The Making of a Man

"I'll be damned if any of them get away!" roared Dmitri Tolaczynski, deep-set grey eyes blazing with fury and rage. "Either we get them now or they'll come back tomorrow to murder what's left of us. Now move!"

He stood to the side, watching in satisfaction as his troops scattered. They were good troops, trained to peak efficiency. They had been on enough of these lightening raids together that they knew the essence of speed.... Secure each floor quickly and efficiently, then leave before the enemy's reinforcements arrive. They worked like a team, as if they were one body, working in pairs. Never get caught alone, that was the first thing he was taught them. Your team member is your companion, your lifeline, your bodyguard, and, in extreme circumstances, the one that you'll sacrifice in order to get out alive.

Even with the extensive training, they had still lost so many. Not only to Gindelwald's purges and massacres -- though they had lost many there too -- but also to stray curses, ambushes, assassinations, captures.

Albus and Minister Blakehurst had cleared a wall in the Ministry where they etched the names of those they had lost. And every day the list grew longer until it no longer took up one wall but two... and then three.

"No more," Dmitri snarled to the now empty hall. "No more."

His partner, a lean former-Ravenclaw that Dmitri vaguely remembered teaching, glanced at him quizzically before returning his gaze to his surroundings. He pointed. "Sir, there's a secret passage there."

Dmitri glanced at his partner out of the corner of his eye. Now what was his name, again? He kept having to get himself replacement partners, and had a helluva time remembering all of their names. Let's see... John? No that was the last one. Oh, yeah, Nic.

He approached the wall that Nic had been indicating and peered at it closely. Seeing nothing usual there, he said, "Nic, there's nothing here to suggest that. And you know that most secret passages are well warded with magic, making them blend in completely with their surroundings and impossible to see...." He trailed off as Nic walked right up to the stone wall and kicked an area even with Dmitri's knee. Instead of seeing Nic's foot impact painfully with the hard stone, he instead saw the foot go through the stone.

A low grinding noise was heard and a section of the wall slid away, revealing a narrow opening, just wide enough for a man to squeeze through. Beyond the aperture lay a series of stone steps leading down into the darkness.

Nic grinned at Dmitri's astonished stare. "Motion-detecting sensor," he explained. "Interwoven with a complex Do-Not-Notice and a variation of an old illusion charm. Very rare form of enchantment, that." With a wink, he slipped through and disappeared down the dark stairs.

"Doesn't explain how you saw it," muttered Dmitri ducking in behind him. A trained soldier who could see through complex illusions and find secret passages without and effort would surely be a huge asset to their operation.

---

The man laughed, a slow, raspy, cold laugh that send a chill feeling of dread through the gagged and chained man who was bound to the table. He stroked the side of his prisoner's scarred face in an almost loving caress, his eyes shining delightedly as the bound man still tried to evade his touch.

"Do you hear that, my friend?" he questioned his captive in a voice raspier even than his laugh. "You can hear them moving through the house. But they won't find us, will they, friend? No, no, not possibly. But even if they do, they'll find themselves a splendid welcome. Don't you think, friend?"

He turned his mad, glazed-eyed gaze upon his prisoner and snarled, face twisting into the face of a vengeful hyena. "Well, friend," he spat out the word. "Won't you answer me? Or have you forgotten how?" Another laugh. "Well, then, friend. I do believe I can persuade you a bit more. Now which spell...? Ah, yes, your favorite."

The chained man's eyes widened in horror and fright, and he squirmed as much as his restraints would allow him. Several whimpers were audible even with the gag.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I know you're excited, but you're just going to have to wait a few seconds for Uncle Lir to do the incantation," he told his wriggling victim happily. He raised his wand. "I hope you enjoy yourself.... friend. NOVACULAGUIS!"

---

At the bottom of the stairs was a dungeon. Not a dungeon in the sense of the word like the one at Hogwarts, but a real dungeon... complete with bats, torches, chains, an iron maiden, and some curious torture devices hanging on the walls that Dmitri really didn't want to think about the possible uses of.

But one of the first things that he noticed was the smell. The smell of blood, of fresh blood, that permeated the atmosphere. And then, upon looking more closely at the various torture devices, he realized that there was blood on all of them, in various stages of drying. Even on the iron maiden.

Nic seemed to have come to the same conclusion and was turning faintly green at the gills. Standing side-by-side, the two took in the sights of the room, feeling both nausea and righteous anger and hatred at these unmitigated monsters.

Wordlessly, Nic pointed towards a small curving hallway that led off of the main room. Dmitri nodded and stalked towards the opening, wand held before him at the ready position and Nic closely on his heels. If he found anyone down here at all, they were going to pay. Dearly.

---

The man laughed again, the low sound reverberating through the chained man's head like a gong. "You enjoyed that, didn't you, friend," he purred, once again stroking his captive's face. The other man didn't even try to move away this time as tears rolled unbidden down his face and gasped around his gag, desperately trying to suck in enough oxygen.

The man stroked his captive's face once again and took a deep breath. And then he looked up...

... right into the rage-filled eyes of Dmitri Tolaczynski.

---

Dmitri felt the rage take hold of him again. This was the monster that had used those torture devices out in the previous room... the monster that now tortured the man bound to the table as if he were doing nothing more than casting a simple levitation charm. How many had suffered at this monster's hands? How many had died? How many had he taught his cursed ways, who then went and killed other innocents? Innocents like his beautiful Aniela, like Olek, who would never experience the wonder of his Hogwarts letter.

His face twisting into a bitter scowl, he raised his wand, ready to cast something, anything, on the man before him.

And then the man looked up at Dmitri. And smiled.

"Come to visit?" he rasped, a pleasant tone in his voice. "I'm afraid I was not anticipating your visit. May I offer you some tea?"

"You may offer your death."

"Now, now, don't talk like that," the man said, turning away from Dmitri towards a worktable. "Would you prefer sugar or lemon in your tea? I much rather prefer lemon, but most English-folk that I know prefer sugar."

Dmitri's jaw slackened a bit. Behind him, Nic's confusion was almost tangible. What was going on?

"Now what was it you wanted me to offer ... ?" the man murmured loudly enough for the two to hear, in an almost aimless way. "Oh yes, my death. I'm afraid I can't comply with that. But what I can offer ..."

He spun around, wand facing forward, so quickly that Dmitri didn't have time to fire off a spell before the man crowed, "Avada Kedavra!"

Dmitri dove to the floor away from the green missile of light that had been speeding at his chest. Nic, however, wasn't quick enough. Dmitri heard him grunt slightly and then thud unmoving to the floor.

He scrambled over to his partner and hissed, "Wake up, Nic. Come, man -- wake up, for the love of the Christ."

"He won't be waking anytime soon."

Dmitri glanced up at the man and wondered how the man had crossed the room and had come to be standing right next to him. He lurched to his feet and glared down his nose into the eyes of the slightly smaller man. "What do you mean?" he growled in a low, dangerous voice. "Why won't he wake."

The man cackled his insane laugh again. "He won't wake because he's dead."

Dmitri's shock reflected in his eyes. "Dead?" he gasped. "But, but..."

The man grinned, eyes wild. "My greatest invention," he proclaimed proudly. "The killing curse." He laughed again. "I've done the impossible... once again. And this time they won't be able to deny that I did!" His eyes shone with a mad light as he gazed past Dmitri into a crazed fantasy locked deep within his mind. "Pity," he added almost sadly. "You won't be able to tell them of it, as you'll soon be joining your friend." He raised his wand and pointed it at Dmitri.

But he didn't notice. The rage was once again pounding through his head, through his veins. The rage at this monster, who not only tortured his victims until they were quivering masses flesh, but took pride in killing them. His greatest invention -- ! And the rage pounded on. Raging at the injustice, at the madness, at the blatantly unnecessary bloodshed.

And he found himself beyond caring that he, himself, was a civilized wizard. His only concern now was to make that man pay. The man who had killed Nic... who had probably helped them kill Aniela. And Olek, poor little Olek.

With an inhuman growl, Dmitri clamped his hand into a fist and swung his arm at the man's head with all his might. A look of realization crossed the man's face a second before the fist smashed his jaw and he slumped to the floor, head hanging at an odd angle, neck broken. The mad light faded from his eyes though the faint look of victory and triumph was still evident on his face.

He was vaguely aware of his troops arriving at the door as he stared down at the face of the man he had just killed. Only when one of his men grabbed his sleeve was he brought back abruptly to reality.

"Lord Tolaczynski, we need to go," hissed the soldier. "The reinforcements should be here any minute."

Dmitri took a shuddering breath and nodded. An odd, hollow feeling had formed in his chest. "Take Nic," he said, voice tearing up momentarily while saying his partner's name. "Take him and go back to headquarters. I'll be right along."

He had good troops. Good troops trained not to ask questions and to follow any and all orders given to them.

He walked up to the table where the prisoner lay bound. Picking up a knife that lay discarded upon the same table, he made quick work of the ropes. As the man looked on with a grateful look in his one good eye, he carefully removed the gag and placed it aside. "What's your name, lad," he asked the man, brushing some stray hair out of his face.

"Ulster," the man murmured. Dmitri realized that the man was on the verge of losing consciousness. "Alastor Moody." And he lost touch with reality.

Dmitri stiffened upon hearing the name. "Moody..." he murmured. Could it be...?

Shouts and clamoring from the other room woke him from his stupor. Carefully cradling the injured man in his arms, he concentrated on his destination.

And before he disappeared from that accursed place for the last time, he had the good fortune to be able to smirk into the astonished faces of some of Grindelwald's closest supporters.

And then he, too, was gone.