#chaos is a butterfly

Form 84 Section B Subsection C.I.iii (b): Request visit for high security prisoner, Ministry Business.
Prisoner: R080421
Visitor: Auror Susan Bones
Purpose of Visit: Routine Investigation re. Case 126806
Date:3/08/2014
Approved by: Auror Smith, Auror Unit 9, Azkaban
Personnel on duty: Auror Zacharias Smith
Time-In: 10:00 hrs
Time-Out: 12:00 hrs

————————————————————————-

You’re dead, he thinks as he looks at her, brown hair trimmed in a neat bob and a shapeless brown coat that could be muggle or wizarding - no one could ever tell - you’re not supposed to be here.

She says nothing to him, shuffling through her papers and carefully sorting them.

There are things he has tried to forget, just like any other human being - just like anyone else who fought in the war, or stood on the sidelines of the first war and watched as death marched through the land. Funerals, so many funerals, looking down into the faces of the dead and wondering which of his friends had been the one to cast the curse which killed. Seeing burns and scars and having to turn away quickly, so that none would know that he knew. 

The first time he watches a man - a colleague, a friend - choke to death slowly, tentacula vines pinning him to the bed, twining round his throat. Fabian’s dead, blackened body, reeking of dark magic (dark curses he will later find an antidote to). The smell of blood. The smell of fire and burning. The smell of alcohol and fear. Three days in darkness. A brown-haired woman in brown robes that could be a muggle coat - no one ever quite knew which.

But she is dead.

“Susan Bones,” she says eventually, “I believe you knew my aunt.”

He smiles. He has to. She smiles back at him. Dangerous, just like her aunt.

“I don’t see why -”

“Routine investigation, Mr Rookwood,” she waves her hand airily, “You understand how it is. Just cross-checking some facts, that’s all.”

“That’s supposed to comfort me?”

She shrugs, “You tell me.”

“I asked for a re-investigation, not for a grilling.”

“Standard procedure, sir. I don’t have much control over this.”

“I see.”

“Now,” she carefully extracts a paper from the pile and reads it out, “According to Auror Scrimgeour, in 1968, you were there at the scene of the crime.”

“It was my home.”

“But the first time ‘round you said you were visiting your aunt?”

“I was scared, I lied. It happens all the time.”

“You found the body.”

“I told you I was scared.”

“Is that what they told you to say?” she asks him, sympathetically.

He swallows, “no," too long, too long, "Who are they?”

“Really Mr Rookwood,” she says looking at him much as she would at a child, “Do give the Auror department some credit.”

He smiles, “You’re just like your aunt.”

“I know,” she replies, “Now. Who were or are they?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “they were wearing masks.”

“Why did you stay silent all these years?”

He stares at her, “they threatened me, they threatened mum - they threatened my sister for Merlin’s sake.”

“No. Why did you wait ten years before asking for a reinvestigation?”

“I had nothing to er, arm-twist Harry with, as you so delicately put it.”

“There’s hardly anything new you could have found out in ten years to put even more pressure on Harry.”

“I made the threat more real, if you will.”

“Why won’t your sister answer any questions?”

“Because she knows -” he stops suddenly, “My sister? What does she have to do with this? She wasn’t even born at the time of the murder.”

“What does she know?”

“I don’t know, ask her, be my guest, badger her with your stupid questions, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Then why does Auror Brown say he overheard your sister telling you to,” she picks another paper from the pile, “ 'get your story straight before they question you’?”

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” he sneers, “Eavesdropping for evidence? Tut tut.”

“Answer the question Mr Rookwood.”

“My sister says all kinds of things without meaning them.”

“Then I suppose you won’t mind us giving her Veritaserum and questioning her?" 

"No," too soon, too soon.

"No?”

“Go on then,” he says, and then swallows, “See if I care.”

“I’m giving you the chance to tell us the story,” she says gently, then reaches across and squeezes his hand lightly, “You don’t have to be scared about telling us. Were you there?”

He swallows, pulling his hand away, and shakes his head, “Don’t.”

“Mr Rookwood, we’re only trying to help you - it’s either here or in a public trial.”

He shakes his head and buries his face in his hands, “Please, don’t.”

“Sir -”

He only shakes his head harder.

“We’re only trying to help,” she says gently.

Silence. One minute. Two minutes. Maybe five. Maybe an eternity. Time has no stop in Azkaban, it comes and goes but its always silent, silent, silent and someone is always watching, this child - or other children - all children watching him, waiting for him to tell them all his secrets and Merlin knows he has many secrets -

“Mr Rookwood?”

“Charles Nott,” he blurts out, all of a sudden, “Charles Nott, all those nice words he said back in 1968, deeply regretting my father’s death, when he stood there. Just stood there.”

He places his hands palms down on the table and looks at her, “Charles Nott was there. Henry Mulciber, he was the one who said they couldn’t just leave him, had to make sure he was dead. Antinous Lestrange, "Honour from blood” the Lestranges keep saying to themselves, honour from blood honour from blood like its some bloody charm, like it protects them, he was there too. God, Scrimgeour asking questions left, right and center, “could have been the Cruciatus”“could have been the entrails-expelling curse”. That was Antinous, all Antinous.“

"So you were there?”

“Yes I was there. Does it matter? They’re all dead now.”

She pauses before the next question, “Who killed him? How did they kill him?”

“You can tell Harry Potter, he probably knows by now - well him or the Granger girl - it’s all a wild goose chase. They were trying to stop him, couldn’t have those papers, couldn’t have those riots.”

“You’re not answering my question, Mr. Rookwood.”

“By now, Germany’ll be in uproar, tomorrow, Gringott’s won’t open its doors - despite everything the Granger bird’d be doing to show them the wizarding world cares, the fuck do they care, they know the wizarding world doesn’t care for them, as long as they’re there to bow and smile and open bank vaults for them.”

“Mr Rookwood -”

“The centaurs will be next. Some kid, probably the Lovegood girl - she was the one wa'n’t she? The one who spent her time talking to the creatures, listening to their stories? She’ll have a spanner to throw in the works soon enough and soon, soon, everyone will know.”

“Sir -”

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” he is standing and shouting by now, “Because Caius Rookwood is dead and at the end of it, all he is is the father of a good-for nothing Death Eater.”

“Sit down,” she says sternly, holding her wand out, “No one, no one is impressed by shouting.”

“He's dead. Does it matter, who killed him?”

“Answer the question.”

Augustus Rookwood sits back down. Takes a deep breathe in and then smiles at her. Cool, calm, bored. Like the mugshot they took of him when they dragged him in here.

“I don’t know.”

Susan nods, “Thank you, Mr Rookwood, you’ve been er, quite helpful.”

“You’re worse than your aunt.”

“I know,” she smiles.

There are many reasons why she is drawn to Rolf. The way he radiates peace, a still pool of calm in the middle of the wild storm the world makes as it goes by. The way he tilts his head just so and smiles, lopsided and with crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. The way he simply smiles when she wears her homemade charms to ward off the nargles, does not sneer - does not even think to sneer. His pure, childlike naivete as he watches the world.

It is his love for the stories, however, which truly draw her to him. Stories the rest of the wizarding world harshly dismisses, shutting their ears and calling these storytellers animals, creatures, inhuman.

It is the stories no one else wants to tell, says her father as he bends over his printing presses, making sure the spells laying the typesets in place are working without any glitches, that we must tell.

And there are so many stories, she knows, that the wizarding world will never tell. Stories which she has spent her life listening to as she drifted through school, lonely and estranged from her fellow classmates. Stories a house elf named Dobby tells her. Stories a centaur named Firenze tells her - and later, other centaurs will learn to trust the fae-like young wand-waver who dares enter their forests, for she is unlike other wand-wavers for she listens. 

There are stories that have nearly killed her - the time she nearly drowned, staying underwater without breathing charms, absorbed in the tales a friendly mermaid had to tell, for example, or the time Grawp (yes, she knew about him) nearly attacked her. Stories that she has reluctantly charmed out of recalcitrant tellers - goblins at Gringotts grumbling at this curious witch yet always eager for a chance to tell their story, fae-folk hidden away in their woods long relegated to the pages of myth and legend wondering if this dreamy young child is secretly one of their own.

These are stories they have longed to tell, longed to be heard. Stories of injustices and miseries. Stories of persecution and war and genocide. Stories which tell of the past, present and future in their own words. 

She collects them all, precious gems, each with stories behind them. Stories upon stories upon stories. One day, when she and Rolf are ready, when the magical people behind these stories are ready, they will tell these stories to the wizarding world.

But it seems, Luna thinks, that the time for waiting is over; the time to tell these stories has come.

(Pics:1,2,3,4. For imgonnashoottothrill.)

Form 84 Section B Subsection C.I.iii: Request visit for high security prisoner
Prisoner: R080421
Visitor: Head of Department of Law Enforcement, Portia Montgomery
Purpose of Visit: Personal
Date: 2/08/2014
Approved by: Auror Smith, Auror Unit 9, Azkaban
Personnel on duty: Alexander Brown
Time-In: 21:00 hrs
Time-Out:22:00 hrs

—————————————————————–

“You don’t have to go through with it.”

“Make idle threats?” he raises his eyebrows, “Is that how you run the DMLE?”

She twists the edge of her robes in her fingers, “It’s not right.”

“And me being here is.”

“Comparatively, yes. Not enough to warrant you throwing the whole bloody wizarding world into chaos.”

He shrugs, “Its for justice. And truth.”

“So you’ll just stand back here, safe and sound, with your arms crossed, laughing as we try to run around cleaning up the mess you’ve started?”

“Oh well sorry, I’ll just be sitting here, enjoying myself in prison.”

“Merlin Gus, you’re so selfish.”

“I like that -”

“Shut up. Don’t tell me about how you’ve been selfless all your life, laying yourself down for everyone to walk all over you because everyone bloody well knows that it wasn’t selflessness or higher moral duty, but plain fucking guilt.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I’m your sister, I think I know enough. I know enough to know that you’re doing this because you’ve spent ten years feeling sorry for yourself and like a child, you want to get your own back.”

“Well by all means, do go ahead and tell me why I’m doing this because obviously, I don’t know.”

She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, “Why?”

“I told you. Justice and truth, you can believe me or you can not believe me,  I don’t bloody care.”

“You’re so selfish.”

“You’re like a broken record. If you don’t have anything interesting to say you can leave - ”

“It’s always been about your guilt. Everything. Don’t upset Gus, he’s been through so much. Don’t trouble him Portia. Just do as he says Portia. He just needs time Portia. No Portia you can’t have any attention, I have to help poor Gus poor, poor Gus been through so much you couldn’t possibly understand Portia, don’t trouble the poor boy.”

“I fail to see what this has to do with me, this is all mother's doing.”

She flicks him between the eyes, “She wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t been moping around the place the whole time, looking as though you carried the weight of the world upon your shoulders.”

“You’ve never been through what I’ve been through.”

“And that must be so terrible for you. All that guilt for all those years, if you want to make it right, you’re going about it all wrong and father wouldn’t have approved.”

“He was dead by the time you were born and he would have done the same thing.”

“Then he was a fool and you ought to stop feeling guilty about something you couldn’t possibly be held guilty for.”

You weren’t there, you never saw what I saw.

“Its too late,” he shrugs, instead.

She looks as though she’d like to hit him, moves her hands, still them and they clench into fists.

“You’re wrong if you think any of this is going to change anything,” she says evenly, “People will read this, public inquiries will be made, a few people will be fired and everything will go back to normal in a few weeks. A few discreet scholarly minds will come out in public and tell everyone that Caius Rookwood was a madman and that his theories were completely outlandish, people will take their word for it - because who the fuck knows who Caius Rookwood is except that he was the father of a Death Eater, as though that lends him credibility? And in a few weeks, maybe a few months, all of this would have been forgotten, but you, you'll be in big trouble when this blows over because the Ministry won’t forget that you’re the one who started it all. And by that time, Auror Potter would have finished his investigations into father’s murder and you're going to be the one who’s going to have to answer some very difficult questions. And no one is going to be nice to you this time round.”

“I’ll answer them,” he says carelessly, “I’m a big, bad Death Eater aren’t I?”

She studies her older brother, hardened and embittered by his time in prison and wishes she could shake some sense into him, or at least rouse him from this miasma of self-pity he seems to have been sucked into. Then again, she wonders how much she knew him in the first place and whether he’s always been this self-pitying, simply not out loud where she could hear him. Whether ten years all alone in this tomb - it is a tomb - with nothing but the North Sea and his memories to keep him company have finally made him believe all the poisonous stories he’s told himself over the years.

“Well good luck explaining what you were doing on the scene of the crime,” she drawls.

He stiffens, slightly and her eyes shine in triumph, knowing that she has finally made it through to him.

“I still can’t get used to it,” he says, lightly, swiftly changing the subject. Forced, but not enough for her to catch it.

“What?" 

"Portia Montgomery,” he rolls the syllables exaggeratedly.

“Charles isn’t his brother.”

“His son was a bully too. Had to deal with him at good old Hogwarts.”

“Charles isn’t like them, all right? Leave off.”

“I didn’t have anyone to tell them off till -”

“Till your knight in shining armour came along, Merlin's balls Gus, it happened ages ago, it doesn’t matter now.”

“But it matters, Portia,” he says softly, “All of it." 

She rolls her eyes, "get your story straight before they haul you up for questioning,” she says unsympathetically and then leaves, not marking the way his eyes cloud over and his knuckles turn white, so white, as he grips the edge of his table - or the fact that he draws blood when he bites his lip.

Or the way he starts to sob helplessly when he is certain there is no one who can overhear him in the corridor outside.

MURDER IN AZKABAN!
Death eater Augustus Rookwood found murdered in cell, Auror Adam Smith held for questioning

By a staff reporter,
North Sea

A serious lapse in security measures in Azkaban has led to the murder of Death Eater Augustus Rookwood. Augustus Rookwood, under investigation for his role in the murder of his father, was found frozen to death in his cell today at 10 AM by Auror Amanda Brocklehurst. An investigating Auror team led by former Aurors Minister Shacklebolt, Rufus Scrimgeour and John Dawlish suspects foul play with the use of a poison that simulates the effects of frostbite. The exact time of Rookwood’s death is uncertain, fixed approximately between 7 PM last night and 10 AM this morning. The Ministry has called for an inquiry into security procedures at Azkaban following news of Rookwod’s death.

Auror Adam Smith, formerly in charge of the Auror unit at Azkaban has been arrested and taken away for questioning concerning this gross security violation at Azkaban and the possibility of his having played a part in this murder. Auror Smith refused to answer any questions, maintaining that he had nothing to do with the death of Augustus Rookwood though “he bloody well wished he had”. 

Augustus Rookwood was to testify today in the Wizengamot concerning the events surrounding the murder of his father Caius Rookwood on 28th December 1968. The Minister of Magic has released an official statement saying that the trial will continue as planned, with the Wizengamot using evidence gathered by Auror Bones over the course of her investigations. Former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Portia Rookwood, will be there to testify before the Wizengamot as will several other witnesses the Ministry has refused to name.

More as this story develops.

From:Special Evening Edition of The Daily Prophet dated 10/08/2014.

On the 1st of September, the goblins called off their strike and Gringotts reopened its doors for business, to the relief of magical Britain’s various farming families, just in time for them to sell their autumn harvest on the international market.

In his office in The Wixenomist’s London Headquarters, the magazine’s Finance Editor, Zacharias Smith frowned over reports which lauded the unprecedented export deals on Britain’s autumn crop. Exports which, in his opinion, all seemed to be suspiciously concentrated around a number of very recently established firms in the Eurasian Steppes – all of which resulted in dead ends when further investigated.

The Editor-In-Chief, Augustus Blythely agreed that this was suspicious indeed, but demurred from publishing anything which was remotely fearmongering in nature without conclusive proof one way or the other. The Wixenomist did not indulge in baseless speculation, he reminded his Finance Editor, and that, it seemed, was that.

Mr Borgin, strolling down Diagon Alley to his store to open shop for the day on the 5th of October, was horrified to find Finlay Montmorency sprawled on the doorstep of his shop, his eyes glazed and mouth wide open – a trickle of blood dribbling down his cheek – and a rowan stake through his heart. Someone had carved the letters BNB on his forehead. Mr Borgin sent the Aurors an anonymous tip, hastily shifted as much of his wares as he could to the back room to avoid investigation and then made himself a cup of tea to settle his nerves.

They never discovered who murdered Finlay Montmorency.

Over the next few weeks, the average amount withdrawn from Gringotts by the average Wixenomist employee rose from 10 galleons to 50 galleons.

Michael Corner, picking up on Zacharias Smith’s hints opened a bank account with Barclays and deposited a total of two thousand pounds, drawn from his account at Gringotts on the 8th of October.

Drusus Fawley folded the last of his letters (We are pleased to acknowledge the receipt of ….) and sat back with a sigh of relief. The last of the Fawley autumn harvest had finally been shipped off and received at the other end and now they had at least four months before the winter crop started coming in. This was the fifteenth of October.

Ten days later, an unfortunate incident in the Trans-European Floo Network led to the destruction of a huge part of a vegetable import from France. Incidents on the Trans-European Floo Network had been on the rise of late and not even the closest examinations made by specialists from the Department of Magical Transport, or the Department of International Magical Cooperation – or even the Unspeakables – revealed what the cause for all these incidents were.

It was put down, in the end, to mischance born of age and magical decay and the Department of Magical Transportation began drawing up plans for a new Trans-European Floo Network.

On the first of November, all across Europe, the goblins abandoned their mines, shut the doors of their banks and went on strike.

Auror Report
Date:28th August 2014
WPC Violation: 150 Section A – Harbouring Known Criminals, Subsection 3.iii: Escapees; 150 Section C – Withholding Key Information Concerning a Known Criminal’s Whereabouts, Subsection 3.iii: Escapees.
Subject of investigation: Concerning the location of known Death Eater Charles Selwyn
Parties being investigated: David Smith, Head of the International Magic Office of Law
Investigating Auror: James Killick
Started:10:00 AM
Ended:11:00 AM
_______________________

Excerpts from the transcript:

JK: Did you harbour Charles Selwyn, knowing full well that he was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban?

DS: Yes.

JK: And you never reported this to the authorities?

DS: Not officially.

JK: Could you please explain that statement?

DS: Pen Rhionydd is a tiny village. I doubt that either Mr Bones or Mr Robards were unaware that my brother-in-law had escaped from Azkaban.

JK: Mr Bones and Mr Robards are not the ones being investigated here.

DS: Are you a family man, Mr Killick?

JK: This is hardly appr –

DS: Well then; suppose you found yourself torn between your duty as a Ministry man and your duty to your family, which one would you choose? Would you have the satisfaction of knowing that you were a morally upstanding man, or would you prefer peace in your home in time of war?

JK: Mr Smith –

DS: Imagine it, Mr Killick. On the one hand, your days are governed by your family – men and women with whom you share not only a home, but a village; there is no escaping them – on the other hand, your conscience and your position as a Ministry man. Have you ever experienced the wrath of a woman who has not had her own way? No, then Mr Killick, you are a lucky man. Should I have attempted to report him, all that would have happened was that he would have slipped through my fingers, aided no doubt by my brother-in-law and my wife, and then he should have been far beyond my control. I did what I could to mitigate the worst of his actions, unfortunately it was not enough. Do you not think, Mr Killick, that I have not regretted every moment of my decision to ignore Charles Selwyn’s presence in my home to please my wife? I wished to avoid the example set for me by those who had preceded me and for all my pains I have had this flung in my teeth by my children.

JK: And yet despite that you have been withholding information concerning Mr Selwyn’s whereabouts?

DS: I don’t make the same mistakes twice, Mr Killick. If I had found him again, rest assured I would have delivered him to your office without a moment’s hesitation.
_______________________

Notes:
Guilty of concealing Charles Selwyn’s whereabouts between 1995 – 1997 and 1997-1998 under the interim Ministry. Proceed with caution re. Statute of Limitations; mentioned pressing charges if officially charged with harbouring Selwyn between 1995-1997. Has no information on Selwyn’s current whereabouts.

Auror Report
Date: 28th August 2014
WPC Violation: None
Subject of investigation: Close links with subjects of public independent inquiry, Brutus Flint.
Parties under investigation: Marcus Flint, MI7
Investigating Auror: Michael Corner
Started:9:00 AM
Ended:9:15 AM
_______________________

Excerpts from the transcript:

MC:Please state your name for the record.

MF:Marcus Flint

MC:Age?

MF:40

MC:Occupation?

MF:  You just entered it on your form.

MC:Standard procedure, Mr Flint, please answer the question.

MF:An office in MI7.

MC:Relationship to the accused?

MF:Think this is some kind of bloody joke, d’you Corner?

MC:I’m sorry Flint, I have a prescribed set of questions I’m expected to ask you.

MF:Well move on, I don’t have all day.

MC:Can’t, until you answer the question.

MF:I’m not fucking answering your bullshit question, I’m fucking here on serious business.

MC:I’ll have to book you for verbally assaulting a Ministry employee while on duty –

[[NB. by O. Cauldwell: minor scuffle in which Flint and Corner drew wands on each other before being subdued by Auror Dunbar, investigation resumed by Dunbar]]

FD:Have you, in the past, aided and abetted Death Eaters knowingly and willingly?

MF:No.

FD:Would you say that you endorsed statements such as “I believe that some wizards are more equal than others” and “Muggleborns are inherently incompatible with wizarding society”?

MF:In the past.

FD:Has your father, at any given point, asked you to engage in activities which either directly or indirectly supported the Death Eaters?

MF:Not that I am aware of.

FD:Do you have any statement you wish to make?

MF:Only that if I really was Death Eater or even a Death Eater sympathizer, I wouldn’t have answered any of these questions honestly in the first place – I’d work on your interrogation techniques and procedures if I was you – and secondly, if I was, I could have assassinated the muggle PM at any time, as his attache, y’know?

FD:Thank you for your time Mr Flint.
_______________________

Notes:
Definitely a terrorist – Michael Corner

Probably not a threat – Fay Dunbar

In all fairness the interrogation was badly handled by Auror Corner, despite his experience. No point setting Flint’s back up for no purpose – Owen Cauldwell

Auror Cauldwell will please refrain from making personal comments about his superiors, especially where his superiors can see them. If he has something to say he can say it to his superiors’ faces rather than sneaking behind their backs – Michael Corner