Chapter Two: Prisoners of Madness
Azkaban was cold.
It was always the first thing Rodolphus noticed as he entered the fortress prison. In his line of work, he had only ever been here a few times, and he certainly did not relish it. Stepping through the stone doors and into the prison was like entering another world, and the cold slammed into him first, taking his breath away.
The smells came after. The mildew and mold that grew in the crevices between the stones, the staleness in the air, the faint scent of smoke and sweat and something else unidentifiable.
And then they came.
The Dementors never came too close, for which he was glad. He could catch occasional glimpses of them, dark shapes disappearing around a corner, ethereal figures that floated along the floor, taking deep, shuddering breaths.
He felt their effects, though, even when they weren’t in sight. They leeched the happiness from his body, replacing it with gloom and pain and despair, emotions that ran through him and left him trembling and weak. It was for that very reason that he despised the Dementors, that he wanted nothing to do with them.
He hated to be weak.
The Auror who walked in front of him seemed not to notice the Dementors. Perhaps he had been stationed at Azkaban for so long that he had gone insane along with the prisoners here. Or maybe he just didn’t have any bad memories for the Dementors to make him relive. Either way, he was somehow able to stroll along with a smile on his face, his steps almost jaunty.
“So…” the Auror said at last, glancing over at Rodolphus with a smirk, “Evans, huh? Got your second chance after all.”
Rodolphus narrowed his eyes at the other wizard. “So it would seem,” he agreed coolly.
It was forbidden to enter Azkaban without the permission of the warden and without the accompaniment of one of the Aurors stationed there, but Rodolphus would have rather been left alone. He didn’t like making pointless conversation with people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like the subject of the conversation.
But, of course, he knew he would hear these sorts of comments quite a bit in the coming weeks. The brutality of this murder had made it front page news, and the identity of the accused had set tongues wagging, eager to spread the gossip.
“Unless she pulls one over on you again,” the Auror chortled, shaking his head with amusement. But then he caught sight of the murderous look on Rodolophus’ face, and swallowed audibly, realizing his comment had only served to annoy the other wizard.
He quickened his steps, and Rodolphus did likewise, both eager to reach their destination.
A sudden scream ripped through the air, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing along the corridor. It was accompanied by the sound of chains rattling, or fingers scratching in vain against the wall. They had passed through the entrance and into the corridors that housed prisoners.
Rodolphus glanced at the nearest cell. The door to the cell was made of heavy metal, and no doubt enchanted with several spells to make it unbreakable. There was a small window, complete with heavy metal bars, in the top third of the door, allowing Rodolphus a brief glance of an emancipated figure hunched in the far corner.
They continued down the hallway, and Rodolophus turned his face away so that he would not need to see the prisoners. They were filth, most of them, and he didn’t want to waste time thinking about them.
There was another scream, this one deeper and filled with pain. It cut off halfway through, turning into a choked, gurgling sound. It was then followed by a laugh, an insane cackle that was almost harder to bear then the screams.
The Auror didn’t seem to notice.
The hallway grew colder as they arrived at a flight of steps. Flickering torches hung on the walls, casting a faint glow along the stairs, illuminating dust and mildew and stains. At the very stop of the stairs, a dark figure glided away, a Dementor moving on to the next victim.
Rodolphus shuddered in the cold, but then forced himself to still and followed the Auror up the stairs. The staircase spiraled around, and opened up onto another floor, this one almost identical to the one below, except for the nearly freezing temperature, a sign that the Dementors spent more time here.
The Auror pointed to one of the doors a few meters from them. “There. That is the prisoner’s cell.”
Rodolphus set his lips into a thin line and stared at the door with barely concealed triumph. “Thank you,” he said. “You will wait here, I do not wish to have anyone else in on this conversation.”
The Auror chuckled. “Whatever you like, Mr. Lestrange. Just as long as she’s still in one piece when you leave.” And he leaned back against the grime-covered wall, folding his arms over his chest, content to wait.
Rodolphus smiled a bit at that statement and walked forward briskly. The Auror might expect him to attack Evans at the first opportunity, but that actually wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a trial, he wanted to draw it out as long as possible so that she would see the noose tightening around her neck and be unable to do anything about it. So that she would spend weeks waiting for the inevitable, no longer in control of her own life or fate. He wanted to make her suffer.
He paused at the indicated door and peered through the bars into the cell. The room was small and dirty. There was a metal cot without a mattress on one side, and the back wall had a small window placed near the very top of the cell. The icy wind came whistling through the tiny window, bringing the smell of saltwater with it.
Lily Evans was sitting on the edge of the cot. Her clothes were torn in places, and her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest as though in a futile attempt to keep out the cold. Her red hair was a mess, full of tangles and knots that fell wildly around her face. She wasn’t looking at him, and he could not see her expression.
“Hello, Evans,” he said.
She did not lift her head, but instead continued to stare down at the floor as she answered, “Lestrange. I was wondering when you would arrive.”
Rodolphus lifted his eyebrows at the comment, then said sardonically, “I do hope I did not keep you waiting too long.”
She did not respond to the mocking in his voice. When she spoke, her tone was flat, devoid of emotion. “What do you want?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he sneered.
She looked at him then. Her green eyes were full of fire, something that took him a bit by surprise. He had heard that most prisoners went mad within days of arriving at Azkaban, but that it only took hours for the effects of the Dementors to destroy their will. And yet Evans was glaring at him, her expression filled with passion and fury and emotions he assumed she would not be able to muster after having been here for twenty-four hours.
She rose to her feet, her arms falling to her sides, and walked to the door of the cell. They were close, separated only by the few inches of metal between them, but he had a wand and she didn’t, and he couldn’t help but grin.
“And shouldn’t you be happy?” Evans questioned softly. “It might not be common knowledge among everyone else, but you knew what Remus was. I thought you would be celebrating his demise.”
“I am,” Rodolphus agreed readily enough. “And not just because it rids the world of one more bit of filth. I must admit, I am celebrating the chance to rid the world of you, too.”
Evans looked away for a moment, collecting her wits. When she faced him again, her eyes were taunting. “Like you attempted to do last time? What makes you think you’ll have better luck now?”
His fingers tightened automatically around his wand. He would have hexed her right then, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much that question had gotten under his skin.
“Call it a hunch,” he answered in a voice of forced calm. “So tell me, Evans, why did you kill him?”
“I didn’t,” she spat.
Rodolphus laughed. “Like you didn’t kill Lucius Malfoy? You might have gone free once, Evans, but you won’t this time.” He adopted a look of mock-contemplation, and then said, “But I forgot. You professed your innocence of that crime, too. It’s funny, though, how often the people around you seem to end up dead.”
“I didn’t kill Malfoy,” Evans snapped. “And you’re just bitter because you weren’t able to get me convicted all those years ago.” She leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Being so sure of something and then finding out that you’re wrong.”
“I wasn’t wrong,” Rodolphus snarled.
“And yet I was cleared of all charges,” Evans answered. “Have you been dwelling on that for seven years?”
“You may have weaseled your way out of trouble once,” Rodolphus said, “but you did not escape unscathed. How many friends stayed by your side after that trial, Evans? Everyone knew that you were guilty, even if you went free. Only Lupin believed you, and now you’ve killed him, too.”
“I didn’t kill Remus!”
Rodolphus laughed callously at the desperation in Evans’ voice. Her eyes were wide and wild, her composure abruptly gone, and he did not hesitate to twist the knife a little deeper.
“Tell me, why did you choose a knife as your weapon? Did you want to do things the Muggle way? Pay tribute to your dirty roots?”
“I didn’t…”
“Did you enjoy watching his blood spill out over your hands? Did you feel triumph when he took his last, shuddering breath and fell still? Did you celebrate the moment his heartbeat stilled? Are you happy now? Or do you hear his screams when the Dementors get close?”
He watched with glee as Evans stiffened. She stared at him for a long minute, the pain and anger written clearly across her expressive features. Then she turned away from him and walked back to the cot, wrapping her arms around herself once more.
They were both silent for a long moment, Rodolphus regarding the redheaded prisoner, and Evans staring blankly at the ground.
Then he said, “You will go mad eventually, you know. Everyone does. This place takes your sanity first.”
She did not look at him as she replied, “So I’ve heard. But you still haven’t told me. What do you want?”
Rodolphus shrugged casually. “I just wanted to see you, Evans. I wanted to… catch up on old times.”
She gave a dry chuckle in response. “Did you now?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the Auror who was still waiting for him to finish the interview. The other wizard looked rather bored, but he winked when he saw Rodolphus staring at him. It was clear that the entire situation amused him.
“I just wanted you to know that I am going to destroy you this time,” he said finally, looking back at Evans. “I wanted you to know that you will pay for this crime.”
“And, again, I wonder why you are so incensed. Another werewolf dead. You should be happy.”
“I am, Evans. Believe me, I am.”
She did not look at him, and he lingered only a moment more to gaze at her, then he turned on his heel and walked away from the door. The Auror moved immediately to his side, and together, they left the fortress prison.
On a few occasions, Frank had been forced to enter Azkaban for the purposes of collecting information or statements from prisoners there. It was part of his job as an Auror, and without a doubt one of the parts he disliked the most. As much as possible, he passed along those errands to anyone else, eager to stay away from the dismal fortress and the creatures that lived there.
But he couldn’t do that with this case.
It had not been hard to obtain permission from the warden, and he was greeted as soon as he arrived at the gates. He glanced at the Auror who had come out to meet him, and nodded his head once in greeting.
“Crowley.”
Auror Crowley grinned. “Evans is popular today, eh Longbottom?”
Frank pulled his cloak tightly around him, shivering slightly. The air that came from the surrounding sea carried drops of frozen water with it, but it was a different coldness that he could feel now. Something settled heavily into his body, chilling him to the bone.
“Who else came?” he asked, ducking beneath the wrought iron gates and stepping into the prison itself.
“Lestrange,” Crowley answered with a grin. “He talked to Evans for a bit. Don’t know what they said to each other, but I have a few guesses.”
Frank nodded and let out a long breath, trying to expel the tension from his body. It didn’t really work.
“Lestrange didn’t say what he wanted?” Frank asked.
Crowley laughed. “What he wants is a redo of the last seven years. He doesn’t have to say that for all of us to know it.”
Frank accepted that in silence. The bitter enmity that had existed between Lily and Lestrange all those years ago had not faded much, but Lily had at least been smart enough to keep her head down and stay out of Lestrange’s way. He was a powerful man, and not someone to be crossed.
The corridor was dimly lit, but even the faint light was enough for Frank to see the droplets of moisture that gathered along the walls, dripping endlessly to the ground. The floor was damp enough to be slippery, but he was used to it, and walked briskly behind the other Auror, his thoughts on Lily.
As they entered the first of the corridors that housed prisoners, there was a hoarse cry, and a body flung itself against the wall of a cell. Frank turned instinctively towards the noise, his hand moving to his wand. Crowley gave the cell a disdainful look and did not pause or even slow down his pace.
Frank glanced behind him as saw two Dementors gliding forward towards the cell in question. There was another cry from within, and the scraping of metal on stone. Then the cries turned into a shriek of rage, almost inhuman in its volume and intensity.
The Dementors stood on either side of the cell, but Frank and Crowley turned the corner and were no longer able to see what was happening.
Frank shivered and tried to push those thoughts from mind. He did not wish to dwell on the fate of the prisoners here.
They entered a spiraling staircase, and Crowley slanted a quick look at Frank before asking, “So why do you think she did it?”
Frank pressed his lips into a flat line, and replied, “She hasn’t been convicted yet.”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “She’s guilty, Longbottom. You know that as well as I do. As well as everybody does.”
Frank didn’t say anything. It was hard to imagine any reason why Lily would have turned on Remus, but he could not deny that the evidence was incriminating.
“Come on, Longbottom. You knew her. You were friends with her. You must have some suspicion.”
But Frank shook his head wearily, refusing to answer Crowley’s questions. He would have to deal with the gossipmongers sooner or later, but he’d rather delay it for now.
He had to talk to Lily first.
When they finally arrived at the corridor that housed Lily’s cell, Crowley pointed to the appropriate door, and then leaned against the stone wall, arms folded over his chest, expression bemused.
Frank walked forward quickly. There was a small window in the door, complete with a row of bars to prevent any chance of escape. In between the bars, he could see the cell, and Lily, sitting on the metal cot. She looked up as he approached, and their eyes met, and for a moment, Frank thought she might burst into tears.
Instead, she rose unsteadily to her feet and crossed to stand before him. “Frank,” she murmured. “You look… well.”
He hadn’t seen her in three years, and yet she hadn’t changed. Not the way Remus had. There were shadows under her eyes and a haunted look in her face, but those, he assumed, could be attributed to the death of one of her friends. Other than that, she was still how he remembered her, with vivid green eyes and brilliantly red hair that could not be tamed by any styling product. When she smiled at him, that same shy, unsure smile she had given the day they first met when they were both eleven, he couldn’t help but smile back.
And then the weight of the situation came crashing back onto his shoulders, and his expression grew somber.
“This is bad, Lily,” he said.
She licked her lips. “I know what it looked like, Frank. But I didn’t…” She stopped, studied his face for a long moment, then said in an incredulous voice, “You think I might be guilty. You actually think I might have killed him.”
Frank met her gaze steadily. “Did you?”
“No!” she spat venomously. “How can you ask me that? I loved Remus.”
“And you were found standing over his dead body, covered in his blood,” Frank answered pointedly. “And I’m not sure you appreciate just how bad that looks.”
Lily leaned forward, resting her hands on the door. “I loved him,” she said again, tears pooling in her eyes.
Frank hesitated, then said, “Do you know where he has been for the last three years?”
Lily shook her head. “N-no. He… after…” She seemed to need to stop again, to gather her words carefully. Frank waited patiently, but his heart was beating rapidly and his breath was growing more and more uneven.
A few tears escaped Lily’s eyes and slid down her face.
“That night… we fought. You were only there for part of it. It was… bad. I told Remus I never wanted to see him again, and he just… he left.”
Frank let his thoughts wander back to that night, three years ago, when Remus and Lily had both been yelling at each other, upset and furious. It had been the last time that he had seen Remus, although their friendship was almost completely ruined by that point anyway. It had been steadily unraveling for years, only kept alive because of his relationship with Lily.
“You haven’t seen him since then? He didn’t contact you?”
Lily shook her head. “I haven’t seen you since that night, either.”
She sagged a little, energy slowly leaving her. “I don’t know where he went or what he was doing,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Frank. I just… I don’t know.”
“You didn’t try to contact him?” Frank pressed.
Again, Lily shook her head. “Oh… Merlin, Frank, what happened to us? We used to be such good friends…”
Frank’s expression hardened, and when he spoke, his words were flat and blunt. “You were accused of murdering Lucius Malfoy, Alice was killed, and Remus disappeared. That’s what happened to us, Lily.”
Lily turned away from him and walked back to the cot. It was a small enough cell that neither of them needed to raise their voice for the other to hear, even with her on the opposite side of the tiny room.
Frank leaned forward, curling his fingers around the bars, and waited.
But Lily apparently had nothing left to say.
“Why were you at Remus’ home?” he asked finally.
“I… he sent an owl. Said he was back. I wanted to see him, wanted to… I don’t know. Make it right?” She blinked a few times, tilting her head to the side to stare at Frank. “When I got there, he was already dead. And I just… froze. I didn’t know what to do. I’d loved him, Frank, and then I hadn’t seen him in three years. And now’s he… now he’s dead and I just didn’t know what to do.”
Frank frowned. “Okay,” he said, knowing that some of his disbelief had probably crept into his voice.
She gave him a hard look. “You think I killed him, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Frank admitted.
“I loved him. I would never hurt him,” Lily said firmly, her pale face flushing with anger.
Frank heaved a sigh. “I know what I know,” he answered. “And it makes it hard to believe you.”
Marlene McKinnon sauntered into the small law office were her boss worked, a copy of the Daily Prophet clutching in one hand. She was smiling, or perhaps a more accurate description would be to say she was smirking triumphantly. As the door closed behind her, she crossed the floor and placed the Daily Prophet down on the desk in front of her boss.
“I’ve got it.”
James Potter looked up with one eyebrow raised. “You’ve got what?” he asked in a faintly bored tone.
His uninterested did nothing to dampen her spirits. “Read this,” she instructed, tapping her finger against the article on the front page of the paper. “Go on, read it.”
James scanned the article. “Lily Evans accused of murdering Remus Lupin.” He frowned and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Evans. Why does that sound familiar?”
“She was accused of killing Lucius Malfoy seven years ago. Remember? Lestrange was the one who prosecuted the case, but she went free. He didn’t have enough to convince the Wizengamot.”
James nodded slowly. He’d been young then, only a few years out of Hogwarts and still unsure what he wanted to do with his life. He hadn’t been even remotely interested in law, and had paid little attention to that particular case. But he did remember it. The entire country was at least somewhat familiar with it.
“So what of it?” James asked.
“You need to be her counsel,” Marlene explained with a broad smile.
His eyes widened. “I… what? You want me to do be counsel for the defense in a case against Lestrange? A case that is personal for him.” He snorted and pushed the paper aside. “Merlin, Lena, are you sure you’re not trying to put me out of business?”
Marlene rolled her eyes. “You live off your inheritance from your parents and you only work part-time. And only when you like the cases. What do you care if this lowers business for you for a couple years? This is the chance of a lifetime.”
“Yeah. The chance to give Lestrange one more reason to hate me. As though he doesn’t have enough of those already,” James grumbled under his breath. The Potter family was as pureblooded as they come, and it was clearly infuriating to Lestrange that he could not get the sole remaining Potter to agree with his pureblood-supremacist beliefs. James had spoke out against some of Lestrange’s proposed legislation a few too many times.
“He’s going to hate you no matter what,” Marlene answered pointedly. “So you might as well get some use out of it.”
James sighed. Marlene had been his assistant since he opened this practice, and she was invaluable in both his work as a barrister and his work as a politician. Her family was powerful, both in politics and in magic. When he told people that Marlene McKinnon worked for him, they were almost always impressed. And, of course, it helped that she was absolutely stunning, and heads would frequently turn every time she entered a room.
She was also stubborn. She had good ideas, and so it was usually worth listening to her, but even if James didn’t want to hear what she had to say, she would not give in until he was forced to put aside whatever he was doing and give her his full attention.
“And what exactly do I stand to gain by being Evans’ counsel?” James demanded wearily, knowing he wouldn’t get out of this conversation without playing along for at least a few minutes.
Marlene grinned like the proverbial cat with the canary. “You don’t want to be doing this forever, do you?” she asked casually, gesturing to the cluttered office. “I mean, eventually you want to work at the Ministry.”
“Yes. So?”
She leaned forward. “Imagine what people would say if you beat Lestrange. In a couple years time, you could probably get yourself appointed Head of one of the Ministry Departments. And I don’t just mean an assistant. I mean a Head.”
That caught his attention. “You really think so?”
Marlene nodded. She had good instincts when it came to politics, and James had learned to trust her on this sort of thing.
“Think about it. Everyone knows that Lestrange is angling for the Minister’s job. And if he gets it… You know there is no way you’re getting any position in the Ministry as long as he is in power. But if you can win this trial, if you can get Evans acquitted, Lestrange is going to fall a bit in popularity. And you’re going to be the new talk of the town.”
“Yeah, but what if Evans is guilty?” James pointed out.
Marlene sighed. “You’re a barrister. It’s not your job to care if she is innocent or guilty. All you need to do is get her acquitted.” She tilted her chin up and looked at James defiantly. “And so what if she is? I’d rather let her go free than stand by and do nothing while Lestrange adds one more victory to his list and moves that much closer to being in control of the Ministry.”
James considered this for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. While he didn’t particularly like the idea of letting a murderer walk free, he couldn’t deny that it was necessary to do anything possible to keep Lestrange from being appointed Minister. And not just for his own political aspirations. He knew the type of person Lestrange was and it sickened him to think what the other wizard would do if he had enough power.
“I’ll think about it,” he said finally.
Marlene gave him a critical look, then said with a sweet smile, “We both know you’ve already made up your mind. But I guess if you want to pretend like you’re still thinking about it, I can go along with that.”
James laughed. “Get back to work, McKinnon,” he said with mock outrage.
She winked at him, then began bustling about the office, getting things ready.
James stared down at the Daily Prophet, at the picture splashed across the front page. It showed Lily Evans being led out of a room by several Aurors, her clothes stained with blood. He was actually going to pick a fight with Rodolphus Lestrange over a woman he didn’t know, one who was probably guilty of murder anyway.
He had to be mental. There was really no other explanation for it.
“Have you heard, Cissy?”
Narcissa Malfoy looked up from where she was sitting in her lavishly decorated parlor at Malfoy Manor. The cup of tea she had been drinking was held delicately in one hand, and the other rested in her lap. She had a far away look in her eyes and, in fact, her thoughts had been wandering about until her sister’s sudden appearance.
“Bella,” she greeted coolly. “Have I heard what?”
Bellatrix Lestrange swept into the room, her lips twisted into a gleeful smirk. “Lily Evans has been arrested for murder,” she announced.
For a brief moment, Narcissa’s emotionless façade crumbled, and something akin to shock showed in her pale eyes. Then she quickly slipped the mask over her features once more and asked, “Of whom?”
“Remus Lupin.”
Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then gave a thin smile. “I suppose your husband will be prosecuting the case?”
Bellatrix nodded. “We may not have been able to avenge Lucius’ death, Cissy, but we will send Evans to Azkaban. Rodolphus might even seek the Kiss.”
Narcissa nodded. “Good.”
Bellatrix settled herself into the seat across from her younger sister. Her dark beauty stood in stark contrast to her sister’s pale looks, so much so that it was almost impossible to see the resemblance based on physical characteristics alone. But there was something there, beneath the surface. A casual disregard for everyone else, a sense of superiority, that both women shared.
Naricssa placed the tea cup carefully on the small side table beside the chair and sighed. It had been years since she had thought of Lily, and, in fact, she had tried her best to banish all memories of the redhead. She’d been pregnant and widowed, left alone in a house much to big for her with a child she didn’t know how to raise, and all because of Lily.
Still, she was surprised that Lily would have turned on Remus Lupin. But who knew what Lily was capable of. Maybe she no longer cared about any of her supposed friends.
“Still, I hope we’ll all learn the appropriate lesson from this,” Bellatrix said. “Never trust Mudblood filth. They aren’t fit to be part of this society. They are beneath us.”
Narcissa laughed quietly. “We learned that seven years ago, Bella.”
“I’ve known that since birth,” Bellatrix corrected. “And so has Rodolphus. And when he is done with Evans, he’ll move on to the rest of them.”
Narcissa leaned forward, interest flashing in her eyes. “He thinks he can use this to gain more support for your cause? It is true, winning the case against Evans will prove that Mudbloods are dangerous, but does he really believe that this will…”
“Aid in our war to protect the true wizarding society from those that would dirty us?” Bellatrix nodded. “It will, Cissy. Just wait and see. We’ll have a new order soon enough, I promise you that.”
Fool Me Twice by Dawnie
Chapter Notes:Just to clarify - this takes place in the late 1980s, something that will become more evident as the story progresses. Lily and James are both in their late 20s. And although it is clearly AU (James and Lily did not start dating at Hogwarts, did not marry shortly after, and did not die on Halloween 1981), Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the war all have major roles to play.