I continued my quest of self-improvement and preparing traps for Dumbledore with the help of the Time-Turner. The Auror training program took five years to complete. I may not be training to become an Auror, but for me five years would be gone in less than one. Soon the enemy would meet a very different Dark Lord, notwithstanding my persistent failures in Light Magic.
At the moment, I was approaching a nondescript house as disillusioned Elena. The wards were nominal - strong magic traces in a muggle neighborhood would have raised suspicions. I came here to visit the only Order member I located through Fletcher. I'd rather send someone else, but, alas, they would not understand. Or might kill the target during capture.
I quickly stunned and frisked the old woman, then dragged her to one of our secondary bases.
Arabella Figg was a squib. Albus, you accepted a squib into the Order!
No, I'd welcome anyone, down to a muggle or a bird, if only they were useful. But how did he account for information leaks?! Vows would not take on a squib! Was it something unique to the Elder Wand or a clever trick I could modify to fit my goals? Plenty of muggle veterans would sell their souls for new arms and legs. Give them new faces, new fingerprints, new documents to match… I would need to very carefully examine Figg… Much more than a day's work, all the while I already had my hands full with studying horcruxes, Pandora's sight… And I did not know where to even begin with Albus's golden flame, disembodiment by name, and Pandora's interpretation of Diana Crouch's healing ritual…
A few hours later, I was preparing for my first acts of public relations sabotage against the Order of the Phoenix. I did not know what else to squeeze out of zombie-Hagrid and decided to dispose of him with a bang. The original idea was to have him commit some gruesome crime. We would then publish the story of this unfathomably cruel half-giant (photos of a large fat man with tangled beard included), mentioning that he was expelled from Hogwarts on suspicions of murder. And this monster lived next to children at Dumbledore's behest!
But for one, nobody who knew Hagrid personally would believe it. The most damage this particular half-giant could do was get drunk, lean on a fence and break it. He did not have the foresight to get involved with the Death Eaters. Second, the racist Lord would never accept a non-human into his ranks.
In the end, I went with the only plausible option: playing on Hagrid's well-known fondness for dangerous animals. After all, he truly was responsible for acromantulas settling in the Forbidden Forest. If we framed it correctly… I'd only need to cover him in charms to conceal the fact that he was dead and bathe him in dragon blood to imitate his natural magic resistance…
With a habitual movement, I picked up the Time-Turner.
I-14 entered Horace's cell. I had finally purged him of all potions and antidotes. After pouring the Veritaserum based on his blood into his unconscious body, I woke my old potions professor.
"First, you are going to tell me the names and addresses of everyone you have ever accepted into the Slug Club and which of them have the most potential with the Dark Arts."
Horace began to speak in monotone, and a quill wrote everything down. I could always use more recruits. Then we would move on to his proprietary potions, secret stashes, conversations with Albus…
I-11 was teaching Lily occlumency. After the lesson, she voiced her desire to meet with Wormtail.
"Why do you need that, Lily?" I asked.
"I want to see his eyes."
My first thought was that she wanted to subject him to legilimency. A terrible idea: her legilimency skills topped at frying the brains of non-resisting targets. My second thought was that she wanted to kill Peter and take his eyes as a trophy. Giving up on this ridiculous guessing game, I entered her mind. It turned out she wanted to see how Peter lived with himself after betraying the Potters. Not only the Potters, she did not know the half of it… Her original thirst for his blood has waned. Not good…
"It is a terrible idea. He knew you well. If he realizes you are not Elena, I would be forced to kill one of you," I said. In truth, I counted on Peter not surviving for much longer.
"Please, my Lord, arrange me a meeting with him. I will be careful," she whined.
"You'll have your meeting. Do keep yourself under control this time. If everything goes completely wrong, you may defend yourself. I will stand nearby under concealment, lest we have a replay of the situation with Snape."
She was about to protest that this was deeply personal.
"You meet him on my terms or not at all," I said.
"I agree."
I frantically ran through the options of setting up their fight to the death… I got to know her rather well thanks to frequent legilimency. If I chose my words carefully, she would reject them and feel motivated to do exactly what I needed…
Shortly after, I was already speaking to Peter.
"My Lord, your plan to liquidate Lupin is brilliant, but I am afraid Dumbledore will suspect me…"
"I know how to send him on a false trail. Wormtail, I have a special assignment for you. Fulfilling it will earn you a place in the Inner Circle and make Dumbledore forget all about checking you."
"I am listening, my Lord."
"After you kill Lupin with me watching your back, apparate to these coordinates. There, you will undergo an interview and a test duel. No Unforgivables! If you pass, you will be promoted."
"If I may ask, my Lord, who is going to test me?"
"My student."
"But my Lord, I thought she was dead?"
"No. But she is not at her best. You will drink potions, and she will go easy on you. Everything will look like your heroic deed. She fails to kill you, you escape to receive a new Order of Merlin and become Dumbledore's favorite."
The key to overcoming Dumbledore was planting an agent. Severus did an excellent job, but masking Peter was becoming harder and harder. And after this next stunt, his discovery would only be a matter of time. Dead men tell no tales, so he should be elegantly sacrificed in exchange for painting Lily black… He made the most likely candidate for her first killing curse.
"As you wish, my Lord," he answered.
Remus Lupin
Remus Lupin reached for the ringing receiver without opening his eyes .
"Hello," he mumbled, fighting off the sleep.
"Hey Remus, are you still asleep? It's noon!"
"Hi Peter. My night shift just ended at nine. Don't worry about it, we can talk."
Once upon a time, Lupin was a gifted Hogwarts student. His world was a fairy tale, his future looked brilliant… But after graduating, he realized the grim reality: nobody wanted a werewolf. A werewolf could not find a job. A werewolf could not qualify for a business license. Live off the land? Poaching was punishable by law. Escape to a country with unclaimed lands and live as a wolf? No one would let a dangerous XXXXX-class creature cross the border.
Albus offered him work as his personal bodyguard for five hundred galleons a month. Or as his gardener, for three hundred. Remus understood perfectly well it was a farce. Remus Lupin did not need anyone's charity! He would make it on his own.
It was hard. The wizarding world rejected him. He got by living as a muggle, despite the Ministry interfering every step of the way. Having a wand and a Hogwarts diploma helped, but he had no muggle credentials. No money for education. No knowledge to pass any school entrance exams. Tamper with everyone's memories? How would he forge papers at multiple locations simultaneously? He either had to beg Dumbledore or go to prison for illegal magic use. He considered working as a long-distance trucker, but his Order schedule made it impossible.
He was a werewolf. Once a month, he turned into a powerful, uncontrollable murder machine. And could transform at will at any time with the same results. This made werewolves outcasts.
In his human form, he retained some of his supernatural strength, endurance and senses, especially smell. He found a muggle job as a mover. He worked for five, got paid for two. One time, his "colleagues" tried to beat him out of jealousy. They failed. When his boss got curious how he could possibly be this strong, Remus almost went to prison for Obliviating them. Professor Dumbledore helped. Now Remus was smarter: he lifted no more than a human but never got tired. When the new employer questioned his endurance, Remus said he was a drug addict and did not get tired on the pills. The inane questions stopped.
All in all, he made enough money. For rent. As for food… it was easy to multiply with magic. But, of course, this was not his primary job. He was Dumbledore's only werewolf spy. The numbers of aggressive werewolves have been steeply increasing, which was strange because the neutrals stayed neutral…
Albus Dumbledore offered him a salary: two thousand galleons per month for risking his life on the job. Remus refused to take the money. He would never sell out his own kin, he worked for the Order because it was the right thing to do!
"I was just thinking… We never really talked about James's, Lily's and Harry's deaths. It doesn't feel right. Let's go to a muggle bar and drink to their repose? I know a good place," Peter suggested.
The Potters' murder ate at Remus's heart… How could he not realize Sirius Black was a traitor? Voldemort must have had a good laugh when the Potters made his man their secret keeper… Astoundingly, Peter defeated Black. Though, the traitor simply got too arrogant - to conduct a Dark ritual in the middle of London!
"All right. Let's meet today after five. This bar is not too expensive, I hope? Do they allow casual clothes?" Lupin asked. Peter recently came into money and invited him to attend his Order of Merlin award ceremony. Remus had to decline. What would he do there in his rags, play a fool?
"They let you in wearing anything you want. Don't worry, I will pay for everything."
"No. We split the bill. Give me the address, I will be there at five."
After exchanging a couple more words, they said their goodbyes. At five in the evening, Remus put on his non-work outfit and apparated to the bar. It was an average watering hole, some patrons looked even worse off than Remus.
Peter was already waiting and took him to a booth in the far corner. Remus usually avoided drinking, even if his werewolf body easily handled alcohol. Though he once made a good bit of money outdrinking other movers on a job…
They drank the first round, second, third… Reminisced about the good times with their late friends… It was as if talking to Peter broke an invisible wall in Remus. He mustn't cry, it would not bring them back… Thinking about Harry hurt the most. They were all adults who knew the risks, but how much of the world did a baby get to experience? Remus didn't know whether to laugh or cry: was only twenty but already thought he had seen everything… Curse this war…
Peter was talking about his life. Who could have guessed that the humblest Maradeur would accomplish so much! Order of Merlin, plenty of money… No, Remus was not jealous, but…
Sirius Black. Wealthy, handsome, a ladies' man. Dead and disgraced.
James Potter. Wealthy, handsome. Far from Black but still a womanizer. Dead.
Remus Lupin. A good student, a prefect. A werewolf and an outcast.
Lily Potter. Beautiful, kind, a good student… Hopefully she didn't suffer much before dying…
Sad, unbearably sad…
Two hours later, he decided it was time to wrap this up. He no longer had enough money to cover his half of the bill. Peter insisted on one last pint. Fine.
Remus picked up his beer but hesitated to drink it. Something felt off… His own reaction made sense, to a werewolf this much alcohol was a drop in the bucket. But Peter, shouldn't he be snoozing under the table or at least garble like Hagrid? But he was bright and chipper! Did he drink a potion to neutralize alcohol before coming here? Then what was the point of drinking? And he looked a bit tense…
Remus snatched out his wand and pointed it at Peter.
"What did I say when we pulled down Snivelus's pants under the Whomping Willow?"
"That it's easy to recognize a werewolf: he wears your clothes and answers to Remus Lupin. What's with you, friend? It's me, Peter. Here, I'm going to turn into a rat and back, watch."
And he indeed turned into Wormtail and back. Yes, it was definitely Peter. His paranoia must have been acting up again. Maybe Peter ate well? Or had alcohol evaporate through his mouth since was talking non-stop?
"Sorry. Nerves. I should probably finish drinking, my shift starts soon."
"I don't hold it against you. Let's drink this last one. To the Potters' souls!"
Peter sipped first from his mug, then from Remus's, then finished his own.
Remus again picked up his beer and sniffed it. The smell… Something was wrong with both of their drinks. They smelled… like ordinary beer, only more… artificial? A poison? Or just a bad batch? He checked it with charms. All clear. He scanned the entire bar. All clear. No invisible people, no magic disturbances… He took a big breath. What did humans smell like? To a werewolf, they smelled of everything: food, soap, sweat, deodorant, bodily fluids… And the two people two booths away smelled unnatural. A magically falsified smell? Two more wizards at a third-rate muggle pub?
"Peter, something is wrong with this beer. And those two people in that booth are strange. It is most likely a false alarm, but you should go to and bring someone from the Order. I'll keep an eye on them. Tell Albus-"
However, that very moment he got hit with a spell from above. He did not hear the words, but Moody had trained the entire Order to resist the Imperius. The world faded away, leaving only one very persuasive voice… It was such a bliss not to think about anything, to live at ease… This Imperius put Moody's to shame.
Peter only stared at him, unsure of what was happening. Gathering up the last of his willpower, Remus told him:
"I'm under Imperius… Call Dumbledore!" it took him over ten seconds to get the words out. He couldn't apparate. Couldn't reach his wand with hands that moved at snail speed.
"They are werewolves! I'll save you!" screamed Peter, jumping up from his seat and throwing around Depulsos.
The two suspicious men transformed into wolves and started to wreck the pub.
'Is Peter under Imperius too?' thought Lupin. He was still trying to resist the voice when a penetrator from above crippled his shields. Someone's vice telekinetic grip locked the mug in his hand and lifted it to his mouth. He pressed his lips together, but several drops of beer still made it inside. The moment they touched his throat, he felt the beast breaking free. He tried to fight it, but it felt the same as during the full moon. The monster took control. Remus saw, felt and understood everything but could not stop it. His claws and teeth tore into everything in sight on their own volition…
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter. Peter moved with the skill of an experienced soldier, as if guided by someone else's will. The two werewolves should have easily killed him, especially in a small enclosed space, but Peter somehow hit one with an Avada by predicting the beast's trajectory. The second wolf was about to rip Peter apart. He had no time to aim his wand. But it was as if an invisible hand pushed Peter ten feet to the side and threw the wolf at the opposite wall wrapped in ropes. The wolf almost instantly broke out of his binds but fell to Peter's second Avada. Remus knew for a fact Peter was not skilled at wandless magic, much less on this level.
Aside from a dozen of muggles with various degrees of injuries, only Remus and Peter remained alive. Remus's wolf tried to jump at the enemy, but his feet got glued to the floor. He growled, but the growl was cut short by another Avada.
Right after the operation, Peter made a chain of apparitions to a nondescript clearing. A number of amulets buried there shielded everything short of Fiendfyre from outside attention. He was greeted by Lily-Elena in a Death Eater uniform. I watched the two school friends' reunion disillusioned.
"I'm happy to see you, milady," Peter groveled, bowing low. A correct decision: the cardinal rule of talking to maniacs is not provoking them unless you can demonstratively crush them. "I hope your strength returns to you soon. The Dark Lord said you wished to speak to me," he continued politely. Elena had a reputation for using the Cruciatus at every opportunity, and Peter was a halfblood like Severus.
"Wormtail… Tell me how you ended up a Death Eater," Lily commanded. She cooled off in the past few months and no longer wished him death. A nice heart-to-heart chat would fix that.
In truth, Peter was not so bad. He joined out of fear. But he would never tell that to the Lord's student.
"I've always lived in Potter's and Black's shadow," he said. Lying about devotion only made sense if your occlumency outclassed the opponent's legilimency. Thus, Peter emphasized the profit of serving the Lord, as I instructed him. "I didn't have their money, their parents' connections, or their aristocratic status. Their everyday accomplishments were at the edge of my abilities. Lupin had none of their benefits either, but he was a good student, a prefect, a favorite of Dumbledore, who bent school rules in his favor. I was always left behind. Enough. I'm fed up with swimming against the current when others walk on their lofty bridge. My life is my own. When the Dark Lord offered to change it for the better, I accepted."
"And you didn't feel sorry Lily, James and Harry?"
He did. But own comfort came first.
"It was the Dark Lord's will. And Lily was just a mudblood!"
Peter was not a pureblood supremacist, but people often say what they think others want to hear. Especially if they have already suffered under torture curses for saying "muggleborn."
"Maybe you are just under Imperius?" Elena asked.
"No. Ever since I joined the Dark Lord, my life has been constantly improving! I have money, I have fame, and women love heroes."
"Money I understand, but where did you get fame?"
Peter's face flashed with confusion.
"Milady, everyone thinks Sirius Black was the Potters' secret keeper. To stop the truth from coming out, I killed him. It earned me the Order of Merlin."
Not reading newspapers is very bad for you. Oh, that's right, you are not allowed.
"You killed Sirius? James was not enough?"
"The Dark Lord has done more for me than all my so-called friends ever have! All his enemies shall die!" Peter exclaimed, playing up the fanaticism in hopes of quick dividends. "The Potters were only the beginning of my rise! I killed Black, and now Lupin! Not only it was profitable, I enjoyed it!"
As a theater critic would say, 'you are overacting!' But there were no professional critics present here.
Lily tried to convince herself that Peter had been threatened or put under Imperius. She desperately wanted to say she was Lily, but the vow did not let her. In the end, she settled on a half-measure and took off her mask. Her face was twisted with disgust.
"Peter, I want to look into your eyes," she said.
Wormtail was thinking. Loyalty was paramount. What ensured it -devotion, fear or greed- did not really matter. Expecting wandless nonverbal legilimency, he obediently stared into her eyes without blinking. Only Lily was not skilled in any form of legilimency whatsoever…
" Peter," I said in his mind. " Elena is satisfied with your loyalty. She will now proceed to test your battle skills. Don't hold back, she'll go easy on you. "
" Lily," I said in hers, " you blew it. He realized that the Lord's pureblood maniac student cannot act this way. Defend yourself! "
Confirming my words, Peter pulled out his wand and attacked.
"Stupefy! Bombarda! Reducto!" he began.
"Protego! Stupefy!" Lily responded.
The instincts Snape hammered into her brain took over. Their duel escalated beyond Hogwarts curriculum, but it was nothing impressive.
" How did he know? What do I do? " Lily asked.
" It is much easier to list everything you did right. Good job on not bowing to him. The rest was all wrong! You are a powerful witch, everyone expects you to treat others like dirt. If you don't, it looks suspicious. And pitying Lily or the werewolf is unthinkable! "
Lily demonstrated her water whip but did not land a single hit. No, she was not a complete imbecile. Peter moved too fast under his high dose of doping. The irony was, he posed zero threat. Bombarda? It wouldn't get through her shields! If, by some miracle, it did, it would meet a stack of defensive amulets. If the amulets failed, the universal shield I placed on her would activate.
" As for what you should do… If you ask, I will kill him for you, " I offered, knowing she would never accept.
" Can you erase his memories? " she asked while throwing five stunners in a row at Peter. He dodged every one. Snape brewed excellent potions…
Lily finally remembered to cast acceleration charms on herself and began to hit him with stunners and shield penetrators. Peter was holding on so far… She should have slowed him down but evidently did not know the charm.
" He learned what he shouldn't have because of your carelessness. Obliviating him is not foolproof. The memories can still be recovered at the cost of destroying his body. He must be killed now. "
" I don't want to kill anyone. Not even him… "
" Would you rather I did it? "
" What about imprisoning him? "
" It would not be secure, " I answered without directly saying no.
" I can't beat him. Will you help me? "
Not everything was so clear cut. Peter appeared to be winning, but he fought werewolves right before this and arrived already tired. The potions he took mobilized his existing reserves to increase his speed and reaction time - precisely what was needed against werewolves. Another minute or two of this tempo, and Lily would be able to take him down with her bare hands. He feared falling back on Unforgiveables: if anything happened to the Lord's student, his death would be very slow. And Lily was unlikely to exhaust her defenses before the fight ended…
" Lily, he is winning. He took high quality acceleration potions. Quickly, turn the fight in your favor before it's too late. Drop him with the Cruciatus, then finish him off. Or attack with Avada right away, " I urged her. " Or I can do it for you. "
" I don't need your help, " she predictably changed her mind.
I was watching her thoughts race chaotically. For a brief moment, she recalled some of the Lestranges' books she read while searching for information on horcruxes. To be honest, I panicked. What if she tried to cast something very Dark? When she inevitably fails, my concealment of the clearing would come off, and she might lose her arms! But almost immediately, her through turned to a safer direction: area attacks with standard spells.
Peter did not hesitate to large-scale explosive and fire curses. He believed that regardless of her health problems, the Lord's student would not fall to them. He was right.
Lily decided to try one of the fire spells she learned from Snape and practiced more than once. Taking into account Peter's excellent dodging, she blanketed the entire clearing. Everything burned, except the two most protected objects: her and me… She counted on Peter to wear himself out by holding off the flames. But Peter was not Severus. His already weakened shields could not handle this moderately-charmed fire. The result was obvious: a charred corpse. As for me, the fire stripped off all invisibility charms - concealment always came off the easiest.
Reflexively, Lily continued to throw stunners at the falling body. Then, realizing what she had done, she fell on her knees and started throwing up. And since all her defenses were two-sided, the vomit dripped down the side of her spherical shield…
It was my move.
"You Gryffindors are terrifying. Dumbledore doesn't want to kill me, so he tried to disembody me instead. You didn't want to Avada Peter, so you burned him alive. From the perspective of British magical law, you acted correctly: killing with Avada Kedavra is a life in Azkaban, killing by burning alive - around twelve years given a good attorney. But don't you think an Avada would have been more humane?" I said, dispelling her shields and cleaning her up.
Lily's thoughts flared with hatred. She reached for her dropped wand and instantly collapsed with a stopped heart. The vow was no joke. She could think about killing me all she wanted, but any intentional step to harm me would feel very unpleasant.
"The main priority is to protect my fragile image of not entirely a monster," I reminded myself, restarting her heart.
"Testing your vow was unnecessary. I don't understand, why are you angry at me? You wished to speak to Peter, and you did. You made a mistake in your act. He saw through the pretense and tried to stun you, to curry favor with the Lord for delivering a spy. I offered to help you: don't do anything, I will kill him. You refused. You killed him yourself, even though I would have used a much more humane method. How is any of it my fault?"
"You set everything up," she glowered.
"Which of you did I put under Imperius? You? Him? I didn't direct your hands! I warned you that meeting with Peter is a bad idea. You insisted and proceeded to kill my servant! And not just any servant, the one who was successfully spying on Dumbledore and has removed multiple Order members! Don't you think that if anyone has any right to complain, it is only I?"
Her thoughts whirled around what the Lord might demand for Peter's death. Or how he might punish her…
"Only for the sake of Severus Snape's accomplishments, I forgive you this first and last time. Never kill any of my people again!"
"My Lord, is he really… dead?"
Good question. From the perspective of muggle medicine, he was. The blast wave crushed his shields, the fire caused severe burns to the entire body. But he was alive until three stunners stopped his heart. In the absence of Dark Magic wounds or fatal brain damage, it was possible to show wonders of revival and put the patient back together. And that was exactly why I kept speaking: while we talked, the subject's brain cells were dying.
"Lily, I am not omnipotent. I can do much, but I can't resurrect… Although, if you want, I can make him get up, retaining his current smell and color. What do you prefer: zombie, inferus, lich? Maybe a skeleton?"
"No! Leave him be! What's going to happen to me now?"
"Nothing. As far as everyone is concerned, you killed a member of the Order. Very few know Peter served me. If they ask, say that the halfblood didn't show your enough respect."
On one hand, killing my own people was a strange plan. But after Lupin's death, Peter would have been subjected to a thorough investigation. One way or another, it was time for Elena to officially "come back to life." And "the werewolf princess" had a nice ring to it. I had to lure the werewolves and other non-humans to my side somehow. I was not racist, but personally dealing with them would be unbecoming of the Lord. Certain pureblood snobs wouldn't understand. Sending my student both showed concern for non-humans and respected the traditions…
I called the house elf to take her home, then pulled out my wavy wand to clean up Peter's murder scene and prepare my own version of events…
A journalistic investigation later uncovered that Remus Lupin, the right hand of his werewolf sire Greyback, had infiltrated the Order of the Phoenix. He successfully fed Dumbledore disinformation about the existence of "peaceful werewolves," whereas in reality all werewolves have long been serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lupin decided to avenge the death of his good friend and ally, a dangerous Death Eater Sirius Black. He invited two well-known Greyback's subordinates, known as Fang and Paws, to join him in his revenge. Heroic Peter Pettigrew saved several muggles from the dangerous beasts. Because werewolves were not human, his use of Unforgivables was not a punishable offense.
Albus Dumbledore's and DMLE investigations found no potions or any traces of outside tampering. For this act of valor, Peter was posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin, second class.
Having interrogated several werewolves, the Aurors determined the location where Fang and Paws should have returned to receive their reward. There, they found Peter's burned and mangled body. The heroic Peter tracked the werewolves' superior but overestimated his abilities and died. An additional inquiry later found that he was killed by the Lord's student herself. Peter received the first class of the Order of Merlin for his bravery.
Temporarily leaving aside the Time-Turner, I was getting ready to capture the Tonkses. We stood three hundred yards from their house, disillusioned. A modest house next to a tiny pond appeared a strange bubble in magical sight. Testing it with Narcissa's, Bella's and Sirius's blood confirmed Andromeda was definitely there. It was difficult to make a mistake from such short distance.
The plan was simple: Selwyn, Nott and Jugson break the wards and keep the area uninteresting to everyone on the outside. Malfoy with Crabbe and Golyle wait nearby in reserve. The Lestranges, Mulciber and I break in and quickly restrain everyone while they are asleep at four in the morning. The Dark Lord and five highly skilled wizards against a muggleborn, disowned Andromeda and a seven year old child should be perfectly safe.
Jugson's team finished the preparations. Nott cut himself and started muttering something. The assault team rushed towards the house.
We were met by half-naked Ted and Andromeda shooting some trifles. The internal connection brought a message from Rabastan: the girl fell to the very first sleeping charm, and he whisked her away. The parents went berserk. Ted started pelting us with fire as good as Lily's but quickly caught two Crucios. Andromeda apparently remembered her family education and tried to concoct something fancy. She got hit with Bella's wandless Cruciatus and lost consciousness. After searching the captives and restraining them, we went back. The entire operation barely lasted five seconds.
Soon, I was examining my new treasure: Nymphadora Tonks, fast asleep under the Draught of The Living Death. I had an enormous number of ideas for utilizing metamorphism. At first, I simply wanted to change my appearance. But if the transformation created new cells, it could be a solution to death from old age or at the very least guarantee life-long youth.
Then I started to actively consider improving wandless magic. Wands facilitated magic use; they were essentially specialized tools. Some tried implanting a wand into the body. All those attempts ended poorly as the body rejected foreign magic. It was no better than trying to attach someone else's arm with medieval medicine. My idea was incredibly simple: grow another organ to act as a wand. Some bone in my hand…
I saw two problems. First, however brilliant one may be, it was impossible to create a wand from only own tissue. A wand must have two components! I had a promising solution: using parts of my familiar, luckily tests showed they did not cause painful rejection. Second, the body was adapted for vital functions, not risky magical experiments. Here, Pandora's experiences with self-transformation would come handy.
Naturally, I wouldn't experiment on myself. Soon, it would be time for the Dark Lord's homunculi. By then, I'd get plenty of practice on Malfoy's and get paid for it. I had already began working on modifying the ritual. It was not as risky as it appeared. Tom modified his soul, I merely wanted to modify my body. Muggles healed eye defects with laser surgery, so why shouldn't I try changing my vision to work in the Lovegood mode? Muggles often had surgeries to increase breast size, I was merely going to increase my magical efficiency. If I won't like the risks, I won't do it.
But for now I was examining Nymphadora with every available method. The literature on metamorphmagi was somewhat contradictory…
It did not look like a werewolf. Werewolves had two distinct bodies plus something that addled their brains during the transformation. Here the brain was untouched. She could look like a werewolf but not have their magical properties or infectious bite. It looked nothing like any other magical race or animal. It was as if her transformation changed something, yet something fundamental always remained the same.
It also differed from animagus transformation. In animagi the flesh changed into an animal, but in this case… It was as though the little girl put on a costume. A costume of her own flesh, filled with very weak magical channels.. How was it possible? They should have burned out! She had bursts of accidental magic and not only survived, but had no traces of injury!
I looked through the girl's mind without waking her. She worked instinctively. No one has taught her, she did not understand the mechanism- it was like interrogating a bird about aerodynamics.
But there was some progress. First, her incredible clumsiness. The body's reflexes -movements, center of gravity- were tied to her genetic appearance and not the one she considered her own. She truly resembled a young Walburga, while her current appearance was a copy of her young mother with a strange hairstyle. Second, the books all agreed on the nature of her gift. Unfortunately, it was not Dark. Fortunately, it was not Light, either. Her gift could be most precisely classified as neutral magic: Life. It belonged to the same category as spells for accelerating development and regeneration, killing or healing by manipulating the body's natural biochemical processes. The motive -growing chimeras or tomatoes- was up to the practitioner.
Not my specialty, to say the least. But unlike Light Magic, it was not impossible to puzzle out. And I was going to do just that.
Arthur Weasley
Arthur Weasley recently got released from St. Mungo's. The healers did their best: he was completely back to normal, save for a long regiment of blood replenishers. When he saw the bill, he understood why their muggle counterparts worked in masks. Luckily, Professor Dumbledore paid for everything, as this was "an injury sustained in the service of the Order."
He was happy to be back at work. Even though the department was understaffed with only two people, he would not trade it for anything- his job directly involved muggles! Today, they received a report of yet another rabid lawn mover. He and his assistant apparated to the given coordinates.
But before they had a chance to start working, both got hit with the Imperius. His assistant succumbed right away. Arthur tried to resist but received a shield penetrator and a stunner. He woke up under Imperius, mental compulsions and hallucinations. His mind burned with one clear Goal.
They stalled their task until the end of the shift. The Ministry received an owl with the report that the case was difficult and they will not be coming back to the office.
When he returned home in the evening, Molly began nagging him: not enough money, too many exhausting chores…
"Molly dear, the children are all asleep… How about I kiss you… right there?" he asked.
"All right… But we'll finish this conversation later," her tone softened.
Sex went as usual. While Molly was relaxing in bed, Arthur picked up his wand from the nightstand.
"Stupefy," he said.
Molly lost consciousness, and Arthur proceeded to the children's rooms. Once the whole family was stunned, he put them into a newly purchased but well-used muggle car and drove, mixing up the clutch and brake pedals. It took him thirty minutes to cross a mile, but he at last made it past all the defensive charms. Five figures in masks were already waiting. He took a package back to his house, returned and was stunned. The Weasley family and their car vanished.
One hour later, the DMLE received an anonymous tip. They checked it as per protocol. The Weasleys' house was found to contain Dark artifacts, Sirius Black's belongings and letters addressed to Sirius Black! Everything pointed to Arthur Weasley collaborating with Black on charming muggle items, possibly with banned magic. And while Albus Dumbledore was using garden gnomes as witnesses to argue that Arthur was under Imperius, Voldemort was debating what to do with all the newly acquired Weasleys…
Arthur received a set of strong mental influences. He now believed that the Order of the Phoenix had won, the ban on charming muggle items had been lifted, and he was happily working on production of flying cars and bicycles. In reality, he was helping Rookwood's research team charm a muggle tank stolen from Iraq.
I still did not know what to do with Molly Weasley and her six children. Riddle's memories said kill everyone. Or try turning them into Obscurials by torturing and forcing them to repress their magic under accelerated time flow. But the Weasleys were pureblood… It would be a boon if everyone thought that all purebloods served me… If society has already branded you a Death Eater, would it not be easier to give up and accept the real Mark? The two oldest boys were aged twelve and ten. As far as I remembered, the Ottomans recruited their slave warriors between eight and sixteen. Not all was lost for the young Weasleys. Time to begin a grand pedagogical experiment.
Charles Nott
Charles Nott was startled awake in the middle of the night by the Dark Lord breaking into his home. He expected to hear news of widespread Auror raids, but it turned out the Lord only brought him prisoners and ordered to preserve magical blood. And disapparated, leaving behind Molly Prewett with her six children!
What now? This was the first time he truly understood the Lord: killing was much simpler. These were Weasleys, blood traitors who denounced their heritage! They had a blood feud with the Malfoys… Perhaps sell their framed heads to Malfoy in the old tradition?
But he did not kill them. After examining the ones who were old enough to speak with Veritaserum and legilimency, he fed them his blood to invoke hallucinations. The mother and the father (what did the Lord do with him, anyway? Killed?) would put on a show: "we have always supported the Dark Lord to provide you a better future." The two school-aged boys can be sent to study abroad under falsified documents, on full scholarships. One liked dragons and the other ancient artifacts? Find them appropriate schools. And the little ones can live with a well-bred nanny somewhere in Iceland, under Fidelius. This should do for now. He'd think of a better solution later.
Lucy Rogers, a recent graduate of the accelerated Auror program
In spite of her parents' protests, Lucy chose a dangerous profession: defending British magical citizens. But owing to the incipient civil war, she only received three years of training. Now she and her two colleagues were investigating the latest string of muggle disappearances.
The muggle police had already done the brunt of the work and discovered that all of the victims disappeared near the same abandoned warehouse. The two policemen who went to search the site never returned. The police raised an alarm and sent in special forces, who found no traces of the missing people. The Ministry of Magic interfered. They soothed the muggles' worries and sent Lucy's team to investigate. A thorough search of the warehouse revealed a crooked portal circle disguised as muggle graffiti. The construct was basic: stand in the circle and fuel it with energy to be transported to the target location.
They did not attempt to use it, of course. It would be all too easy to end up at the bottom of the ocean or inside a trap. They called for backup. The full-fledged Aurors quickly examined the ugly drawing surrounded by empty bottles of firewhisky and determined its exit coordinares. One squad went to the marked location, one stayed in reserve.
Soon, they received a signal requesting backup with a single word of explanation: Acromantulas!
Acromantulas fought for You-Know-Who and claimed many lives in the last battle. Surely finding their nest couldn't be this simple? The new orders came down almost instantly: all available units to provide assistance. Alastor Moody himself would soon be there with his elite squads.
They apparated to the given coordinates. Lucy expected an anti-apparition ward, multi-tiered defenses, dozens of Dark wizards, or maybe even, god forbid, You-Know-Who. However, the scene that greeted them was at once disappointing and relieving: a forest, swathes of spiderweb, live muggles wrapped in cocoons, more dead half-eaten muggles nearby. There were less than ten acromantulas, all of them already torn to pieces. After fighting the magically resistant acromantulas at Crouch's house, all Aurors received permission to attack them with Dark spells that would normally result in at least a suspension. These spiders must have not been nearly as protected and got annihilated.
Lucy was a Gryffindor, so she couldn't help but recognize the shreds of fur a coat and pink umbrella on the ground. Did these monsters eat Hagrid too?
The Auror forces continued pouring in like endless rain. Moody came, with Albus Dumbledore right on his heels. Professor Dumbledore's shining shields were painful to watch with magical sight. And that was considering her low sensitivity!
Moody was giving out orders, screaming something about constant vigilance and the need to quickly set up a perimeter because You-Know-Who was about to ambush them at any moment. But the battle was already over. She and almost everyone else got sent home.
After work, she went to a muggle cafe to meet Simmons, her boyfriend from another squad of accelerated program graduates. They returned to her place. After an evening of romance, the conversation drifted back towards work.
"I got there with the second wave. The first ran into the spiders and called for backup. There wasn't that many spiders, and Arania Exumae injured them just fine. But there was a lot of us, and most went into some kind of frenzy. One apparently saw his partner die at Crouch's, so he was killing off the already stunned spiders. He's now facing an internal investigation. But you know the strangest thing? There was this enormous man running around yelling "don't hurt my babies!" Stunners bounced right off him! He tried zapping us with electrical shocks from a pink umbrella, but blasting curses eventually took him out."
"It was Hagrid!"
"Yes, that's what the other Hogwarts grads said too. There's going to be an inquiry."
A few days later, journalists caught on to this story and published the results of their own investigation. Albus Dumbledore's official statement claimed that Hagrid was killed by the Death Eaters and raised as zombie obedient to their will. However, the newspapers cited trustworthy sources that Hagrid was a half-giant, and they were all aggressive as a rule. The journalists uncovered his frequent contacts with black market suppliers and experiments in chimeroligy. He enthused to a Greek cerberus dealer about how amazing it would be to cross a firecrab with a manticore! Was he sick in the head? Has he ever seen a manticore?! They were as bad as chimeras!
Hagrid was also expelled from Hogwarts for possession of a dangerous animal that killed a student. And that animal was… a male acromantula. The investigators found memories of the black market dealers who later sold him a female. Many centaurs, werewolves and ingredient collectors testified that there used to be an acromantula colony next to Hogwarts. In other words, Hagrid personally raised the acromantula colony that joined You-Know-Who! And back then, he was definitely not a zombie! Hagrid, an uneducated half-giant with a snapped wand, somehow did all that without Dumbledore noticing or doing anything to stop him!
No, Hagrid wasn't like that, he wouldn't hurt a fly… But then she remembered seeing Hagrid play with thestrals. Beasts classified XXXX…
Max Fry, an investigator for the DMLE major crimes division
Max has never been a soldier. His greatest weapon was his mind. And for the past few months he has been working a case that made him wake up at night screaming from nightmares.
Sadly, England always had a thriving black market. But it was one thing to sell dragon blood banned literally yesterday (he now had to find a new toothpaste), and quite another to trade human parts. Unlucky muggles and an occasional wizard would disappear, their bodies disassembled into potion and ritual ingredients. It used to be a rare occurrence, but the civil war made Dark wizards completely brazen. More and more people vanished, some later found in pieces. After these cases, he began seeing a muggle therapist.
But recently, the enemy made a small, barely perceptible mistake that gave him a promising lead. They found an abandoned set of cauldrons with distinct traces of Dark potions. All of the cauldrons were stolen. They were able to determine who stole them: Mundungus Fletcher. Maybe he would lead them to the brewers?
Mundungus Fletcher had quite a record: stealing alcohol, buying and selling stolen property, selling doxy eggs without a license, even an attempted robbery where he pretended to be an inferus. The latter guaranteed prison time, but Dumbledore himself had pulled the strings for him. Multiple witnesses reported Fletcher bragged about being a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Max decided to act. A request to search the suspect's house would have surely been stuck down, so he got a warrant for the bar the man was known to frequent.
When the suspect arrived, they began the operation. The officials were filling out papers and writing citations. No one but Fletcher resisted. He yelled insults at the Aurors, demanding to be released because he had "friends in high places." Max was very tempted to ask him just how high but acted smarter. He arrested Fletcher for obstructing the search. With some flexible use of law and professional connections, he obtained a permission to test the suspect with legilimency and Veritaserum.
The results were impressive. Skillfully applied vows and mental blocks proved Fletcher was indeed a member of the Order of the Phoenix. What he did for the Order was unknown, but they deciphered his other activities. A squad sent to his home found six live muggles and one wizard in various stages of disassemblement, along with multiple fragments of other bodies. The evidence led them to several clients and enforcers who were guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt. Some of them confirmed they regularly worked with Fletcher.
Most disgusting of all, Fletcher screamed that it was all for the greater good He had to earn the trust of Dark wizards to get access to the big fish and fight You-Know-Who. He demanded to be released because he was just following orders!
Max's thoughts were racing. Dumbledore couldn't keep an eye on his own organization? He wanted to believe it, and the case of Sirius Black proved it. But what if Fletcher's words were not self-deception but the truth? There have been some very murky rumors about Severus Snape. The man has never been caught but was often seen at places dealing in questionable potions and ingredients. The DMLE wanted to put him under surveillance but reconsidered after pressure from Dumbledore. And with Robert Abrogast, everything was crystal clear: a known Dark wizard, arrested for triple murder with Fiendfyre, a former mercenary leader. He became a Hogwarts groundskeeper after two people came to his defense: Dumbledore and recently accused of Dark Magic use Barty Crouch… But unlike Fletcher, none of them have been suspected of killing civilians!
Max had helped prosecute many of his colleagues for abuse of authority, but now he could not act any differently. He could not let this one get away. First, he held back his report. Then cast a delayed Obliviate on himself, a special spell on Fletcher, and enough mundane charms like levitation and paper sewing to circumvent Priori Incantatem. And then… who could have expected Fletcher to attempt an escape? During his dash for freedom, Fletcher got hit with a stunner that must have worked incorrectly and stopped his heart. In the pandemonium, no one helped him in time… The mediwizards confirmed accidental death.
Max returned home, checked his wards, downed a glass of whiskey and went to bed. He'd have to brew another potion as a redundant precaution later…
He woke up chained to a courtroom chair. He had put plenty of people here himself… Attempting to escape magical shackles with empty reserve when your wandless skills stopped at Protego and Stupefy… Useless. And rattling the chains was stupid.
He faced the full Wizengamot presided by Dumbledore.
"Maximillian Fry, you are accused of abuse of official position, gross professional misconduct, vigilantism, murder, attempt to interfere with an official investigation…" a secretary read his long list of offenses. "… Your guilt has been determined via legilimency. The memory erasing spell you applied on yourself will now be removed, and you will be given Veritaserum."
As he was answering questions under Veritaserum, Max marveled at their expediency. He thought he would have time to cover his tracks, but the search-arrest-investigation (they even found a skilled legiliment!) took less than a day. If only they always worked this fast!
Dumbledore was rambling on about how Max had been manipulated by Voldemort. How Fletcher recently deserted the Order and was under Imperius. How all the evidence of Fletcher's guilt was fabricated by someone who impersonated him under polyjuice. Sure, sure. By virtue of his position, Max knew some things about the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black was an accidental traitor. Lupin was framed. Hagrid was framed during his third year of Hogwarts, then framed posthumously. Now Fletcher was framed too. The former DMLE Head turned out to be a traitor. The previous Dark Lord was Dumbledore's friend, his wand taken as a trophy… Did Mundungus steal under Impreius as well? Or under Confundus? Maybe those rumors about Dumbledore were not so ludicrous after all?
Max recognized his defense attorney - a very expensive bastard. Who could have helped him this much? A public defender would usually advise to accept a plea deal, but this one pushed a convoluted version of events: the defendant was under Imperius, his wand stolen through an unidentified house elf. When it was shattered, the attorney successfully argued mitigating circumstances for every offense. Max's many years of distinguished service and state awards brought his sentence further down to only ten years of Azkaban. A strong occlument could survive ten years, but he was not too sure of himself. Although… If the Dementors were gone, he had a chance to see freedom again…
"You have the right to a final statement," they informed him.
What was there left to say except the obvious?
"There's a lot I wish to say," he tried to keep his voice steady. "About the unfortunate coincidences that seem to plague the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black's betrayal. Remus Lupin's betrayal. Rubeus Hagrid was framed. He must have spent the last forty years breeding acromantulas because he was under Condundus, which does not work on giants. It is merely a coincidence that the Death Eaters use dragon blood by Albus Dumbledore's methods, while the Order and the Aurors go into battle without such protections. Now Mundungus Fletcher was framed as well. And I don't even need to mention that the Hogwarts groundskeeper is a well-known Dark wizard. Or that the Hogwarts Potions Professor is a master who chose to teach children boil cure potions over pursuing a career in research or selling lucrative potions. Personally, I get the impression that the entire Order of the Phoenix is under You-Know-Who's Imperius. But I want to add something on my own behalf. I am seventy years old. I lived through the time of Grindelwald, through the war that claimed my father's life. And you, honorable Albus Dumbledore, were nowhere to be seen in Poland in 1939. As my father used to say, Albus Dumbledore is a real cocksucker," he had to speak fast before someone shut him up. But a silencing charm hit him all too quickly, leaving him to open his mouth with no sound like a fish underwater. Still, at least some of the people gathered here must know how to read lips… They would share their memories with others.
"I always thought he was prejudiced against your sexual orientation. But now I see it: you are just an all-around cocksucker," he finished moving his lips with a sense of fulfilled duty.
They were quick to declare that the offender must have been in the state of shock and issued him a warning for insulting Chief Warlock. Half an hour later, Max was already inside the cold, damp walls of Azkaban. The cell was a tiny stone closet. He had missed dinner but knew better than hope for decent meals. Azkaban walls leeched magic, leaving him as powerless as a muggle. Sullen guards made their rounds once an hour. But there were no Dementors, not a single one. And this meant he might survive…
I returned from my pensieve. What an interesting court session Albus had… Now it was time to tend to my own business: go to the Lestranges' ritual hall number one and do the last check of the runic circles my most faithful had finally completed.
Satisfied with the quality of their work, I took out Tom Riddle's diary. Let's see what Pandora says about it, then do a complete scan…