On the Turning Away

“What happens now?” asked Gwen, her voice hoarse and face bloodied from battle. “How’s this to work? Are we responsible for fixing their memories?”

“No, not us,” replied Remus, his eyes closed as he sat atop a small brick fence. “Dedalus set off for the Ministry. They’ll send a team right over to sort this out.”

“The Ministry?” her nose scrunched in distaste. “They’ve been infiltrated. How can they be expected to sort this out when they’ve been infiltrated?”

“It’s been infiltrated, but it’s not fallen, not completely. And this is in their jurisdiction. They’ve got to take records of what went on here, of how many lives were lost and the material damages. Then, once that’s settled, they’ll act accordingly, create the appropriate story so the muggles won’t think it suspicious.”

“I won’t stay here to be questioned by the Ministry. I refuse.” Gwen declared, she wasn’t about to collaborate with them.

Remus let out a sigh. “Thought as much, which is why you’ll be returning to the Burrow with Bill to brief the other members on what happened. Dedalus was meant to inform Molly and the others that a meeting would be taking place, and knowing him, it’s already been taken care of.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Gwen didn’t want to brief anyone, she wanted to sleep. “Remus, we’ve not slept since yesterday. And we’re meant to be on watch tonight. How are we meant to be up all night if we’ve not even had three bloody hours of sleep? And you, you especially, you’ve not slept well in days, since before the full moon. You were already falling asleep on watch last night. Ya won’t make it another night, not with how exhausted you are.”

“I know, believe me, I know. But there’s nothing else to do. We’re meant to see this, whatever this battle was, until it’s been finalized and shelved. That’s all there is to do.”

The truth in his words, Gwen could not deny, but she refused to be on watch with him. Remus had had a difficult week. The full moon had taken with it his strength, leaving him in desperate need of a proper night’s sleep, which he’d been unable to get with the recent developments with the war. And now, now that they weren’t even going to be able to get a nap in, he would bet truly running on empty, and Gwen wasn’t about to have someone so unfit for duty, as her companion for the night.

“I think it’d be in the best interest of the mission if you not be on duty tonight.” Gwen declared. “Before you protest, hear me out. You need sleep, Remus. You’re not a teenager that can go days on end without sleep. You’re a thirty something year old man and as such, need rest, especially with your condition. Now I know that you believe it necessary to have a companion on hand, in case things get rough, and if,” she stopped for a moment, willing herself to say the next bit. “And if Bill were to agree, then I would be pleased to have him on watch.”

“Y-you’d what?” asked a perplexed Bill, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.

“I want you to take Remus’ place tonight. If your schedule permits it, of course,” she did her best to keep her tone professional.

“Uh . . . I, well, yeah. If Remus wants I can take over for the night. S’alright by me,” he reassured.

Remus hesitated in giving an immediate response. “I can manage the night. It’ll be a challenge but I can fulfill my obligations.”

“I’d rather you rest.” Gwen’s tone lost its formality and turned into a friendlier one. “You need to rest Remus. And I assure you, I won’t think any less of you for not being out there tonight.”

“What about you? You’ve not slept either.”

“Ah, but I'm younger. I can manage another sleepless night much easier than you.” Gwen flashed him a smile, hoping to ease his doubts. “But in all seriousness, you’ve got to rest. There’s no debating that.”

“Since there’s no debating it, then I guess I’ll just have to rest. Bill?” he turned his head slightly too properly face the ginger. “Follow whatever orders Gwen gives. Her judgment is a most valuable asset.”

“Yes, of course, Remus.” Bill’s eyes flickered towards Gwen. “Should we be off now? To the Burrow, I mean.”

“I suppose so. Though, I’d like to clean up before we go round. There’s a little to much blood on me.”

“You can clean up at the house, if you like. Can even let you borrow a shirt.”

She was tempted to say no. That she didn’t need or want his shirt, but she knew that if she cleaned up at the Burrow, the odds of finishing up the meeting would be better, and she’d then be able to go home and perhaps even squeeze in a decent timed nap.

“The Burrow sounds fine, thank you.” She rubbed her eyes. “Remus, can I ask a favor?”

Remus nodded.

“There were a few muggles I was looking after. A pregnant woman with two small children, I was wondering if you could make sure that there home was fixed. It burned down, but uh, I think with the right spells it can be properly restored. Do you think you could ask the Ministry Aurors to tend to that?”

“Won’t need the Ministry, I’ll see to it that they have a roof over their heads.” Remus promised.
She shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“No thanks need be given.” He stood up from his seat. “Believe it’s time you two, be on your way. If the Aurors see you lingering about, they’ll make you stay and give statements.”

“Right, right,” Gwen tucked her wand into her front pocket. “Is there anything in particular you want relayed to the Order?”

“Just tell them what you know. What you both know.”

“And, uh, are you sure we can’t take at least one of the Death Eaters with us. You know, for further interrogation.” Her voice was soft, so the others wouldn’t hear.

“We’ve already interrogated them. It’s best we hand them over to the Ministry.”

“They’ll have more to say with a little more persuasion.” Gwen declared. “Just give me some time with them I’ll have more information out of them. All I need is the time.” She turned to Bill. “Give us a moment.”

“But I –” Bill protested.

“Give us a moment,” she repeated.

With a defeated sigh, Bill walked away, leaving the pair alone in front of the safe house.

“There’s way to get information out of them. Ways we’ve not used.”

“That’s not how we do things here.” Remus knew she was speaking of torture, but torture wasn’t something the Order condoned, not truly. “And I don’t think Dumbledore would be keen on having that associated with the Order.”

“It wouldn’t be associated with the Order.” Gwen took a step closer to him. “Dumbledore asked for discretion on my part.”

“Sorry. I'm not following.”

“I can be very discrete, Remus. Just let me have one of them. One’s all I need.”

“I . . .”

“I’ll tidy up after myself. Wipe the memories and all that.”

Remus was torn. He’d never been an advocate of torture for interrogation purposes. Truth be told, he’d never been an advocate of torture at all, but he knew that his fellow Order member was a world renowned Auror, and that when it came down to getting things done, she’d know better than him. She’d been trained at the elite American Auror Academy, she’d had a widely celebrated career for all those years, and although he was hesitant and weary, he gave her the okay to take one of the Death Eaters. There was one that stood out among the five they’d captured. That one was Thorfinn Rowle, whom was a close friend of Antonin Dolohov.

“Have Bill there with you.”

“But I can do it alone.”

“I know you can, but it’s best to have back up, just in case.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “But what’s to happen over at the Burrow?”

“When you’re done with Rowle, go over to the Burrow. But if for some reason, you’ve finished when you’re meant to go on the mission, then forget about going to the Burrow. I’ll head over and explain things to them.” Remus sighed. “Might I ask what his fate is to be?”

“I'm not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You’re not?” he asked, clearly shocked.

She shook her head. “He’ll be dumped off on the Ministry’s doorsteps. They can send him off to Azkaban and his master can break him out whenever he’s in the mood. Though it would be best to have him properly disposed of, but I know you lot frown upon that tactic.”

“Unless it’s absolutely necessary, which it is not at the present,” he replied.

“We differ on what we believe to be absolutely necessary. I would argue that it’d be in our best interest to dispose of him as quickly as possible. He’s quite the fierce dueler, very cruel and unrelenting. To have him off the streets would be beneficial to us, but to kill him, without a fair fight would be frowned upon, and seeing as how I am tired and not in the mood to fight, I find myself obligated to cater to the customs set forth in the Order.”

Remus let out a chuckle. “I can see why you got on so well with the Americans.”

That was liable to be both a compliment and an insult, but she took it as a compliment. She smiled and bid him farewell. If she wanted to have Rowle broken and talking before she had to spy on the Dolohov brothers, then she had to start as soon as possible.

“Bill,” she called to the ginger, which had his back to her and stood several yards away from them. “There’s been a change in plans.”

“What change?”

“We’re to take Rowle.”

“But I thought the Death Eaters were being taken by the Ministry.”

“Most of them, yes, but not Rowle. He’s one of the crueler Death Eaters, has been there since the first war and proved his loyalty. If anyone were to have added information it would be him. Do you understand?”

“I do, but I don’t get why we’d have to question him again. They’ve already been through the ringer.”

“He’s been interrogated. He gave no valuable information.”

“We did what we’ve been ordered to do.”

“We asked him politely, then raised our voices a bit, that’s all we did. Now it’s time to properly interrogate and Remus thinks it best for you to be there, in case he tries to attack or escape.”

“Properly interrogate?” he suddenly realized what she was getting at it. “Gwen, I don’t think that’s . . . that’s legal or alright with the Order.”

“I don’t have time to debate the legality of things. Are you coming or not? Because if you’re not, then I’ll see you later when we go on watch,” she wasn’t going to waste her time arguing with him on the street. She knew what needed to be done and she was going to do it. End of story.

“But you can’t . . .”

“Are you coming or not?” she repeated. “I’ve got a lot to do Bill, and you’re welcome to either be there or not.”

“I, uh . . . fine.”

“Let’s go get him before the Ministry Aurors arrive and they throw a fit. I’ll be taking him to my house. There’s a barn out back, mum used to use it as her work space to train and practice dueling. It’ll hold him for as long as we need him.”

“I thought you were going to interrogate him here.”

“No, no, I need a better space for what I’ve got planned.”

His face paled.

“No need to look so scared. I'm not after you, Bill. I’ve got a Death Eater to take care of.”

And with that, she took off walking to the safe house’s basement, where the Death Eaters were stored. Guarding them was Tonks, whom had left Hogwarts when she got a message from Dedalus, stating that her services were needed.

“What’s got you down here?” asked Tonks, a lopsided smile on her face as she stood up from her seat on the windowsill. “Come to keep me company, then? Was wondering when you were gonna remember that I was down here, alone and with a room filled with unconscious wankers.”

“Always so charming!” exclaimed Gwen. “But no, afraid I’ve got to take one of these away from you.”

“What for?” asked Tonks. “Wait. You’re not meant to tell me, are you?”

Gwen shook her head.

“Right, well, uh, take, whichever you need. I’ll just turn around here, so I don’t see anything.” Tonks did in fact turn around. “I just gave them another round of the stunning spell. So whichever you take will be out for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Good to know.” Gwen walked along the row of unconscious Death Eaters, scanning for Rowle. “Here you are.”

“Want me to carry him for you?” asked Bill. “Not that I don’t think you can carry him. Just thought, since you’ve been up all night and all that, that you might . . . I don’t know, want to rest or something.

He was trying to be nice, trying to be gentleman like, to be the big strong man that could carry the bad guy for her, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d used his physical abilities to aid her. No. No. Gwen didn’t even bother responding to his offer, she simply knelt down in front of Rowle, threw him over her shoulder in a fireman carry and then told Bill to meet her at the house. That said she closed her eyes, focusing on her home and apparated there. She waited in front of the house for Bill, with Rowle still slung over her shoulder. She was tired, he was heavy, but she was a bit too stubborn to take his help.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Bill. “You don’t waste any time in apparating.”

“Been doing it so long, it hardly takes any time anymore.” Gwen commented. “Follow me, the barns through here. If my dad comes out just ignore him.”

“How is . . . how’s your dad doing?”

“What did I say about asking questions unrelated to the task at hand?” she asked as she trudged ahead of him towards the barn.

“You said not to.” He muttered.

“Then don’t ask them.” Gwen raised her wand and muttered an incantation that opened the barn door. “Get in. I’ve got to close it.”

Bill made his way inside and Adelaide muttered an incantation to keep the world out of the barn. She then walked over to a small table that was pressed up against a wall and lay Rowle down on it. Enchanted rope was used to tie him down to the surface and once she was certain that there would be no escaping for him, she slipped off her jacket, fixed her ponytail and pulled out a barrel that she then filled with water, as well as towels and a small plastic bucket.

“What are those for?” asked Bill, his eyes intently following her every move.

“This is to make him talk.”

“Thought you were gonna torture him,” he mumbled, a relieved look passing over his face.

“What do you think? This is to clean him up with?” she shook her head. “This is for torturing. It’s the American way of doing it.”

“Are you going to drown him? Y-you can’t drown him.”

“Don’t be daft. I'm not going to drown him. What use will he be if he’s dead? All I'm going to do is teach him a lesson via the muggle route.”

“Why don’t just use the Cruciatus curse on him?”

“Because he’s used to it,” she stated bluntly. “All Death Eaters seem to be subjected to it on a fairly regular basis, but this,” she motioned to the station she’d just set up, “Is new to them. They’ve never been tortured by muggle means. It’s beneath them. So what better way is there to torture them, than by treating them like muggles? What’s more degrading to a Death Eater than treating him like that which he spits upon?”

Bill remained silent.

“You’re questioning my morals. I can see it on your face. You think I'm mad. Just as bad as them, but know this Bill. This is war. There is no definite wrong, no definite right. And you can try to argue that there is, but when it comes down to it, it’s about doing what needs to be done, regardless of whether or not it’s going to be frowned upon.”

“But this is extreme.”

“This is how wars are won.” Gwen declared, dipping one of the towels into the plastic bucket that was filled with water. “There are those that do the clean fighting. The ones that can openly discuss their missions and be declared heroes, then there are those that are in the background, doing the dirty work. And contrary to what textbooks will say, it’s the dirty work that wins wars. America can attest to that. You’ve no idea how many skeletons are in that closet, but at the end of the day, their people are free, and that, my friend, is what matters most. That is what people look at. That is what people remember. The torture it took to ensure it doesn’t even come up in conversation. And if it does, it’s enhanced interrogation, which is what I'm about to do, so stand there, hold your wand up and if he breaks free, stun him. Yeah?” she pointed her wand at Rowle. “RENNERVATE!” she bellowed.

Immediately, Rowle regained consciousness, his stormy blue eyes snapped open and he began to struggle against the magical bindings that kept him prisoner.

“LET ME GO!” he growled.

“It’s in your interest to restrain yourself and do as you’re told.” Gwen spoke, moving so that her face was within his view.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.

“I am the person who has your life in her hands.” Gwen declared. “Now, do you think it wise to talk that way to me?”

He didn’t respond to her inquiry, at least not with words, instead he spat at her, his spit landing just beneath her right eye.

“You’ve just made things more difficult for yourself.”

“I will murder you.” Rowle threatened.

“Seeing as how you’re magically bound and how I have another powerful wizard here with me, I doubt that’ll happen.” Gwen wiped the spit away. “Now, I'm going to ask a series of questions and you will answer honestly. If not I will find myself forced to . . .”

“Torture me?” he scoffed. “The Cruciatus curse has become a dear friend. Afflict me with it. I dare you.”

Gwen looked to Bill. “I told you, he wouldn’t be afraid of that.” she redirected her attention to Rowle. “The Cruciatus curse will not be used on you. Nor will any magical form of torture that you are familiar with. This enhanced interrogation will be done strictly in the muggle form. And if you do not comply, then you will learn how muggles have fought and won wars. So tell me, why was the town attacked?”

He remained silent.

“Rowle, why was the town attacked?” she asked in a deathly low voice.

“When I am free from this, I will slit your throat.”

“Not the answer I was looking for.”

In silence, Bill watched as she covered Rowle’s face with a damp towel and proceeded to pour an entire bucket of water on it. He watched as the man struggled against the bindings that kept him place, he heard as he cried out in anguish.

“What were you doing in that village?” bellowed Gwen, her voice losing its composure and hair falling into her face.

Rowle coughed up the water that had forced its way into his lungs. “Bugger . . . off . . . you . . . slag.”

Again, his face was covered and water was poured, though that time, when the water ran out from the bucket, she drew her wand and conjured water, making a steady stream of it splash onto his face. She kept it on him, kept it going and going until he finally cried out that he’d talk.

“TALK!” he cried. “I TALK!”

The water was stopped. The cloth was torn from his face.

“Why were you there?”

He coughed and coughed until he could speak. “Mad . . . you’re mad.”

“Why were you there?” she repeated, ignoring his words. “You better start talking or else the next round won’t end as quickly.”

For the first time since he’d woken, she saw genuine fear in his eyes. The Cruciatus curse would not kill him. It would drive him mad, though she doubted that there was any sanity left for him to lose. He’d spent over a decade in Azkaban; his sanity had already been robbed. But he knew that muggle route would not only kill him, but that it would make his death agonizing and slow. His death would be worse than if delivered by Voldemort.

“There’s a man in the village, a squib. He has something they want.”

“Who are they?”

“I can’t.” his eyes shower his desperation.

“Then I have no choice.” She grabbed a wet cloth from the barrel and covered his face with it.

“NO. NO!!”

“Then tell me who wants what.”

“T-the Dolohov brothers!” he shouted.

Gwen snatched the cloth from his face. “And what do they want?”

“I-I don’t know.” He was frantic, terrified of what would happen. “We weren’t told what we were looking for. They just told us to find the squib.”

“And did you find him?”

“No,” he shook his head. “He wasn’t home. We looked around for him but we couldn’t find him.”

“What’s his name? Rowle, don’t get tight lipped on me now.”

“Ignatius . . .” he whispered. “Ignatius Blishwick.”

She’d heard that surname before. It was that of an old pure blood family. Most of them were Death Eaters or were supporters of the pure blood ideology, and she was surprised that there’d been a squib in that family. And that that squib was being hunted down by the Dolohov brothers. She’d have to investigate further. Find him and ask him what he was hiding, because if the Death Eaters were out to get him, then the odds were that he’d be friendly to her.

“You going to kill me now?” he asked. “I’ve told you what you wanted. This is when I die. Just do it with the spell. No need to add anything more to it.”

“I'm not killing you. At least not today,” she pointed her wand at his head and proceeded to wipe all memory of their encounter. The last thing he would remember was fighting in the streets and being struck with a stunning spell. “Stupefy.” Gwen said for safekeeping, to ensure that he’d be unconscious and wouldn’t wake.

She stumbled backwards, letting out a shaky breath as her back struck the wall.

“Gwen, are you alright?” Bill moved towards her.

“Fine, I'm fine,” said Gwen, her head hanging low as she steadied her breathing. “You heard him right?”

“Actually didn’t. His, uh, voice wasn’t strong enough. Suppose that has to do with the water.”

“Yeah, the water, of course you wouldn’t hear him from where you were standing. But uh, they were looking for someone, for an Ignatius Blishwick.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “We should take him back. I-I’ll take him back. You can meet me at the Burrow.”

“I’ll take him.” Bill offered. “You’ve done enough.”

Gwen shook her head. “He’s my responsibility. He’s mine to take back. Got to take him back,” she mumbled.

“I’ll go with you then.”

“Why?”

“Remus would want me to see this through.”

“Okay then,” she stood up, readying herself to leave.

“We should dry him first. Don’t you think?”

“Of course, he needs to be dried.” Gwen said the appropriate incantation and he was left in the same condition as she’d found him. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw here, please don’t. Discretion is of upmost importance in these operations.”

“Not a word,” he promised.