Natalya, High Inquisitrix of the Evil Empire (natasya) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-06-14 19:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !! group: order of the phoenix, benjy fenwick, emmeline vance, natalya dolohov, zipporah goldstein |
WHO: Emmeline Vance, Benjy Fenwick, Zee Goldstein and Natalya Dolohov
WHAT: A friendly chat
WHEN: 14 June, evening
WHERE: Dolohov and Associates, then ???
WARNINGS: Purism
Emmeline worked her way through the wards methodically, taking her time to focus on them, to identify and detangle them one by one. It wasn’t really that hard, but it was something to fixate on. This whole plan was something to fixate on, something to do, and she needed that in the moment, more than anything. The risks kept getting higher, the stakes even more so, but they were losing and they needed to do something. This was something they could do. Determined, she shot a look over at Benjy. “Shall we?” She didn’t wait for a response before starting to make her way inside. No more than an arm’s reach away, a silent and darkly dressed Benjy trailed Emmeline into the office of Dolohov and Associates. Inside, his head swiveled around as if he’d just stepped onto a crime scene: everything was sleek, modern, and glittering. Only the best for the privileged murderers, he thought bitterly. Cloaked in a Disillusionment Charm, they moved briskly through the office, past the reception desk, around the corner, halting in front of a pair dark, empty offices. Up ahead, a warm sliver of light peeked out from a door that was slightly ajar. Benjy looked at Emmeline. Concern flickered over his face, but it was schooled away by the time he jerked his head toward the door to Natalya’s office. He silently counted off to three, then kicked the door open, immediately following it up with a non-verbal Stunning Spell. Natalya was immersed in her work, writing out notes for an upcoming drunk and disorderly defense, and was startled by the sudden sound of shoe against door. Her entire body jumped as she looked up with wide eyes, her brain taking a few seconds to catch up. "What are-" she managed to get out as she reached for her wand, knocking over a glass of wine in the process, but the rest of the question was lost as the stunning spell hit her squarely in the chest and her body slumped back into her chair. There was a beat as Emmeline looked at Natalya’s unconscious form, almost surprised that grabbing her really was going to go as smoothly as they’d hoped. That’s what happened when people didn’t live in a state of constant fear, she supposed. Must be nice. Moving from the doorway, she walked over to Natalya, pausing briefly to give Benjy’s hand a light squeeze as she passed. “See you soon,” she said, a humourless smile in place, before apparating away with their target. Natalya blinked several times, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room to take stock of her surroundings. Find the door, any other exits… all of the survival lessons her father had given her after her mum’s death had stuck rather firmly in her head, but they weren’t going to do her much good at the moment. Not when she was very tightly bound to a chair with two unrecognizable figures standing in front of her and a third, a ways back, lurking in a corner. Although she suspected that a good finite incantatem would reveal them to be quite familiar. A ripple of genuine fear ran through her blood, and she curled her hands into fists, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Fear wasn’t going to do anything for her now and she did everything she could to ignore it, instead distracting herself with solving the puzzle of her apparent abduction, attempting to determine the motive. “So am I bait, your hostage, or your prisoner?” she asked curiously. “I can tell you if you’re looking for a ransom, my father will be quite upset if I’m returned maimed.” “We’re not particularly concerned about your father’s feelings,” Benjy replied coldly, his distinctive accent altered into something more posh and, much to his dismay, English. His hair was fair and his face was long, vaguely reminiscent of a young Leslie Howard. His mouth curled up on one side, grim and sharp, as he pulled a small, clear vial from his jacket pocket. He popped the cork off with his thumb, then glanced at Emmeline. “You may need to hold her,” he said, in a low voice. Emmeline nodded slowly, directing her attention back to Natalya as she approached with her own glamours thoroughly in place — jet black hair and a face considerably rounder than her own. “We just want to have a conversation, and really, it should go smoothly if you cooperate. We’d just assume not do any maiming.” A beat. “Not that we won’t.” She grabbed Natalya’s jaw, holding it in place while Benjy administered the Veritaserum and only once she was sure she’d swallowed it did she let go and take a few steps back. “So let’s talk about the Death Eaters. Are you one?” She didn’t really think so, but Emmeline thought they might as well get the question out of the way. The realization of what her captors had planned for her only deepened Natalya's fear, now mixed with a definite streak of anger. She was pretty sure torture would have been preferable to being forced to give up everything she knew about her friends and family. About her clients. Not to mention her general discomfort with the truth, which was something that she avoided whenever possible. But there was nothing to keep her from opening her mouth in response to her interrogator's question, replying with a simple, honest, "No." Followed by a furious glare that made it quite clear how she felt about this exercise. Benjy let out a joyless laugh as he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing as he considered her response. It wasn’t a surprise. Like Effie, Natalya didn’t seem like the type. “What about your father?” he asked, though they all already knew the answer. “Is Antonin Dolohov a Death Eater?” "Yes." The answer came out before she even had a chance to think of some lie or evasion that might pass for the truth and she clenched her jaw, wondering if she could overcome the truth serum through sheer force of will. Emmeline tilted her head thoughtfully as she considered the other woman. “How much do you know about how they’re organized? How are they structured?” Natalya fought the compulsion to open her mouth again and for a few seconds it almost seemed as if she might succeed until once again she was speaking. At least with this sort of vague question it was easier to provide honest and yet completely unhelpful answers. "I know… more than most." “Don’t fuck around, Natalya,” Benjy snapped. “How are the Death Eaters structured?” Natalya tilted her head, considering the irritated man and wondering just who he was, how he was so easily exasperated by her, but it did give her the moment she needed to mentally compose a truthful prevarication. "Well. My godfather oversees my father and some uncles and cousins, mostly distant, who then pass orders to everyone else." “Names, Natalya,” Emmeline said, raking a hand through her hair in irritation. She could see how this was going to go and she didn’t have the patience for it. Not really, not today. “Who’s your godfather? Who are some of these uncles and cousins?” "My godfather is the Dark Lord Voldemort," Natalya replied easily. The fourth person in the room, standing quietly in the corner, jerked her head up at this and put a hand over her mouth. "I have a lot of uncles and cousins. Purebloods, you know, we tend to consider even the most distant relations our cousins. My mother was a Rosier until she was tragically murdered, my uncle married a Selwyn, my great uncle Sendivogius's sister married into the Borgins, one great aunt married a Meliflua, another married a Konstantinov, a third married a Magnitogorski…" “Enough.” Jaw clenched against a deluge of exasperated swearing, Benjy uncrossed his arms and shot Emmeline an incredulous look. Voldemort was Natalya Dolohov’s godfather—it was almost impossible for him to wrap his mind around a thing like that. Mouth twisting, his attention swiveled back to the solicitor. “So the top tier of the organization is run by Voldemort’s friends.” A beat. “But how does someone join up? What are the requirements?” "There are trials," Natalya replied automatically. "A member of the Inner Circle puts your name forward as a suitable candidate and then you wait for the opportunity to prove yourself. Kill who they want you to kill and you're in. Which is why I'm not." She gave a slight shrug and a smirk in Benjy's direction. "Murder isn't my style." “Well it might be mine,” Emmeline muttered under her breath. She was still trying to digest the idea of Voldemort being anyone’s godfather, and it took her a moment to catch up to the conversation. When she spoke again, she tried to be very deliberate with her questions. “Are all the Death Eaters purists?” And then, more specifically: “Is Liam Bradley a Death Eater?” Well the girl was clearly learning, Natalya noted with a definite sense of displeasure. There was no evading the more specific questions, only capitalizing on her own uncertainty. "As far as I know and not to my knowledge." From Benjy: “Was Liam Bradley a purist?” "I don't know. I never saw him at any of the meetings," Natalya replied with a shrug, although apparently sarcasm wasn't enough to satisfy the potion. "Or in our purist wards," she added, which quelled the compulsion to talk for the moment. Emmeline shot Benjy a look, not sure how she felt about the idea that Confirmed Death Eater Liam Bradley probably wasn’t a Death Eater after all, but she could digest the implications later. Instead she tried to think of names she should ask about, ones that the Order wondered about but didn’t have confirmation on. “Are any of the following Death Eaters: Isabella Avery, Elsie Flint, or—” A beat. “—Euphemia Yaxley.” She kept her eyes on Natalya, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not to my knowledge," Natalya replied truthfully, unable to repress the slight roll of her eyes that came with her answer. "I don't know how many times we have to tell you that not every purist is a Death Eater." Benjy regarded Natalya for a long moment, then shook his head, trying to stamp out the brief flicker of relief he felt. Effie hadn’t lied to him, but what did it matter? She still supported the Death Eaters. She was still covering for them. He glanced over at Emmeline, his mouth pressed into a thin, careful line. “She’s still doing her bullshit lawyer thing, but I reckon she’s telling the truth about Effie, at least. The Dolohovs and the Yaxleys are close. If Eff was a Death Eater, she’d—” "Benjy Fenwick," Natalya interjected, scorn dripping from her voice. There was only one person she knew who would care that much about Effie Yaxley who wasn't somehow connected to the Death Eaters themselves. Which gave her a few ideas about the identities of the other two in the room, but her attention was fixed on Benjy. "Why am I not surprised? My father is going to kill you for this, you know." “Fenwick?” Benjy echoed, his voice mild. “You’ve been paying too much attention to Finding Order.” There was a brief pause before he added, “Do you know who runs that account? If so, who is it?” Of all the things to ask… Natalya looked surprised at Benjy's question and then actually laughed, the sound dry and bitter. Because of course, it would be her luck that she had managed to stumble right into that question. And there was no evasion possible here. "Yes, I know. Because it's me. Are you finding death?" she asked, looking at her interrogators questioningly. Emmeline stared at Natalya, lips pressed into a thin line as she pointedly didn’t look at Benjy, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at her stomach. “Nah,” she said finally. “But you’re not here to ask questions, and I want to go back to the topic of Voldemort being your godfather for a second…” |