A Memory Of Shadows

9 - Crime follows Crime

Surprisingly, Draco had not even had to force them to clear out another room. Potter took one look at her ashen face, the dark circles under her eyes and paleness of years in the Dark only just starting to retreat, and Draco's stoic determination, before he went and threw a group of wizards and witches out of the nearest conference room. Verin gave him a small, grateful smile, though forced, as they strode past him to find their seats. Draco only let go of her after she had settled, settling himself in his own chair as if he owned the place. While Potter just let it go, probably used to his demeanor after all these years, Fitzroy looked as if he might grab the chair and flip him down. It would have been an amusing situation, watching the battle of men unfold, if not for the issues at hand. Robards seemed oblivious to the situation, though, or did not care enough to waste his time with it.

"Mr. Fitzroy, please fill Miss Yaxley in on what we know. Mr. Potter can then update us all a little afterwards."

Considering Verin knew little to nothing of the happenings after her trial, Fitzroy decided to start his story where she had lost her connection to the outside world. "Your trial and those before where the beginning of years of investigations and trials. The department had decided to push the trials of those closest to Voldemort into the weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts to get the most dangerous people out of the picture and out of society's reach. Most verdicts were as harsh as they were strict. In fact, out of all those early trials, your sentence was the mildest, "he paused there, his gaze quickly running over Draco next to her. "Well, of those proven guilty." Verin had winced a little when Fitzroy had called the Dark Lord by his name. She understood that, with his final defeat, he had lost the power of terror over the people. Still, she had thought they had remained to call him You-know-who out of habit or old, frightened respect. Or something.

Verin herself still called him the Dark Lord. Because he had been. He had raised himself above them, through unnatural, dark magic and torture. They had been servants, sometimes slaves, to his wishes and principles. No thoughts of themselves, no power themselves. By their own cowardness and wrong choices.

And as cruel as it might have been, bowing- even kneeling to him had been easy. Because none of them had had to carry the burden of guilt. The burden of leadership. If the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters had won- somehow- they would have never had to carry the burden of consequence for their horrible, unspeakable crimes. It was so easy to follow him into the Dark.

To unravel their darkest secrets and desires and bring them to light, live by what drove their very privileged pure blood existence. Their darkest needs, grown out of the greedy fear others might take their pride, their wealth. Once, all a good pureblooded boy or girl had to do to live in wealth and bathe in their success was being born into the right wizarding family.

The more Muggleborn or Half-blooded witches and wizards came into their world, pushing the Wizarding World forward into the future with their expertise and brilliance, the more those privileged boys and girls had to work for their own achievements in life. But they were not born to work and so they looked for a scapegoat to blame for their failures. The Dark Lord offered the sacred 28 (at least those who wished) to put an end to their misery. Without anyone having to admit it was their idea in the first place.

The easy way out. Bowing. Those privileged boys and girls never thought they would have to pay a price. They never had had to pay anything before.

First, the tortures became normal. For being late, for being a disappointment, for breathing too loud. Second, they lost control of their lives. Their houses. Their family.

At last, they lost their lives. And their freedom. Rightfully.

Those proven guilty. Verin's gaze went from Fitzroy to Potter to Robards to Draco. Last night, they had carefully avoided anything War related. She had just assumed he had picked his story up somewhere after his sentence. She had never guessed...Draco had been cleared.

Verin noticed she had zoned out a little, still staring at Draco. He stared back at her, eyes widening, his fear and guilt sending his thoughts in an unclear jumble before vanishing behind a wall. Looking up that wall before her, separating their minds, she realized she had not listened to what the Auror was talking about. She tried to snap out of it. It didn't matter. This was not why they were here.

"...became more violent, carrying out multiple attacks on Wizards and Witches. So far, there have been 11 attacks, one lethal."

Lethal? "Excuse me, what did you just say?" Verin's attention snapped back into focus in a heartbeat. Fitzroy looked up from his file, confused as to where he lost her. Potter must have noticed her little slip, for the Auror cleared his throat. "This organization has gone from threatening the ministry to the accused to violent attacks in mere months. They have started to carry out attacks on those that have been cleared or received milder sentences. Eleven so far. Most of the victims were able to fend them off, but two people died in the last one. They were young and probably knew too little Defense Magic." He said it as if it was just a fact, but Verin could see the pain in his eyes, body shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "We are yet to find a lead as to why and what happened. Their deaths seemed unplanned, but there is no denying these people are getting careless and, therefore, more dangerous."

"Innocent people have died. All you come up with after two years is the insight that they are getting more ruthless and increase their pace? Impressive, someone deserves a raise. No one could have seen that coming." Draco snarled across the table. He had lost his cool, distant demeanor completely now, the rage pushing into his squared shoulders. "If you only cooperated more with us, Draco," Potter began, but was interrupted straight away. "I might now be dead as well, seeing as you already succeeded at your job protecting them, didn't you, Potter?" "That was not Harry's fault! The Aurors placed as protection were all..." Fitzroy chimed in in Potter's defense. "Useless? Unqualified? Poorly trained?" Draco suggested. "They were all brutally incapacitated," Fitzroy finished his sentence.

Robards looked uncertain whether to intervene or just let the scene play out. He did not like that all the department came up with so far had been failures and lost trails. If only any of the victims had been more compliant to work with them...Then again, Mr. Malfoy did seem more concerned than the last time he had seen him concerning the matter. Just letting it play out could turn into his favour. He studied his Aurors and the two visitors carefully, only to find the young witch giving him a funny look. Odd, he thought.

Verin pulled her hand from beneath her coat to place onto Draco's knee. It was less an intimate gesture than an attempt to get his attention. It turned out to get attention from them all. "Who", she whispered, glad for the sudden silence after their loud argument.

"Who?", she asked again, her voice pitching. "Miss Yaxley..." Robards started, intending to tell her how it was confidential, and they could not release information to her. It was ridiculous since she would have found out through the Daily Prophet or some other source had she not been in Azkaban. Besides, she had not asked any of the Aurors. She had asked Draco.

"My parents were the first. Individually, Father at work and mother while she was out running errands," he replied, before anyone else could. He sat up straighter in his chair and crossed his arms, her hand slipping off his knee. "Father was quick to fend them off, mother...she was at St. Mungo's for a week. Then it was some others, mostly treatable injuries, Thomas Flint lost an eye. But then..."

He couldn't even look at her. No one could, they all stared at the table, the heated atmosphere shifting into a heavier, darker one. Beneath their argument, they had forgotten they were talking about the deaths of two young people.

Verin had thought it had stopped for the people outside the prison. Thought they all could sleep at night again, feeling safe in their houses and bad things only happening to them in their nightmares. Or memories. She thought out here, people were alright now.

"Draco," Verin whispered again, her heart racing, "who?"

"Pansy and Montague."