Investigation at Azkaban

A magnificent new day was dawning, thought Voldemort as he heard the screams of the tormented waking him. With a wicked smile on his lips, he rose from the antique four-poster bed of Hogwarts, which, along with a vanishing cabinet, was the only piece of furniture in the otherwise spacious room of the former Ministry of Magic apartments. Voldemort did not want to waste his time with unnecessary decorations.

He motioned to the immense serpent sleeping at the foot of his bed to follow him as he walked slowly to the balcony overlooking the ministry hall. Thus, he could start each of his days by observing the tiny cockroaches who, night and day, worked for him and, if necessary, punish those who, unaware of their master's gaze, lacked diligence in their work. It was through small actions of this kind that he had been able, despite his frail appearance, to gradually instill a sense of permanent oppression, then terror, and finally blind obedience among the many unmarked officials he had had to recruit urgently.

Voldemort smiled at this spectacle. It was now a veritable anthill of devoted servants bustling before his eyes. They were now numerous enough that he no longer needed to directly impose his power on his subjects. Soon, it would be over with having to play the savior of the wizarding world in front of those pitiable little nobles. Already, some had seen the winds change and hastened to reaffirm their submission. Of course, there would be some stupid or idealistic enough to want to rebel. However, he hoped that the rumor of what happened to Edgard Guzman and the other dissidents would spread quickly enough to terrorize them at the mere thought of daring to defy him. Despite their congenital stupidity, even the most foolish of his subjects would inevitably understand such a simple message: regardless of your rank or crime, you will not escape the vengeful gaze of Lord Voldemort.

Finally, Harry Potter, he thought, almost laughing. Thanks to the denunciation letters that well-meaning neighbors sent him by the hundreds, he knew that in the secret minds and hearts of English wizards, Potter was becoming the new dark lord, relegating Voldemort to second place.

Ultimately, Umbridge had done him a favor. How would he have managed without such a good enemy to justify his kidnappings, the climate of terror, and finally the genuflections? On the other hand, without her, he wouldn't have had to do all that to take control of the United Kingdom. But that would have been a waste. In addition to extremely slowly strengthening his magical core at the cost of part of the chanters' lifespan, this ritual was remarkably entertaining.

Knock, knock, knock.

Enter! Voldemort spat angrily when knocks were struck at the door. He hated being interrupted in his thoughts.

Immediately, Peter entered and prostrated himself before him, crawling like a worm to his feet on the expensive carpet. This calmed Voldemort. For a reason he didn't understand since his resurrection, the sight of the rat relaxed him.

Monseigneur, sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, but I must inform you of urgent news.

If it's good news, speak, otherwise be silent. I don't want your incompetence to spoil this wonderful morning.

At his words, he made a careless gesture with his hand, another crucified body joined the pyre. To his great pleasure, a huge scream echoed throughout the hall. Apparently, this one was still breathing. Then he wondered if by finishing him off, he hadn't done a good deed and frowned.

My Lord, I fear that this cannot wait…

Silence! And thank Merlin that I am in a lenient mood today. Next time you feel like questioning my orders, you will join them. Voldemort threatened, pointing at the chained wizards who were chanting the long litany of power amplification that the sorcerer-kings of Mesopotamia had imposed on their clergy when they pretended to be gods.

His eyes filled with terror, Peter tried to bow even lower, but only managed to hit his head on the ground.

Pathetic. Don't just stand there, fool, and make yourself useful. Contact that meddler Rita Skeeter and ask her what she has learned about Dumbledore. It's time for her to prove that I was right to spare her. Voldemort commanded, hoping to finally get answers to his questions.

Voldemort had never been interested in his old enemy's past. In fact, after his death, he had done everything to forget him (and his last affront). However, upon discovering the two intact arches amidst the remains charred by the Fiendfyre of the Department of Mysteries, he had been forced to reconsider his judgment. Normally, he wouldn't have even paid attention to the arch. Unlike the Ravenclaws, he was only interested in knowledge and riddles when they could be useful to him, and the research on the strange magic surrounding the arch was far too theoretical to be of any use before the end of this war.

However, when he had approached, he had immediately understood that these arches were linked to the Deathly Hallows. That day, he had almost crossed to the other side, his magic drawn by something in the event horizon that wished to return at any cost, even if it meant destroying him. Fortunately, the magic of the arch was identical to that of the Hallows, and thanks to it, he had been able to tame it. Since then, as if it had started sulking, the veils had become mere pieces of cloth animated by nothing. He had naively thought that the Hallows were the only artifacts using such powerful and ... disturbing magic. He was wrong and had almost paid a heavy price for it.

He was now determined to learn as much as possible about these things, but once again Dumbledore had stood in his way. During the last weeks before his death, the old wizard had methodically retrieved all the books talking about the three brothers. The old fool knew something he didn't want him to discover. However, he had no desire to delve into the long succession of hypocritical sentimentality that must have constituted his life, and had therefore delegated the task to that Rita Skeeter who had done such a good job in recent months discrediting his enemies.

But he pushed that out of his mind and, without paying more attention to Wormtail, he headed with his snake towards the private elevator that would take him to the ministry's hall. Then something came back to him.

Before leaving, find Drago and tell him that he can come clean my room and that if upon my return I find even a speck of dust, he will spend the night locked in the closet again.

Very well, master. Queudver bowed one last time.

After a descent that lasted less than two seconds, the doors of the golden elevator opened with a characteristic chime. Immediately, everyone stopped their activity to kneel before him. He barely glanced at this routine spectacle and sat on his throne. It was then that he noticed it. Fear tainted the atmosphere. Even more than usual.

Is there no limit to your incompetence? What have you done to disappoint me again?

A few minutes and explanations later.

IMBECILE. AVADA KEDAVRA, you are barely worth more than mudbloods. AVADA KEDAVRA!

Voldemort continued to insult them and randomly cast avadas until the last Death Eater had run out of the room. Then, in front of the chained prisoners who were so terrified that they had stopped their chanting, he let his anger explode in a surge of magic that shattered all the windows in the hall and cracked some walls in a dreadful noise that made the poor souls trapped with him fear (or hope) that the place would collapse. The satisfaction of seeing that his host's magic had significantly progressed helped him calm down. Without a word, he sat on his throne. Constance's escape would force him to hasten his plans.

But perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. He would have preferred to have more troops and complete control of England before moving on to the next stage, but perhaps it was a sign that he was wasting time on futile precautions. Yes, it was time for him to finally get down to serious business.

oOoOoOoOo

When do we arrive? asked Justin.

We would have arrived earlier if you hadn't vomited over Liverpool.

If we didn't make so many turns as well.

They had been flying along the coast for several hours now—at an astonishing speed—in search of the sinister fortress of Azkaban, without taking time to sleep. This was the strategy they had decided to adopt when the thestrals had suddenly lost all sense of direction and began to circle more and more nervously. Apparently, something in the area was disturbing the animals and preventing them from using their navigation instinct to lead them to their destination. They consoled themselves by thinking that at least it probably meant they were in the right place.

Their research had been so long that the sun was beginning to gently rise on the horizon. Even though this meant it would be harder to remain discreet and they would have to take even more detours to avoid being noticed by Muggles (or possible sentinels), they were all so frozen that they couldn't help but welcome the first rays of light with hope. They had expected to be cold while flying so fast and had equipped themselves accordingly, but for the past few kilometers, they had been facing a real ice storm. They knew that the temperatures of the North Sea were not particularly pleasant at the end of summer, but they never would have thought they would have to face such harsh weather. Despite everything, they had little compassion for the prisoners who had been locked up for years in the terrible prison without any protection against the cold. During their journey and their visit to the ministry, they had seen what they were capable of. It had taken a lot of effort for Nott to convince Justin that he couldn't free them all without raising the alarm.

Look! exclaimed Blaise.

Everyone looked in the direction pointed out by Blaise and saw with fear the top of a black tower pointed in the distance. All of a sudden, they were no longer in such a hurry to end this endless sleepless night. Without needing to consult each other, they pulled on the reins of their thestrals and forced them to hover next to each other.

Well, what's the plan asked Justin?

Make her not say that we have to go inside. Make them not say that we have to go inside. Blaise began to recite aloud.

I need to go inside. You can wait outside and keep watch. Constance corrected.

Excellent plan. Blaise immediately approved.

Excellent, if we want to have done all that for nothing. Against Nott. It is not so easy to infiltrate Azkaban. Besides, what exactly do you hope to find there?

I absolutely need to know what is happening there. According to the Ministry of Magic, that's where the Death Eaters send all their opponents. I must find out what happens to them.

Is that all!? You made us travel halfway across the country just to know what it's like to be exposed to the Dementors!? If we didn't need you alive so much, I would give you a glimpse of it myself. Nott vilified as she turned around.

Théo!

I am able to defend myself, Mr. Finch-Fletchey. As for you, young man, I ask you to mind your manners. Even though the journey may have been exhausting, that is no reason to behave in such a manner. What would your parents say if they saw you behaving like this?

Seeing the looks of terror on the faces of the other two, she realized that she had just said something she shouldn't have and began to feel afraid. Perhaps she should have waited until she was no longer 400 meters above the raging ocean to admonish the driver of her frail mount. But against all odds, he burst out laughing. It was a cold laugh that sounded more like a cry of pain than an expression of joy. Once he calmed down, he turned to her again with an expressionless look from which all emotion had been erased:

Obviously, I am too tired to continue. Let's find a safe place to rest, then you will explain to us what you came to look for in this rat hole, so that we can come up with a plan. But I warn you, if you don't give us a good reason to risk our necks, I will...

But the end of his sentence was replaced by a shiver of cold and a feeling of unease overwhelmed him. He looked at the sky and had the impression that the sun had reversed its course. The world was becoming dark again, and it was as if no light would ever pierce the black clouds that gradually obscured his vision. Suddenly, Nott started to think back to his mother's funeral and then relive the event. As at the time, he felt that all joy had deserted him and that he would never be able to smile again.

That's when Justin shouted:

Dementor!!

Without waiting, Justin and Blaise launched their thestral at full speed towards the coast. With a little tap on the back from Constance, he regained his senses and rushed in their direction. It didn't take him long to catch up to them, but to his greatest horror, he realized that the soul eaters had set a trap for them. In front of them stood a wall of Dementors who, despite theimpressive aerial maneuvers of their Thestral, was closing in on them little by little. The first creatures they had encountered were merely beaters tasked with leading them to their doom. Nott did not know that Dementors were so intelligent, but he had read that the more souls they absorbed, the more their intelligence increased. Nott did not dare to think about what that implied and drew his wand and shouted without really believing it:

Exptecto patronum.

A faint mist came out of his wand. Despite all his father's efforts, Nott had never been able to produce anything better. However, by focusing the spell on part of the Dementors' device, he was eventually able to break through a hole in their defense where the Thestrals rushed in without waiting for orders from their riders. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, they finally saw the coast. And that's when hell broke loose.

All of a sudden, they found themselves in the midst of a rain of spells coming from the pebble beach. Most missed them, but some hit the wings of their thestral, which lost altitude at great speed. Throughout the descent, Nott felt as if his mind was filled with cotton. He knew he should have done something, but his mind, not yet recovered from his encounter with the dementor and a sleepless night of flight and anxiety, was numb. He owed it only to the conditioning from his father's training that he didn't faint at the moment of impact. But that might have been better, he thought, seeing the soul eaters quickly catch up with them and surround them.

He repeated the Patronus charm over and over, and a thin layer of whitish mist covered them, but the creatures had no trouble breaking through it, and he began to hear his mother's gentle voice asking him to forgive her. He knew what would happen next, so he closed his eyes and screamed with all his might:

Exptecto patronum.

But nothing happens. He repeated the formula with increasing despair, soon followed by Blaise, Justin, and Constance, but very quickly they all fainted and he saw his mother taking ...

NO! He shouted, casting a stinging spell on his thigh.

The pain briefly brought him back to his senses. Long enough to see a Dementor lift Justin and slowly bring him closer to its mouth. All of a sudden, the smiling faces of Blaise, Justin, and even Harry imposed themselves on his mind (a Harry without the cruel look that currently distorted his features).

Expecto patronum.

This time, it was a gigantic badger that emerged from his wand and charged at the hundred dementors. Staggering on his legs, Nott approached Justin and was relieved to see that the dementor had done nothing to him. However, he couldn't stay here. He tried to lift his friend but only managed to collapse to the ground. It was then that a strong hand pulled him to his feet.

Leave it, I'll take care of it.

The stranger to whom this voice belonged took Justin in his arms and ordered him to follow. Despite his mistrust, Nott found enough strength to follow him to a shepherd's hut lost in the moor where he could finally collapse from exhaustion.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The sun was high in the sky when Justin was awakened by the smell of hot chocolate.

Drink, kid. It's probably nonsense, but the locals say it keeps the spirits of the shipwrecked away. Said a man in his thirties with a long dirty beard, sitting next to him.

The what? Asked Justin once the hot chocolate had finished reviving them.

It is a local legend told by the fishermen.

The man cleared his throat and recited in a deep voice:

Near the peak of the shipwreck, permanently covered in fog even in the midday sun, one can sometimes see souls in distress emerging from the mist, seeking to steal the souls of overly curious sailors. Legend has it that during great festive moments, ghosts attracted by the explosion of life drag themselves to the coast to seize good feelings in a vain attempt to regain their lost lives. To free themselves from their enchantment, the love of their loved ones and a good dose of chocolate would be necessary.

While the thirty-something with the gruff look was telling him his story, Justin complied and drank his hot chocolate. Théodore would no doubt have killed him for being so unguarded, but a glance told him that his friend (still asleep on an improvised pallet next to Blaise and Constance) was in no condition to reproach him. He didn't know what had happened after the Dementors had surrounded them, but obviously the man had taken them in and protected them, even though he was in a bad state.

Who are you? Asked Justin.

I am Tom Hunter, a private detective specializing in paranormal phenomena. He said, handing him a card with a phone number and a logo resembling a detective chasing a ghost.

Cool! Couldn't help but exclaim Justin. I'm Justin Finch-Fletchey.

Nice to meet you, Justin. Now, if you have recovered enough, I would like to ask you a few questions?

By reflex, Justin tensed up, which did not escape the expert eye of Tom Hunter.

Apparently, we have a few things to blame ourselves for. But believe me, I'm hunting much bigger fish than you and your friends. Unless you have something to do with the disappearances? he asked in a falsely relaxed manner. All of a sudden, Justin noticed the gun on his belt and wondered where his wand was.

Disappearances? What disappearances?

Don't mess with me. All the surrounding villages have been emptied of their inhabitants and my client's daughter disappeared during her vacation with friends in the area.

Strange place for a vacation.

Don't change the subject. Why are your little friends kidnapping all these people? What are you up to?

Which friends?

Oh yes, and what is that? he said, brandishing their magic wand. By reflex, Justin tried to grab his own, but the man put it out of his reach. Justin realized he had just made a mistake. He took advantage of the awkward silence that settled between them to think. The man had helped them and he already knew a lot. What harm would there be in telling him the truth? Anyway, he had never been a big fan of the law of magical secrecy.

Yes, we are wizards, but we have nothing to do with the dark lord's minions. If you are monitoring the area, you must have seen that they attacked us.

The Dark Lord!? Is there a connection with Harry Potter?

Justin replied without thinking:

Harry has nothing to do with the Dark Lord. He would never harm anyone. The Dark Lord possesses him. Wait, how do you know Harry? You're not a Muggle?

It's a long story. But let's say that thanks to him, my superiors finally had a solid excuse to fire me from the police.

Oh! I am sorry.

There's no reason. First of all, it's normal for me to own up to my mistakes. But above all, it was an opportunity. I wasn't cut out for police work. In this job, I feel truly useful. Well, when I find work. But don't change the subject. If you're not with them, what are you doing here?

Justin hesitated before answering:

What tells me that you're not pretending to be a Muggle so we tell you everything?

We're not in a cheap novel here. No one uses such complicated schemes.

You don't know what the Dark Lord is capable of. Since he returned, everyone distrusts everyone else, families are tearing each other apart, no one knows what the truth is, or even if there is one.

If my brief experience has taught me anything, it is that the truth is elsewhere.

That's X-Files. Justin replied with a smile.

Trapped. In my defense, I wouldn't have thought that wizards knew X-files.

They don't watch. In fact, most don't even know what a TV is.

Justin was about to continue, but froze for a few seconds before saying:

I know what you are doing. You are trying to create a sense of trust and familiarity to get me to talk. My mother does the same when she dines with politicians.

Maybe. Does it work?

Yes. If I am sure of one thing, it is that none of the servants of the lord of darkness know X-files. We came for the same reason as you: to discover what is happening here.

Aren't you a bit young to play detective? Where are your parents? And who is this woman? Tom inundated him with questions with a morbid eagerness now that Justin seemed willing to talk.

Théo will kill me when he finds out that I spilled everything to a stranger.

And he will be right. Please continue, I beg you. Tom replied, giving him a huge chocolate bar as a bribe. Justin took a few minutes to think about how to explain the situation to a Muggle.

Our parents fled abroad just before the Dark Lord took power, but we got stuck here and the only way we can join them is if what's left of the Ministry gives us one of the Portkeys created before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named blocked all entry and exit from the island.

It's because of the wizards that we can't leave the United Kingdom anymore, since the attacks of August 11!? Wait, are you the August 11 attacks?

Justin acquiesced.

Lord! After a moment of silence, Tom asked: so if I guess this woman is a smuggler paid by your parents to help you flee the country inpassing through a sparsely monitored area of the North Sea on these winged horses of nightmares?

Have you seen our Thestrals?

Yes, of course. It's hard to miss them. Before you ask, after you fainted, men wearing black robes and white masks came to inspect the area and took them. I don't know where they took them, and I have no desire to ask them.

Justin took advantage of the man's explanations to decide whether it was worth correcting the version proposed by the Muggle. The Slytherins had a bad influence on him, he decided before pointing to Constance and explaining:

Constance is not a smuggler, but a representative of the international magical federation sent to investigate what is happening here. The dark lord captured her as soon as she arrived and imprisoned her in London. When it was learned, Theodore saw it as a good opportunity to leave the country. At least that's what he says. Anyway, we borrowed thestrals from Hogwarts and went to London to free her, hoping we could accompany her to Switzerland and then join our parents in France. We got really lucky, which allowed us to free her without taking any risks, but she refuses to leave the country until she has enough evidence to force the federation to intervene. So, we decided to serve as her guides. We don't know why, but she insisted that we bring her here.

I didn't understand everything about your story, but I think I know what she's hoping to find here. You say she's here to put an end to all this.

Ideally, yes. Justin replied nervously.

Then there is no time to lose. Exclaimed Tom Hunter.

In front of Justin's astonished gaze, the man stood up and threw a huge bucket of water on Constance, who continued to sleep like a log.

Shit, you wouldn't happen to know a spell to wake someone who's been given a massive dose of sleeping pills, by any chance. Asked Tom Hunter.

I need my wand. Said Justin, glancing at the pocket of his jacket where he had stored their wands.

They are in the trunk outside next to the watering can.

Huh!? Justin exclaimed without the slightest elegance.

If I had been stupid enough to keep your wands within reach, while I didn't know which side you were on, those guys out there would have captured me a long time ago.

oOoOoOoOo

It was exhausted that 2 days later, Théodore, Blaise, Justin, and Constance arrived in view of Hogwarts in the car that Tom Hunter had lent them. It wasn't that the journey was long between Hogwarts and Azkaban, but that Justin had a lot of trouble understanding how the gearbox of the antique that Tom had lent them worked and only realized too late that the needle that kept going down was the fuel gauge. Not to mention that he had to stop regularly to allow the three wizards to vomit while cursing the Muggles and their diabolical inventions. In short, the only positive point he would remember from this return journey was that he went unnoticed by traveling like Muggles (except for a few Muggle policewomen whom a well-placed Confundus Charm convinced that he was old enough to drive).

However, despite the joy that seized them at the prospect of the end of this journey and the return to safety, everyone was in a gloomy mood. TheThe contents of Constance's briefcase occupied their minds too much for them to rejoice. After waking them, Tom had explained everything he knew. For an entire afternoon, he had shown them photos of Muggles from the surrounding areas being forcibly taken onto trains bound for the nearest port to Azkaban, deserted villages, and especially the testimony of an 8-year-old girl who had managed to escape from the fortress and whom Tom Hunter had found half-drowned on the coast.

Blaise and Theodore did not want to believe it. Blaise claimed that never would wizards stoop to that. And Justin would have undoubtedly supported him if at school he had not seen images of magical concentration camps. Images that strangely resembled what Azkaban had become.

When a new group of prisoners was brought to the island, the former prisoners (whose will to resist had been annihilated by the constant presence of Dementors) were embraced, then the new prisoners were forced to move the hundreds of bodies into a vast warehouse kept refrigerated by the mere presence of the soul-eaters who absorbed all traces of heat. There, before their horrified eyes, lay thousands of bodies of all ages, which they understood were their predecessors from days past. Nevertheless, this sight, far from revolting them, finished destroying the meager hope that the Dementors had not yet consumed. It was then, docilely, that most returned to the now-empty cages so that the Dementors could feed there while waiting for the next delivery.

That should have been the fate of the little girl, but the next day (or rather what the little girl thought was the next day, given that she had lost all sense of time in the cell where she had been locked up), a great nervousness seized the shadow creatures who began to fly around in a disorderly manner. Then she was overcome by a strange unease. A feeling even worse than that caused by the presence of the dementors took hold of her. A deep unease that was not a happy feeling and that the dementors could not take from her. She did not know why she was the only prisoner to have felt it (Tom suggested she was a seer and Constance that she was a Muggle-born witch), but in any case, the first thing she heard when she regained consciousness was a mad laugh.

In movies or video games, she had always found mad scientist laughs funny, but at that moment she couldn't imagine anything more terrifying. Then the feeling of unease stopped, and for a while, everything seemed calm, motionless. Even the Dementors remained static and seemed disturbed by what they had just witnessed. Then gigantic doors opened, and a crowd emerged, walking slowly towards the docks. She didn't immediately understand why, but upon seeing them, she was gripped by a visceral fear that went beyond anything she had known. A primal fear rooted in her deepest instincts. Then, among the crowd, she recognized a familiar face. It was her brother's teacher who lived in a neighboring village from which she hadn't heard any news for a week. She called out to him, but he ignored her. When he passed in front of her cell, she managed to grab his long coat, which should have been out of place in the middle of summer. And finally, his gaze turned towards her. A gaze devoid of any life. He was no longer the man she had known. No longer a man at all.

All coherent thought had deserted the girl's mind. All she wanted was to escape from here. It was then that the door opened without her understanding why (which supported Constance's theory). Once freed, she ran without stopping in the opposite direction of the undead. She passedIn front of the immense warehouse now empty, then turned until she exited the fortress through a door that must have once been used to take prisoners for a walk. She followed the coast trembling until she slipped on the edge of the cliff. After that, she remembered nothing except that she had swum to exhaustion in a randomly chosen direction.

The conclusion was simple and yet completely implausible. Voldemort had begun exterminating all the Muggles in the area to create Inferi. Theodore had no trouble believing that the Death Eaters were committing such atrocities. He was even certain that they did so with boundless joy. However, he was keen to point out that it was absurd to think that anyone could create so many Inferi. It was not a question of magical power, but of strength of soul. To reanimate a body, the dark wizard had to infuse it with a part of his own vital essence (or that of a sacrifice, but Inferi thus created often turned against their creator). If the Dark Lord had indeed acquired such abilities, then he was closer to a god than to a man, and no one could ever defeat him, Theodore thought.

But he did not want to elaborate too much in Constance's presence. Firstly, because he had no certainty about what had really happened, but also because he was afraid that if he explained to her where his knowledge of creating inferis came from, she would refuse to take him with her to Europe (despite everything they had done for her). Nott was used to being judged primarily on his name. Or rather on his father's.

In any case, to their great relief, Constance declared that she had all the evidence she needed and that it was not necessary to go to Azkaban (or elsewhere) to find more. So they left in the night with Tom's only means of transport (who insisted on staying). Apparently, a group of Muggle resistance fighters who had escaped the raids had formed with the aim of trying to slow down the Death Eaters as much as possible or to find a way to alert the Muggle authorities. For the moment, they had only managed to pass for madmen or narrowly escaped being captured by the Death Eaters, but that was no reason to give up. And then his client had paid in advance and he still hadn't found his daughter, Tom added as if that still mattered.

It was with a mind caught in a fog of fatigue (and other less pleasant feelings) that they followed the border guards of the enclave who took them to Hogwarts, where they were welcomed as heroes, first by Percy, then by an Umbridge whose predatory smile only grew larger as Constance recounted the story of their macabre discovery. It was excited like a child who had just been given a Firebolt for Christmas that she made long arabesques with her wand to open a huge safe hidden behind a piece of furniture in her office from which she took out a tin can. She handed it to Constance, almost shouting that she had to go tell the federation everything immediately. It was for this moment that despite their obvious fatigue and the little sympathy they had for Umbridge, the three teenagers insisted on attending this meeting.

Constance kept her promise and insisted that Théodore, Justin, and Blaise accompany her. Umbridge accepted without complaint. She didn't care about the fate of the teenagers, and as far as she was concerned, Constance could take any of the freeloaders who had moved near her ministry in the hope of getting some protection.

On the other hand, she was more disappointed when Percy Weasley refused a well-deserved promotion that would have made him the number two at the ministry. Instead, he asked for his sister and brother to be allowed to travel regularly to Europe. Umbridge hesitated for a few seconds before granting his request. The young man of noble lineage had proven to be an indefatigable workhorse, extremely competent, and endowed with an impeccable sense of ethics. Too impeccable. He was one of her few close collaborators over whom she had no leverage, and his rapid rise within the ministry worried her. Even a blind person would have seen a threat in such capabilities associated with such a prestigious name. As with all somewhat ambitious Weasleys, his unwavering loyalty to his family was his only weakness, and consequently, she wanted to keep his most impressionable relatives under her control. Nevertheless, she had no valid argument to refuse him this favor, and that snake had been careful to make his request in the presence of that little fool sent by the federation. Defeated, she agreed.

Half an hour later, after saying goodbye to the Dursleys and Dobby (who preferred to stay in the hope of being able to help Harry and whom Umbridge wanted to keep as a bargaining chip), Theodore, Justin, Constance, and Blaise pressed against a furious Ginny who was being forcibly pushed aside with immense relief. They were about to touch the tin can that would send them far from this nightmare when Percy's voice interrupted them.

Wait, you're forgetting Fred.

The latter, who had insisted on accompanying them to say goodbye (and especially to make sure Ginny left), replied with a small smile:

You can't force me to leave. Since last week, I'm of legal age.

Percy turned as red as a peony and yelled at him in an outraged tone.

I don't care what this stupid law says. You are 16 years old, you are a minor.

If he stays, then I will too. Said Ginny.

No, you, you're leaving. Said the two brothers in unison.

Listen Percy, it's too late. I've already joined the militia.

What did you do? You could have talked to me about it before?

But I told you about it. And you always brushed me off.

Don't tell me they agreed to hire someone so young?

You know as well as I do that if Umbridge lowered the age of majority, it's to recruit more easily. And I'm not the only one. There are plenty of people from my year who have signed up. Anyway, since classes are not resuming and ration tickets are becoming less and less sufficient, what else can we do?

I am going to see Umbridge immediately and force her to listen to me. Hogwarts is a school, not a training camp for child soldiers. And you, you won't get away with this.

Percy went away furious while Fred made sure Ginny left safely with their group.

Finally, they touched a can with their eyes closed. When they reopened them, they couldn't help but fall to their knees before the magnificent mountainous landscapes of Geneva. A weight they hadn't been aware of carrying disappeared from their shoulders.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: One day, I hope to have the inspiration and time to write a special edition on the fantastic investigations of Tom Hunter. I haven't had the opportunity to feature him much, but I love this character. But if I write it, thiswill be in a long time. I already have a list as long as my arm of projects I want to start once this fic is finished.