Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

At ten to nine, the eight crab baskets coming from different jurisdictions, including Ireland, Wales, Scotland (two each), one from Azkaban, and one from the Isle of Mans, made their very noticeable entrance in the front court-yard of Buckingham Palace. Others were due on the hour, if things went according to plan.

"Let us get the easy ones first," suggested an officer. "That way, Corporal, Her Majesty might get her temper under control. I felt like I was walking in a thunderstorm this morning, and without a lightning rod at that."

"Do not I know it! I almost pissed myself when she looked at me crossly! I hope the axe is sharp or the executioner might benefit from his own tool. It will be busy today. The carpenter did a good job with the installation. The through is rather sharply slanted, and he added another feature: the block is raised on a dais, and the body will slip on the side once the head falls, filling another through with the blood and making the body slide."

"Will it not get clogged with clothes, Corporal?"

"They will not be wearing any. Modesty is for the living, she said. The Creator made us be born nude, they will return nude to the Creator. Talk about rancor."

"I just hope the Castle’s grid has enough spikes. It would not do to run out of them at the wrong moment."

"We will see."

"Get the marked ones. These are the known terrorists."

"Okay. I have five in that Crab basket. One sure fits, his name is Crab or Crabbe, I am not so sure. The other three are unmarked."

"Okay, Corporal. Make sure they are raked. I hear they can disappear if not."

"Oh, that is why they are tied to a steel grid like frogs for biology lesson. The axe better hit right, they are pretty tightly bound to the grid, and can barely walk. Wonder why they put a series of hinges at the knees, rather than a straight grid?"

"You got to kneel when you get judged. The ironsmiths found the design in the archives of Queen Elizabeth I."

Crabbe, and the four other death-eaters, were taken out of the crab basket, leaving Dumbledore, Bagnold, and Molly Weasley on the racks. Those taken out were brought to the main entrance, forced to kneel while two of the lot were taken away to the maids’ waiting room.

"We got your first ‘customer’, your Majesty."

"Bring him or her in."

In was pushed a nude man, who looked around proudly. While he was escorted to the front of the dais and forced to knee on the alter, a signal was forwarded to get another ready and moved into the waiting room.

"Mage, veritaserum!" ordered the Queen, without blinking.

The wizard moved forward, and, upon finding the man refused to collaborate, kicked him in the genitals, providing the opening for the three drops of the potion.

"I will kill you, bastard!" said the accused, as he gasped from pain.

"Sorry, my parents are married, and were so when I was conceived. I can not verify for your case. Now answer the Queen’s questions. If you do not I will crush your nuts, got it?"

If looks could kill!

"Name?"

"Crabbe."

"Are you a death-eater?"

"Yes."

"Did you willfully take the dark mark?"

"Yes."

"Is the dark mark earned?"

"Yes. It is a proof of fidelity to my master."

"Who is your master?"

"Lord Voldemort."

"What did you do to earn the mark?"

"I killed the Prewitt brothers and their children. They refused to take the mark and bend to the will of Lord Voldemort, these scum blood-traitors."

"Why kill the children?"

"To remove them from our midst. We need clean blood. Blood traitors are even worse than muggles. They betrayed their own blood status. They can not be trusted."

"How did you proceed?"

"I skinned the children alive, in front of their parents. Their cries were so beautiful!"

"Is your fealty to the Crown?"

"You, bitch? A muggle? Are you trying to kill me with laugher? Certainly not! I owe fealty to Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin, the future ruler of the World!"

"Given these facts, obtained under veritaserum, I remit you to the care of the Royal Executioner, to be beheaded this day. Remove the garbage! Next!"

"You can kill me, but my lands and riches will go to the cause!"

"So you think! By the Laws of Camelot, your ‘lord’ was defeated and his earthly possessions and titles remitted to the care of the victor, by right of conquest, one Harry James Potter! Therefore you have enriched your worst nightmare! Good ride down the bloody slide to Hell. I suspect the Devil will have a busy day! I just hope he will not run out of forks to stab you with while you work hot coal pits."

Thus the morning continued: Yaxley, Goyle, Dolohov, Snape, Malfoy, Thicknesse, and score of others went out of history as part of a deadly list. At 11:30, the executioner made his way to the Throne Room.

"Your Majesty, I need a respite, my arms hurt. And my assistant needs to sharpen the blade. It has been breached severely over the past two and a half hour of non-stop use."

"How many?"

"Executed? Seventy-five. One every two minutes."

"Chancellor, how many left?"

"Of the dark-marked? About the same. Another seventy-five or so."

"Do we have anything that needs to be dealt with that does not need the immediate use of the axe?"

"We have a few high ministry officials that have been held in waiting in a crab basket on the side. Their interrogation will take some time."

"Even with veritaserum?"

"I am afraid so, your Majesty."

"Well, get the first ones, the highest ranked. At least we will have a measure of the extent of the Ministry’s treachery."

"That would be a certain Dumbledore, and a woman by the name of Bagnold, the ‘current’ Minister for Magic."

"Get them. And order a light lunch for 12:30. I can smell the blood from here, and it gives me a taste for black pudding."

The valet made a run for the nearest bathroom and puked everything he had in his stomach. How could the Queen want a bloody black pudding, made out of pork blood, while smelling that and ordering seventy-five executions in a row was beyond him. She must have been beyond enraged! As he reeked, he heard her yell "If you can not stomach your job, resign! I have to live with my decisions!" That triggered another episode. After five minutes, and a glass of icy water, he made his way out, called for Dumbledore and Bagnold, and made his way to his desk, where he promptly wrote and signed his resignation effective that very minute.

"Burns! Replace me!"

"When will you be back?"

"Never! Give that letter to the Household Manager. Tell him to keep my vacation pay. I am not interested in it!"

Dumbledore had been foaming at the mouth for all morning. He had been raked and brought in that smelly lorry? Anyway, a hideous muggle contraption, and left under the sun as the confined area heated up and began to smell of more than what he could stomach. Beside him, Bagnold seemed resigned to her fate, eyes wide, unseeing. More members of the Order of the Phoenix had been added, along with sympathizers. Alistor, Arthur, Diggle, Minerva, Filius. He had not seen Sprout or Snape, and he hoped they were alive.

The rear door opened, letting in a breath of fresh air. The rod on small balls was pulled out, and his and Bagnold’s racks lowered. As he was frog-marched on the cold grounds barefoot, he saw Sprout moved in to take his place in the rack carrier, as well as Diggory. The final act of this tragedy was about to unfold he thought. As he looked behind, he heard the rear door slam closed, and saw another of these ugly things leave. Probably it had just been emptied by the move of Sprout and Diggory. Hopefully, Snape had escaped to return to Hogwarts, where he would be safe behind the wards. Dumbledore had not heard the students’ reports as he was being interrogated that morning whey they arrived, and he has not sought a report from the others that were in the lorry with him and were in the know. Short-sight can not always be fixed by glasses.

---

Padfoot woke up and felt better. A bowl of fresh water and a big bowl of dog food did marvels for his mood. He stood on all fours a bit unsteadily, and looked around some more. This definitely was a dog pound, well, dogs, cats, birds, and BRR, snakes. Doctors made their rounds, and kept checking on everyone gently and lovingly. He could really appreciate the care he was given. What he could not figure out is why his left butt hurt so much.

A young doctor made his way to his cage and looked at him, wistfully.

"I wish I could adopt you, but I am not allowed to take in clients. You are one of a kind, you know? I have never seen one like you before. All that lustrous black hair, these teeth would probably take the rear ham of a robber in a single bite, and beautiful, grey and oh so intelligent eyes! Are you aware you are the only dog I have ever seen with eyes that are not brown? I really wish I could take the time and look at the dog breeds of the world. You must be worth a fortune. I wonder who was stupid enough to let you run wild on the street so you could get hurt in that explosion! My little boy would be safe at the park with you keeping watch rather than that idiot who is more into playing with his friends then doing the job I pay him for!"

After a few more comments with barely controlled tears, the doctor took out a collar.

"Come on, I need to take you to the X-ray machine, big boy. Do not worry, it is not painful. And I need to replace the bandage afterward."

The doctor put in the collar, which barely made it around the neck, and tied the lead.

"Come here, walk slowly. I still need my arms today. If you pull them out of the sockets, I will not be able to lift you to the X-Ray platform."

As Sirius, in the guise of Padfoot, stayed right beside the doctor, he thought to himself, you really do not know how rich the Black family is. I could buy half of London with my pocket change.

"How could someone dump on the street such a well-educated dog? People throw treasures on the street like that! No wonder my little boy found one boy in a dumpster near the park. The poor kid was dehydrated, and had been feeding himself from garbage for a week. I rescued him, dear doggy, and he is now in intensive care at St-Michael’s Children Hospital. I plan to ask the CPS to adopt him. CPS told me today they think he is a squib. I wonder what that means, but I do not care. A child is a child!"

Sirius stopped and refused to move anymore, however hard the doctor pulled.

"What is the problem? My story?"

"Woof!"

"Oh the squib?"

Sirius whined loudly, then growled hard enough to shake the windows.

"I agree, this is unacceptable, doggy. It is so sad."

The doctor that had fixed Sirius had been informed about the high probability that the dog was an animagus, and told of what that implied. After spending the night watching the news, and hearing of magic, he had resigned himself to the fact that it was possible. He observed the strange behavior of the dog and concluded he was, indeed, an animagus, one dedicated to protecting children, if its reaction was any indication. He watched, as the young doctor petted the huge dog while crying, only to have his tears licked off by the dog. He followed them and stood in the adjacent room as the young man lifted the very heavy dog on to the X-Ray machine, placed him properly, and told him not to move while he went to activate the X-Ray tube from the observation room.

"Hey, Professor, what brings you in the nick of these woods?"

"Your patient. Anything strange to report?"

"I have never seen such an obedient dog in my life. It is as if he understands all I say. He turns the head just so, he reacts with emotions, he If I listened more carefully, I think I could hear him speak. Look at him he is not moving and it is been a minute since I left!"

"Take that X-Ray and ask him, without going in, to change position. Watch!"

"Okay." Pressing on the microphone, the doctor told the dog "Do not move now, okay. It takes a few seconds for the plate to register!"

As he quickly changed the plate for the next X-Ray, the doctor was amazed. The dog had yet to move!

"Next one! Please turn on the other side and put your head back up on the rest board!"

As the two doctors watched with ever-widening eyes, the huge dog obediently moved into place.

"A bit higher the head, that is it. Do not move!"

After the next X-Ray, the young doctor turned to his teacher. "What kind of marvel is that dog, sir? I have never heard of a dog that obeys commands with such precision!"

"Have him lay on his back, paws wide, Okay? Tell him it is the last."

"Okay."

After replacing the plate, the young doctor had the dog do as his teacher instructed and observed with growing fascination as the dog not only took the required position, waited for the okay, and then jumped off the X-Ray table to sit near the exit.

"Promise me you will tell me more, please? Please!"

"Oh, I will, but be ready for a shock. Now go get these plates developed. And take the dog with you, I have some phone calls to make."

"Sure. I will see you at lunch."

"Bring that dog with you. There might be some fascinating things to see! But do not tell the dog you find his behavior strange, please. He might play dumb. And we do not need that."

The young doctor left the shielded room with the X-Ray plates. "Hey, doggy, you were a champ. I have a problem tho. These plates are cumbersome and heavy. I can not hold the leash while carrying them. Oh Wow! That is the best! A dog holding his own leash in his mouth! Wait until I tell my little boy about you, he will go nuts. Well, come on, let us go to the development lab so they can do their job. Then it is the exam room to replace the bandages, doggy."

The Professor almost betrayed himself as he saw the dog leave with the leash in the mouth, dutifully following the intern. After they made their way around the corner, he picked up the phone and called the number he had noted in his agenda.

"Sergeant-Major O’Toole speaking."

"It is confirmed, the dog is an animagus."

"He transformed?"

"No, but his behavior betrayed him. He is more human than many I have seen."

"Okay, How is his health?"

"The intern that has taken a shine on the ‘dog’ is treating him like royalty. If that was a real dog, I would have a fight on my hands. The intern is a softy, and has a son that is slightly retarded. That dog would be the boy’s world. And he wants to adopt a squib. When he mentioned that, you should have heard the dog’s wail followed by the growl when he told him it had been abandoned and feeding off garbage. I was afraid we would have to pay for a good dozen windows."

"Okay. I have the newspapers printing the picture of the dog in front page with a story about how brave it acted yesterday. If the news bites, we will have a ‘dog’ earning the first medal of St-George in the history of the United Kingdom. I have put it thick, believe me."

"Why did you do that?"

"That ‘dog’ must have friends, somewhere. I want to ferret them out of the woodwork."

"He might also have enemies."

"More than probably, doctor, since he was the target during that fight on Piccadilly, from what we managed to reconstruct of it. That is why you are under military protection, and there are so many ‘military’ dogs being brought in for an exam as cover."

"I was wondering!"

"If someone comes for the dog, drag your feet. I will be there in thirty minutes, all stops out. That dog is vital to our investigation, far beyond what you can imagine!"

---

The Sergeant-Major was taking a cup of tea when the receptionist at the entrance of the veterinarian hospital pressed an innocuous-looking button. It triggered a beep at his waist.

"We have a visitor, doctor, with a picture of our too-bright dog. Get your intern to bring the dog out for a ‘walk’, if you do not mind. And remember what is the line I told you to follow, while we take our positions."

"Okay, Sergeant-Major."

As the receptionist invited the visitor to take a seat while the ‘dog’ was taken out, a group of military made what they hoped was a discrete entry in the waiting hall, and took position on the far wall, near the double sliding doors. Another group, disguised as doctors, nurses, care-takers, made their way in noisily, talking loudly about the discovery of magic, and speculating wildly about what it meant, for them, the national security, and other issues.

In the dog pound, the intern took Padfoot out, and brought it toward the entrance.

"Hey doggy! I have been talking to my boss a lot, and he told me a big dog like you needed some exercise. The X-Rays show you are almost healed, too. I wish all my patients healed as fast as you do, you know? Some have to stay weeks on end bed-ridden and need to be exercised on special rolling carpets for months before they are fit to be released. Some are so scared of the rolling carpet they hurt themselves while trying to escape. That is so sad. Come on, I need to put on the lead, you know. A dog is not allowed out without one. I can understand why. Some consider it a bright idea to run after cars, squirrels, or cats, and get hurt before reaching the sidewalk. Not that I expect you to be that stupid! You are not stupid, are you?"

"Woof!"

"So I thought. Here, push the door open with your nose."

The moment the door opened, Sirius took a sniff and his tail began whipping the air at one thousand miles an hour, his hind legs barely holding his hind quarters in place. He could not miss the very distinct smell of a wet werewolf, Remus Lupin! He tugged on the leash, taking the intern with him toward the reception desk.

"Wow, doggy! Wow! What is wrong with you? I thought you would pull me through the front door, not the reception desk!"

Sirius ignored anything around and reached the werewolf, getting on his hind legs and licking his face like a fresh juicy steak.

"Hey there, Padfoot, what have you gotten yourself into this time? I turn my back two seconds and you are nowhere to be found!"

"Padfoot?" asked the intern, intrigued.

"Oh, that is the dog’s name."

"I see. You know you have a very intelligent dog, sir. Had you not come to claim him, I was bringing him home for my boy. He is almost all recovered. I decided not to put another thoracic cage on him."

At that moment, a very imposing man, whose posture spelled ‘military’ louder than a howitzer, stepped forward.

"Mr. Remus Lupin?"

"Yes."

"According to our information, you are registered as a dangerous individual, a werewolf. Care to explain?"

"Err..."

"Luckily, the dog showed no sign of canine sickness, and we gave it the shots for heart worm, distemper, and a whole slew of canine illnesses that would affect him in a city such as London. Meanwhile, that dog is not a registered breed and is considered the result of an illegal genetic experiment. He will be neutered before being returned to you. Her Majesty sees with a bad eye unauthorized research."

That explains the pain in the butt! Wait! What did that vertical stick say? Neutered? Me?! Sirius Black fainted, returning unexpectedly to his human form!