Blood of the Moon {Remus Lupin}

Chapter 14

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Auriga entered her office of six months, smiling at people as she approached her desk. "Morning, Auriga," Martin said to her as she hung her cloak up and sat down, "Are you coming for drinks with the rest of us later?"

"Yes, I will be doing," Auriga said with a polite smile.

Martin seemed to hesitate before he spoke again. "Look, I know it's really short notice but Jonathan's called in sick so he can't do the rounds of Azkaban with the Minister."

"Oh, I'd love to help, Mr Cowell," Auriga began with a kind smile, "but I'm afraid I've got that report on Murtlap trade due tomorrow and-"

"That can be passed onto Jonathan when he gets back," Martin said dismissively, "I need someone presentable and you seem like the best man for the job. You know, because your cloaks always match your robes and you always have your hair done." They both laughed at that.

"Well in that case, it'd be a pleasure," Auriga said cheerily, "What time do I need to go?"

Martin checked his watch and his eyes widened. "They want you up on level one now," he said. Auriga jumped up and headed to the door. "You'll need a cloak," Martin called after her.

Auriga grabbed her emerald cloak from its peg, and hurried out the door, down the corridor and into the lift, pressing the number one and waiting impatiently. "Malfoy, is it?" someone asked from behind her.

"Oh, Auror Woodburn," Auriga said with a smile, "It's good to see you again."

"I don't suppose you're coming to Azkaban with us?" Woodburn asked, indicating the three other Aurors with him.

"Yes I am," she said, pleasantly surprised, "I only found out five minutes ago though."

"Well I suppose I should introduce you," Woodburn said, "This is Shacklebolt, Proudfoot and Savage." Auriga looked around at them all. None of them were below six foot and they all had fairly grim expressions. Shacklebolt in particular gave the impression that he was glaring, but that could've just been his resting face.

The lift pinged and they all filed out and made their way to the Minister's office. The door was propped open with magic and inside were a group of three wizards. One was Fudge, and two she didn't recognise. "Ah, Auriga," Fudge said with a fond smile, "What a pleasant surprise! I suppose you're here for International Magical Co-operation?"

"Yes, I am," Auriga beamed.

"Excellent, excellent," Fudge said clapping his hands together. "And Shacklebolt, Woodburn, Proudfoot and Savage, you'll be here for Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Yes, sir," Shacklebolt replied stiffly.

"Well, Thompson here's representing the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures," Fudge said, indicating a man in brown robes stood behind him, "And this is my secretary, Todd Jones," he said, waving at the other wizard in the room. "And I think that's everyone. The portkey leaves in 43 seconds, so if everyone will please gather round."

Everyone moved around the table and placed a finger on the old quill in the middle. Auriga stood between Thompson and Woodburn, and it wasn't long before she felt a pull at her navel.

*****

Everyone hurried off the boat and into the prison's entrance chamber, keen to avoid the rain and the dementors that swooped around outside. Despite the six patronuses that ran around them, her swooping scops owl among them, Auriga still felt the cold wrath of the prison guards that she'd only read about in books. "Just a routine tour today then, Minister?" Shacklebolt asked, leading the way through the stone lined corridors.

"Yes, yes," Fudge said, folding away his paper, "The quicker we can leave, the better."

"I hate this bloody place," Woodburn whispered nervously to Auriga.

"It's awful isn't it?" Auriga agreed. The group's heads snapped up to the ceiling as they heard a scream from above.

"High-security," Shacklebolt explained, "The whole lot of them are insane. Except...well..." he trailed off, a look of unpleasantness crossing his face. "Shall we get them out of the way first?" Shacklebolt suggested to the Minister.

"Yes, I think so," Fudge said, forcing a chuckle.

The group headed up a never-ending flight of stairs until they reached a door. "So," Shacklebolt said, regarding the group, "You need to be vigilant in here. Don't let your guard down, not once. And remember they can't touch you. You're going to want to talk to them for your various reports and statements, and they're going to be saying some pretty nasty stuff." Everyone nodded, and Auriga took a deep breath, not really knowing what to expect.

Auriga decided to think about what she was going to ask them. She needed to focus on security, so maybe she should ask about the routines they go through, perhaps identify any weak spots in her head? About the condition of their cells too? And she needed to please the human rights activists, so perhaps ask about their treatment?

The door swung open to reveal a long, wide corridor. Various screams and laughs came from the cells, and the group edged forward, dividing. Get a grip, Auriga thought, taking a breath, they're just people.

"Narcissa?" a shrill voice called from behind her. Auriga turned at her mother's name to see a witch with a thin, almost hollowed out face poking through the bars. Her skin was pale and grey, a stark contrast to the birds nest of black curls that hung down to her waist.

"No," Auriga said, approaching tentatively, "Who might you be?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," the witch said, sticking her hand through the bars. Auriga didn't take it, and moments later Lestrange snapped it back as a cutting charm flew past, fired by Woodburn.

"Remain in your cells," Woodburn announced to the corridor, which was greeted by jeers and laughs.

"Who might you be, if not my sister?" Lestrange asked her.

"Narcissa Malfoy is your sister?" Auriga asked, curiosity taking hold of her.

"Uh-huh," Lestrange laughed.

"She's my mother," Auriga said, "Which makes you my aunt."

"And working for the Ministry," Lestrange sneered, pacing her cell and dragging her chains. "Shame on your house!" she shouted suddenly, but Auriga didn't jump.

"Yes, well," Auriga said dismissively, as if the witch before her hadn't spoken, "Could you tell me about your routine here?" Lestrange laughed again, more of a cackle. It was shrill and high.

"I'll tell you," a quiet voice said from the next cell along. Auriga turned and stepped along to peer at the man. He was sat on his unmade bed, with his legs crossed. His hair came down to his waist too, but hung more limply, weighed down with grease. His face looked like it was once handsome, but now it was as thin and gaunt as Lestrange's and his eyes popped out of their sockets.

"Sirius Black," he said calmly, with a smiling bearing yellowed but straight teeth, "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Malfoy."