No One Likes The Boat Ride, or the Plan
July 10th, 1992, Friday
Quirinus trailed his fingers over his reflection. It was his face. Why wouldn’t it be his face? It didn’t feel like his face, but it was. Today was a big day. He should focus. Admittedly, it wasn’t the big day, today was more for bank robbing preparation. They had settled on a plan (finally) and were ready to carry it out. The five of them had rented out a small house, close to the North Sea (it was decided that travelling back and forth would be inefficient). Quirinus was in a tiny bathroom, with the other four in the family room outside. And Severus still hadn’t shown up (which was very worrisome, as he was one of the few people who knew about the horcrux situation).
Quirinus tugged nervously at the hair on the back of his head. He knew nothing was there, but that knowledge did nothing to ease his anxiety. He (tried) to pull his hair into a ponytail, but several curls stubbornly refused to stay in. He sighed. His fingers tapped aggressively against the porcelain of the sink. Dark Lords generally didn’t have messy hairstyles. If they had hair. Voldemort didn’t so maybe it didn’t matter, but it did because Voldemort liked order and Quirinus’ hair was feeling very disorderly today and that wouldn’t have passed in Voldemort’s eye.
He eyed his reflection. At least the eyeliner was straight. Most of wizarding society didn’t seem to have the same issues as most Muggles did with gender and its expressions. As such, Quirinus didn’t have many issues with applying some eyeliner. Though, there was an issue, singular;
The issue mainly came from the fact Quirinus was putting on a Voldemort cosplay. Well, a ‘pre-snake-face’ version of Voldemort. It... maybe wasn’t the best thing for Quirinus, but he, unfortunately, had the most experience Voldemort. So it made the most sense for him to carry out this part.
Quirinus tried, one last time Giving up, Quirinus exited the bathroom. The other teachers seemed to be arguing.
Professor McGonagall's voice was tense with worry, to Quirinus at least. “Albus, are you certain this is really the best course of action? What will we do if she sees through the lie? And what about Quirinus, do you really want him to relive... that?”
Oh. They were talking about… that and-and him, Quirinus, that’s who. No one else. Just him. Like it should be. He rubbed the back of his head.
“This is the best plan we could come up with Minerva,” (every other plan was a bit too illegal for everyone’s liking) “and with how Gringotts works, she's our best bet we have for getting the cup safely.” Professor Dumbledore looked rather… resigned as he said this. It didn’t inspire much confidence. “Quirinus did volunteer for this, and this is something he’ll have to do if he wants our plan to succeed.”
Professor Flitwick, who was looking rather cross, opened his mouth to speak. Quirinus took that as his cue. He coughed into his hand and was immediately met with four sets of eyes. “Erm, ho-how do I loo-look? Think I look enough li-like Vol- uh, the uhh Dark Lord?”
Quirinus was met with several winces and several moments of awkward silence. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his question, or the fact that he’d nearly said Voldemort’s name. Professors Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick didn’t really take nicely to using Voldemort’s name. Headmaster was unbothered by its’ use, and Quirinus was quite the same.
Fortunately, Professor Sprout was quick to break up the silence with a; “Well I think you look like a right proper dark wizard at least. Might need to tuck your hair in though.”
Irritably, Quirinus attempted to flatten his hair.
“Well!” The Headmaster clapped his hands together, “Now that Quirinus is ready, let’s be off!”
The waves rocked the little boat they were on. The North Sea trying it’s damnedest to tip the boat over. It didn’t and it wouldn’t. Enchanted boats were very good at not being flipped over. Storm clouds brewed overhead. Quirinus shuddered. The boat ride to Azkaban was awfully unpleasant. That’s probably the point, to discourage visitors and breakout plans. It made sense, he supposed.
One couldn’t reach Azkaban by any means other than small, rickety boat with some poor Ministry Official as captain. Supposedly. No one was fool hardy enough to try. A tiny part of Quirinus wanted to try. Every other part reasoned that it wouldn’t be any more pleasant than the boat, far more dangerous and more likely to land Quirinus in Azkaban himself. On his right side, Professor Flitwick hurled his breakfast into the sea. The tiny part questioned whether the imaginary attempt and consequences would really be as unpleasant as the boat. Every other part remained silent. This really was just to amuse himself, because no one was talking, unless the sea’s roars counted, and the Ministry Official looked like she would throw off anyone who tried.
Quirinus’ body thrummed with nervous energy and impatience. He tugged and fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe. He shouldn’t be tugging at it. Voldemort did not fidget with his sleeves, but Quirinus’ body demanded to move, and The Ministry Official had glowered when his legs bounced, so the sleeve it was. The sleeve was uncomfortable anyways. The robes weren’t something Quirinus would normally wear, far too dark and formal for his liking. But it was to Voldemort’s, and right now, that’s what counted. Even if Quirinus really wanted to rip the robes off and hurl them into the ocean. He wouldn’t. He’d just fiddle with his sleeve and try not to bounce his legs.
Quirinus tensed and Professor Sprout gasped, and everyone (apart from the Ministry official) turned towards the right. A dark tower loomed out of the clouds, Azkaban. It’s despair crashed into them, and they had to be about a hundred and fifty meters out. Merlin. It was overwhelming. How did people live there? Maybe it was just him? A quick glance around the boat told him no, the others felt it too. Even the Ministry Official looked offset. Dread welled up in his belly and Quirinus desperately wanted to get off the boat before it made landfall. He didn’t, he just wrung his hands and tried to adjust the glasses that weren't there. It was kind of like robbing Gringotts, the idea seemed more fantasy until you were right at the doorstep and going ‘I really am doing this, aren’t I?’.
Quirinus continued his fidgeting, trying not to drown in Azkaban’s aura, and tensing when Professor McGonagall placed a hand on his shoulder. They exchanged looks, hers concerned and his... a pathetic thumbs up with a smile that screamed ‘I don’t really want to do this but it’s too late to back out now’. Somehow, that was convincing enough to satisfy her, as she gave him a nod and let go of his shoulder. Quirinus decided to just grip the side of the boat until they got to the shore.
The boat came to an abrupt stop when they landed. The other teachers, except for Quirinus and the Ministry Official, were quick to pile out of the boat. Quirinus had yet to relinquish his grip on the side of the boat and he wasn’t sure what the Ministry Official was doing. The other professors were too busy trying to get their bearings to notice him and the older woman. It suddenly occurred to Quirinus that the Ministry Official was probably waiting for him to get off. He leapt to his feet and opened his mouth to offer an apology, but he said nothing. The Ministry Official’s head was down turned, a hand cupping her forehead. The woman’s other hand held the steering wheel in an effort to keep herself upright.
“I hate this job.”
Guilt bloomed inside of Quirinus; the Ministry Official was technically out here because of him. Her head turned up towards him. A dark look crossed her face, and she jerked her head in the direction of the prison.
“Oh- s-sorry.” Quirinus stepped off the boat and scampered towards his coworkers, careful not to look the woman in the eye. This job must be awful. The Ministry Official stomped towards the front of the group, a small, glowing, blue lantern (magic sparked and swirled around, brilliant and warm) clutched in her left hand, wand in the right. She paused briefly, letting out a sigh.
“C’mon, let's get this over with.”
And they began to trek towards the entrance. If possible, Azkaban seemed more imposing, looming out of the mist instead of clouds. The seabirds were silent, if there were any. The grass was grey and withered, sort of like the grass in those Halloween graveyard displays you’d see in Muggle stores. Made sense Quirinus supposed, wasn’t Azkaban just a graveyard for those sent there? Quirinus dug his hands into the pockets of his robes, hand wrapping around his wand. It was then, a Dementor slid towards them.
Everything seemed to come to a halt as it felt like all of their happiness was being sucked into a vacuum, until nothing but despair and sadness was left. The world snapped back into focus as there was shouting, wands being raised, and the glowing blue lantern being swung in the Dementor’s direction. The Ministry Official started yelling at it to ‘Back off!’ and to ‘Get back t’ the prison!’. The Dementor floated towards them still, and someone, Quirinus wasn’t sure who, shot off a Patronus. It was a bird of some sort. The Dementor took to the air and left. The Ministry Official looked towards them and nodded,
“We’d better hurry, don’ wan’ ta run into any more of the buggers.” The pace picked up after that.
Dread and misery brewed around them, so strong it weighed you down. But they reached the doors nonetheless. Tall, towering and dark. The Ministry Official began to undo the many locks on the door, and Quirinus shivered as the doors swung open.
His eyes took a second to adjust, magic shimmered in the doorway, glowing gold wove with a flickering silver. Some sort of wards and warmth charm? The Ministry Official gestured for them to enter.
The entry hall was warmer and cozier than Quirinus expected. Which was to say that it was at all. It felt like all the warmth they’d left outside had surged back into the group. Large candles lined the hall, there was a roaring fire surrounded by armchairs and a tick carpet led the way to the front desk. There was a large door with several locks to the right of the desk. Pictures waved at them and there were a couple of flowerpots here and there. It looked almost cozy. Despite himself, Quirinus looked towards the Ministry Official, questions pulled on his lips. She shot him a glance, worn face offering a bitter sort of smile.
“Can’t be expected to be as miserable as the prisoners.”
Quirinus nodded, that made sense. She bumped him forward. Quirinus stumbled forward and quickly joined the rest of his coworkers. There was the sound of locking doors and the Ministry Official moved back to the front. They walked down the hall, towards what appeared to be a reception desk. The receptionist, a man probably in his late twenties called out,
“Well, if it isn’t ol’ Lucy? How's quittin’ going for ya?” The Ministry Offi—Lucy, snarled at this,
“It’s Lucretia, you prat!”
“Still as pleasant as ev—holy sh—is that Dumbledore?”
“Eh?”
“You went to Hogwarts Lucretia!” Lucretia shrugged.
“What do you need Professor?” Dumbledore began to respond, but Quirinus lost focus, turning his attention to his wet robes. Sea spray. He looked at the receptionist’s bell. His reflection resembled a distorted wet rat.
“Why would you want to see her?!”
“It’s Hogwarts business I’m afraid, Mister Boardmen,”
“How!?”
Quirinus was pretty sure Dark Lords, or at least Voldemort, didn’t look like wet rats. He couldn’t really imagine Voldemort sopping wet. Except for maybe, when he was a boy, the orphanage had visits to the beach. Quirinus blinked. The wet, cold stones dug into bare feet. Somehow, he didn’t slip as he ran, chasing Mary Jane and Bailey. The ocean roared at his back; the cave seemed to come out of nowhere. His small, child’s hands were clutched at the rocks, feet scrabbling for hold. But he crept closer still. Mary Jane and Bailey followed. Like they always did. They were fond of him, they liked what he could do. The cave swallowed them whole, darkness crept up the walls, the water an inky black. The stone underneath his feet wasn’t smooth at all, it was covered in ridges. Mary Jane and Bailey were screaming.
“Oh Tom! Oh Tom! Do something!” Quirinus did nothing. They crawled out of the water, corpses, inferi, he’d later be able to say. They lunged and Quirinus felt nothing but joyjoyjoy and power. He did nothing but smile. There was screaming, and Tommin Dawood was a loyal Death Eater. Loyal, but not very useful. He screamed and screamed and begged his Lord, his Master, for help. Quirinus was unmoved. The inferi dragged and clawed the man down,
down,
down,
just as intended.
Tommin Dawood had finally made himself useful. The man’s screams echoed wonderfully around the cavern, as suddenly the houself started screaming. It screamed and cried, pathetic creature as it was. Kreacher, if memory served. How fitting. It begged and cried for it’s Master. ‘Oh Master Regulus! Help me! Help me! Oh.’ Quirinus felt nothing more than amusement. Cold, cruel amusement. He was screaming again, wordless now. Quirnus wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring at it. But he was soon in the boat, gliding smoothly across the inky waters. Moonlight greeted him and the screams rang in his hea-
“Quirinus!” Quirinus jolted. The memories that weren’t his, slipping from the forefront of his mind. Everyone was looking at him. Concern on their faces. “P-pardon?”
“I was asking if you were ready to go. Are you alright?” The Headmaster's brow was furrowed with worry.
“Oh, I’m f-fine! Do-don't worry!” Quirinus grinned and rubbed at the back of his head. He was fine after all, there was nothing there, except for old memories. Memories that weren’t his. That probably wasn’t fine. People were talking again. He ignored them and tried to push down the nausea. The Master’s memories had wormed their way into Quirinus’ head months ago. A consequence of possession he guessed, because their memories had blurred and blended, merging their consciousnesses together until Quirinus couldn’t tell where he ended and Voldemor— Nope! Not going to think about this anymore. It’s quite unproductive. Quirinus looked as a door opened, and Mr. Boardmen gestured for him to go through it. He took a breath, and smiled a shaky smile at Mr. Boardmen and entered the doorway.