ME 462C

Chapter Four: Frivolity and Much Worse

In a cell far away from where ME 462C sat plotting an escape, P 667H held her head in her hands and wept. What right had they, locking her away in this horrible place for such a trivial crime?

The words of P 843J, an "old friend" and fellow professor at Hogwarts, came back to her.

"I'm sure you have a beautiful name, dear. Just tell me it. I promise I won't tell anyone," he had said.

"How can I trust you?" it had been a wise thing to say at the time. P 667H had always been wise.

"Just trust me," he had promised.

"What can you base your trust on?" she was not one to give up. And this, this was a serious issue. It meant violating the greatest and most strictly enforced law of this century.

"Just the love in my heart." Wrong answer. She should have known that at the time. Whenever a man said that to a woman, he was either cheating on her, manipulating her, or flat-out lying.

But the fact of the matter was, this broke her. He felt her give in.

"My name is..."

You couldn't hear the last part of what she said, because of all of the sound in the background. The Minister himself had heard her say her name. There was a triumphant smile on the face of P 843J, for he had won.

"Why did you do this to me? I thought you were on our side! I thought you were good!" P 667H shrieked.

"Oh, my dear girl, when will you learn? There is no dark, there is no light. The only thing able to distinguish all people from shades of grey is power. Those people who seek power are bright and rich, and those to weak to seek it will all burn some day!" P 843J, the enemy, said. P 667H cowered in fear...

~*~*Two weeks later*~*~

ME 462C could hardly believe what he'd read on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Eyes opened wide in shock, he shook his head in disbelief. The Dementors had left Azkaban was all the article had said. And that magical rights were being given back. But where had they gone? And for what reasons? Questions were stabbing his mind like knives.

That completely destroyed all of his prior plans. Not that they had been good ones. Relying entirely on fate, there were many things that could go horribly wrong, each one spelling death for him or P 667H. No, ME 462C smiled, it doesn't matter. I have a better plan.

You could count on tighter security. The Ministry wouldn't leave Azkaban unguarded. ME 462C would bet on that. There were good odds that at least four score muscle-bound Ministry hit wizards were guarding Azkaban at this moment, no to mention electronic surveillance. Quite a bit of it, in fact. Ever since the revoking, more and more break-through technology was being made available to wizards.

Not that ME 462C minded, though. Those eye cams came in bloody handy. Just pop a contact lens into your eye (coloured to match your irises, of course), and you could record everything you saw onto a DVD.

Just then, the phone rang, interrupting ME 462C's deep thoughts.

"ME 462C, Junior Minister of Magic, speaking," he answered, biting his tongue rather urgently. God, how he wished these people would just leave him alone.

"Yeah, ME 462C, this is ME 986K. You're wanted at Azkaban. You know, the little Dementor problem..." the other voice, a female's but surprisingly gruff, returned. ME 462C knew her from Hogwarts. Millicent Bulstrode, or She-Whose-Mother-Shagged-A-Toll-And-You're-Looking-At-The-Result. Not only was this woman stupid, she was every bit as sexy and beautiful as her heritage suggested. That is to say, she made a dead cat look like a strong candidate for Miss Universe.

ME 462C groaned. Azkaban was not the place he wanted to be at, just yet. He hadn't completely laid down his plans, yet. He was just at the crucial stage.

"Oh, and I'd watch myself with those guards. They're slightly... uhm... stupid-"

"Then why aren't they sending you, instead? You'd feel right at home, would you not?" ME 462C sneered. A moment of silence, and then the other line went abruptly dead.

ME 462C shrugged. A small sigh escaped his lips. He could feel blood in his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue.

Suddenly, the perfect solution materialized itself in his brain. If 'duh', a favourite word of less civilized Americans, had been part of his vocabulary, he would have used it then. He should have thought of this before! All he'd have to do was use this time to memorize Azkaban's security system.

He popped a DVD into his laptop computer, set it to record, and carefully placed the Eye Cam in his right eye. It stung a bit, but he supposed that was the price. Instantly, everything he saw was recorded onto the disk. Perfect.

With a small 'pop', he Disapparated, only to reappear on the icy shores of Azkaban. A small, portly sort of chap hustled over to him, pink-faced and puffing.

"Names?" the man asked, his moustache quivered in a walrus-like manner. ME 462C stifled a slight snigger.

"ME 462C," he managed to wretch out, looking slightly bemused.

The guard raised a sceptic eyebrow at this strange behaviour, then finally spoke.

"Are you familiar with our security policies, then?" he asked, eyebrow still cocked.

"No. That is to say-"

The figure of ME 195D, otherwise known as Walden Macnair, appeared at the gate. Old Macnair might have aged quite a bit, but the subtly corrupted smirk was still in its rightful place.

"ME 462C, my dear boy, what brings you here?" said Macnair, enveloping his colleague in a crushing bear hug.

"Investigation of the disappearance of the Death Eaters, I suppose," ME 462C replied, massaging his sore ribs.

"You do know, the, that I am the newly elected official in charge of affairs for Azkaban," Macnair announced pompously.

ME 462C scowled. No, he didn't remember reading anything of the sort...

"Ah, yes. In the Prophet article," he lied.

Macnair puffed his chest out importantly. He looked like a swollen bullfrog.

"Shall I give you a tour, then?" he asked. ME 462C nodded hesitantly in consent.

"We just have to scan your irises, sir, just to make sure-" interjected the guard.

"Guard!" Macnair barked, "Do you know who this man is?"

"Erm... He said his name was ME 462C," the guard replied tentatively, shaking.

"This is the Junior Minister of Magic! Come now, have you no hospitality? Or do you suspect he, too, is a convict, just like those unfortunate souls inside?" Macnair roared tempestuously. A slight 'eep' erupted from the guard's mouth and Macnair pushed ME 462C through the gate.

Macnair...once a fool, always a fool. Little did he know that soon, ME 462C would be breaking someone out of Azkaban...

In silence, Macnair led ME 462C through the echoing halls. Macnair introduced him to various guards throughout the jail, each stupider and more-muscular then the next.

"Slightly stupid is an understatement for these people, Macnair," ME 462C said, "The only way to put them out of their misery would be a full-frontal lobotomy."

"Well, yes, their intellectual capacities are a bit- erm... diminished, shall I say, but they were the best for the job. No-one's going to pull a Black on us, we've got this baby locked up tighter then the mouth of a two-year old being force fed vegetables!"