Hunted

Chapter 22: Threats and Intimidation

A wizard with short, wiry hair leaned over the table, his biceps bulging under the button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His mouth was drawn into a fine, tense line. His eyes bored into Angela with an intimidating stare. She sat across the table from her inquisitor, her tear-stained face buried in her hands.

"I already told you," she sobbed. "I told you a hundred times. It was self-defense. We were the ones who were attacked."

A Quick-quotes Quill scribbled her words on a thick scroll. A tower of parchments covered in miniscule handwriting lay stacked on the table next to the quill. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood guard at the door. His arms were crossed over his expansive chest, his face expressionless.

"That's enough, Dawlish," Kingsley's deep base voice echoed across the stark chamber. "It's been hours and she's not deviated from that story in the least."

Dawlish strode around the table and stopped next to Angela's chair. He crossed his arms and leaned against the table by Angela's side. He stared down at her crumpled form.

"You might as well come clean," he urged. "It's your word against theirs. And no one's going to believe a werewolf and his little woman. Things will go easier for him, if you just tell the truth."

"But I am telling the truth." Angela's head whipped up to face Dawlish, her watery green eyes flashing with determination.

"Can anyone else verify your story?" Kingsley asked. "Could anyone have overheard or witnessed the attack?"

Angela now glanced over at the muscular form of Kingsley, leaning against the door. Her tears obscured the expression on his face. But a single gold earring dangling from his ear glistened in the dim torchlight of the room. She shook her head.

"I saw no one else," she answered with a hopeless sigh.

"So there were no witnesses?" Dawlish snarled.

"None." Angela's head drooped.

Dawlish snorted. "I have nothing further. What about you, Shacklebolt?"

"I'm done too," Kingsley replied, shifting his weight. "I say, let her go."

"All right, Mrs. Lupin," Dawlish said, turning back to the witness. "Shacklebolt will escort you out."

Kingsley's hand reached for the door handle. His shaved head nodded, causing the gold ring to catch the light. Angela rose from her seat. She stretched her legs, stiff from sitting for hours in the chair. Then she stumbled toward the door after the Auror, relieved that this part of her ordeal had ended.

She exited into the hallway following Kingsley's towering form. The Auror's eyes darted up and down the corridor. When they were out of earshot of the others, Kingsley turned to Angela.

"Sorry about Dawlish," Kingsley's deep base voice intoned. "He can be a bit overzealous. But you did fine."

Angela cast him a grateful stare. "Have you seen Remus?" she whispered. "How is he?"

Kingsley didn't answer right away. Angela glimpsed the grim look that flashed across his face. She surmised that her husband was not doing well.

"Then can I see him?" she inquired, worry etched on her brow.

"No, I'm afraid not," Kingsley replied, shaking his head "He's being held in a high security ward. He's not allowed any visitors."

"No one?" she inquired.

"Only Aurors and guards," Kingsley added with a sympathetic stare. "Don't worry. Dumbledore is doing all he can for him."

Kingsley's muscular frame towered over Angela, as he walked her down the corridor. From somewhere deep in the complex of cubicles, a clock chimed five tolls. Groups of witches and wizards bustled past them with their briefcases and wands in hand, departing the office for the day. Several turned to stare at the tear-stained face of the witch in the company of the Auror.

Angela passed the Office of Wizengamot Administration Services where she used to work. She caught sight of several of her former colleagues. None of them would even acknowledge her presence today. She watched them turn their heads from her stare, shunning her as if they were embarrassed by her acquaintance. Overcome with sorrow, Angela wanted to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Angela's eyes spotted the restrooms ahead on her left. She grabbed Kingsley's arm to get his attention. She cast him a pleading look and motioned toward the door.

"All right," Kingsley said. "I'll stand guard here until you come out."

The Auror positioned himself outside the restroom, crossing his arms once again. He cast a daunting glare at a timid-looking wizard to his left. The small man averted his gaze and skirted past, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. Angela disappeared into the restroom.

She approached the sink and examined her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze lingered on her blotchy cheeks and red, blood-shot eyes. She looked a frightful sight. Her hand splashed the refreshing water on her face, as she attempted to regain some semblance of composure.

The door to the restroom opened. Angela did not look up. She heard the click of the high heels on the tile floors approaching the sink. She glanced over to see her former supervisor, Ms. Colleen Penn, at the next basin. Angela dropped her head, but watched out of the corner of her eyes.

The middle-edged witch washed her hands in the sink, careful not to splash her neatly tailored robes. Her eyes surveyed the restroom through horn-rimmed glasses. She grabbed a towel and dried her hands. Then she edged closer to Angela and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I heard they brought you in for questioning today," Colleen said, shooting Angela a furtive look. "How did it go?"

"As well as expected," Angela whispered back.

She really hadn't expected things to go well. After all, it seemed that nothing had gone well for Angela in the past few days: her husband ill and imprisoned in Azkaban, facing trumped-up charges, and him, a werewolf. She would have to be delusional to expect the Ministry to believe her story, especially when there were no witnesses. A tear trailed down her cheek, unchecked.

She chanced a melancholy glance at her supervisor. She was surprised to find a sympathetic look on Colleen's face.

"You should know that Umbridge has taken a personal interest in your husband's case," Colleen remarked, with a warning glance. "She intends to chair the hearing. But you didn't hear it from me."

Angela gasped. She couldn't imagine anything worse. Dolores Umbridge was the most hateful, prejudiced witch in the entire Wizengamot. She had no scruples when it came to tampering with evidence or bullying others to her side. And only Albus Dumbledore held more influence with the council. Things were looking rather hopeless.

"Good luck, dear," Colleen said, patting Angela's arm.

The door opened a second time and another witch entered. Colleen bustled from the room without another word. Angela quickly dried her face. Her fingers ran through her hair, rearranging her curls in haste. Then she darted from the room.

Kingsley stood waiting outside the door. The crowd of witches and wizards that had jammed the corridors moments before had thinned a little. The Auror accompanied Angela to the gilded lifts of the Ministry of Magic.

"Do you have an escort back to Hogwarts?" Kingsley asked.

"Paul was supposed to meet me here," Angela replied. "Francis is waiting down in the lobby. I'll be fine. Thanks."

Kingsley nodded and strode back down the corridor in the direction they had come. Angela glimpsed his shaved pate over the heads of the crowd, as he disappeared down the hallway. She stood on tiptoe and craned her neck, hoping for a glimpse of her brother. What was keeping him?

She waited by the lifts, wringing her hands and casting uneasy glances at the throng. She watched as group after group of wizards filed through the gilded doors. Anxiety crept over her. Still no sign of her brother. What should she do? Certainly, there was more safety in numbers than being left alone in a deserted corridor.

The last group of wizards entered the lift. Angela hesitated for a brief moment, glancing at the now empty hallway behind her. She darted into the lift and spun around to face the door. Her eyes glimpsed sight of her brother dashing down the corridor in her direction, just as the doors closed. Paul had arrived too late.

The lift lurched and glided downward. Angela moved to the back, trying to blend in with the crowd. More witches and wizards squeezed in as the lift progressed to other floors. With just two stops to go, Lucius Malfoy stepped inside. Angela ducked behind a tall wizard and lowered her head. With a little luck, she could escape his notice. She held her breath.

After a tension-filled eternity, the lift ground to a halt. Witches and wizards funneled from the open doors into the magnificent lobby of the Ministry of Magic. Over the heads of the others, Angela glimpsed the pale blue ceilings decorated with glistening golden patterns. She pushed forward, moving with the crowd, anxious to leave the confines of the lift and escape a chance encounter with her enemy.

Her foot stepped toward the threshold, when a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back inside. She spun around to face the mocking sneer of Lucius Malfoy. The doors to the lift closed, leaving her inside alone with him. Trapped!

She wrested her arm free of his grasp and lunged for the button to the lift. A flash of light flew past her and hit the button before she could reach it. Her eyes stared with horror at the blackened hole, all that remained of the lift controls. The mechanized voice of the lift operator repeated a single phrase: "Malfunction."

"Well, what have we here?" Malfoy drawled. "Tatty dress, tear-stained face. Why, it must be the werewolf's wife." He chuckled. "How charming to see you again, Angela."

Angela backed as far from him as she could. Her eyes grew wide and round. Her trembling fingers gripped her wand and pointed it at his chest.

"Stay away from me," she warned.

"Tut, tut," he admonished, brushing her wand aside with a swipe of his serpent-handled cane. "Haven't you had enough violence? I only wish a word or two." He flashed her a disarmingly charming smile. "Have you seen your cousin lately?"

The question hit Angela like a Stunning Hex. She just stared. She had been so engrossed in her husband's plight that she had not even considered the part her cousin had played in this tragedy.

"Ravena?" Angela's face flushed with alarm. "Why?"

"Angela, you surprise me," Malfoy said, those gray eyes glistening with malice. "She was your Secret-Keeper, was she not? And she betrayed you. It is so hard to know whom to trust."

Angela shook her head. She would not believe her cousin capable of such treachery. But obviously, Ravena had revealed their secret. How else could those Death Eaters have found them at Beecher's Knoll?

She watched with horror as an evil glint appeared in Malfoy's gray eyes. Malfoy! He had done this! He must have perpetrated some unthinkable horror on her cousin, some Unforgivable Curse. She could not conceive of anything less that would compel her cousin's faithlessness. Angela lashed out in anger at Malfoy.

"Ravena would never willingly betray me," Angela insisted, her green eyes flashing with indignation. "What have you done with her?"

Malfoy chuckled and approached Angela. "I never laid a finger on her," he insisted, stroking her cheek with his gloved hand.

"You lie," Angela spat.

She recoiled from him. With lightning reflexes, her hand shot out and met his cheek with a stinging slap. Malfoy's head whipped around to face her, contorted with fury at her rebuke. His hand closed around her throat.

"Careful," he hissed through clenched teeth. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to those two precious children, now would we?"

Angela's fist convulsed with a desire to strike out at him with every karate maneuver that she knew. But she also felt the serpent-handled cane that concealed his wand prodding against her breast. She would be dead before she landed a single blow. And she remembered her promise to Remus. She mustn't throw her life away heedlessly. Her fist relaxed.

"That's better." Malfoy sniggered, removing his hand and stepping away from her. His face twisted into a sinister look of perverse pleasure. "By the way, your werewolf husband will rot in Azkaban for the murder of my wife's sister. I shall personally see to it."

Before Angela could react, a booming blast hit the lift doors. The lift shook. The doors slid open. Angela's head snapped around to stare into the courageous faces of her twin brothers framed in the opening. Both men burst into the lift with wands drawn and positioned their husky bodies between Malfoy and their sister. Curious onlookers peered in at them with quizzical stares.

"A simple malfunction," Malfoy insisted, his face the picture of nonchalance. "Nothing to warrant alarm."

Malfoy strolled from the lift, a smug smirk of satisfaction on his lips. Angela sighed with relief. Both brothers turned to their sister, worried looks on their faces.

"Where were you?" Angela asked, casting Paul a scolding look. "You were supposed to meet me upstairs."

"I...er...I was talking with Tonks." Paul's face reddened with chagrin. "And I kinda lost track of the time."

Francis took a swipe at his brother, then turned back to his sister. "You all right?"

"Yes," she replied, with a nod. "Let's get out of here."

* * * * * * * *

Back at Hogwarts, Angela rested in a comfortable chair near the fireplace. Baby James lay nestled in her arms, fussing and red-faced. His chubby fist pushed away the bottle his mother offered. Angela's brothers and mother gathered around a small table laden with delectable dishes. Paul eyed the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with a hungry stare.

"Come on, Angela," Paul urged. "You almost done there? I'm starving."

"Go on without me," Angela replied. She cast a pleading look at her son. "Please James, take the bottle."

While James continued to refuse his meal, Paul didn't need to be asked twice. His hands reached for the bowls and platters, loading his plate with heaping portions. He tucked into his dinner with relish. Francis followed suit. Mrs. Hawkins fixed a plate for Angela and set it aside, before helping herself to some food.

Angela gazed down at her son. Finally, the tiny mouth chomped down on the nipple and gulped the formula from the bottle. She cradled her son in her arms, but her thoughts lingered on Malfoy's threats. Try as she might, she could not banish them from her mind.

"So what did Malfoy want?" Francis asked, pausing between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and roast beef.

"Lucius Malfoy?" Mrs. Hawkins inquired, setting down her fork with a worried look.

"Yeah," Paul added, staring down at his plate. "He cornered Angela in the lift on the way out."

"And where were you two boys?" Mrs. Hawkins scolded. "You were supposed to be guarding your sister."

"I was waiting in the lobby right where I was supposed to be," Francis replied with a superior look. His head nodded toward his brother. "But Paulie, my mate here, was too busy flirting with Tonks."

Mrs. Hawkins clucked her tongue and cast Paul a scathing look of disapproval. Paul's face flushed scarlet. He stared down at his plate and shoveled his food into his mouth, avoiding his mother's stare.

"So what did Lucius want?" Mrs. Hawkins inquired.

Angela stared at James' tiny face, taking in the wispy traces of light hair on his head, the innocent blue eyes, and the button nose. She caressed the soft cheek. Then she looked up at her mother's snow white head and piercing gaze, unsure of how much to tell her. Alarming Mum was the last thing that Angela wanted to do. But lying to her mother was not a possibility either. The woman had an uncanny sixth sense about such things. Angela swallowed, trying to force the lump from her throat.

"He said that he would personally ensure that Remus rotted in Azkaban," Angela replied, suppressing a sob.

"Terrible man," Mrs. Hawkins gasped. Her fork dropped to her plate with a clink.

"That dirty rotten scoundrel," Paul remarked, jabbing a carrot with his fork. "Bet he's bribed or threatened half the Wizengamot."

"I'd be surprised if he didn't try something underhanded like that," Francis added, glancing at the others with a knowing glare.

"But there are plenty like Albus that can't be bought for any price or intimidated." Mrs. Hawkins shot Angela a reassuring look. "We must have faith."

"He also mentioned Ravena," Angela said.

"Where is our cousin?" Paul remarked with a puzzled look. "We haven't seen her since we arrived."

"Yes," Francis agreed. "That is odd."

"That's what troubles me." Angela furrowed her brow. "I think Malfoy has harmed her."

Francis guffawed. "Why would Malfoy harm Ravena? Aunt Medea would never allow that."

"Ravena was our Secret-Keeper," Angela explained. Her green eyes bored into her brother's faces. "Remus and I told no one. That letter you received when we first moved back to Beecher's Knoll was written by Ravena."

Paul froze. The fork in his hand hovered in midair, halfway to his open mouth. Francis' fork dropped to the floor with a tinkling clatter. Both men stared back at Angela in stunned silence.

"So Ravena betrayed you, did she?" Paul growled, slamming a fist on the table. "No wonder she won't show her face."

"No, you don't understand," Angela insisted. "I still can't believe that Ravena would give us up intentionally. I think that Malfoy has done something to her. I think she's in danger." Angela shuddered. "Perhaps she's even...dead."

"Come on," Francis remarked with an incredulous look. "Ravena is part Malfoy. I think it's more likely that Aunt Medea finally got her hooks into our dear cousin. The old bat's been trying for years."

"I wouldn't have thought it possible of Ravena," Mrs. Hawkins agreed, shaking her frosty mane. "But I am not infallible, you know. There is no denying her betrayal."

"Mum, even you?" Angela remarked, her green eyes wide with disbelief.

"The Malfoys are a crafty, double-dealing bunch, the whole rotten lot," Mrs. Hawkins explained. She cast her daughter a doting look. "And, my dear, I mean this in the kindest possible way, but you are a bit too trusting."

Angela could not believe her ears. Even her mother had turned against Ravena. Angela did not know why, but even when all the evidence pointed against her cousin, she could not bring herself to accept their explanation. No, Ravena was in trouble. She was convinced of it.

* * * * * * * *

Later that evening, Angela crept down to Snape's dungeon office. Her nagging doubts over Ravena's apparent disloyalty would give her no peace. And the mystery provided at least some diversion from her troubles. Helplessness over her husband's fate had left her miserable, with nothing to do but wait in hopeless agony for any shred of news.

She knocked on the door to Snape's office. She found the Potions Master seated at his desk, engrossed in his work. His dark eyes flicked up momentarily, did a double take, and then locked on her with a puzzled stare.

"What can I do for you, Angela?" he inquired.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. A sudden nervousness washed over her. "I am looking for Ravena. Have you seen her?"

"Ravena was called away on urgent family business four or five days ago," Snape replied without emotion.

"Two days before the attack," Angela mused to herself. She flashed Snape a troubled stare. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, she asked me to take over her classes for the week." Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you ask?"

"You see," Angela whispered. "Ravena was our Secret-Keeper."

Snape's eyes burst wide. His jaw melted open, then snapped shut in an act of consummate will. His face contorted in a look of grim fury.

"It seems that your cousin has been keeping more than a few secrets from me," he hissed. "I have been far too careless with her." His hand strayed to grip his left forearm. "And I wondered why Malfoy would not confide in me any longer. Apparently, she betrayed us both."

"No," Angela insisted, shaking her head. "I know that she loved you. I can't believe that she would willingly inform on either of us." Angela hesitated, as if the thought was too awful to contemplate. "I fear that she is in danger. That Malfoy has taken her prisoner...hurt her...forced it from her."

"Then she should have died rather than divulge her secret," he snapped, his dark eyes flashing. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Don't be a fool. She has lied to me in the past. She is capable of deception and betrayal, if it suits her."

"No!" Angela shouted. "I met Lucius today. He threatened me and he mentioned Ravena, as if he wanted me to know."

"Did it ever occur to you that you might be mistaken in your cousin?" Snape cast her a condescending look. "It is abundantly clear to me that you have once again misplaced your trust."

"If you're referring to my husband--" Angela began with an indignant stare.

Snape interrupted Angela before she could finish. "Trusting Ravena was not your first error in judgment." He rose to his feet.

"I will not discuss Remus with you," Angela insisted, throwing up her hands. "Look, if you won't believe me, at least confirm Ravena's story. Contact my Uncle. Ask him."

Snape eyed Angela with frustration. He uttered an exasperated sigh, spun on his heels, and strode to the fireplace grate. His hand threw a fistful of Floo powder into the flames. He knelt on the hearth, thrust his head into the green glow, and called for Angela's uncle. Angela listened to Snape's side of the conversation.

"Good evening, Mr. Hawkins," Snape began. "I wondered if I might have a word with your daughter. She had asked me to look after her classes for her and I have a question regarding her assignments for this week...She is not there?...But she had mentioned a family emergency...No family emergency?...And Mrs. Hawkins?...Have you spoken to Lucius?...I see...Thank you."

"There was no family emergency." Snape turned to face Angela with a self-satisfied smirk. "Mrs. Hawkins has gone to spend a few days with her cousin at Malfoy Manor. Your uncle has not seen Ravena nor has he any idea where she is. More proof of her duplicity."

Angela shook her head. "Something is wrong here. I can feel it." Her hand clutched the fabric of his sleeve. She cast him a pleading look. "Ravena may be at Malfoy Manor with her mother, but she did not go there willingly. I know it." Her voice broke. Her eyes flashed with determination. "If you won't go, then I shall have to do it myself."

Snape's dark eyes bored into Angela's face with a cold, penetrating glare. His hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close, too close. She felt his convulsing fingertips dig into the flesh of her arms. He stared down at her over the hooked nose, his lip quivering with fury. Her own mouth hung open in shock. She couldn't breathe.

"Angela, naïve and guileless," he hissed. "You are a pathetic, foolish girl."

He jerked his head away and released her. A rush of wind escaped her lungs. Her shoulders sank. Angela stared back at him in terrified astonishment.

Snape now paced the floor of his office with an agitated tread. His hand raked through the greasy black hair. Then he spun on his heels to face her, causing his black academic robes to swirl around him in spirals. Startled, Angela jumped back.

"Go back upstairs to your babies," he commanded, thrusting his index finger toward the door. "I will go look for Ravena."

He strode to the door, threw it open, and marched out into the corridor. Angela watched him leave with a bewildered stare. What had just happened? Her head spun. She could not fathom what demons had just possessed the Potions Master.

Angela shook her head and walked toward the door. Her eyes stared at a flesh colored string retreating into the hallway. She stared. Her gaze swept the empty corridor.

"Harry?" she whispered into the echoing silence.

Her hand groped in the darkness before her. Then she heard a shuffling step and a gentle whooshing noise. The invisibility cloak fell away to reveal sheepish looks on the teenage faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron's hand whipped behind his back, hiding a flesh colored object from view.

"So I suppose you heard everything?" Angela remarked, flashing them a scolding look.

"Not everything," Harry admitted, staring down at his shoes. "Just the part about Professor Hawkins being in trouble at Malfoy Manor."

"Now, Harry," Angela admonished. "Don't even think about going after your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Let Professor Snape handle it. Promise me."

Harry didn't have a chance to answer. Hurried footsteps pounded down the corridor toward them. Alarm registered across all four faces.

"Quick," Hermione urged. "The invisibility cloak."

In the blink of an eye, the three teens disappeared under the invisible covering. Seconds later, Paul sprinted down the stairs toward his sister.

"Angela, where have you been?" Paul inquired, gulping for air. "We've been looking all over for you. The hearing. It's started."

"What?" Angela gasped. "At this time of night."

Paul nodded. "Kingsley sent Dumbledore an emergency message. The Aurors left a while ago to bring Remus from Azkaban. Dumbledore's left for the Ministry of Magic already. You need to come now. If you miss your slot, they won't let you testify."

Angela's face flashed with concern. She stared into the darkness where Harry had been standing, wishing that she could say more. She shook her head, a barely perceptible shudder. She hoped that Harry would understand the signal. Then she turned and sped off up the stairs after her brother.