but the region had certainly not been spared the attention of the Germans, and the countless plaques and memorials that had been erected in the intervening years told him all he needed to know how just how Minsk had fared.
Nonetheless, he wasn't here for a history lesson or to revisit the past. He was here awaiting the arrival of one of the men who'd attempted to breach the protections around his home.
Although Ghost had been able to tell him little about him, Harry did know exactly who the man was being sent to apprehend, so he'd chosen to beat him to the proverbial punch.
Ivan Petrovitch had been a black-market dealer during the Grindelwald era and had been imprisoned for selling regulated and illegal goods. In addition to this, he'd been convicted of espionage, though the evidence against him had been flimsy at best.
For his crimes, when he'd been captured almost a decade after the war had concluded, he'd been sentenced to eighteen years in prison.
He'd been one of the inmates to escape during Greyback's liberation and had been on the run since.
Perhaps foolishly, he'd returned to Minsk, and had been keeping a low profile since, though not low enough.
It had taken Harry less than thirty-six hours to locate Petrovitch, and he'd not let him out of his sight since.
Given that another highly trained Hit-Wizard was due to arrive soon, he expected it would not take long for his feat to be replicated.
Whether Petrovitch was recaptured or not didn't matter to Harry.
There was only one person he was interested in apprehending, and in the coming hours, he hoped to have done so.
Since he'd made it to Minsk, he'd been pondering what he would do when the man was at his mercy, and in truth, he wouldn't know until it was so.
Perhaps the man would be willing to talk without little pressure, though Harry doubted it.
His task would not be made easier, and he expected quite the resistance to whatever extraction method he chose.
Still, Harry was in no doubt that he would learn something of use, and he would do so by any means necessary.
Instinctively, his hand twitched his wand, but he fought the urge to draw it as he watched Petrovitch leave the café he'd been sitting in.
The man shot a furtive glance around to ensure he wasn't being followed, but suspected nothing as Harry fell into step a short distance behind him, concealed within the folds of his cloak, though he stopped at sudden appearance of a man he'd not even detected.
"Hello, Ivan," he greeted the Russian, disarming him with a flick of his wand.
With him now in the open, Harry immediately felt the familiarity of the magic and knew that his would-be assailant had arrived, and much sooner than he'd anticipated.
"Dubois!' Ivan gasped. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that. What are you doing here?"
Harry frowned at the interaction between the men.
Evidently, they knew one another, and he did not believe it to be a coincidence that the Frenchman shared the name of the wayward wandmaker.
Dubois chuckled as he clapped Petrovitch on the shoulder.
"Unfortunately for you, it's time to take you in. Sorry, but orders from the top."
"No! You said you would keep me out of it! I've done all you've asked of me."
"And you have done so well, Ivan," Dubois replied sarcastically. "If it was up to me, I'd let you go, but I have to keep the ICW happy, don't I? I'm afraid you are the sacrifice this time."
Ivan yelped and attempted to flee into a nearby alleyway, only to be struck cleanly between the shoulders by a stunning spell.
Dubois tutted as he approached the downed man.
"I really wish you hadn't of done…"
He was cut off by a dull thud echoing off the walls, and the man collapsed to the ground in a heap from where Harry had clubbed him with a heavy blow.
Wasting no time and concerned that the magic cast by Dubois would garner the attention of the Ministry, Harry hurriedly bound the two men before apparating away, determined to get to the bottom of whatever information he could extract from both.
(Break)
Crouch Succeeds Smith!
By Barnabas Cuffe
In what can only be considered a surprising move, Bartemius Crouch, Former Chief Prosecutor of the Wizengamot, was yesterday named as the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, replacing the long-time holder of the position, Michael Smith.
When approached for an explanation for the change, Minister Leach had this to say:
'Michael Smith announced his intention to retire several months ago and we have been seeking his replacement since. With the current climate in Britain, Barty was the perfect candidate, and I expect he will serve the public at large as exceptionally in his new role as he has on the Wizengamot. There is nothing duplicitous about the change, and we are very proud of the service given by Michael Smith. Everyone at the Ministry wishes him a happy retirement, which he has undoubtedly earned.'
The Dark Lord scowled at the article Avery had brought along before shifting his gaze towards him.
"What does this mean for us?"
"In the scheme of things, very little," Avery assured him, "but Crouch is not Smith. He will push to use the full extent of the law, and he will do so without hesitation. Any plea will fall on deaf ears, and there is not a man in the country who knows the law better than him. He could be a problem for our men who are caught."
Voldemort nodded.
"Then perhaps it will be prudent to give the newest Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement a warm welcome," he mused aloud. "His appointment changes nothing, and I want him to learn that immediately."
"What do you have in mind, my lord?" Avery asked.
The Dark Lord smiled as he pondered what he would do and nodded to himself as his plan began to take shape.
(Break)
It came as no surprise to Albus that the first thing Barty would do upon being appointed as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be to call a meeting of the Wizengamot, as was his prerogative.
Immediately, the Chief Warlock noticed that many were displeased by Michael Smith's replacement, all of them likely harbouring loyalty and support for Tom.
Barty was indeed an imposing man and had proven it over the years in this very room.
Those who had allied themselves with the Dark Lord knew that his appointment was problematic for them. Not only was Barty as cutthroat as they came when it came to prosecutions, but he was one of the very men Tom and his ilk claimed to represent.
Barty would not take kindly to that.
When all were gathered, and even the public gallery was filled to capacity, Minister Leach nodded to Albus, indicating that he should begin the meeting.
Clearing his throat, he tapped his gavel atop the podium, and the room fell silent.
"I call this meeting to order," he declared. "As the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch has requested our presence here today, and I give the floor to him."
Crouch stood from his chair next to Minister Leach, his gaze hard as he took in those in attendance before addressing his colleagues.
"I will not waste my time introducing myself," he declared. "We are facing an ongoing, catastrophic problem, and I intend to resolve it. To do so, I require the full support of the Wizengamot, and I ask that you implement the recommendations I will present to you today."
Some murmurs broke out amongst the gathered Lords and ladies, and Barty waited for them to cease before continuing.
"I want you to listen to me when I say this because I cannot stress it enough. Britain has never faced a threat like this. Riddle has proven he is willing to do unprecedented things to achieve his goals, whatever they may be. He has attacked our muggle counterparts, used fiendfyre in a public place, and even brought giants to Britain to use against us. He has recruited the Dementors, and already, he has murdered and tortured his way across the length and breadth of this country. Drastic measures must be implemented, or the death and destruction will continue. Now, my first recommendation is that any person or persons arrested in connection with Riddle's activities be questioned under Veritaserum to substantiate their involvement with the movement."
Albus nodded his agreement, but there were those who would clearly protest.
Crouch, however, allowed none to speak as he continued, cutting off any objections firmly.
"Secondly, the Aurors should be granted the powers to use whatever force is necessary when responding to attacks," he declared. "In my hand is a stack of reports from our medical professionals pertaining to the causes of death of each person discussed within. More than eighty percent of them were subjected to either the killing curse or the Cruciatus curse, and many both. Our Aurors must be given the means to combat this, and lethal force should not be dismissed if it is necessary. Eleven Aurors died during the giant attack, and several remain injured. These men and women defend us, and they should be able to do so using whatever means they have at their disposal."
Albus frowned at the recommendation.
He did not believe that fighting fire with fire would end well, which was why he was not in Crouch's position.
Tough decisions needed to be made, and with Tom and his followers only too willing to kill and torture, Albus knew it was logical and necessary to grant such powers to those fighting against them.
Harry certainly had no reservations, and Albus did not doubt that had saved his life on more than one occasion.
"Barty, we cannot just grant such powers," Leach interjected worriedly.
"Is this not the damned government?" Barty bit back irritably. "This is the one body in the country that can grant those powers, and it must be done. Mark my words, Minister, if we do not implement these recommendations, more innocent people are going to die, and before we act as needed, it might just be too late. If you are unwilling to support this, then maybe you should reconsider your position."
Albus could not think of a time that the atmosphere in the Wizengamot chambers had felt so tense as Barty and Leach glared at one another.
"You are out of line, Barty!" Leach responded.
"And you are out of your depth, Minister," Barty returned. "I am not here to make friends, and I certainly will not hesitate to step on toes. I am here on behalf of the people who look to us to protect them, and so far, we have failed miserably. This is a time for strength and decisiveness, and the longer we delay the inevitable, the worse it will be. I implore you to consider my recommendations carefully, and whilst you do, I will be doing the job I was given. Do yours, Minister."
With that, Crouch all but stormed out of the room, ignoring the flashes of the cameras following him, and slammed the door shut.
Immediately, the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot began talking amongst themselves, most taken aback by what had happened, some troubled, and others undoubtedly willing to support the measures Barty had suggested.
It would be a long day, and though Albus could see the brewing of a political storm, he could not help but reflect on the astuteness of the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Those who opposed the measures would have their character and loyalty called into question, and those who remained neutral would also be suspected.
Albus didn't know whether Barty truly expected his efforts to bear fruit, but what he'd done, whether inadvertently or not, was draw lines on the political battlefield.
All that remained to be seen was where each Lord and Lady would make their stand.
(Break)
"It's amazing how miserable this place feels without anyone here," Imelda commented as they made their way through Diagon Alley.
Although some of the businesses remained open, most had been closed since the giant attack and were operating an owl-order service only.
Amelia nodded.
"It's like the life has been sucked out of the place."
"Hogsmeade is the same," Imelda sighed. "My father said this is what the continent was like during the war against Grindelwald. What was that?" she sighed as something disturbed the bins nearby.
"Just a cat," Amelia huffed, shooing the creature away. "Come on, we'd best get back to our post. Shacklebolt and Dawlish will take over."
They returned to their spot by the closed owl emporium and continued to watch, waving at the passing Kingsley when he passed them by a few moments later.
"How long do you think we will be working doubles?"
Amelia shrugged.
"As long as necessary, I suppose. I can't see Crouch letting up until Riddle is gone."
"Great," Imelda groaned, her wand snapping upwards and aiming over Amelia's shoulder.
"Lower it, you damned fool," a feminine voice whispered harshly in the darkness. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be breathing. I'm here to talk with Bones."
Imelda continued to point her wand at the shadowy figure, and Amelia frowned, ready to defend herself if needed.
"What do you want?" she asked cautiously.
"To speak with Jameson," the woman replied, briefly stepping into the light.
Amelia didn't recognise her, but there was something undeniably familiar about her.
"Who are you?"
The woman laughed.
"My name is Cassiopeia Black. Jameson will know why I wish to speak with him. Tell him to write to me at his earliest convenience, and you should keep your wits about you, Bones. You can't see them yet, but they're here, and so is he."
With that, she seemed to fade into the very shadows obscuring her, and it was as though a veil of fog was lifted as Amelia became aware of the presence of many she'd not felt this evening.
"DOWN!"
She seized Imelda by the shoulders and forced them both to the ground as the building behind them exploded.
They were sent skidding across the width of the alley, and Amelia's ears rang painfully. She knew, however, that she could not remain where she was, not when such violence had erupted around them.
"Come on, you need to get up," she grunted, attempting to pull Imelda to her feet, only to be greeted by a sight that would haunt her for the rest of her days.
A large piece of jagged stone had penetrated the woman's neck and protruded grotesquely through her throat.
Imelda's eyes remained open, wide in shock, but ultimately, lifeless, and Amelia swallowed deeply.
Despite how harrowing the ordeal was to lose someone so suddenly and whom she'd been speaking with, she was still in danger but utterly furious beyond her own comprehension.
Although her ears continued to ring terribly, Amelia shifted her attention to the marauding masked men and women and raised her wand to unleash a torrent of spells amongst them.
Everything she did was instinctual, and she felt almost nothing as, one by one, they fell victim to her onslaught.
(Break)
With only a few days until the start of term, Albus was enjoying the last of his free time before the students returned to the castle. Having finally finished all of the tasks requiring his attention, he'd decided to simply enjoy the peace and serenity of the castle.
He'd taken a few turns around the grounds and even visited the kitchens to speak with some of the elves he seldom saw.
When he was content that the creatures were happy and thriving, he'd visited Hagrid for a cup of tea, and had met with some of his closer acquaintances to discuss the meeting of the Wizengamot.
They agreed that something had to be done outside of the Ministry to combat Tom and his followers, and each contributed their own ideas about what that was.
Albus had taken note of them and was currently pondering how he would call the group together when needed and what other tasks they could undertake, save for intervening during attacks.
The group needed to be proactive in taking Tom down, and with some in rather advantageous positions, Albus was confident they would prove their worth to the war effort.
Although Albus did not necessarily agree with Barty's intentions, he was right about one thing; they were at war with Tom.
"Albus, are you there?"
"Alastor, shouldn't you be recovering?" the headmaster asked the man who had appeared in his fireplace.
"I am," Alastor assured him, "but something is happening in Diagon Alley. My Auror card is going haywire."
"An attack?"
"It can't be anything else."
Albus nodded as he stood, pondering if he should send for the others.
Deciding to do so, he penned a short missive and duplicated it several times.
"Fawkes!"
The phoenix appeared in a column of fire, his usually black eyes flashing the curious white of late.
"I need you to take these immediately," Albus requested.
With a trill, Fawkes snatched up the notes and vanished, and Albus readied himself for what he might come upon in the coming moments.
Using his privilege as the headmaster of the school, he apparated away from his office and, only a moment later, found himself in what he could only describe as a fight for his life.
Buildings lay in ruin, and the smell of burning permeated the air.
It was a scene that was becoming commonplace, and with a grim nod, he threw himself into the fray, joining the dozens of Aurors who were attempting to fend off Tom's followers.
(Break)
He'd not intended to find himself with two unconscious men, but to Harry, it didn't matter. Dubois would undoubtedly be uncooperative, but Petrovitch was certainly the type to have loose lips, especially when it was made clear that his life was on the line.
Harry had kept them both stunned while he suitably prepared the room he had commandeered in a dilapidated building.
They wouldn't be disturbed here.
Ensuring that everything was in order and that there was no chance either could give him the slip, he searched both, relieving them of anything other than the clothes on their backs.
As expected, Dubois carried very little.
There were a few coins in one of his pockets, a wand, and two portkeys in another, along with an emergency medical kit, just in case he was injured in the line of duty.
Petrovitch carried only a wand and less than a galleon in wealth.
Nodding to himself, Harry decided to begin with the Russian national, and with a flick of his wand, the man's eyes fluttered open.
He was positively alarmed when he realised his predicament, and as his eyes fell upon the bound Dubois, he panicked.
Petrovitch began rambling in his native tongue animatedly, and it wasn't until Harry cast a translation charm could he make head or tail of what he was saying.
"You have no idea what you have done!" Petrovitch exclaimed. "Do you know who he is?"
"I do," Harry answered. "Now, how is it that you know him?"
Petrovitch shook his head.
"He will kill me if I say anything."
"And I will make the last moments of your life miserable if you don't," Harry returned severely. "Tell me what you know, Petrovitch, and I will set you free. You won't have to worry about Dubois following you. He will be dead before morning."
The man's eyes widened.
"You can't," he whispered. "If you kill him, they will come for you."
"Who are they?" Harry asked.
Petrovitch swallowed deeply.
"People," he answered lamely. "Very dangerous people. You're already dead."
Harry snorted.
"Manon Dubois?"
Petrovitch's eyes all but bulged from their sockets at the mention of the woman.
"How do you know about her? No one is supposed to know about her."
"I do," Harry returned. "I know about her, Laurent, and their connection Grindelwald."
"Then you know too much."
"And what do you know, Mr Petrovitch? And do remember, your life depends solely on how cooperative you are."
Petrovitch shook his head defeatedly.
"You'll let me go?"
"If I am satisfied that you have told me the truth," Harry answered. "I would advise you not to lie."
Petrovitch nodded defeatedly.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
"How are you involved in all of this?"
"I'm not, not really," the man sighed. "I used to trade on the black market during the Grindelwald years. I'd smuggle things from Russia into France and other countries. Well, I got caught in France by the Aurors in forty-two, and they locked me up. A few days later, Dubois paid me a visit. He was just an Auror at the time, and we made a deal. I would smuggle things for him in exchange for my freedom. I agreed, and I did. When the war was over, I was arrested in Belgium. No one came for me this time, but then I got my chance to escape not so long ago. Within a couple of days…"
"Dubois found you."
"He did," Petrovitch confirmed. "We struck the same deal, and I've been working for him again. I've been mostly carrying forged documents and other things from one place to another. Well, curiosity got the better of me during one of my jobs, and I took a peek."
"And you were caught."
Petrovitch nodded.
"But not until I handed the documents over. They knew they'd been opened, and they were furious. I've not been given any jobs since."
Harry could only shake his head.
"What were the documents?"
"I'm not sure, but they mentioned several names, including Manan Dubois, but she's using a different name now."
"How do you know that?"
"Because she was the one I handed the documents to," Petrovitch revealed. "She's older now, but I recognised her from the newspaper pictures when she lowered her disguise to threaten me. She's posing as Laurent's wife, but they killed her years ago when she discovered that Laurent planned to defect."
"And they replaced her with Dubois."
Petrovitch nodded.
"I swear, I didn't know what I was getting myself involved in. I just wanted my freedom."
Harry frowned thoughtfully as he pondered what he'd just learned.
"What else was on the documents?"
"Just numbers mostly, and some other names I didn't know. I think it was a code of sorts."
Harry expected as much.
People like Laurent and his associates did not survive doing what they did for so long by being so careless.
At the very least, he had a fresh lead to pursue, and he knew what had happened to the elusive Manan Dubois.
"What about him?" he asked, jerking a thumb towards the other Dubois.
"Pierre," Petrovitch explained. He is Manan's nephew and a mole purposely placed as a Hit Wizard. His ability and motivation made him a shoo-in. With what allegedly happened to his aunt, they weren't going to turn him away. From my understanding, it was Laurent who personally recommended him."
Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"I want the memory of you opening those documents."
Petrovitch readily agreed, and when it was extracted, Harry released him.
"You do realise that you cannot let him go, but if you don't, they will come for you. You can't hide from them," the Russian warned.
Harry chuckled.
"They're already after me, and it is not your concern, Mr Petrovitch. They will all be dead soon enough."
Petrovitch frowned as he eyed Harry curiously.
"Who are you?" he asked. "There's something familiar, but I can't quite place it."
In response, Harry hissed gently, and a large python appeared.
It wrapped itself around Dubois, and Petrovitch gasped.
"The Serpent!" he choked. "But, aren't you dead?"
"Very much alive," Harry chuckled amusedly. "I would be on your way, Mr Petrovitch, and do a better job of hiding this time."
Petrovitch nodded and slowly left the room, his gaze not leaving Harry until the door was closed behind him.
"Now, it's your turn, Mr Dubois," Harry muttered, reviving the man with a flick of his wand.
He was more confused than Petrovitch had been, and when he realised the predicament he found himself in, he grinned almost triumphantly.
"Oh, you are a dead man," he goaded before laughing.
Harry said nothing and allowed Dubois to have his moment.
"If I were you, I'd let me go," he urged.
"And if I were you, I would start talking rather quickly," Harry returned, aiming his wand at the man.
Dubois snorted and spat at his feet.
"There's nothing you can do that will make me talk."
"With this?" Harry asked, holding up the wand. "I expect you're trained enough to resist the Imperius Curse and even hold your tongue under the Cruciatus. I bet you'd allow your mind to break before talking."
Dubois looked at him challengingly, and Harry released a deep sigh.
"So be it," he muttered, conjuring a hammer.
"What are you doing?" Dubois demanded to know.
Harry snorted humourlessly as he held the implement aloft.
"Oh, this? Well, you might not know, but the muggles have some quite interesting ways of getting people to talk. This is just the start of our time together, Mr Dubois and I'm afraid it only gets worse and worse from here."
Since he'd woken, Dubois seemed to be nervous for the first time, and he unleashed a roar of agony as smashed the hammer into his left knee.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Harry questioned as the man whimpered. "I suppose we should even things up."
When the screaming died down again, Dubois snivelled in his chair as he stared at his broken kneecaps.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I do not take kindly to innocent people being murdered by your lot," Harry answered. "It was a mistake coming to my home, Dubois, and you are going to learn that, but not before you tell me what I want to know. Now, where do we begin with these?" he asked, conjuring a rather vicious-looking pair of pliers.
(Break)
Amelia didn't know how long she'd been fighting, but throughout the duration, several people had arrived and were targeting the Dark Lord's followers, including Dumbledore.
It proved to be quite the bolster to the Ministry forces, who were struggling with the numbers so heavily stacked against them, but as ever, Amelia would not concede defeat.
Already, she had eliminated countless threats against her and her colleagues, and yet, Riddle's followers continued to appear in front of her in an endless wave of masked men and women.
She didn't know how many had opted to ally themselves with the man, but he'd amassed a force that did indeed pose a legitimate threat to the Ministry of Magic.
"BONES!"
Kingsley's warning came just quickly enough that she could avoid the attempt to curse her in the back.
Amelia returned fire, and the man who fell victim to her spell screamed.
He collapsed to the ground and began clawing at his face, and as he removed his mask, Amelia recognised him immediately.
Corvus Lestrange.
Before she could subdue the man, however, he panicked at the realisation he'd been identified and activated a portkey, though Amelia suspected it wouldn't be long before he sought medical attention.
The curse she'd used was one that Jameson had taught her, and it was a most unpleasant spell to fall victim to, especially if it could not be countered quickly.
Still, with the onslaught against them only seeming to get worse, Amelia could not dwell on the fate of Lestrange, not when they were still outnumbered as they were.
"Bloody hell, that's not good," Kingsley gasped, pointing towards a tall, pale figure approaching them.
With Dumbledore seemingly unaware of Riddle's arrival, the Dark Lord stalked towards where Amelia and what remained of her group were doing their utmost to fend off their attackers.
He smiled almost hungrily as his gaze came to rest on her, though he paused for just the briefest of moments to take in the devastation around him.
Riddle was revelling in it.
He relished that he was responsible for what was happening around him, but he was still unsatisfied with the death and destruction he'd caused.
The Dark Lord was out for blood, and it seemed he as intent on spilling Amelia's.
Readying herself, she released a deep breath in anticipation of the impending clash, only for her eyes to widen as a loud screeching filled the air.
Despite being in the throes of battle, almost everyone looked towards the sky, and Amelia was taken aback as a figure landed between her group and the approaching Tom Riddle.
It fell almost deathly silent as the two men stared at one another, and then a sudden chill filled the air.
Amelia could only look on as the man hurled a flurry of spells towards Voldemort, who was taken aback by the means of his arrival and even more so as an enormous, shadowy serpent seemed to appear from nowhere.
The snake struck violently at everything garbed in a black robe, and chaos ensured as the spells aimed towards it merely bounced off.
Seeing their attempts to harm it were having no effect, Riddle's followers began to panic as the snake continued to eviscerate them before turning towards the man himself.
Red eyes.
All Amelia could see in the smoky mass was a pair of narrowed red eyes, and as it lunged towards Voldemort, the man banished it backwards with a desperate wave of his wand.
Undeterred, the serpent struck again, and a loud crackling sound reverberated around the alley as it shattered the hastily conjured shield, sending Riddle sprawling.
With his followers fleeing, the Dark Lord evidently thought better of remaining behind and vanished before the snake could attack again.
Amelia was almost rooted to the spot as the man who'd arrived turned to look at her, and though his features were quickly obscured by the same smoke his snake was seemingly made of, she could not ignore the familiarity of him.
"Harry?" she whispered.
Before she could look closer, the man was gone, and Amelia shook her head.
No.
The man may have somewhat resembled Harry, but it wasn't him. This man was much older, and yet, in the moment, she would swear they were his eyes looking back at her.