A Thief to Catch a Thief; a Death Eater to Catch a
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
18,730
Reviews:
132
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
18,730
Reviews:
132
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Findings
WARNING!!!!! THIS CHAPTER IS NOT NICE. IT REFERS TO CHILD ABUSE, MISTREATMENT AND DEATH; AS WELL AS PHYSICAL AND MENTAL DISSABILITY.
YOU. HAVE. BEEN. WARNED.
I will put a summary of this chapter in the next one for those people who do not wish to read it. PLEASE, IF ANYTHING IN THE ABOVE UPSETS YOU THEN READ NO FURTHER AND RELY ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.
Hermione stood horrified at what she saw, instantly lifting the stunning spell. She used a quick spell to remove the smell of raw sewage from the air and clean the area as best she could.
“Shh, shhh. I’m not going to hurt you.” She whispered, dropping into a crouch so she was at eye level with the little girl who was dragging herself into a corner; her naked and badly deformed legs trailing behind her as she moved, the rusty chains that held her to the wall and would barely allow her to reach the plant-pot saucer that had the remains of some rotten food in it.
“Please. I won’t hurt you.” Hermione said, kindly, inching closer as the little girl tried her hardest to press herself into the wall. Her eyes were wide, blood shot and lost in her malnourished, yellow face. She opened blood-cracked lips and started to cry with unrecognisable sounds.
“You can’t talk.” Hermione whispered, crawling ever closer to the child who began crying louder and trying to move away. “Shh… shhh. Its alright, I won’t hurt you.”
The little girl, utterly terrified, had nowhere to go. She was trapped between two walls and Hermione; she thrashed out with miss-shaped hands to ward off the other person, screeching as loud as she could.
Hermione glanced around, realising this little girl was not the only one in the filthy pit; nine others lay in various states, all completely terrified. The little girl backed into a corner seemed to be the most alert of the group.
Hermione, having not seen such a horrific image since the war against Voldemort slumped down and let the tears that wanted to escape fall. The money was evidently being siphoned off from the medical expenses, and Hermione suddenly realised that the only medicinal potion available was one for scrapes and cuts, and the staff had to be careful with its use as it was “too expensive” (in reality they could buy five pints of it for a galleon)… these children would have cost a fortune to treat.
The little girl saw Hermione cry, and dragged herself over to her, making cawing sounds that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a crow.
“I’m not so scary now, am I?” Hermione whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke the girls filthy, matted hair. The child flinched, frozen in fear as the hand came toward her, before screaming again.
It was then that Hermione noticed the bruises that covered her, and the others.
The oldest, a boy probably aged nine, started babbling, dribbling as he tried to communicate. He had previously been sat in a mound of his own waste, unable even to move far. A tube in his nose was linked to an empty bag hanging from the low ceiling. The bag had once contained ‘food’, but it was well and truly empty now. His ribs were clearly showing, as were every other bone in his body, he had so very little muscle mass, his skin so pale he was grey, his eyes sunken into his face – that bag hadn’t contained food in a very long time.
“Shhh.” Hermione said, crawling over to him and taking his fisted hand in hers, gently rubbing her thumb over it. The boy began thrashing, and screeching hitting his head against the stone wall behind him.
“No! No! Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself.” She moaned, quickly placing her hand behind his head to pad his blows. By the time he had calmed down the back of her hand was bleeding from the contact with the wall.
“Shh, shh. I won’t hurt you. Shh now.” Hermione soothed, stroking his matted hair away from his face and singing softly to him as he started to rock back and forth where he sat, her hand still behind his head for safety.
Hermione drew her wand, many of the children (those who were conscious) began screaming, crying and protesting vocally at her using her wand, but stopped when Hermione had it produce bubbles around them, the eldest smiled an awkward smile, rocking back into the wall with a hard smack as he watched them rise; Hermione directed them lower so he could watch them without hurting himself. She padded the wall behind him with a flick of her wrist to be safe.
Remembering that she had to do something, she quickly set about dismantling the wards around the building; they were relatively easy to break down, but the process was tiring and taking too long. Once through them, sh sent a patronus message to her colleagues on the night shift, the six-inch mantis crawling over the boy’s feet before vanishing with a puff of white smoke.
“This. Stops. Now.” Hermione had no idea who the “contractors” were, but this was definitely where the money was being taken from. She glanced around the room, recording every single detail so she could provide a pensieve to the wizangamot.
Slowly she walked around the room, checking each of the children. Of the twelve in the room, only eight were alive.
The auror team found her covering those whose suffering had ended with enlarged bits of cloth that had been ripped from her nightdress.
“We need to get these eight to Saint Mungo’s before we go after the owners.” Hermione said, watching as Lucius cast a gentle sleeping charm over the children so they could move them without more stress.
“I think we should just wake everyone else up and get them here – there are enough aurors to do three tasks.” Kinsgsley said, vanishing the chains holding the children to the walls.
“Three?” Hermione asked.
“Moving the children, going after the owners and then securing and searching the rest of the building.” He clarified, unhooking the boy’s food bag from the roof.
“I’m in the moving party.” Hermione announced, looking around at the cotton-covered corpses of the one’s she’d been too late to save.
Kingsley sent out patronus messages, within thirty seconds the cracks of twenty more aurors entering the building at various points filled the air.
“Saint Mungo’s are expecting twelve.” Lucius said.
“The others will need postmortems.” Hermione whispered, gently lifting the little girl before apparating straight into the Hospital. Lucius picked up the eldest, following suit. The remaining six aurors in the ‘Child Task Group’ each carefully lifted their charge before disappearing with a crack. Kingsley threw stasis spells over the dead, not wanting them to be harmed or destroyed further in a fight before he left to secure the building and send the other children and staff into a deep sleep.
YOU. HAVE. BEEN. WARNED.
I will put a summary of this chapter in the next one for those people who do not wish to read it. PLEASE, IF ANYTHING IN THE ABOVE UPSETS YOU THEN READ NO FURTHER AND RELY ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.
Hermione stood horrified at what she saw, instantly lifting the stunning spell. She used a quick spell to remove the smell of raw sewage from the air and clean the area as best she could.
“Shh, shhh. I’m not going to hurt you.” She whispered, dropping into a crouch so she was at eye level with the little girl who was dragging herself into a corner; her naked and badly deformed legs trailing behind her as she moved, the rusty chains that held her to the wall and would barely allow her to reach the plant-pot saucer that had the remains of some rotten food in it.
“Please. I won’t hurt you.” Hermione said, kindly, inching closer as the little girl tried her hardest to press herself into the wall. Her eyes were wide, blood shot and lost in her malnourished, yellow face. She opened blood-cracked lips and started to cry with unrecognisable sounds.
“You can’t talk.” Hermione whispered, crawling ever closer to the child who began crying louder and trying to move away. “Shh… shhh. Its alright, I won’t hurt you.”
The little girl, utterly terrified, had nowhere to go. She was trapped between two walls and Hermione; she thrashed out with miss-shaped hands to ward off the other person, screeching as loud as she could.
Hermione glanced around, realising this little girl was not the only one in the filthy pit; nine others lay in various states, all completely terrified. The little girl backed into a corner seemed to be the most alert of the group.
Hermione, having not seen such a horrific image since the war against Voldemort slumped down and let the tears that wanted to escape fall. The money was evidently being siphoned off from the medical expenses, and Hermione suddenly realised that the only medicinal potion available was one for scrapes and cuts, and the staff had to be careful with its use as it was “too expensive” (in reality they could buy five pints of it for a galleon)… these children would have cost a fortune to treat.
The little girl saw Hermione cry, and dragged herself over to her, making cawing sounds that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a crow.
“I’m not so scary now, am I?” Hermione whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke the girls filthy, matted hair. The child flinched, frozen in fear as the hand came toward her, before screaming again.
It was then that Hermione noticed the bruises that covered her, and the others.
The oldest, a boy probably aged nine, started babbling, dribbling as he tried to communicate. He had previously been sat in a mound of his own waste, unable even to move far. A tube in his nose was linked to an empty bag hanging from the low ceiling. The bag had once contained ‘food’, but it was well and truly empty now. His ribs were clearly showing, as were every other bone in his body, he had so very little muscle mass, his skin so pale he was grey, his eyes sunken into his face – that bag hadn’t contained food in a very long time.
“Shhh.” Hermione said, crawling over to him and taking his fisted hand in hers, gently rubbing her thumb over it. The boy began thrashing, and screeching hitting his head against the stone wall behind him.
“No! No! Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself.” She moaned, quickly placing her hand behind his head to pad his blows. By the time he had calmed down the back of her hand was bleeding from the contact with the wall.
“Shh, shh. I won’t hurt you. Shh now.” Hermione soothed, stroking his matted hair away from his face and singing softly to him as he started to rock back and forth where he sat, her hand still behind his head for safety.
Hermione drew her wand, many of the children (those who were conscious) began screaming, crying and protesting vocally at her using her wand, but stopped when Hermione had it produce bubbles around them, the eldest smiled an awkward smile, rocking back into the wall with a hard smack as he watched them rise; Hermione directed them lower so he could watch them without hurting himself. She padded the wall behind him with a flick of her wrist to be safe.
Remembering that she had to do something, she quickly set about dismantling the wards around the building; they were relatively easy to break down, but the process was tiring and taking too long. Once through them, sh sent a patronus message to her colleagues on the night shift, the six-inch mantis crawling over the boy’s feet before vanishing with a puff of white smoke.
“This. Stops. Now.” Hermione had no idea who the “contractors” were, but this was definitely where the money was being taken from. She glanced around the room, recording every single detail so she could provide a pensieve to the wizangamot.
Slowly she walked around the room, checking each of the children. Of the twelve in the room, only eight were alive.
The auror team found her covering those whose suffering had ended with enlarged bits of cloth that had been ripped from her nightdress.
“We need to get these eight to Saint Mungo’s before we go after the owners.” Hermione said, watching as Lucius cast a gentle sleeping charm over the children so they could move them without more stress.
“I think we should just wake everyone else up and get them here – there are enough aurors to do three tasks.” Kinsgsley said, vanishing the chains holding the children to the walls.
“Three?” Hermione asked.
“Moving the children, going after the owners and then securing and searching the rest of the building.” He clarified, unhooking the boy’s food bag from the roof.
“I’m in the moving party.” Hermione announced, looking around at the cotton-covered corpses of the one’s she’d been too late to save.
Kingsley sent out patronus messages, within thirty seconds the cracks of twenty more aurors entering the building at various points filled the air.
“Saint Mungo’s are expecting twelve.” Lucius said.
“The others will need postmortems.” Hermione whispered, gently lifting the little girl before apparating straight into the Hospital. Lucius picked up the eldest, following suit. The remaining six aurors in the ‘Child Task Group’ each carefully lifted their charge before disappearing with a crack. Kingsley threw stasis spells over the dead, not wanting them to be harmed or destroyed further in a fight before he left to secure the building and send the other children and staff into a deep sleep.