Level 2 Holding Cells, noon
Written with Mel


“That’s surely a joke, Pratt.” The hitwizard stared incredulously at the wrapped up pasty in the Head Auror’s hand and the couple of mugs of steaming coffee floating beside him. “That scum deserves to starve.”

A flash of irritation brightened Pratt’s green eyes as they shot to meet the wizard’s gaze.

“Open the door.” His gaze threatened the subordinate to disobey.

“I need your wand, Sir.” It was willingly handed over.

Catches inside the heavy metal door could be heard twisting until the door swung open and the head auror, accompanied by two floating coffees, stepped into the dimly lit cell.

“It’s pumpkin. Better than the crap they give you.” With the pasty being offered, Ed took a moment to finally look at their prisoner and his brows rose. Why was he not surprised?

Lawrence paid little visible heed to the noises the other side of the cell bars. He had retreated under the itchy blanket, feet drawn up beneath him, rather more gingerly hugging his legs. His back was pressed against the corner, wishing it might just swallow him whole. There were spots of fresh blood across the grey weave of the blanket, and as Pratt addressed him, Lawrence looked up, revealing the source to be a bloodied mouth, fresh beneath a blooming black eye. Neither had been there hours before when he had been face to face with the Head Auror in the atrium.

The prisoner attempted to form a response, and then wiped more fresh blood from his mouth with a hand already streaked crimson.
“Thanks.” Lawrence uttered on a second attempt, staring at the offered parcel. It was kindness, but he’d not experienced much of that since daylight hours began. It was only to be expected. He extended his bloodied hand to receive it, avoiding Pratt’s gaze.

The Head Auror remained silent as he stared at Musgrave, the coffees still floating at waist height beside him. Whoever had done this had gone against orders and abused a prisoner under their care. While Pratt didn’t agree with it, had he faced the killer of his parents, he would have done far worse.

With that in mind, Pratt pulled a clean handkerchief from his robe pocket and also offered that.

“The healer tells me you’re fit for interrogation but I’m to watch out for signs of dementors and report them to her. I’m not sure if I’d rather you were committed or sent to Azkaban.” Pratt lowered himself onto the stool and picked a coffee mug from the air.

Lawrence gave Pratt a wary, but less nervous look when the handkerchief followed. He shifted as best he could, depositing the pasty parcel into his lap to free up his hand to take the handkerchief. He wiped at his mouth and chin, holding it firmly over his cut lip to encourage it to clot.
“You don’t want either,” Lawrence muttered, still with the handkerchief pressed to his bottom lip. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the Head Auror seat himself and pluck a mug out of the air. The captive wizard drew back the formerly clean handkerchief for inspection. His stomach was protesting the thought of any delay in eating, and rumbled noisily.

“There isn’t anything they can do for me.” Lawrence added, doing his best to open the parcel to eat with one hand, tearing the paper with his fingers. He took a healthy bite, before setting the pumpkin pasty back in his lap so he could use the handkerchief to catch any fresh blood. It tasted fantastic, even if there was an iron undertaste from the blood in his mouth.

Lawrence swallowed.
“You’re more interested in what you can get out of me.”
“And you want a bargain.” Ed took a sip of coffee.
“Hm… I think you’ll want to bargain.” Lawrence replied, staring off to the left of Ed before he shoved another mouthful of pasty in.
“You are the one who handed himself in unarmed. Did you enjoy the welcome party, Lawrence?”
“Has it only finished now? I thought the beatings were part of the daily entertainment.” A piece of pumpkin made it out into his lap on the blanket, but undeterred, he scooped it up in his fingertips to shove it into his sore mouth. “Had to get your attention somehow. Not much use to you as a corpse.”

“So you want to be useful.” The wizard took another sip of coffee and leaned back against the cold stone wall. “Did those dementors get too much for you?”

Lawrence snorted gently, top lip curling into amusement which didn’t look happy.
“Ever had a dog, Pratt?” the former Auror asked, “once you train it, it follows you around, begs for food, finds you, becomes totally reliant on you. Happy days. Then it becomes lazy to find its own dinner, always seems to be hungry, won’t sit up and beg - starts to bite if you don’t feed it quick enough. Before you know it, you’re being woken up by it, and it’s shit on the floor, yet it’s still obedient when you order it. Brings your slippers.” He looked at Ed at last, dead eyed, “Dementors aren’t dogs, but they haven’t crapped in Devon lately, have they?”[1]

"My dog shits where it's supposed to shit." Pratt' blunt response came.
“There’s hope for you yet as Head Auror then.” Lawrence quipped back and dropped his gaze to what remained of lunch.
“And is there hope for you? Of redemption?” Piercing green eyes stared at the bloodied wizard.

Lawrence was still, the edge of the pasty paper wrapping tickling the tips of his fingers. He hadn’t anticipated Pratt would ask so directly, nor quite so soon.
“I don’t know, is there?” He asked, slowly looking back up. It was a genuine question, returned more as if to ask Pratt if he would even entertain that his new prisoner were capable of such a thing. “I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t want to try.”

There was a noticeable twitch of Pratt’s lips; the merest hint of a smile.

“Good.” He lifted his spare hand, waving it at the second coffee which floated over to Lawrence on the bed. “Your niece is convinced you had little choice. I think that’s dragon bollucks.”

“Hannah?” Lawrence near interrupted, suddenly sitting up straighter. He ignored the mug for a moment, more eager to hear about the witch he’d had to leave unconscious on the floor of Miranda and Ignan Storm’s cottage. “Is she here?” Pratt nodded.
“She hasn’t had an easy time of it has she?”
“No, she hasn’t. Is she here, Pratt?”
“Until her sentencing.”
“How long until that?”
“Until she’s served a purpose here.” Ed looked mildly concerned as he rested the coffee cup on his knee. “She’s not exactly helping herself. Stubborn witch is your niece.”
“Have you met her mother?” Lawrence shot back, shoving the last of the pasty into his mouth and reaching for the coffee cup. “If you’re sentencing her, she’s alive, and well enough then.”
“And preparing for a stint in Azkaban. To lower yourself to this, Lawrence, is one thing. But I know Hannah. She isn’t a murderer.”
“No, she’s not.” Lawrence replied, frowning, “you can’t send her to Azkaban without a murder victim.”
“Attempted murder. Amongst other things.” Concern creased already worn features. “You just left her for dead at the Storm house, Lawrence.”
“She was alive when I left,” the older wizard snapped.

Of course he regretted leaving her, but if he’d let himself be arrested that day he doubted Ira would have resisted ending them both in custody. Gripping the coffee mug handle, he considered what he was saying and looked to the door.
“If you know she’s not a murderer, you and I are better talking on record.”
“You’ll have enough time on the record, Lawrence.”
“Hm.” Lawrence replied, shuffling his folded legs beneath him.

He rested his shoulders against the wall again and momentarily closed his eyes, steadying himself on the knowledge that Hannah was there, apparently, in London not out in the North sea - well not yet. He doubted he would entirely prevent it, but his niece had masterminded the plan. She had gone into it knowingly. He had still been here almost half a day locked up.

“How do you know Hannah?”
“She worked here.” A large gulp of coffee was taken while he considered his explanation. “Hannah was our magical examiner before they made her redundant. She was good at it, too. Bright girl. Wasted now.” Lawrence sighed heavily and leaned his head back gingerly, frowning in mild confusion.
“Yet you still consider her of use…” Pratt shrugged.
“For the moment.”
“You can’t tell me, I understand.” Lawrence replied quietly, studying the Head Auror through narrowed eyes.

The pumpkin pasty was now lining his stomach nicely. It took the edge off how much his face smarted, not to mention the rest of him which took a kicking from the relief hitwizards. Lawrence was pretty sure the idiot would have found any reason to take out his frustrations. There were enough people in the Leaky Cauldron alone who would line up to do the same.
“Does she know I’m here?”
“That’s not important.” The question had been important to Lawrence, but he could read from Pratt’s response that Hannah would be none the wiser. Potentially both of them could be kept in the dark about what was really going on outside. He would have to remain vigilant and listen carefully to idle chatter.

“Were you in fear of your life?”
“Despair.”
“Cavorting with dementors does that.”

Lawrence didn’t reply, but his lips turned into a smirk, split reopening. Ed’s eyes took in the blood starting to form once more on the wizard’s lip.
“It made you feel good, didn’t it, Lawrence? Powerful? But now it’s too much. You can’t control it and you’re fearful.”
“I can.” Lawrence snapped back, meeting Pratt’s eyes. “I have.”
“Past tense. You’ve lost control, haven’t you? You’ve grown weak and fearful and they want to feed off you.”

Lawrence laughed, though it was hollow and brought on an ungraceful coughing fit. He drank a mouthful of coffee to settle his chest.
“There’s nothing left of me to feed off, that’s the point.” He retorted sarcastically. “What is more important to us both is that I can, and I will.”

Bingo! Ed gave nothing away in his expression. Instead, he leaned back and took a sip of coffee.

“You’ll have a job from this cell, Lawrence. A harder job in Azkaban.”
“Precisely,” the older wizard agreed. Pratt presumed this was a done deal. Azkaban, nothing more. He was only on the surface. “Dementors aren’t the most pressing matter though, Pratt.”
“Your niece is safe, as I’ve said.”
“You didn’t,” Lawrence replied without hesitation, “you said she was of use.”
“I said she was here. She is safe.”
“Here is hardly safe.”
“Get to it, Musgrave.” If they were going to argue his idea of safe, they would be at it all afternoon. “You’ve come here for a reason. What do you want?”
“You said it yourself.” Lawrence replied, and put his empty mug down on the floor of the cell. At Pratt’s expression, Lawrence sighed, “a means to an end.”

It was clear he wouldn’t be getting what he wanted from this meeting. So, Ed decided the play his trump card.
“Your niece isn’t being held too far away to see, Lawrence. But that’s a lot of trust I’d put in you for nothing back.” He stood.
“Bribery, leading the witness… ooh.” Lawrence replied softly. “What do you want back Auror Pratt?”
“Your experience.” Ed remained standing, looking down at the prisoner. “It’s time for you to play clean up. Find some redemption.”

Lawrence stooped over and picked up the mug, extending it to Pratt.
“I’ll clean up,” He agreed. “We have a lot to catch up on, Head Auror.”

Pratt took the coffee cup with a nod. “Don’t we just.”

End

1.	Devon Dementor-Free!