Project Mutare

Chapter Two: Allegiance

"Oh Pieter, it's just like home!"

The six had ended up rather disorientated due to the Portkey's effects; Lena, being the first to recover, had made the last statement.

Lucius thought it must have been a very strange home that the pair had lived in, and said as such.

"Oh, hush," Lena replied quickly before starting to examine the contents of the room they had appeared in, along with her husband, Michael and Lucius. Lyta remained at the spot where they had appeared to talk with Anchusa.

The room was rather unique in itself; at first glance it seemed to be a rather generic-looking laboratory, however there were little things, such as the numerous vials of coloured liquids that lined the shelves on one wall or the archaic runes covering both the floor and the ceiling, which betrayed a more magical purpose.

Although perhaps it was the metal bars crossing the two beds in the middle of the room, or maybe the heavy steel door in the far corner of the room, or even the trays of sharp implements that lay on the desk underneath the vials. Whatever it was, something gave the room a sinister feel, one that would give any normal person goose bumps. The strange atmosphere did not perturb the occupants; in fact it seemed to make them more at ease.

"Impressive. Your Lord is a good host, Mr Malfoy." Pieter remarked as he turned a cone-shaped device over in his long, thin fingers, studying it closely.

"I shall be sure to tell him so when I meet him next. Besides, is he not now your Lord too?" A small pause as Lucius' eye was caught by a small vial of a shimmering liquid that seemed to change colour constantly, "And what is this?" He asked himself.

"It smoothes down a person's aura," Lena replied automatically, her tone being that of a teacher. "It makes people much more amiable towards them and in stronger doses it can make someone give off an almost Imperius-like field; very useful if you want to make those around you susceptible to suggestions. And no, he is not our Lord."

"I see," said Lucius, carefully slipping the vial into his robe pocket. "And why is that? Why are you here if you do not support him?"

"Put it back." It seemed that despite his advanced age, Michael's eyesight was still quite sharp. Lucius did so rather reluctantly, noting to himself to see if he could obtain the vial at a later date.

"Now did I say that? I said that we didn't follow him, not that we didn't support him. We are still firm believers in Grindelwald's regime, and I doubt anything will change that; however we are here because we were hired. Your Lord wants a job done and we are the only ones available to do the task. Perhaps our views will change while we are here but as our Lord and yours had very similar opinions, I doubt it will matter much if we don't; especially considering the job we will be doing."

"Which is?" Lucius asked, now trying to decipher the runes on the wall.

"None of your concern for the moment," said Anchusa, finishing her conversation with Lyta. "Come now Lucius, I have these papers to deliver and I believe that our friends here could do without your wonderful company." Walking over to the youth, Anchusa grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room and into a rather drab hallway. "We can Apparate out from here."

"So pray, why did we have to take that infernal Portkey here if we can Apparate?" Lucius demanded, straightening his sleeve where Anchusa had creased it.

"Perhaps because Mr Durell cannot Apparate, or maybe because this building is charmed to stop Apparation into it? Out is no problem whatsoever, after all why would those who we have just left wish to escape? They have nowhere else to go; at least here they are safe."

Lucius nodded in reply and with that the pair Disapparated with a 'pop'.

- - -

The pair appeared on the overrun grounds of a large castle; immediately they began to walk up towards its fairly decrepit front gate.

"So Aunt Anchusa, what is it that's so important you're willing to risk Azkaban for it?" Lucius asked, leaning over as he tried to get a better look at the papers his companion was holding.

A small smile crossed Anchusa's face. "Azkaban? What makes you think that I'd be sent to that hellhole?"

"Five to ten years in Azkaban is standard practice for stealing Ministry documents, isn't it?"

Anchusa chuckled and shook her head slightly, "Not these."

"Oh?" Lucius raised a pale eyebrow.

"Removal of these files, or any others deemed classified and top priority for that matter, warrants a Kiss. It tends to put more people off taking them that way oddly enough."

There was a pregnant pause.

"I see... So again I ask, what could possibly be so important?"

"Take a look for yourself; no doubt you'd find out soon enough anyway," she passed the papers she had been holding to him, and he immediately began to look through them.

He sighed a few moments later. "I hate this weather," he said, briefly glancing up at the heavy, overcast sky above them. "It makes for such terrible reading light."

"Oh you'll survive."

"I suppose so; I just wish we could have some proper weather for a change, instead of this dull half-light."

"Lucius, I've lived here in this country for longer than our Lord's been alive and if there's one thing that never changes, it's the weather. So you might as well get used to it; after all hundreds of generations of wizards haven't been able to do anything about it, have they?"

There wasn't any reply to this question as the youth was now engrossed in the papers. Anchusa sighed and continued walking next to him in silence; they were nearly at the castle gate now anyway.

They arrived about a quarter of an hour later, Anchusa quickly taking the papers off of Lucius despite his protests. After straightening her robes a little, she lifted the wrought iron knocker that adorned the entrance and dropped it heavily. A few seconds passed before the gate opened silently; standing behind it was a man with a pockmarked face and greasy hair.

Anchusa nodded a greeting to him. "Good to see you again Algernon."

The man, apparently named Algernon, just frowned. "You're late."