Second Anger
Justin had to explain who he was to Mundungus Fletcher, who seemed remarkably nonplussed. It was as if he could understand all of the words, but they meant nothing to him. Was it just because he was a real side character, even if he was on the morally negative side more than anything? If he understood the whole thing correctly, he was actually relevant during the Horcrux hunt.
"So you were one of the students in Harry Potter's club? What does that matter now?"
"Very little, I know. I fought in the battle of Hogwarts, you know. I did a lot more for the cause than you ever did."
"I didn't contest that. I just don't know who you are. I've never heard of you."
"I suppose not."
They stared straight at the bars for a moment.
"What do you want, then?" Mundungus asked.
"I just wanted someone to help back up my story. There's a chance that the authorities are investigating it right now, but there's also a chance that they're not-"
"There is literally not a chance. They've got their man. That's all they want. Almost certainly, they're already gone home. They had to write something down, so they wrote what they had; the firewhiskey down at the pub was calling for them. I've been through this place a million times. You've got to realize that a lot of people aren't much better than Inferi or answering machines. You've been in the muggle world, right?"
"Yeah."
"They've got a list of possible responses to everything. Now, to some extent, we're not much better. We've got maybe a little more than you could rattle off without sitting down and writing them out. Someone like... I don't know, someone more important could probably never stop coming up with possible responses."
"Wait, so you've heard the theory as well, that, that due to the prophecies, our world has a narrative-like consistency and-"
"No, no, whatever that is, I haven't heard it. I haven't heard most of those words. Don't tell me what they mean. There's only so much I can remember."
"Why are you telling me this? I can be... reasonably certain you've never told anyone this before."
"It's not every day I come across another about my level. The world sorts itself out for the most part. It's a very good system. Don't ask me how someone like Fudge ever had more power than Dumbledore of all people, but I didn't believe it would stay like that for long." He put his hands up. "Now, of course, I made my mistakes. I'm limited. I don't really think things through, not entirely. There might even be thoughts that are too important for me to understand, but, well, if that's the case, then I'm sure that would be another one of those."
"I... are you saying that even if it was correct, you couldn't reach the conclusion because... because it's just too important for you to know?"
"It's on a different plane of existence. In a way, it's like one of them trying to understand one of us. Can't imagine a fourth dimensional shape." He frowned. "Come to think of it, the real explanation for all this might just be beyond me. I'm not meant to figure it out, so instead all I get is this idea of levels and planes. Damn. I didn't even think of that."
"Maybe that's as far as you were meant to go," Justin suggested. "Maybe it's kind of like dying; you know there must be something beyond that, but you'll never know what."
"I suppose. Things that we can imagine, the higher ups can actually explain, and then everyone below us, well, they can't even imagine it."
They were both taken from their strange reverie by the prison guard and a surprise guest.
"Creevey?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I came for your friend here. Sorry about all that back at the club; I never imagined you'd end up here. But, well, you should have known better than to try to exceed yourself. Everyone's saying that there was no way someone like you would bag Umbridge."
"What did I do?" Mundungus asked.
"Well, something for which the law will never exactly punish you, but something very much dangerous for your future. That's the most I can say. I'm not authorized to go on any further."
"How do you plan to get him out of the cell, then?" Justin asked.
"Well, it's simple. I have the key right here."
He looked over at his cellmate.
"This is simple. You don't want to go with him. You're a lot better of dealing with the legal system than these people. The punishments never stop."
"Some of the punishments are kinky and fun."
"I see. Well, if it's that kind of club, then I suppose I could at least give the place a visit, as you suggest."
"Don't," Justin urged. "If you go in there, you'll never understand anything else! You'll be trapped at your exact comprehension level for eternity. They won't ever let you raise your level."
"Really isn't much point in lying, is there?" Creevey asked. "Testicular torsion."
He fell to the ground, clutching his bollocks in pain. While he had never suffered anything of the sort so far, it seemed Mundungus was more contemplative.
"Why should I go with you?" he asked. "What's the advantage over staying in here?"
"Well, it answers a question. I've heard that you have quite a few of them. In here, you're always wondering about what's next. In our club, there's never any wondering. It's all the same, all the time."
"I suppose I should recognize that resting in midday has finally started to yield rewards," he said. "I think I'll just go to sleep instead of going with you."
"What if I cast Testicular Torsion on you as well?"
"Well, that would make it rather hard for me to believe that going with you would be better than being in a cell for a few more days before charges are dropped due to lack of evidence. Don't worry yourself over someone like me."
"Wait, do you know?" Justin asked. "You've known about the club the whole time?"
"Testicular torsion." He felt the pain of his other ball twisting and he bent down again. Even with his wand, he had no idea what spell could put things right again. It had to be something stupid, like the same incantation backwards.
"What club?" he asked.
"It's a club for all sorts of people who want to correct the injustice of the world. It's called the Dark Horse. Have things ever been unkind to you?"
"I suppose. I could have been different. I could have done a lot with just a bit more of... whatever it is that makes people special."
"It's a common complaint. It's difficult to find out that there are a lot of special people in the world, but that you're just not one of them. How old were you when you found that out?"
"I don't really remember. It's more like a... gradual process, it's a steady, daily unveiling, not a sudden realization. I couldn't say exactly when it happened. Did you ever find there was 'that kid' in your class, or something like that? For us it was... well, for us it was Gilderoy Lockhart. I never realized how important he would become, but for him it was fake importance."
"Ever wanted to get back at someone like that?"
"I'm not really a vengeful person. I don't mind the way the world works. I just wish that the special people would do something for the rest of us. I can't imagine that they would have any interest in us, but they could at least try. They must know how to do something that would bring a little light into our lives. Not all of us law-breakers are dyed-in-the-wool villains. Some of us just wanted a chance to do something."
"This is so stupid," Justin muttered. "I don't know why you're listening to him Mundungus; he's going to punish you for eons! There's a ghost in there-"
"Testicular torsion duplex."
"AAAAaaaAAaaaahhhHHHHH!"
He felt his bollocks twist one around the other. The pain and disturbing sensation was indescribable.
"Anyway, trust us. Our sense of justice is impeccable."
"I don't know," the petty criminal said. "What did that dobber ever do to you?"
"He tried to expose our organization. Really, there's nothing worse than someone on our level who tries to rise above his station. It's just not the way the world works. He was trying to get the canon started again with himself as Harry Potter's key informant. It would have been awful."
"The canon?"
"It's part of what I was telling you earlier," Justin managed from the floor. "They believe the world is a story. I'm a side character who never should have stepped out of the background-"
"Testicular torsion verso."
He rolled over on the ground as he felt his bollocks go back to the way they were before, painfully of course. It was hard to say how it was so much worse to have them back right again, but he could only hope that hurting would not become the default. The conversation between Creevey the elder and Mundungus had progressed without his notice, and it seemed like his one hope was leaving the cell as the door opened, and then closed again, leaving him alone. How was he supposed to get someone to testify that the club existed? What was going to happen when someone returned? There was no way that the old man who set him up to get caught had just attacked all the guards- almost certainly he had passed by with some legitimate excuse, and he had the key through some connection.
"Finch-Fletchley?" a woman's voice asked, seeing him on the ground.
"What is it now?"
"Where is Fletcher?" she asked. He looked up and saw the same witch who had been interrogating him.
"Wait, did you put us in the same cell just because of our surnames?"
"I don't see why not. We did not have any reason to think you would fight or anything."
"Well, go on and believe I was confunded, but Colin Creevey's father showed up for him. He took him to that club I mentioned."
"As a punishment, or a reward?"
"Well, he was acting like it was a reward, but if he's extremely lucky, it's only a little bit of a reward, and a whole lot of punishment." He frowned. "Why do you care? Don't tell me you believe me or something."
"What? Is it so strange that your story is believable? You were the one who told it. Don't you believe it?"
"I do, but..." She was right. What about the situation was so odd? "The interrogations went so poorly I thought I was done for."
"Finch-Fletchley, you couldn't have possibly taken Fletcher out of the cell, not without a wand. You're my only source of information about what happened, and you seem to be in pain. I need you to tell me everything about what happened here."
It did not take long. She surprised him with her attentiveness. He was sure he had never seen her face before, though, and even though he must have heard her name, he did not remember it, so it must not have rung a bell. Cherith? Charity? What was it again?
"Got it. Well, clearly you're an important witness for this case. I would stake my badge on it."
"I'm... grateful," he said. "What would that badge say? I want to thank you properly."
"Investigator Brooke Cherith, thank you for asking." She opened the cell with a key and he guessed that an unlocking charm wouldn't have worked. "We need to get moving. You're the principle witness in this case."
"There's a problem." He had a sudden sinking feeling. "You've believed me so far, but when I went there with Auror Robards, unless I was under the confundus again, the second we got to the club, they used an illusion to make it look like some boring pub."
"That's troubling, especially because we don't know how much of that is true." She frowned. "The other interrogator was lying, by the way. That really was Harry Potter."
"What? Why?"
"Well, he was trying to see if you would insist on it, or if you really believed you were confunded. It's not a surefire thing, but seeing how you react is a standard tactic."
"Oh, well, I mean, I've heard of some of the tactics, but I didn't have any faith in my memory at that point. Did Harry remember seeing Dean, or did he-"
"It's just like you thought. Most likely, your friend was using the confundus on you, and a polyjuice on everyone else. I spoke to him and he remembered seeing you, but from the way you've described it, there were a few inconsistencies."
"Maybe being under the confundus does that to you," he supposed. "I wasn't just fooled into thinking that Zacharias was right next to me; I was fooled into thinking that Harry thought that too."
"Your friend's good," she said as they reached the elevator. "Most of the time, people can get out of the illusion just by noticing a few problems here and there, like if you're made to think someone is right next to you, usually the caster would not have gone so far as to make it look like everyone else is looking at your companion too."
"I see. Well, I have to admit, then, that many of my memories so far could be wrong, but I can't see it as terribly likely that the whole thing was wrong. There would be no point in that."
"Yes, that's probably correct." The elevator hummed while they were both thinking. "Who is in charge of this whole operation?"
"I was trying to find out, but I never got close enough. It's got to be someone who just barely had anything to do with the whole... I don't know, all the stuff that happened in Harry Potter's life. They see him as a main character in a narrative universe."
"I can see why. He certainly has had a fair few interesting adventures." She raised her eyebrows. "What does that make you, a side character?"
"Oh, I'm just a background character who was briefly jumped up to that status, now I'm back down where I belong." He shrugged. "I guess that makes you the reverse. You're someone with at least side character status who's been hanging around in the background until now. I suppose you always have the option to introduce new characters."
"I see. What's the name of this club?"
"I never found out." He frowned. "I know it has a name, but... wait, it was called the Dark Horse."
"Like the Dark Lord?"
"No, no; I don't think anyone there knows any dark magic unless they need it for some strange sexual torture. If I remember correctly, a dark horse is a character who was introduced, but allowed to remain mysterious. It's a background character that you might think could be used for something later."
"Well, you're the closest person to Harry Potter that I have on hand right now. Can you think of anyone who might have done it?"
"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "This whole thing was completely out of left field. For a few years, I was in a somewhat different circle than Harry; we had some of the same friends, some of the same... well, I didn't think much of some of his enemies, I guess."
"It looks like we'll have to go to the man himself. He's been swamped with false leads about Lucius Malfoy's disappearance. I can only think that it's related."
"That could be it. They could have used their connections to make sure that he stays on the case, and they figure that he's the only one who could really stop them because of plot contrivance. Most likely, they don't have an endgame. It's just keep delaying him until the end of time, keep kidnapping people who did something to someone more worthy, and then... and then they get caught and they'll have to explain themselves with their hands up." He shook his head. "They could be vaguely hoping to keep everything under wraps until he passes away naturally, and then... I don't know; many of the people they'll be punishing will be ghosts by then, so maybe they'll find ways to keep them around and keep punishing them. It worked with Travers."
"That's rather frightening. Is it just Harry, or does anyone who does anything wrong get punished?"
"He's the worst victim you could have; after that... I don't know, probably Hermione Granger. Ron's brothers are about as much of main characters as he is so the fact that they pulled pranks on him, well, that's just a funny little joke; there's no wrong to right there." He frowned. "Things seem to work mostly normally when two characters are on the same status. It starts to matter what the intent was." He shook his head. "I can't see it being someone who was close to Harry, because I know all of them, pretty much, and they're good people, but it must have been someone who investigated. Some of the things I've heard Zacharias say... there's no way he could have known that, even with what we all heard after the war."
"Interesting. I would guess that you could do research by looking through our official records, but not many eyes have ever been on it. That might be the place I would have to take you, without any other lead."
"I suppose you're right, Investigator," he said after thinking about it. "We can't just barge in there again, even if they're not expecting us. They probably have some other means of hiding the evidence. I know not to trust anything Zacharias said, but he warned me before leaving me alone that they had more than just illusions. If, however, we find one of the people responsible, and arrest him or her at home, we can get more clues to Umbridge's location, which, as I understand, is the purpose of a kidnapping investigation."
"Precisely. I need you to tell me as many details as you can, anything that would narrow down what source of information was used. Technically, if it takes us down to the Department of Mysteries, even better, and I'm starting to suspect them already, because they're that good at keeping secrets."
Justin recalled a few specific things that he had not before. It seemed reasonable to think that the Unspeakables had something to do with it; he had no idea where else he would go to learn some of the spells they used. The best thing seemed to be to check with them just to be sure, but was there any way of doing anything about them if they turned out to be guilty. He had never heard of any of them getting arrested, and he could not think that it was because that they never did anything wrong. Cherith seemed particularly surprised by the part about Olive Hornby.
"I haven't heard that name in years," she said when the elevator dinged. He had never been so far below the surface. "Who knew about her, exactly?"
"It was Romilda Vane. I wasn't under the impression she was that high up in the organization."
"You are probably right about that. Technically, we have enough to arrest your friend Zacharias, but that's assuming he goes home, and he probably knows not to. Vane, on the other hand- you've already named her, but she hasn't been located. I can see why you think this was all the work of an obsessive fangirl, but I think that you've got the wrong one. She was investigated for using unreasonably high doses of love potions for simple pranks at her office just this past year, so we investigated her."
"What happened?"
"It's a standard scene, someone was stealing lunches, so she dosed one of them, and then the colleague fell in love with her, at least for the day. It would not be an issue the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would have had to handle if that was as far as it went. In actuality, her lunches were already half eaten when she brought them to work, this is at the Daily Prophet, so there were plenty of skilled journalists around, at least after higher standards were imposed on them- basically, she just put Amortentia in the tea of a coworker who had forgotten her lunch and made her smitten."
"That's terrible. What crime was that, exactly?"
"Well, that was the problem. They knew it wasn't rape, because there was never any sex. Really, she only subjected her colleague to some embarrassment, confessing her feelings in front of everyone. I'm sure her coworkers know not to hold it against her, but I suppose it's kind of like being drunk. People seem to think that it's indicative of who you really are. The problem was the quantity. The barrister argued that the dose was so great that it should be charged as a poisoning. She eventually managed to get away with it, effectively; her punishment was rather light."
"It must not have been anyone important. She would have been the one getting punished if she had committed that crime against anyone the club would consider to be a main character."
"Did she not do the same to one Ronald Weasley?"
"Well, apparently that was an accident; it was supposed to go to Harry, and it was supposed to be in smaller doses. She gave him a bunch of spiked chocolates thinking he would eat one, but Ron ate all of them without noticing the effect. I'm also pretty sure that they technically classify him as a comic relief character, so if something happens to him, it's more funny than anything else. He's kind of an exception to the usual rules."
"I see. Well, given everything you've told me, they probably see her distant, one-sided admiration as a heroic trait."
They got nowhere talking with the Unspeakables. No matter what they asked, it seemed like there was always an answer, and yet that answer did not contain any real information. It was even more frustrating than their simple refusal to answer. Eventually, they gave up when they realized they would need a higher clearance to get the boss, assuming he or she really had something to do with the Department of Mysteries. What they needed at the moment was a lead, something to prove to everyone else that the whole thing was real. That meant going to one of the lesser targets.
"I think we should go with Arkie Philpott," Justin said after a moment of thought. "The goblins should have him on record, and he would never expect it, not if he's convinced he's basically invisible."
"He might be our best bet. He's on official records, though he might think that no one would ever look for him."
A remotely helpful upstairs employee told them where to find the man they were seeking out, and as soon as they left the Ministry, they had only to apparate to get there. On the way, he learned that Cherith was technically a hit wizard, but her job as an investigator was more like a detective than a beat cop, or at least that was what he would tell his nonmagical family. She had earned her position after solving cases well consistently, so in a way it was perfectly expected, but simultaneously it surprised him that she was practically a side character the whole time.
"Seriously, you never had any exposure to Harry Potter at all?" he asked as they were knocking on the man's door.
"No. I suppose if there's any truth to what these people are saying, there must also be exceptions."
Quietly, he supposed that she had not really confessed that the club was right about anything, only that it made sense to her how they would choose the main character. It seemed like she was trying to understand the way that they saw things without prejudicing herself, which impressed him even more. Was she his second shot at being a side character?
"He's not answering," Cherith said after a moment. "I had hoped he would not be wary of us, like you suggested, but it seems like he's just not in right now. At the same time, the door is not locked."
"Can we let ourselves in?"
"No, that would be counter to protocol. This whole thing has to be by the book. Do you know anyone else who might-"
An explosion blew out the glass of an upstairs window and they immediately went in. The investigator had not given him back his wand, but he was glad to at least be able to move around. On the middle of the floor, Arkie Philpott was tied up and had so many probity probes inside of him, all the way down to his nostrils and urethra, that he wondered if Gringotts had any left. For a moment, all was still, and then, all of them went off at once.
"GET DOWN!" Cherith called out. Justin did not need to hear it twice; he threw himself behind a davenport and the room practically exploded into a blue slime. "Ugh," she spat, getting some out of her nose and mouth. "Maleficent Dung Bomb. Technically, it's dark. That means I need to call it in. Well- that and the obvious murder that just took place here."
"Right. See that you do," he managed. "If it's all the same to you, I'm just going outside to have a panic attack while I try to conceptualize what just happened here."
"As long as you're available for questioning."