Years Later
One
"Death eater sighting; Diagon Alley," Harry Potter told his partners in the criminal-catching business, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, as he cruised by both of their desks.
Ron jumped to his feet and followed Harry to where their traveling cloaks were hanging, while Hermione grabbed the package of Death Eater files and letters from the Daily Prophet that just ended up getting thrown into a locked drawer on the table. Rather reluctantly, she followed them to the coat rack.
"So, what is it?" she asked rather indignant about leaving her paperwork.
Of course, if she complained, they would offer to leave her- but she couldn't let them go off to try and capture a potential Death Eater by themselves. Even though Harry was able to find and destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes, she still considered him incapable- especially since it was Snape who actually faced Voldemort off at his weakest mortal state and killed the man. At the time, though, Voldemort was at his most powerful, magically… yet was unable to know that his increase in strength was not from the Dark Arts he was practicing, but from the return of his mortality.
"I said it already," Harry retorted. Ron watched as Hermione sizzled from hearing Harry's simplistic words.
A Death Eater had removed his voice and all means of regaining it, so Ron had spent the last 7 years as a mute- and had become a hefty user of nonverbal spells and wandless magic. Swiftly, and unexpectedly, Hermione slapped Harry across the face. The Boy Who Lived didn't even flinch, but withered a little bit under Hermione's expectant, "TRY-AGAIN-OR-ELSE" stare.
"It was seen just walking around- well, limping- and is entirely masked and robed. Not much else- really… just loitering…" the green-eyed man volunteered weakly.
Hermione swallowed the information, and then nodded. It was all her companions needed to see to know that she was ready to go find the Death Eater. Grabbing both of their shoulders, Ron (who had become even more practiced at apparating than Hermione) popped them onto an estranged street corner in Diagon Alley. Upon gathering their bearings, the trio silently made their way to where the said criminal's location was. They walked very well together, stealthy and practiced from years of sneaking around in Hogwarts followed by ten years of fighting Death Eaters and Voldemort. The Diagon Alley surrounding them was dark, with ominous buildings towering over them at both sides. On some street corners, there was the occasional boisterous pub, but 2 years after Voldemort's death was not much time for the wizarding world to recuperate. Many of the Death Eaters who were still at large were almost as bad as the Dark Lord himself.
And then, they spotted the person they were looking for. Ron had seen it first, and had simultaneously smacked Harry's ribcage and tugged at Hermione's hand. The Death Eater was pacing; it's slow, shuffling walk took it forward to wherever its destination was. Except, it didn't seem to have a destination- the death eater's slow walk seemed aimless, and even with the mask and robes on he emitted a frailty that left one to think he would drop dead at any second. Despite that, though, the three aurors and Order of the Phoenix leaders took out their wands.
Harry's voice icy and threatening at any Death Eaters curtly cut through the night as he said, "Freeze." As if the word was a spell, the person in front of them froze in his place.
The trio confidently approached the death eater now; there was no need to follow him in stealth. As they approached, they could see his robes were tattered.
"Face us," Harry interrupted the silence.
Without much choice, the person in front of them turned so that they could see his front. Blood was caked on his mask, and it was cracked in various places. The skin that was visible was gray colored, like his already pale skin had not seen sunlight for years on end. Blood oozed out from underneath the mask, misplaced crimson on the corpse grey.
Harry, Ron and Hermione visibly tensed as he removed a seemingly-chewed at hawthorn wand from his pocket. But before either of them had a chance to disarm the death eater, the wand was dropped to the floor. It landed with a soft thud at Hermione's feet, and was shortly followed by the wand's owner as he feinted.
The ten judges sat in a row, scrutinizing their subject. There was no need to, really, for he was guilty, but the judges enjoyed the discomfort that the death eater before them was feeling as they listed off all of his known crimes.
"Imperio curses… Crucio curses…" a stuffy looking judge with flashing, amethyst eyes muttered. His button nose and chubby cheeks were misplaced on his face, for his eyes and receding hairline were anything but benign.
"Lifetime sentence in Azkaban, no doubt," a twitchy, young witch with dull brown eyes added in a surprisingly deep voice.
The conversation continued, but the death eater sitting in the middle of the room, chained to his chair, was unable to comprehend their speech anymore. His head was swimming and his face burned from shame. Deep cuts on his face, going across his left eye, over his nose, and back across his mouth were healed, but the scars remained. As he attempted to hang onto reality, Harry Potter's battle worn face swam into his vision.
And then, the words that Potter had said as he witnessed the healers busying themselves with his wounds, echoed in the death eater's mind.
"Leave the scars… They resemble a lightning bolt," Harry Potter had said coldly. With his face scrunched up in dislike, he had turned away without saying a word of recognition to the boy from underneath the mask. A full fledged argument ruptured from the panel of judges, but Draco ignored them, whispering to himself what he could have said before, what he wished everyone to know now. No one heard him even as he was lifted out of the seat and pushed towards the door where a portkey would take him to Azkaban.
He was walking to his cell, to the place he would be imprisoned for the rest of his life, but he didn't know it. His whispering had taken him back to a time and place only he could visit in his mind, and the aura of insanity spilled out of him like a tangible fountain of gooey, hot caramel, sticky with paranoia. Walking like a corpse who rose from the grave and just barely teetering on his feet, the death eater's memories shook him until he could walk no more. Collapsing where he stood, he was oblivious to the prison guards throwing a fit about not wanting to help him up and unable to use magic in this area to levitate him.
Except, someone did help him up- and he could even see all three of them in his memory, walking out from thin air. Ron and Harry grabbed his sides and lifted him from the ground as Hermione sought his hand. His dead weight was mainly on Ron, but the red-haired man was able to take it in stride. Dark hair intercepted his vision of the Azkaban cell when his head thudded onto Harry's shoulder, but the memory which he was reliving became even clearer. Hermione's nose wrinkled up as he grasped her hand with all of his might, but she still held on, so therefore he continued hanging onto her. The death eater was still muttering incoherently when the trio shook him off onto his bed in Azkaban, and he did not stop when the shut the barred doors behind them. It was just a faded whisper, but incessant nonetheless, and didn't stop when he was left alone in the gray environment.
Ron jumped to his feet and followed Harry to where their traveling cloaks were hanging, while Hermione grabbed the package of Death Eater files and letters from the Daily Prophet that just ended up getting thrown into a locked drawer on the table. Rather reluctantly, she followed them to the coat rack.
"So, what is it?" she asked rather indignant about leaving her paperwork.
Of course, if she complained, they would offer to leave her- but she couldn't let them go off to try and capture a potential Death Eater by themselves. Even though Harry was able to find and destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes, she still considered him incapable- especially since it was Snape who actually faced Voldemort off at his weakest mortal state and killed the man. At the time, though, Voldemort was at his most powerful, magically… yet was unable to know that his increase in strength was not from the Dark Arts he was practicing, but from the return of his mortality.
"I said it already," Harry retorted. Ron watched as Hermione sizzled from hearing Harry's simplistic words.
A Death Eater had removed his voice and all means of regaining it, so Ron had spent the last 7 years as a mute- and had become a hefty user of nonverbal spells and wandless magic. Swiftly, and unexpectedly, Hermione slapped Harry across the face. The Boy Who Lived didn't even flinch, but withered a little bit under Hermione's expectant, "TRY-AGAIN-OR-ELSE" stare.
"It was seen just walking around- well, limping- and is entirely masked and robed. Not much else- really… just loitering…" the green-eyed man volunteered weakly.
Hermione swallowed the information, and then nodded. It was all her companions needed to see to know that she was ready to go find the Death Eater. Grabbing both of their shoulders, Ron (who had become even more practiced at apparating than Hermione) popped them onto an estranged street corner in Diagon Alley. Upon gathering their bearings, the trio silently made their way to where the said criminal's location was. They walked very well together, stealthy and practiced from years of sneaking around in Hogwarts followed by ten years of fighting Death Eaters and Voldemort. The Diagon Alley surrounding them was dark, with ominous buildings towering over them at both sides. On some street corners, there was the occasional boisterous pub, but 2 years after Voldemort's death was not much time for the wizarding world to recuperate. Many of the Death Eaters who were still at large were almost as bad as the Dark Lord himself.
And then, they spotted the person they were looking for. Ron had seen it first, and had simultaneously smacked Harry's ribcage and tugged at Hermione's hand. The Death Eater was pacing; it's slow, shuffling walk took it forward to wherever its destination was. Except, it didn't seem to have a destination- the death eater's slow walk seemed aimless, and even with the mask and robes on he emitted a frailty that left one to think he would drop dead at any second. Despite that, though, the three aurors and Order of the Phoenix leaders took out their wands.
Harry's voice icy and threatening at any Death Eaters curtly cut through the night as he said, "Freeze." As if the word was a spell, the person in front of them froze in his place.
The trio confidently approached the death eater now; there was no need to follow him in stealth. As they approached, they could see his robes were tattered.
"Face us," Harry interrupted the silence.
Without much choice, the person in front of them turned so that they could see his front. Blood was caked on his mask, and it was cracked in various places. The skin that was visible was gray colored, like his already pale skin had not seen sunlight for years on end. Blood oozed out from underneath the mask, misplaced crimson on the corpse grey.
Harry, Ron and Hermione visibly tensed as he removed a seemingly-chewed at hawthorn wand from his pocket. But before either of them had a chance to disarm the death eater, the wand was dropped to the floor. It landed with a soft thud at Hermione's feet, and was shortly followed by the wand's owner as he feinted.
The ten judges sat in a row, scrutinizing their subject. There was no need to, really, for he was guilty, but the judges enjoyed the discomfort that the death eater before them was feeling as they listed off all of his known crimes.
"Imperio curses… Crucio curses…" a stuffy looking judge with flashing, amethyst eyes muttered. His button nose and chubby cheeks were misplaced on his face, for his eyes and receding hairline were anything but benign.
"Lifetime sentence in Azkaban, no doubt," a twitchy, young witch with dull brown eyes added in a surprisingly deep voice.
The conversation continued, but the death eater sitting in the middle of the room, chained to his chair, was unable to comprehend their speech anymore. His head was swimming and his face burned from shame. Deep cuts on his face, going across his left eye, over his nose, and back across his mouth were healed, but the scars remained. As he attempted to hang onto reality, Harry Potter's battle worn face swam into his vision.
And then, the words that Potter had said as he witnessed the healers busying themselves with his wounds, echoed in the death eater's mind.
"Leave the scars… They resemble a lightning bolt," Harry Potter had said coldly. With his face scrunched up in dislike, he had turned away without saying a word of recognition to the boy from underneath the mask. A full fledged argument ruptured from the panel of judges, but Draco ignored them, whispering to himself what he could have said before, what he wished everyone to know now. No one heard him even as he was lifted out of the seat and pushed towards the door where a portkey would take him to Azkaban.
He was walking to his cell, to the place he would be imprisoned for the rest of his life, but he didn't know it. His whispering had taken him back to a time and place only he could visit in his mind, and the aura of insanity spilled out of him like a tangible fountain of gooey, hot caramel, sticky with paranoia. Walking like a corpse who rose from the grave and just barely teetering on his feet, the death eater's memories shook him until he could walk no more. Collapsing where he stood, he was oblivious to the prison guards throwing a fit about not wanting to help him up and unable to use magic in this area to levitate him.
Except, someone did help him up- and he could even see all three of them in his memory, walking out from thin air. Ron and Harry grabbed his sides and lifted him from the ground as Hermione sought his hand. His dead weight was mainly on Ron, but the red-haired man was able to take it in stride. Dark hair intercepted his vision of the Azkaban cell when his head thudded onto Harry's shoulder, but the memory which he was reliving became even clearer. Hermione's nose wrinkled up as he grasped her hand with all of his might, but she still held on, so therefore he continued hanging onto her. The death eater was still muttering incoherently when the trio shook him off onto his bed in Azkaban, and he did not stop when the shut the barred doors behind them. It was just a faded whisper, but incessant nonetheless, and didn't stop when he was left alone in the gray environment.