And You Were Worried About Rodents?

This is our punishment. We came
Here without blame, yet with blame,
Dark blame of others, but our blame also.
This stroke was bound to fall,
Though not to fall so.

(Edwin Muir, The Refugees)

Chapter 5: ... Is For Good Men To Do Nothing
Part 1

"Have you been reflecting on your sins, Arthur?" Malfoy's cold voice jerked Arthur out of his uneasy half-doze.

He blinked owlishly at the sudden light and quickly rubbed his eyes to hide the tears he'd been crying even in his sleep. When his eyesight had adapted to the brightness, he saw Malfoy standing in front of him, impeccable as always in embroidered black robes. Reality splashed over him like a bucket of ice water. Arthur recomposed his face into a mask of calm and tucked his shaking hands into the folds of his robe.

Merlin, if he casts that spell on me again I don't know what I'll do...

"No," he replied in an almost unrecognisably hoarse voice. "I was reflecting on yours."

"Very cute," Lucius retorted. "If you want me to hurt you, why don't you say so outright, hm?" He raised a finger and traced the jagged cut Voldemort's spell had left on Arthur's cheek. "We will discuss your attitude later."

He stepped aside and signalled to a small shape huddling in the doorway. It slouched in nervously, and Arthur recognised the lamp-like eyes, large drooping ears and pointed nose of a rather downtrodden-looking house-elf. It wore a starched, lacy pillowcase stamped with the Malfoy crest, which was more than a bit frayed around the seams. Arthur observed it closely despite his murderous headache. He'd never been this close to a house-elf before. It carried a small tray that it now pressed into Arthur's hands. It stared at him with large, moist eyes and a grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile, but clashed horribly with its unsightly features. He took the tray and looked down at it. Jasmine tea and egg sandwiches?

Is water and bread too plebeian for the crème de la crème of the wizarding elite? Sod Malfoy!

"You couldn't possibly find me a wand to go with the tea?" he asked the house-elf sardonically. The small creature gave him a look of pure terror and started to pull its already over-large ears as if intending to dislocate them from its head. Finally, it gave a strangled gulp, delivered a hard blow to the top of its head and dashed off like a voiceless banshee.

Oh, great going, Arthur! He slapped himself mentally. Try again; maybe you can really frighten the poor thing...

He gave the food a contemptuous glance. Probably mixed with more nasty stuff. Even if his stomach were not tied into knots, touching it would be a bad idea.

Malfoy had obviously read his mind, and sneered at him.

"Worried about poison, Arthur? Don't be. If I wanted to poison you, I'd tell you beforehand and force you to ingest it under Imperius. And since we're talking potions..." He produced a small flask from his robe pocket. "What a nice coincidence that an old... friend of mine has just brewed us a batch of Veritaserum, and I'll feel safer about it after a little test."

"No honour among bastards?" Arthur couldn't help but mock.

"None whatsoever," Lucius confirmed. "Now," he held up the flask, "drink or Imperius?"

For a second, Arthur clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood. Then he let out his breath and took the flask out of Lucius' hand. He raised it to the Slytherin wizard in an exaggerated mock toast and swallowed the few drops of fluid.

It was completely tasteless, yet it burned down his throat right into his stomach like strong alcohol. Instead of dulling his mind, however, it was sharpening his wits while at the same time detaching them completely from his emotions.

"All right," Lucius drawled, "let's check this, shall we? Who was the first person you slept with?"

Arthur's mind sputtered with outrage even as he heard himself answer.

"Molly."

"How quaint yet unsurprising. Details?"

"In our seventh year at Hogwarts, Greenhouse Three." And I can't bloody *believe* you asked that, his mind added, but the potion didn't allow it through.

"An outrageous example to the Mandrakes," Lucius taunted. "Who's your favourite child, and why?"

All of them, he thought automatically, and was shocked to hear himself say, "Bill and the twins. They have an anarchic personality I admire."

"Very good." A twisted smile. "What do you think about me?"

"I don't understand you. I detest you. You're a Death Eater. You enjoy killing - you murdered my friends. You tried to kill my daughter."

It came out in a jumbled gush, and even as he spoke Arthur wondered if the potion was just pulling out everything that came to his mind in a random heap, or if there was a meaning behind the order. He hoped not.

"Poetic justice, wasn't it?" Malfoy shot back. "And since we are on that topic already and you've been reminiscing anyway, why don't we talk about what exactly happened after you identified me to your little Ministry cronies as a Death Eater all those years ago? Go ahead, Arthur. I want to hear your confession directly from yourself, so you'll not be able to say I condemned you without reason..."

~ ~ ~

The morning after the wedding a still shell-shocked Arthur Weasley walked into a Ministry that buzzed like a beehive with frightened rumour. He'd spent a sleepless night in Molly's arms, reliving visions of the Prewetts' deaths and Lucius Malfoy's face whenever he tried to close his eyes.

He hadn't strayed into the Magical Law Enforcement wing very often - the very corridors looked off-putting. Of course that might be because the last time he'd walked them had been with his father. Still, he received a score of suspicious side-glances just for being an unfamiliar face in a very claustrophobic community.

Finally, he asked a middle-aged witch carrying a large pile of documents for the way. She directed him to the office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement as warily as if he'd asked about how best to assassinate the Minister of Magic. The antechamber was guarded by three frustrated security trolls, sporting large clubs and grunting disconcertingly at passers-by, particularly those of the female variety.

They started grumbling when he opened the door, but made no move to stop him. Inside, he immediately spotted a familiar face, engaged in vehement argument with an unfamiliar one. Arthur recognised the young, dark-haired wizard of Moody's team, who had medicated the Auror after Rosier's spell had tried to take his head off. Behind the desk sat a wizard of medium height, with brown hair and formal grey robes. He looked quite agitated.

"We have to act, now!"

The younger man - Porter? - pushed a hand through his messy black hair. "But Auror Moody said-"

"Alastor Moody is incapacitated at the moment and a bit too... independent sometimes," the older wizard retorted sharply, then noticed Arthur. His frown deepened. "Who are you?"

The younger man followed his gaze, and a relieved smile spread over his features. "That's him, sir. Mr. Weasley."

"Finally!" The wizard rose and shook Arthur's hand in a businesslike manner. "I'm Theobald Wolfe, aide to Bartemius Crouch, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You should have come here immediately yesterday; we have got to take your statement before we can authorise a raid on Malfoy Manor. Please sit." He waved away the young hit wizard. "You may return to your team, Mr. Potter. Please inform Auror McKinnon that I'll be with her shortly."

When Potter had disappeared, Wolfe turned a scrutinising eye on Arthur.

"Mr. Weasley, correct? Son of the late Ronald Weasley?"

"Yes." The word fell from his lips like a shovel of dirt onto a coffin lid, more bitter than Arthur had intended. The implication wasn't lost on the other wizard.

"You were a guest at the Prewetts' wedding, I was informed. How well did you know the hosts?"

"I was in the same year at Hogwarts with Daniel Prewett and Heather Macdonald. Mandy was one year below us. I knew David through Daniel, he was almost like an older brother to us both." Arthur took a deep breath and forced back the tears. He would be damned if he was going to show weakness in front of this man.

"How about your yearmates in Slytherin house, Mr. Weasley?"

What the hell is he on about, Arthur wondered.

"I ignored them. They ignored me."

"Is that so?" Wolfe rifled through some papers on his desk. "You seem to have been on quite friendly terms with Alan Lestrange, one of the two known Death Eaters of that year, and a good friend of Lucius Malfoy whom you claim to have recognised."

Arthur gasped in outrage.

"What are you trying to accuse me of? Yes, I partnered Lestrange in Muggle Studies and for a handful of other projects, and no, I did not know that he was going to join the Dark Lord immediately after leaving school!"

"Please, Mr. Weasley, I'm not accusing you of anything. I merely want to get a clearer picture of the situation. You're certainly aware of the fact that Lucius Malfoy is heir to one of the most prominent families in the Wizarding World. Before we persecute him as a Death Eater on the testimony of a single witness, we have to ascertain that said witness is reliable."

He tapped the tip of his hawk feather Quick Quotes Quill against the table.

"Now, the Department of Mysteries has had all members of said Slytherin year under surveillance ever since Alan and Marie Lestrange went over to the Dark Side so... spectacularly. No evidence on any of them has surfaced so far, and sadly enough we cannot haul them in for interrogation without any reason at all. But as far as reliability is concerned," he gave Arthur another sharp look, "I'm sorry to say that we also had reason to observe your brother, at least until he went underground two years ago."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur yelled and leaned over desk in astonished rage. "Underground? You are investigating my brother as a Death Eater? I can't believe this!"

"Please, calm down, Mr. Weasley," the wizard advised. "It is our duty in these troubled times to investigate potential defectors to the Dark Side. Your brother has repeatedly expressed deep-seated hostility against the Ministry, and then he disappeared immediately after your father's trial. He'd make an ideal target for recruitment by the servants of You-Know-Who."

"Are you aware, Mr. Wolfe," Arthur replied in a very low and dangerous voice, "that something very similar could be said about me?"

"Very much so, Mr. Weasley," the other said coldly. "In fact, I was surprised that the Ministry chose to employ you at all." He leafed through the papers again. "I see that Mr. Rookwood recommended you. Augustus is a good man, if a little trusting and over-enthusiastic sometimes. That's one of the reasons why my department head, Mr. Crouch, has asked me to interview you personally. We cannot take any risks in our position. You yourself saw what happened to the Prewetts."

"I'll have you know, Mr. Wolfe, that my brother Michael has left England to work as a treasure guard for Gringotts' Brazil branch. You'll be able to verify that, I'm sure."

"Of course." He folded his hands, supremely unconvinced, and Arthur had to quell a rare urge to draw his wand.

"Now, about yesterday's events." Wolfe put the Quill to a blank sheet of parchment, where it began to scribble furiously. "You told Aurors Moody and Potter that you recognised Lucius Malfoy among the Death Eaters attacking the Prewetts?"

Arthur took another calming breath. He really hadn't needed the reminder of his father's death and his falling-out with Michael, not from this sarcastic bastard of a bureaucrat.

"I tried to disarm the Death Eater who was attacking David Prewett. It didn't work. Finally I Accio-ed his mask, intending to scare him off. I saw his face. It was Lucius Malfoy. He killed David anyway. Then he tried to kill me. Alastor Moody intervened just in time, but by the time the Hit Wizards arrived Malfoy had already retrieved his mask."

"So you're absolutely positive that it was Mr. Malfoy, and you didn't recognise any of the others?"

"Unless someone else took Polyjuice Potion it was Malfoy. It's not like his looks can be easily mistaken. I also recognised Evan Rosier, but so did everybody else."

"That will be all, then." Wolfe waited until the Quill had finished recording Arthur's statement, then shoved the parchment over to him. "You'll have to sign this. Now we can send a team of Aurors out to Malfoy Manor to secure evidence and - if possible - to arrest Lucius Malfoy. Although by now it may be far too late - he has probably repaired to You-Know-Who's headquarters already."

Arthur signed as quickly as possible - the Quill had recorded his words spot on, which was rare - and stormed out of the office, still quietly seething.

Outside, he almost ran into the young Auror who had argued with Wolfe earlier. He seemed taken aback by the furious glitter in Arthur's eyes, but grabbed his robe sleeve and pulled him further away from the door. Arthur winced. His arm was still sore from Malfoy's reflected spell.

"Mr. Weasley, Auror Moody asked me to get you," the youth whispered conspiratorially.

"Alastor Moody?" Arthur frowned. "Isn't he in St. Mungo's?"

"No," Potter shook his head firmly. "Too many Slytherins employed there. He wouldn't go anywhere but the MLE Infirmary. Will you come, please?"

Arthur resisted the temptation to take his anger out on the young wizard by just refusing, and nodded curtly instead.

He followed Potter down a couple of flights until they reached the Infirmary. It was a small, rather cramped room, and another Hit Wizard was perched on one of the chairs, seemingly itching to hex whoever came too close. He lowered his wand when he recognised Potter.

"Just me, Uther," Arthur's companion said.

They slipped into one of the small cubicles that hid the individual beds from curious onlookers.

Arthur shivered when he saw the Auror. His face looked almost worse than after the duel, if that was possible. Bright orange 'If It Won't Kill You It'll Make You Better' healing paste had been applied to his wounds, and a herbal salve charm covered the remains of his nose. A young woman in the blue robes of a mediwitch was fussing with the bandages.

"Why are you so stubborn?" she hissed without noticing their entrance. "You should be in St. Mungo's. Baddock and Parkinson are experts on duelling injuries, they could do so much more than I!"

"Yeah, slip me something lethal," the Auror wheezed in a strangled voice. "They're Slytherins, Poppy, and friends of the Malfoys. I don't have a death wish."

"Really? In that case you should have taken a Sleeping Draught hours ago. Magical Law Enforcement operations will not break down without you." She put a potion-filled beaker before him forcefully. "Drink and get the rest you need, or Lucius Malfoy can carve another notch for a dead Auror into his wand."

Moody stared over her shoulder at Arthur and Potter, and reached out to pat her hand weakly.

"I'll talk to these two for a minute, and then I'll sleep. Promise, Poppy."

The young woman shot him an exasperated look and rose.

"I'll better Floo back to St. Mungo's then."

"Thanks, Poppy," Moody replied. "And tell Baddock and Parkinson I'll have a closer look into their affairs if they try to give you grief over this."

The nurse shook her head, mouth quirking upwards slightly. "You're incorrigible," she sighed and gathered her equipment. "Don't keep him up," she hissed at Arthur and his companion in a very stern voice as she brushed by.

"Ah, Weasley," the Auror waved him closer. "How did your testimony go?"

Arthur grimaced. "You mean before or after Mr. Wolfe called my brother a Death Eater and me unfit to work for the Ministry?" he asked sarcastically.

Moody wheezed again. "Gave you a hard time, did he? Nasty little weasel, Wolfe! Was with the Unspeakables too long. Paranoid, the whole lot... But seriously, did he tell you to lie low?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Stupid twat! More interested in nailing Death Eaters than protecting innocents." The Auror coughed wetly. "What I mean, boy, is that you and your family should go into hiding. Malfoy and his cronies might come after you because you exposed him. That'd be Death Eater style. Potter here has already been on it." He turned to the young hit wizard without giving Arthur time to respond. "Get him settled in and then get back. I want you on that Malfoy raid. Who's going to lead it?"

"Louise McKinnon."

"Good." The Auror closed his eyes for a second before taking a sip from the beaker. He looked like death warmed over. Potter grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him out of the cubicle.

"Thank Merlin!" he sighed when Moody was out of earshot. "I thought he'd never go to sleep. Now," he grinned at Arthur, "I've found the ideal hiding place for your family. Hogwarts!"

"Hogwarts?" Arthur repeated.

"Yes, I've already spoken to headmaster Dumbledore. Not the school itself, it would be a bit too public, but he asked Hagrid, and he'd love to have you. Dumbledore has already made the necessary arrangements. I've asked a friend of mine to pick up your wife and son - she can't Floo or Apparate because of the pregnancy, right? Well," he grinned slyly, "I hope she's not afraid of flying."

"Flying?" Arthur gasped, overwhelmed by the speed with which the young man was proceeding. "Even Floo powder would be safer than a broomstick!"

"Oh, a broom's not what I had in mind..."

Arthur Apparated just outside the Hogwarts grounds, at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Potter appeared next to him, took a step and stumbled into a gnomehole, cursing. Hagrid's hut lay just beyond, and when the two walked up to it they saw the Keeper of the Grounds standing outside the open door next to a young black-haired wizard and an enormous black motorcycle. Molly sat with the baby on the garden bench in front of the hut, half hidden behind Hagrid's large frame. She flirted playfully with the handsome young wizard, who was busy tickling Bill's toes.

"Sirius!" Potter waved to the man and broke into a run.

The two embraced, and again Arthur was painfully reminded that he would never see or hold Daniel or Mandy again.

He followed Potter more slowly, and was introduced to Sirius Black, the owner of the motorcycle. Hagrid beamed at Arthur and took his hand into his large fist.

"Arthur, great t'see yeh again. Ah'm glad ter have the three of yeh. The headmaster's charmed two more rooms onta me hut, wouldn't be fit fer a family otherwise." He led Arthur into his rather rustic hut, which now sported an additional door leading into a spacious living room and, off it, into a similarly roomy bedroom. Both were crammed full of beautiful but mismatched wooden furniture, a style that reminded Arthur very much of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. He turned and grinned at Hagrid, who was looking at him apprehensively.

"It's perfect, Hagrid. Thank you!"

Potter stuck his head into the room and waved Arthur back out again.

"Mr. Weasley, I have to go." He hesitated for a second, pushing his hand through his untamed fringe. "Could I ask you a favour?"

Arthur nodded, curiously.

"Would you mind checking on Auror Moody later? I don't know how long the team will be gone, and he's not the most... patient of patients."

Arthur promised and Potter went to collect his friend, who let go of Bill almost reluctantly. They hopped on the motorcycle, which Hagrid was eyeing with ill-disguised awe, and took off.

When Arthur returned to the Ministry infirmary after a quiet afternoon with Molly and Hagrid, he found Moody's cubicle empty. Somehow, it didn't really surprise him. The very miffed mediwitch on duty informed him that 'the hero' had gone off to see his returning team. She added a couple of choice comments about "disregarding sound medical advice" and "calling in private little nurses from St. Mungo's" before Arthur could beat a hasty retreat.

He found Moody in the Ministry complex's main courtyard, in a comfortable levitating rocking chair. With him were Bartemius Crouch, the famous head of Magical Law Enforcement, his assistant Wolfe and a tall woman with short grey hair and an Auror's badge. The courtyard bustled with Ministry employees and Hit Wizards, all busy unpacking a number of heavy crates. In a cordoned-off corner, a dozen hysterical house-elves were flitting around, wailing and engaged in various forms of self-mutilation. Arthur saw Potter standing in front of them, trying to pacify the terrified creatures, but their din drowned him out easily. He shivered, although it was quite sunny.

Moody noticed Arthur and waved him over. Crouch inclined his head politely. Wolfe glared.

"Did you get Malfoy?" Arthur asked apprehensively.

"Like hell!" Moody cursed, ignoring Crouch's reproachful look. "House-elves say he's been 'away on business' for days, but y'know how reliable they are. Bastard seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth."

The female Auror clenched her fists in frustration.

"He's got to have a hideout. We've cleaned out practically everything from Malfoy Manor that wasn't nailed down, and he's got fewer Dark Artefacts around than my family."

"That is no joking matter, Louise," Crouch interrupted sternly.

"I'm not joking, Bartemius," she retorted. "Fact is, Lucius got away, there's nothing to determine his whereabouts anywhere in that blasted mansion of his, and his house-elves are unlikely to give us any hints either!"

"Well," Wolfe threw in maliciously, "maybe his wife will." He pointed at the wand-happy Hit Wizard Uther who had guarded Moody's door in the infirmary, and was now approaching, clutching the arm of a slightly dishevelled, very furious young woman.

Arthur recognised her immediately. Narcissa Lemarchand had been one of Hogwarts' celebrities - member of one of the Wizarding World's most wealthy and influential families, beautiful enough even in Fourth Year to rival Marie Lestrange, energetic and with a tongue like Salazar Slytherin's wand. Not to mention the only person, male or female, who had managed to gain - and keep - Lucius Malfoy's interest. Their marriage, celebrated soon after she'd finished Hogwarts, had been the highlight of last year's wizarding society events.

Now, she looked far less regal than on the Daily Prophet's wedding pictures. She wore an unadorned house robe under a mismatched cloak, and several long blonde strands had escaped her complicated hair knot.

"Crouch!" she snapped, identifying her chief enemy immediately. "How dare you attack my home?"

Crouch seemed utterly unfazed.

"Mrs. Malfoy, your husband has been identified as a servant of You-Know-Who-"

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she shook her head wildly. "It looks more as if you're again allowing your rabid anti-Slytherin prejudice to gain the upper hand."

"I am not motivated by prejudice, Mrs. Malfoy," Crouch replied adamantly. "I am merely following legal procedure as specified by the Emergency Wizarding Protection Act. You are here under suspicion of being a Death Eater, or at least of aiding and abetting one."

He's got to be kidding, Arthur thought.

"With all due respect, sir," he interjected, "I identified Lucius Malfoy, not his wife." Narcissa shot him a very dirty look.

"For all we know," Wolfe threw in angrily, "she could have been one of the Death Eaters who slaughtered the Prewetts!"

"For all we know, she could be not," Arthur retorted.

"Please, gentlemen," Crouch interrupted. "At the moment, Mrs. Malfoy's arrest is merely a precaution. Unless further proof of her involvement with the Dark is forthcoming, she will be released from Azkaban shortly with a formal apology."

"Azkaban?" All colour drained out of the young woman's face.

"You can't be serious," Arthur protested.

"Mr. Weasley!" Crouch's voice remained polite, but there was a steely undertone to it. "Azkaban has been designed to hold Death Eater suspects without endangering the Ministry. Do I have to remind you of what happened when the MLE brought the Lestranges in for questioning without realising the full extent of their involvement with You-Know-Who? Five good wizards died that day, and as long as I am head of this office I will do whatever it takes to prevent a catastrophe like that from ever occuring again."

He turned and gestured towards two vague, hooded shapes that were almost invisible at the far end of the courtyard. As they slid closer, Arthur found himself drowning in a pool of horrifying memories. His father wasting away before his eyes, the Prewetts dying screaming on their own front lawn, Lucius Malfoy's exultation as he raised his wand to strike him with the Killing Curse... suddenly it was cold, terribly, bone-chillingly cold.

Dementors!

Narcissa Malfoy jerked back as if she had been touched with a red-hot iron, and lost all semblance of self-control. Before anyone could react, she kneed the wizard holding her arm in a very vulnerable place, pulled out of his suddenly limp grip as he folded in on himself, and reached for his wand.

"Imperio!" the female Auror spat, her own wand out. The younger woman fought the spell for a second, almost biting through her lower lip in the process, then sank to her knees on the cobblestones. Narcissa Malfoy's eyes turned almost impossibly dark with terror as the scabbed hands of one Ddementor went around her body and almost tenderly lifted her into its arms, while its companion leaned close with an air of obscene greed. Although the curse stopped her from moving, Arthur could practically hear her muscles contorting under the vile touch. Her face was screwed up badly, but it was from the effort of fighting tears rather than shedding them. At last, her head dropped back and she lost consciousness, blood still trailing down her lip as the awful creature carried her off.

Arthur had tears in his eyes himself, both from the memories the Dementors had shaken loose inside his mind and because Narcissa Malfoy's terror reminded him all too vividly of the Prewetts' last moments.

"That was an Unforgivable Curse," he gasped in horror.

"The Emergency Wizarding Protection Act has exempted Magical Law Enforcement personnel from the ban on the Unforgivable Curses, Mr. Weasley," Crouch reminded him sternly. "Auror McKinnon was well within her rights to use it."

Arthur opened his mouth for a scathing reply, but Alastor Moody silenced him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Let it go, boy. He's right. This is a war, and sometimes we have to do harsh things, or we'll have no chance in hell against the Dark Side. Doesn't mean we have to be proud of it, though." He gazed at the receding back of the Dementor pensively.

"I bloody well hope you're not!" Arthur spat, too shocked to pay any attention to the presence of the other Ministry officials. Without another word, he turned and left the courtyard, and finally the Ministry building itself. He needed time to think, and he needed to be around Molly and Bill to calm the terrible ache in his heart.

~ ~ ~ tbc. ~ ~ ~