Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Pilfered Progeny - Stolen Dreams	By : SisterGryffindor Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14679 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
Hermione woke up in a hospital bed, her entire body aching and painful. She felt dazed and confused; she reached up and tentatively touched her forehead. It wasn’t bandaged, so she must have been moved to a wizard hospital… she knew they had high security rooms at St. Mungo’s; they probably had an Auror posted outside her door to watch her. Her head still ached horribly and she felt like she’d been beaten all over.

What the hell had happened…? It was all a blur. Something had made her fall; she knew she had fallen and struck her head on either the sink or the tiles on the wall, pretty damned hard… she’d blacked out for a moment or two. Everything after that was just… insane.

She imagined she’d seen Pansy, but not the Pansy that she’d known… this woman was nothing but spite and malice and hatred; filthy and pure insanity. That creature had attacked her from behind once the door behind her had closed… and… wait. There had been a muggle girl in there, maybe eighteen or so, washing her hands when she’d come in. The girl had smiled at her and gone on about her business while Hermione had gone to the back stall and opened it when another stall had opened… and… she’d hit the wall.

Memories slowly began to filter back to her, disjointed images that really made no sense to her at all. She was tied… but… but that was a muggle hospital. Only magic could… magic. Oh Merlin… It had been magic. She recalled a wizard’s duel going on all about her; she had returned the wand to Severus when she had finished with her last patient. She had been completely helpless… A woman had come out of the stall and used a stunning spell. She’d fallen and was bound up, magically bound from head to toe, even her mouth covered so she could not cry for help…

She had hit her head so hard on the tiles that she was seeing stars, but she heard the killing curse used and watched that poor girl fall to the floor, her last scream cut short by the evil green glare of that horrible spell. The evil witch had turned to face her then and Hermione was sure that she only had moments to live. The woman had been so demented, her eyes… she would never be able to get the memory of that woman’s eyes out of her mind.

Then the door had slammed open… she’d barely been able to focus on what had been happening. There was a duel then, unlike any she had seen since the battle against Voldemort and the Death Eaters… But she had to be imagining that; that bathroom had been much too small for what she’d thought she’d seen. It was Severus, she knew that… but… the woman… he called her… no. Hermione frowned as she tried to get past the confused jumble her memory insisted on being twisted into. He’d called her Pansy… it had been Pansy Parkinson; she had come to kill Hermione for turning her in.

But it couldn’t have been! Pansy was never that good at any type of dueling spells; she’d been completely hopeless dueling at school. And she’d never managed to master unspoken magic and the spells that the woman had cast with frightening speed were rarely accompanied by the spell’s verbal component. Then everything had gone dark; Hermione had thought for a moment that she finally passed out but she felt the two of them fight over her, then…

Hermione couldn’t remember any more. Severus had gotten her away from Pansy, she remembered that, and still felt the sting of where they had rolled through glass shards to evade her, but… but then what happened? How had she gotten here? And where was Severus…?

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Kingsley Shacklebolt glared at the employees of the Ministry of Magic standing before him. The young man had just started in his position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the beginning of the year; he never should have been put on this detail. The older woman had been an Auror long enough that she should have known better than to leave her partner alone in the hospital even for a few moments. They had been the ones assigned the duty of watching over Hermione even though she was in the custody of Severus Snape, as an extra layer of protection. “So perhaps you two can explain to me exactly what happened this morning at the hospital?” He suggested; his tone a low and dangerous growl. “There were two of you; you should have remained on post as you were instructed.”

“They didn’t stay in the room where Mrs. Weasley was assigned to be, sir… and we did not expect her to go farther down the hall for any reason. Mr. Snape did not inform us that she was deviating from the plan.” Trevor Walston said quietly. “I know that’s not an excuse…”

Kingsley snorted derisively. “Bloody well right it’s not an excuse. You’re both too damned young and inexperienced and should never have been trusted to oversee this situation.” He grumbled, sitting back in his chair. “So why did it take you so long to respond to the situation?”

“We responded once we heard the explosion sir; she must have had the room silenced so that we couldn’t hear…” the younger man began.

“There was no silencing spell when the Department of Magical Law Enforcement showed up with their memory charms to do the cleanup.”

“I had stepped out, sir.” The older witch admitted quietly. “There had been no sign of Miss Parkinson and I did not think that a moment or two…”

“And where was your partner?” he leveled cold eyes on the young man, who flushed deeply and was unable to meet Kingsley’s gaze.

“His girlfriend works at the nurse’s station on level two, sir.” The woman said quietly.

“Not my girlfriend… and at the rate I’m going not bloody likely that she’s going to be. I took her a drink, sir, I was away only a moment.”

“And now you both know that a moment is all that is needed. One moment and you could easily have been the reason for grief in more than one family.” He growled. “Tell me what happened next?” he prompted.

“I responded to the bathroom door, and Trevor responded to the outside of the bathroom.”

“Parkinson had exploded a hole big enough for me to come around from behind and I was… well, it was a much shorter distance for me to just head out the door…” he said, flushing hotly. “She’d used an Instant Darkness Powder and she had some Seeing Glasses on, the type they sell over at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes to see through the powder’s effects.”

“And how did you know what had caused the darkness?”

“I’ve used it myself, sir. It comes in handy really, when you need just a moment to get what you need to done.” Trevor answered, confident in his reasoning. “I used a vanishing spell to clear the blackness right when we heard her use the killing curse at the two on the floor…”

“And you?” he asked, looking over at the woman.

“I had to protect them, sir… I didn’t have any choice.” She answered quietly.

Kingsley sat back, frowning in thought; he needed no further explanation as he knew the outcome of the situation. “Both of you are on suspension pending an investigation. I’m leaving your discipline up to the Minister of Magic himself.”

“Yes sir.” The Aurors said quietly.

“Get out of here. I’ve done all I can here for the night; I’m going to see Tonks.” He said, rising with a grunt of effort and a bit of a wince. He mumbled a soft curse at his body for its weakness and moved to the fireplace; he activated the floo network and was on his way.

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Kingsley made his way through the halls of St. Mungo’s, trying not to think of his own frequent visits here for various ailments. He needed to find Tonks and make sure that everything was all right. He got directions and eventually made his way to one of the waiting rooms. Remus sat quietly on one of the benches, his face looking more careworn and tired than ever. His wife sat close to him, cradled in his arms, her face streaked with tears and her hair a deep blue. Tonks was held in his arms, sitting close to him, tears rolling down his cheeks; they’d been like this since they had been called to come to the hospital.

“Any news?” Kingsley asked quietly.

“None yet. They’ve had him behind closed doors for over an hour.” Tonks whispered.

“But no news is better than bad news.” Remus said, trying to be optimistic, glancing at a closed door. “They’ve been coming and going out of that room every couple of minutes, but no one says a damned word to either of us.”

Kingsley scowled. “I’ll get them to talk to you.” He growled.

“No… no please. I want them to try everything they can and I don’t want anything interrupting them…” Tonks said, gazing up at her old comrade. “Please, just let them work…”

Reluctantly Kingsley nodded. “Very well… have either of you eaten?” Remus shook his head, his lips touching his wife’s blue hair. She did not answer at all, not even looking up at him. “You need to eat...” he began.

“Kingsley; I’ll be sick if I eat anything.” Tonks murmured.

“You haven’t been feeling at all well lately, have you?” Kingsley frowned.

“It’s been a little stressful. I’m fine, it’s just stress.”

“You did promise to see a healer.” Remus said softly in a concerned tone, stroking her hair tenderly. “We ARE at the hospital…”

“I won’t leave. I don’t care if I die here I won’t leave.” She murmured.

“This IS a hospital, and this waiting room could be used as an exam room if necessary.” Kingsley said.

“I’m fine. Just… I just want to sit here that’s all. They’ll be out any moment, they really will…”

“…absolute rubbish, I am FINE!” A voice from beyond the door snapped quite angrily and all three of them looked over at the door, which was being pulled open. Severus Snape came through the door, glaring over his shoulder. “I will not be poked, prodded or put up with any more of this for a moment more!”

“Severus…!” Remus breathed, relief seeming to make ten years slide off his face. “Oh Merlin…”

Tonks said nothing, coming to her feet and rushing to him, seizing him in a tight embrace, her hair brightening and revealing her relief and joy. He halted to keep from being bowled over by her, rather surprised. “Tonks? Remus…? They sent for you…?” He asked.

“They told us you were in a magical coma.” Remus said, rising. “We wouldn’t have stayed away for anything…”

“It was the backlash of Pansy's spell; she tried to use the Killing Curse on me.” Severus said quietly; he had not realized how bad off he had been. “But I stopped her; I know I got that mad harpy of a woman; Pansy. She’s dead?” Severus asked.

“Yes.” Kingsley said firmly. “She is, without a doubt, dead.”

Severus sighed deeply, holding his mate tightly as Remus came and wrapped his arms about them both. “Good… that’s one less lunatic to worry about out there…” he said firmly. “Let’s go home…”

“Mr. Snape!” Medi-Wizard Trellin came out of the room, scowling. “We are not finished with you, sir.”

“Oh, yes you are. I’m in quite capable hands, I assure you, and my mate has as much experience at caring and tending to hurts and ills as any of you in this entire hospital!” Snape retorted, settling one arm about Tonks and the other about Remus. “He is quite skilled, my Remus. But you are all so damned prejudiced against his ‘disability’, as you like to put it, that you refuse to see beyond it.”

“Severus, it’s all right. I’m used to it.” Remus said soothingly.

“You shouldn’t have to ‘get used’ to anything, Remus. You were a brilliant Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. You have a knack for healing and for defensive spells; you should be absolutely anything you want to be, and the idiots at the Ministry treat you as if you’re a leper.”

“That’s the Ministry, I…” Trellin began.

Severus was having his say even if he was never allowed to set foot in this blasted hospital again. “He is a werewolf, yes, but he has NEVER injured anyone while in his shifted form! Greyback is long dead and I would thank you all to stop treating him as if he is that maniac come back to life!”

“I am NOT against you on this; I would quite enjoy having Remus Lupin come in and work with me, if only the hospital would allow it.” Trellin answered in just a sharp a tone as Severus had used on him. “I’m not administration, though. And you need to be cleared before you go home; even Remus has limitations on his capabilities and both of your mates need you to be healthy.”

Severus hesitated, scowling.

“Just a moment or two more, that’s all we ask of you.” Trellin said quietly.

“Oh just go along with him Sev… and have him check Dora while he’s at it…” Remus suggested.

“Remus, this isn’t the time…” Nymphadora began.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. “This is precisely the time for such things. I will agree to go if you will, my lady.”

She gazed up at him and sighed, leaning her head back against his chest. “You know I won’t argue with that; I want to be sure you’re going to be okay…”

“Of course, as do I with you. Healer? After you.” Severus gestured to the door he had just left. The wizard led the way back into the room and Remus started to let them go but Severus was having no part of that; he kept a firm grip on his male mate as well. “See you later, Kingsley. I’ve got things under control.” Snape assured, pulling Lupin into the room along with them.

“So I see.” Kingsley chuckled, turning to go his own way.

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Malcolm Parkinson checked his reflection in the mirror; he’d altered himself enough so that he didn’t even recognize his own reflection. He’d had enough of waiting; it was time to go and find out what had happened to his daughter. He swept his cloak on and hurried out the door. It seemed to take forever to flag down one of these ridiculous muggle cabs and ride into London. He didn’t bother with paying the driver, using a confundus spell on him to make the driver think that he had already gotten his pay with an average tip.

He eventually got himself to the street he had sent his daughter to; why had that little bitch not come back? Had she managed to gather together the willpower and strength to break through his control through the Imperious curse? Or had she failed again and was afraid to return to him? No matter; he would track her down and get her back where she belonged; at his side and at his beck and call.

As he approached the hospital he slowed his pace; the building was a veritable hive of activity. He recognized several Aurors and also members of the Ministry of Magic.

Well, that was to be expected, had his daughter managed what she had planned.

He didn’t stop moving, kept walking and pretended to favor his right arm. He’d injure it if he had to, to get himself inside and find out what exactly had happened.

A couple of wizards stood outside the doors and each of them were holding probity probes. He smiled to himself and continued onward, their wands wouldn’t find anything on him. His wand wasn’t on his person and he carried nothing magical at all; if that was all they had for security here it would be simple work to get past.

Inside the emergency room seemed to be full of only muggles, all sitting around and waiting for something, probably to be seen. He followed their example, though it galled him to do so. He went to the counter and scrawled some idiotic made up name, then turned to look for an exit deeper into the building. Restroom, ah, that was the ticket. He moved through a door and went back into the hospital. The ladies’ room had a sign on it claiming it was out of order. Pansy had said she was going to wait in the bathroom, she was certain that Hermione would want to use the restroom at some point or another…

He drew near and slowed, pretending to nurse an injured leg.

Two members of the Ministry were outside the door talking.

“She blew a hole in the wall; we’ve nearly got that repaired. She really didn’t do much damage to the room; most of it was to Severus Snape and Mrs. Weasley…” another said quietly.

“What did they do with her?” the first asked.

“Her body was taken to the Ministry.” The second answered. “The others were taken to St. Mungo’s for treatment.”

“I heard Snape took a lot of damage…”

“They both did. Never would have guessed that she had that much skill.”

“Doesn’t matter what skills she had; she won’t be hurting anyone anymore.” The first one responded with a satisfied tone. Those words took a moment to sink into Malcolm’s mind as he ambled on into the men’s room.

She… they couldn’t mean Pansy. They couldn’t. She was much too resourceful to allow anyone, even that arrogant bastard Severus Snape to overpower her. She was too clever, she was… he stumbled and fell against the wall.

“Hey… hey mister; are you okay?” Someone asked but he barely heard them as the full impact of what had happened struck him, momentarily crippling and blinding him.

His daughter… they meant that she was dead… first his wife taken from him by Voldemort’s misdirected fury, then his created sons snatched from him by those bastards at the Ministry and that arrogant fool Malfoy, now his daughter was dead and out of his reach forever. It was all out of his control; everyone was stealing his life away from him. He felt no responsibility at all for what had happened; it was not his fault! Now he had nothing left. Nothing to live for, nothing to defend…

He pushed the hands away of the muggle trying to help him back to his feet and burst into an unsteady run. His steps became more sure as he fled, not even knowing or caring where he was going. He burst past the guards at the door and did not care that they were shouting at him. Nothing mattered. He had to get somewhere and devise a plan. Anywhere, somewhere far from here, he would keep running until he had left it all behind.

He may have had his last living relative snatched from him, but he was not finished; oh, no. He would make them all pay for what they had taken from him. The Dark Lord was beyond retribution as he was dead, but there were several he intended to make suffer for what had happened to him and his family. Severus Snape; there were ways to make that man suffer. If only he could figure a way to get his son back; his precious little Dark Prince. He would make them pay.

He would find a way to settle the score with them all. And the most obvious targets for his new unbridled fury were Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy and Harry Potter.

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August Bebel paced back and forth in the hotel room with growing impatience. He had not eaten in over a day, and the water and coffee in the room could take him only so far. He was starving and he was having an incredibly hard time focusing on his work. He had substandard equipment and all his notes were gone… Parkinson expected him to somehow recreate the embryos with nothing, nothing at all. But he had been trying.

Parkinson had been constantly casting he imperious curse on him to force him to work nonstop, but the man had been gone for hours. He couldn’t concentrate with his stomach feeling like it was gnawing on his spine. One of residents in a neighboring room had brought in Chinese food and he could smell it clearly through the walls. Merlin that smelled fantastic…

For perhaps the millionth time in his life he wished he were a wizard; he hated not having any powers. Malcolm was really emphatic about the fact that they were being hunted but August had not seen any such thing; it had been really quiet and they had not moved at all. He had not seen any newspapers but then he had been much too busy to look at anything but his work.

It didn’t matter; he was going to get something to eat. He had no way to conceal himself, nothing had been provided for him. There was no cloak here for him to use or any sort of potion. He really needed to get some food; any food at all would do. He spat a curse and snatched up the keys and what little pocket money he had and hurried out the door.

Hopefully he’d get back before Malcolm returned, and the other man would be none the wiser. He closed the door behind him securely, gathered his coat close about him and hurried out.

He made his way out of the hotel, looking about. It did not take him long to see a little café and he moved hurriedly through its doors, intent on nothing more than getting one, perhaps two plates of food to fill his aching stomach.

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"I hate to disturb you, Remus, but I need to speak with Tonks. It is rather urgent." Kingsley said in his quiet tone, his head hovering in the fireplace. He'd felt a fire call would be much more appropriate considering what this household had been through.

"She is resting, and unless the ministry is ON FIRE I will not have her or Severus disturbed...!" Lupin answered crossly, his eyes flashing dangerously. It was much too close to the full moon and he was having difficulty controlling his emotions today.

"The ministry is not burning, but this could actually be more important than that. You see, Remus, we've captured August Bebel." He answered.

"Bebel...?" He looked confused for a moment, not recognizing the name of the man; then it was clear that recall of the man's place in the scheme of things swept over him. "Oh... oh Merlin." He murmured. "All right; I will tell her. But I can't promise she'll come. It's been one hell of a day and we're all exhausted..."

"Exhausted, perhaps, but not asleep Remus." Nymphadora corrected, coming up behind him, slipping an arm about his waist as she gazed down at the fire. "Problems, Kingsley...?"

"Not a problem, my friend; a success. We have August Bebel in custody."

"Brilliant! I'll be right there." She assured. "See you soon." Shacklebolt smiled and his face vanished from the fireplace.

"Dora, you aren't going." Remus frowned at her.

"You worry too much; I think you've forgotten to take your potion in all of the excitement." She said, stroking his cheek. "I'm going to make sure that you get it from Severus before I leave. Don't worry so; I'll be perfectly safe. It’s inside the ministry and I won't be alone when I question him. Besides, love -- he doesn't have any powers; he's a squib."

"Magic can be done without a wand." He reminded.

"I know that as well as you do. Don't you think they'll have checked him for any sort of dangerous devices before they even brought him inside?"

"I know your Aurors know what they're doing, Dora. I know they checked him over, but that doesn't mean I have to like it..."

"It’s my job, and..."

"…and you must, of course, perform your duties to the utmost. We would expect nothing less of you, Dora." Severus commented as he came out of the bedroom.

"And what are YOU doing up? You're supposed to rest today, you're wearing yourself down to nothing." Remus scowled at him.

"I've taken a restorative." Severus answered smoothly, holding out the potion to control Lupin's werewolf side when the moon came to fullness tonight. "I do believe our Dora is correct. You need to take this, I see you forgot it this morning and I've been seeing much too much of the wolfing gold in your eyes today."

He sighed, not liking the situation at all. "You still shouldn't go, either of you. You both should rest today. Whatever it is you're working on will be there tomorrow..."

"I want to be there when Bebel is questioned." Tonks answered. "Pansy may have been stopped but her father was the mastermind behind it all and I'm sure that there's more to this entire mess."

"Those little Guardians in Lucius' home could attack another child if I do not continue my work with them." Severus responded. "Next time I don't believe the one they choose to attack will survive."

"I'm going with one of you." Lupin said stubbornly.

"Take your potion, Lupin, and you can come with me." Severus answered.

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"I've done nothing wrong." He said quietly, looking upset at being pulled away from his meal - his second plate - at the diner. He had been forced to take veritaserum the moment he arrived and it was in full effect. He was secured in the interview chair often used for meetings of the Wizengamot; his arms and legs fastened with magical bonds to the arms and legs of the chair.

"You created infants with sperm taken without knowledge or consent of the fathers. You were part of a plot to create a new Dark Lord." Tonks scowled.

"I helped to create babies, this is true." He said agreeably, pointedly ignoring Tonks and speaking to Kingsley Shacklebolt only. "I was working with a man who had an inspired vision; is it his fault that you cannot comprehend the value of his work?"

"Value?!" Tonks growled in surprise.

"Why, yes. Value. Someone with such strength, trained and protected, would easily become Minister of Magic, and would be capable of regaining control of our population. You cannot deny that you must have many members of your Magical Enforcement Department go out every day and stop foolish performances of magic. Someone powerful as the one we were grooming would have no need of such a thing; he could handle enforcement himself."

"...what...?"

"Perhaps it was wrong how the seed was secured; I will not argue with you on that point. But the securing of the necessary items was not of my doing and not within my control. I used only what I was given, and performed alteration and fertilization and implantation... I did nothing more than Mrs. Weasley did and she was not hunted as I..."

"She turned herself in to END this madness."

"She was as blind as the rest of the world. Even his own daughter did not comprehend the beauty of his design. The simplicity of it..."

"What the bloody hell do you mean by that? Simplicity??"

"Why of course. What would be needed if a leader were so powerful? We would not need all this ridiculous bureaucracy you have here. All that would be needed would be the young Prince and his entourage..."

"How would that be better?" Kingsley asked, prompting the man to continue to speak.

"How could it not? Your government here is as bad as ours in my home country. People vying for power, people getting hurt or forgotten or simply brushed aside when policy changes... I was born to magical parents and have never developed my powers. I was treated as a muggle by my home government; we are not even allowed to touch anything magical there..."

"This is not Germany, Mr. Bebel."

"Perhaps not." he said, glaring at the black man with flashing eyes. "But what do you do with the non-magical members of your society? You label them as squibs. If they are lucky they are married into magical families and embraced by your culture. If they are not they are forced to live as muggles and are sneered at by wizards and witches alike. Even your schools do not allow for non-magical children to learn any sort of potions or magical vocation; though we cannot DO such things we certainly can TEACH them!" he snapped. It was clear this had been a sore point with this man for a very long time. "Only Malcolm Parkinson saw my capabilities; saw what I could do and how I could be of benefit to him and to the wizarding world. I showed him how I could gather power and only he saw that I could be great in my work. I gained training in potions from wizards as well as training in chemistry from muggles; I have the best of both worlds and only suffer limitations in my level of magical ability. Power can be stored you know, and used for other purposes. I used stored power to work the magic necessary to do the alterations to the seed and eggs..."

"Stored power? You mean, of course, blood magic?"

"Blood magic." he sneered at the term. "You speak with the fears and limitations of wizards wrapped prejudices of the middle ages!" He scoffed. "Magic gathered by the loss of life and pain need not be by violent means! One simply has to be present when life is lost to gather the power. Even Merlin used such methods, it has been documented!"

"Do you deny killing was done to gather this power?"

"I did not kill them. Other people were given that task, not I. Warrington was assigned to terminate many of the mistakes that were made."

"Terminate the mistakes?"

"At first my experiments were... not successful. Most died on their own, before they were fully matured enough to be born." He shrugged.

"This had no effect on you? Didn't you care?"

"Care? They were not even babies; they were not even human at all. I should care about wasted tissue with no life?" he asked, clearly having no emotion about that at all, and then he sighed. "It is necessary to sacrifice to enable progress to occur… only great progress can be made if life is lost. Surely you understand that? These... failures... were a necessary step to achieve the perfection I reached with the Circle." He waved his hand with a complete lack of emotion or concern, but then looked a bit worried. "You have not killed them? The children still live, do they not...?" He asked.

"They live, but their torture and mistreatment is being blocked from their minds." Tonks glared at him.

"How they were raised was not my concern; I was concerned with magnifying their powers and strengths." He relaxed once more.

"Enlighten me as to how these children were to change our world."

Bebel gritted his teeth, trying not to answer, causing himself great discomfort. "The Prince was to unite all the governments."

"How?"

Again the words came out despite his best efforts to stop them; his knuckles were white where he gripped the arms of the chair. "He would choose leaders for each of the countries... the enchantress would ensure that they remained completely loyal to the Prince and no other, maintaining his control over them and keeping them under his power, and enable him to rule equally and fairly over all the wizarding communities about the entire world."

"So your enchantress has formidable powers?"

"More than she herself knows, and more than that dolt Warrington will ever be able to explain to you. She is able to completely control a wizard who tested genetically to be more than a quarter selkie and half siren with minimal training." He snarled, hating that he could not keep from speaking.

"Dangerous." Kingsley murmured.

"Brilliant!" He snarled back at him. "How else to ensure that the leaders remain loyal? Parkinson is not a madman; he is a visionary! You at the ministry are the ones who are mad, expecting your system to continue to function as it stands! The populace cannot possibly choose the proper wizard to lead the Ministry; the wizarding public in general is a collection of idiots and fools who are easily led astray by a handsome face and a catchy pitch line! How many truly effective English Ministers of Magic have there been? You can count them on one hand! Bagman was a joke - he ignored the constant reports and allowed the return of the most dangerous wizard of all time! His replacement was no better, and the fool who runs things now is more interested in his girlfriends and maintaining the status quo than in what is going on in the ministry!"

Kingsley was not about to debate about the efficiency of any of the Ministers of Magic; this could very well be an interview viewed by the Minister himself. "So you agree that He Who Must Not Be Named - Tom Riddle -was dangerous."

"Yes, he was very dangerous." he agreed.

"Then why did you try to recreate him?"

"I did not recreate him. All traces of his body were destroyed as was that of his father and mother; we did search before we began the process."

"Again, I ask. Why try to recreate him?"

"I never tried to 'recreate' him, you bloody fool! That was never my goal and never the goal of Parkinson, he hated the Dark Lord for taking his wife from him. My goal, which I did achieve, was to create a new Lord. Genetically he was powerful enough to unite the world...” he insisted, as if trying to make Kingsley see his point. "He could have been our salvation, now in Malfoy's hands he's going to be the same as his brother; nothing worthy of paying attention to beyond a legend and a prophecy and what could have been." He growled.

"There's been no prophecy of a return of the Dark Lord." Tonks scowled at him. Bebel was much too happy to be able to keep his mouth shut for the comfort of either of them; there had been no question in the statement Tonks had made and he did not have to answer but it was clear by his smile that he knew something. Tonks and Kingsley exchanged a glance. "Has there been a prophecy of someone rising to control all the Ministries...? Of a Dark Prince rising?" Kingsley asked pointedly.

Again Bebel fought to keep silent, grinding his teeth together. "Yes." The word was forced magically out of him.

"Have you seen or heard this prophecy?"

"Not directly, no."

"Who has?"

"Malcolm Parkinson." He growled, the words through clenched teeth.

"So you were operating under the word only of Malcolm Parkinson that this would come to pass?"

"He shared his memory with me. Malcolm treated me as a fellow wizard, not as some useless castoff because of my lack of powers!" He snapped.

"So you saw this prophecy through Malcolm’s memory... did he use a Penseive?"

"Yes." He mumbled.

"Who made the prophecy?" he pressed further. "We can simply pull the memory from your own mind, you know. Don't force us to take that step."

"Harkiss." He tried not to speak once more; the name was almost unintelligible.

"Harkiss? Cecily Harkiss is a Seer?" Kingsley asked directly.

"Yes." He hissed.

"Hm. We ought to see if we can contact Miss Harkiss..."

He glared at them, wringing his hands and trying to free them from the magical chains that bound him in place, pulling hard enough to make his wrists redden and now begin to trickle blood.

"Where is Malcolm Parkinson?"

"I don't know." He answered quickly.

“You don’t know… that means he left rather unexpectedly did he?”

“No; I expected him to go when his daughter had not returned. He puts such store in her skills and abilities; I don't understand it at all... I kept telling him we did not need her. She had never been useful before and his hanging on to her was only going to harm our cause. She is the one who stole; neither Malcolm nor I did that. You’ve nothing to charge us with, my own government will have me extradited back home and I will be free to continue my work…”

"Let's re-word that, shall we?” Tonks interrupted him before he could work up a real speech. “Where did Malcolm Parkinson have you stay these past weeks?" she said in a calm, clear tone. They had a chance to catch this bastard with this little lapdog’s assistance.

"Freil Hotel, Room 319." He answered with much more reluctance.

"And you've a key?"

"My left coat pocket."

Tonks secured the key, smiling in satisfaction. "Very good... we'll just see if your little master has come home since you stepped out for a bite and see if we can't bring him to justice as well." She said, thoughtful.

“No! You can’t! You mustn’t stop him, don’t you understand?! He’s working to BETTER our communities, to make our lives more meaningful…!” he managed to pull hard enough to tear the flesh of his wrist, his hand and the binding becoming covered in blood.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Kingsley snapped and the man froze in place, his objections silenced as well as his struggles; his bleeding magically stopped as well.

“We have to secure him, even tighter security than Mrs. Weasley. I have a request from the Unspeakables to review the information stored in this man’s brain.” Tonks said, gazing at the man a long moment.

"That might not be a very good idea; we want his knowledge to vanish." Kingsley said quietly. "We do not want this to ever occur again, even from within the ministry."

She turned away. "Agreed. Let's get him placed under a temporal stasis spell." she suggested.

A GLIMPSE OF HISTORY - STOLEN SIBLING

Damitri had dedicated the last three weeks to chasing down every tiny snippet of information he could regarding James Potter's final week or so at school, just before he left Hogwarts for Easter Holiday. He was beginning to grow rather frustrated at the lack of information he was finding in his search. No wonder Lucius had lost patience searching on his own, and why every year around Easter he displayed signs of such despondency. He thought there were no leads left, but Damitri was not about to give up.

Lucius had begun working at Hogwarts the year after his graduation as a special tutor in Transfigurations, helping students who were focused on learning as much as possible to prepare for their OWLs and NEWTs. He had been offered a similar position by Horace Slughorn but had refused; he had reportedly had no taste for the manual labor required to produce quality potions and preferred to leave such work to others.

One of those few who remembered any sort of relationship between James and Lucius had been the Madam Poppy Pomfrey; the school nurse who had served in the infirmary during those years. She stated that James began coming in for regular checkups of his pregnancy early in his fifth school year and she, of course, had given him the best care she had been able to provide. She had asked who the father was, but he had refused to divulge the information. It had taken threatening to tell his parents of his pregnancy before James had finally shared with her the truth. Poppy had, of course, been appalled that a student and a teacher had become intimate and felt it was necessary to at least let the Headmaster know. As the student involved actually seemed to benefit from the relationship, he had found it unnecessary to intervene as long as they were discrete.

The blossoming love affair between the fifth year student and the young assistant teacher had been developing through James' fourth year and on into the summertime; the day that they had become intimate must have been the month before the start of the new school semester.

James' year-mates, specifically Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, remembered little about the details of the affair. James had managed to keep his relationship with Lucius Malfoy out of the knowledge of even his closest friends. They did remember visits from the older blonde wizard and small hints here and there of some sort of friendship, but any visits ceased completely in the sixth year. Until Damitri asked them for the details, both admitted that they had never thought about it beyond that year.

Interviews with various teachers still living turned up very little additional information. Some teachers recalled that James had been pregnant but others had paid little to no attention to the situation. They only confirmed what Lucius had told him; that the young man had been with child when he left the castle but was not when he returned and had no recall of even being with child.

Since he found nothing with that direction, he turned instead his attention to the house elves. He decided that since the Wizarding population had taken no notice that he should instead turn to question those who also went regularly ignored. Wizards rarely appreciated the attention span and the value of information that House Elves could provide.

Before any of them would speak a word to him, the house elves had to be instructed by Lucius to be completely honest and to answer any questions that Damitri might have. Damitri spoke with each and every one of them, asking simple non-threatening questions about the family and which house elves had been working for the Malfoy family back then. Of the house elf contingency that manned the manor's many duties; two remembered the pregnancy of James Potter. One remembered two separate visits by James and the other had been assigned by Abraxas to work in the castle.

The house elf who had worked in the castle, under direct orders from Lucius, told in a trembling and very nervous voice about frequent visits from James Potter to Lucius' rooms, and tending to them both to the best of his abilities. He could give no reasoning for James' sudden reversal of feelings; his information was not useful at all.

The one who remembered James at the house had something no one else had been able to give him. As a personal servant of Abraxas Malfoy, he knew of a name of a person who had ceased to visit the manor after the Potter boy had stopped visiting the young master. That name was the first solid clue that Damitri felt he had gotten; Douglas Caruthers.

For the next step of his investigation, Damitri decided to see if Abraxas himself could assist in solving this little riddle. He went to the north wing where Lucius himself rarely visited, since that wing was the one that his father had chosen to dwell in during the final years of his life. Had Abraxas, in his final years, left something there as a taunt for his son who had lost everything? Narcissa had escorted him to the office for Lucius refused to set foot here.

"Lucius has been through all of that a thousand times, Damitri, I don't see how looking again is going to find anything at all." She said softly, resting one hand on the doorframe to her father-in-law's old study. The house elves kept it free of dust and everything was in place. Just standing in this door and looking at all the furniture she could almost see her husband as a young man, standing defeated and bowed as he endured the remonstrations of his authoritarian father. The painting over the fireplace of Abraxas Malfoy gazed down his nose at them with his arrogant sneer on his face; it almost seemed that he knew he had beaten his son in a way that he would never recover. That painting had never deigned to speak with Lucius since his death.

"I doubt that he ever would have found anything in here, no matter how long he searched." Damitri answered, taking down one book at a time and checking through it carefully. "All it really takes is a good concealment spell..."

"I know... good luck, Damitri. Lucius has taken Angel shopping for the newest baby that ought to be born sometime next week." she said, meaning of course one of the young mothers that had been taken in that was pregnant.

"I'll let you know if I find anything." he said, turning to face the elegantly appointed room. There was a huge amount of things to go through; there was no doubt about that.

Damitri sighed softly as he moved forward to the desk. "You always looked on your own, Lucius, not with the assistance of others. And your father was a master of deception and mind magic..." he said to himself, as he was quite alone in the room.

"Of course I was." The painting agreed readily.

He glanced at the painting. "I don't suppose you could help me out." he suggested with a wry grin.

The painting shrugged. "I see no point in either aiding or blocking your attempts to help my son. But I will tell you that you are on the right track. Why waste time and magic concealing from the entire world? There's only one who I did not wish to find things. I was sure that Lucius would never call anyone in to look for what he'd lost..."

"So you DID do a simple concealment..." Damitri began to use his wand to do a slow scan of the room, searching for any sort of magical trace. He paused over several places and did find some items; a neck chain, a simple gold ring with Lucius' name engraved within it, and a folder holding some paperwork. He piled up the items he found then began another search, checking every item and nook and cranny. He discovered a hidden compartment behind one of the bookcases, locatable only by the faint magic trace of the items concealed there, and almost concealed by the spell books that were on the shelf before it.

He worked a while to release the lock, trying several methods but nothing seemed to work. Finally he tried a repulsing spell and the door of the small space was all but blasted into unrecognizable shards. There was nothing to damage inside; all that was stored there was a small rack that was used for the storage of memory phials; quite empty. Damitri kept several of these himself to keep his own stored memories organized. So Abraxas had kept those memories, outside of his own mind so Lucius would NEVER access them. Had he destroyed them? Certainly he couldn't have; just looking about this room the man never got rid of anything that could have a use sometime in the future.

Several more scans of the room found nothing else. He gathered up the few items he had and sat a while in the chair to think. There had to be somewhere else he was not looking; something right in front of him that he was missing.

Well, perhaps he had put them in the most obvious place; his own tomb. He wanted next to search the tomb of the man himself, Abraxas Malfoy.

The tomb was an impressive affair of black marble and ostentatiously designed, but he had little interest in such obvious displays of wealth. He had found the proper tomb and first took precautions; this man had died of Dragon Pox. Not deadly to dragons, it was very quickly terminal when contracted by humans. No one truly knew the endurance of the disease's spores. He cast an imperturbable charm on himself then opened the sarcophagus that had sealed away the diseased body and bones of the man since his death.

Preservation spells had clearly been used; the man almost looked like he was simply sleeping. His face was clearly ravaged by the disease that had taken his life; pockmarked with the pox. His skin had begun to dry and sink toward his bones giving him a gaunt and skeletal appearance. It was clear to see still, though, that Lucius did indeed resemble his father a great deal.

Abraxas' hands were folded over what looked like a book that rested on his chest. Not trusting simple appearances, he cast the revealing charm once more and it was actually a box. Elated at his discovery, he used a levitation spell to lift the man's dead decaying fingers and another to slip the box free without touching it. He let the box drift to the floor before he used another spell to open it. Inside the box, held upright by a framework of latticed wood and resting on a pillow of satin, stood his final and most spectacular lead; the box was filled with memory phials.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

The house elf had given him a name; the memories of Abraxas Malfoy had given him a destination. Damitri followed the leads through several small towns in England until he found someone who remembered the individual he sought had moved somewhere in Switzerland. From there he had followed the elusive trail to the Netherlands, to a small town just down the mountain from where he was sure that the child of Lucius and James had been born.

Now he stood in a quiet little cemetery in a field behind a small church. He reached out and ran his fingers over the name on the headstone with a soft sigh. Millicent Caruthers, the headstone stated, died less than six days ago. Millicent had been the sister of the man who had been present for the birth of the baby; according to his research her brother lay in this cemetery as well. He had been hoping to get some information from her, to fill in some of what others had not known.

This family plot displayed the end of the Caruthers family line; her older brother’s grave was beside hers and the youngest brother’s grave was beyond theirs. He examined the date of death on the other headstones. The youngest brother had passed away over fifty years ago; he could not have been the one.

The eldest brother on the other hand, had died only a week after James had been taken from his home that Easter holiday. He frowned slightly and drew his wand, aiming at the headstone. Could there be something hidden there? He murmured a soft spell to reveal hidden magic. Nothing was revealed, but when he performed the same spell on the headstone of the sister, another line was engraved magically and concealed from those who did not think to reveal the hidden line.

Below her name and the burial dates were the words ‘Beloved Sister.’ He felt a smile touch his lips. There was only one person who could have put that there… and that meant the elder brother Douglas could not be truly dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

His investigations and multiple leads had led him here, to this small town retirement home for wizards in a quiet little backwater town. The wizard he had sought was round-faced and his crinkled sunken eyes were round as well, and at his advanced age the size and shape of his head with his large almost pendulous ears and round-ended nose almost made him look like a child's caricature of what a person would look like.

"You're sure you don't mind talking to me? I know you lost a family member recently...” he said tactfully.

The elderly wizard who lay in the bed gazed up at Damitri with a bemused smile on his face. "I lost my wife eight years ago; I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"The staff said you went to a funeral recently."

"Old friend, actually; she was a sweet old lady but mad as a hatter. She was really something in her prime, though." he shrugged. "She was telling me the week before she died that she wished she'd just snuff it and get it over with... she was over a hundred, you know, and she was the only one who bothered to visit me in this blasted prison they call a hospital. I could use a bit of company for a change, it's been weeks and I can't stand most of the staff here..."

"They say you're a mite balmy yourself, truthfully."

He chuckled slightly. "Not balmy, just extremely particular about several things. I think I've earned the right to demand things to be as I please. Got to have my tea for breakfast, nice and hot."

"That explains why I heard the nickname of 'the Mad Hatter' for you." Damitri smiled.

"Yeah; I think I've heard that one. I think I like you." He said with a bit of a chuckle. "So tell me, what is it that drags a sharp-looking boy like you all the way from London to this backwater nothing hospital?"

Damitri smiled back at the man. He wasn't young by any stretch of the imagination but this man was so much older than he, at least fifty years, so he would imagine he was just a boy to him. "Do you mind if I sit down first?"

"Oh, please have a seat, sit as long as you like. I might fall asleep on you though, I have a tendency to do that pretty often lately. I don't get visitors often anymore, but any of the nurses can tell you that much." He said waving at a chair with a heavily wrinkled hand.

Zabini bowed his head respectfully and took a seat, pulling it close to the bed before he sat down. "I know who you really are." he said quietly after he was seated for a moment or two. "You faked your own death, thirty-five years ago. There was a horrible potions accident; the lab imploded. There wasn't much left to examine, but there were traces of a body. It wasn't you, Mr. Caruthers."

The old man laughed merrily, his eyes nearly lost in the wrinkles on his face. "Lab experiment...? Me? Haven't done your background checks, have you boy? I'm a squib! I don't even own a wand, how the bloody hell would I be doing a potions experiment...? And why are you calling me Caruthers? My name is John Chapman. Name is on the plate thing outside my room if you want to check it."

"The remains of your wand, Mr. Caruthers, were found in the debris. But you weren't because you weren't there."

He snickered. "I can't wait to tell the fellows that I was some sort of a mad scientist wizard who blew up in a potions lab." he said, eyes twinkling. "Tell me more; I gotta have details if they're gonna believe me."

Damitri couldn't help but grin at the man's merriment, though he was truly hoping it was a smokescreen. Could it be possible that he had actually forgotten who he had been...? "You weren't any sort of a mad scientist, Douglas. You are the last of a rather wealthy line of wizards, and you graduated rather near the top of your classes at Durmstrang, where your parents decided you should be educated..."

"Me? Near the top of a class of Durmstrang? Merlin's Blue Balls; I was a bloody genius!" He giggled.

Zabini laughed softly. "Not quite a genius, but very good in the healing arts and particularly in transfiguration. These skills got you little recognition at your school; if your parents would have sent you to Hogwarts your life would have been quite different, I think."

"My life would have been different if I had gone to ANY Wizarding school. But transfiguration...? Was I an animagus? If I was that clever I would have been, but not registered of course..."

He smirked. "You were an unregistered animagus, yes. Don't you recall? You didn't want it to be common knowledge that your animagus form was a pigeon."

That got him chortling. "A pigeon? One of those horrid flying bird dropping factories...? Gads, I never would have changed again if that was the form I had to take!" he daubed at his eyes; he was laughing so much they were tearing up. "Oh, Merlin, you are the funniest boy I've ever met...!"

"Glad to entertain you sir... from what I understand you have quite an altruistic nature..."

"A what?"

"A giving nature. Not thinking of yourself before you think of others." he explained patiently.

He shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. I ran a muggle magic shop for thirty years, taught a lot of muggles how to do sleight of hand. It’s all I can do anyway, I got quite good at it."

"You did that, yes..." Damitri began.

The old man pushed himself up onto one elbow with quite a bit of effort. "So tell me what this Caruthers did to make him so important that someone goes lookin' for him thirty five years after he croaks off?" he asked.

"I'm a private detective." he answered. "I was hired by a man to find a child."

"I only had one and she's not exactly a kid anymore." he said, eyes narrowing. "Who the bloody hell is tryin' to poke around at my girl's life? That's MY daughter and no one has any business pokin' into her life!"

"No one is. Mr. Caruthers..."

"Chapman!" he interrupted.

"Mr. Chapman." he said in agreement, mollifying the man somewhat. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but Abraxas Malfoy died of Dragon Pox over thirty years ago."

"Did he? Well that's what he gets for mucking about with dragons, I suppose." He grunted, lying back down onto the bed with a slight groan. "Bloody hell I hate being old..."

Damitri gazed at the man, believing he saw much more behind those eyes than the simple persona he was projecting now. "Thirty five years ago Abraxas Malfoy brought a sixteen year old boy to your cabin in the mountains..." he said softly.

The man in the bed closed his eyes, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. "Ain't got no mountain cabin!" He grumbled.

"...and from that boy came a child; an infant. Abraxas wanted it killed and forced you to deliver the child..."

"That Caruthers man did that? Go look for him then! Doesn't sound like he had anyone's interests in mind but his own!"

"The girl that was delivered was not unwanted, no matter what Abraxas Malfoy told you. She had two parents; one had his mind twisted by torture to think that he had never had a child; the other thought she had been killed at birth. Her father has been looking for her for thirty five years, with spell and tracking and blood potions... everything he could do..."

"Not everything, if the father was truly a Malfoy..." the aged wizard snorted.

"On the contrary; he did everything a young man estranged and at odds with his own father could do." He answered quietly. "You, on the other hand, vanished with the baby..."

"It weren't me!"

"I have all the time in the world, Mr. Caruthers." Damitri said softly. "I need to get the truth, for an old friend. I looked into your school records; you were good in things that Abraxas would have valued for this. And I also know that there is no way that you could bring yourself to kill an innocent, despite your Durmstrang education."

"Caruthers is dead. He died a long time ago." he said, turning his face away. "Go away, young man. I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"He died the day you appeared, coincidentally. I think you were him, once upon a time. You found yourself alone with a new baby, so you had to find a wife. It did not take you long to find one; a pretty muggle girl from the village. She didn't need any sort of potions or spells, she really did love you didn't she?"

The old man cracked open an eye to look at him. “She fancied me, she did… I wouldn’t have used anything on her…”

“But you did.” He said softly. “You confounded that pretty little thing into believing that she had given birth to your daughter.”

“I never would have harmed a hair on her head!”

“Of course not; you didn’t harm her, not ever. The confundus didn’t hurt her, just gave you a way to care for the baby.” He said soothingly. “I know you never meant to hurt her.”

The old man subsided, still frowning slightly. “She loved our baby. She was OURS, not some random boy who came to some cabin…”

“Did you have any idea who that ‘random boy’ was?”

“He called him…” The man started, then groaned slightly and closed her eyes as he realized he’d just given away the truth. “Oh, bloody hell.” He grumbled.

“It’s all right.” Damitri reassured. “What did he call him?” he encouraged him to go ahead and speak.

The old wizard grimaced. “I don’t… I mean…” he attempted, then sighed. “He called him a harlot, a catamite… I think he may have called him James or something...”

“He was Harry Potter’s father.” He said clearly. “James Potter.”

The old man stared at him, disbelief on his face. “What…?”

“You didn’t know?” He asked softly.

“No, I… I didn’t.” he murmured, looking rather shaken. “That was… I mean, he was Harry Potter’s father…” he repeated as if trying to wrap his mind around it all. Damitri waited patiently for the man to gather his thoughts and make up his mind. Finally, in an unsteady voice, he began to explain.

------------------------------

Damitri returned to visit the elderly wizard several more times over the next two days, listening to the old man reveal as much as he could remember about the birth of the little baby girl and what had occurred directly after. On the second day he did finally admit that he had once been called Caruthers, but figured since more of his life had been lived under another name he shouldn't claim that name any more.

The details that Caruthers provided filled in the last details of that night. One of the places that Damitri had searched had been the crypt of Abraxas Malfoy himself with Lucius' permission, and he had located there several phials of memories. With those memories and the details provided by Caruthers, Damitri knew now exactly what the night of his daughter's birth had been like for James. The last detail now, was to track down Adrianna herself.
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Pilfered Progeny - Stolen Dreams