Nienna stared, aghast. By the Baba Yaga's Best Blood-Stained Brassiere, what was going on? Sudden, sharp pressure on her left shoulder made her wince. She looked to see Belisarius crouching, preparing to launch himself over the screen. His sudden, savage transformation made her realise that, under all the veneers of being a magic-user's best friend, Owls were first, last, and always, raptors. Birds of prey, as much as any Hawk or Eagle.

  Nienna's hands flashed up in front of his face, and she desperately started gesturing in Auror Sign Language.

  STOP. STAND DOWN. ATTENTION TO ORDERS.

  Ath?na hopped forward onto Nienna's right forearm, reiterating Nienna's commands in the simplified gestures that Owls could make. This finally got through, and Belisarius relaxed slightly, shaking himself with a soft, soft rustle as he backed off whatever paroxysm had gripped him.

  Out in the open office, the man was speaking. "Ah, her Ladyship was right. You have learned to throw off the Stunner more quickly. The Petrify seems to be holding well enough for now, but..." He produced a contrivance from inside the breast of his robes. It looked like a cross between a horse bridle and bit, and a dog muzzle, but shaped as a mask for a humanoid face. He reached inside the cowl of the bound figure, wrenching out a swath of cloth that had probably covered the lower face of the wearer.

  His subsequent motions made it clear that he was forcing the arrangement into the mouth of his victim, and securing it around the head.

  He gave a grunt. "There." Then he pulled back the hood and started pulling the robe off. Nienna was surprised to see that he had Cast the Incarcerous so that it took effect under the robes. That was an Auror trick that she had seen, but had yet to master.

  As the robes were forced down off the arms, the figure was revealed to be crouching slightly. Each of the hands was holding a weapon, which had been concealed by the over-long sleeves. One was a knife, the other a handaxe, styled like a Native American tomahawk.

  The blade and axe head appeared to be made of stone, or possibly ivory, but the view through the mesh leached away detail. The being revealed was no Goblin or House-Elf. Perhaps there was a slight resemblance to the former, but the skin revealed was smooth and unwrinkled, and an oddly healthy-looking pale grey, instead of dark, pasty, or sallow. The proportions were more like those of standard humans, whereas goblins had a dwarfish look. The hair was the most different of all. If goblins had hair at all, it was white and sparse. The bristling hair on this creature covered the entire head, and was remarkably thick, resembling quills. They were short up the sides to the scalp, then suddenly much longer in a band that ran from the forehead to the nape of the neck. Those quills were currently swept back, possibly to fit under the hood. They could probably be erected into an impressive Mohawk, were the bearer not Petrified.

  Dressed neck to toe in buckskin, even the calf-high boots laced with leather thongs were of that material. The jerkin was sleeveless, and the arms showed lean, ropy muscle. In addition to the weapons in hand, there was an unstrung bowstave attached somehow to the back of the jerkin. It ran at a slight angle, from behind and beside the right ear to just behind the left ankle. It would probably be almost the exact height of the creature, if held straight up and down.

  The grey-haired man wrenched the hand weapons out of the paralysed grip. "Beautifully knapped flint," he said with a sneer. "Almost looks like hammered metalwork. Nice little keepsakes." He carefully stowed them away, then searched thoroughly for other weapons. He looked at the bow stave, but didn't take it. "What sort of knobhead has a bow, but no arrows?" The mutter was probably not meant to be heard. But even through the mesh, Nienna saw the Petrified eyes focus on the grey-haired man's face. It was not a gaze she would want directed at her.

  For the first time, the man moved completely out of her line of vision, and she could see the being as a whole.

  Nienna frankly goggled. It's... he's... He's a Pukwudgie. He has to be. But he's way, way too...

  The man stepped forward and reached into the neck of the Puk's jerkin. "Won't need this anymore, will you, y' little savage?" He came out with an amulet threaded on a thong, and yanked. The thong was too strong, and the Puk almost toppled to the floor. The man cursed under his breath as he steadied the creature, then produced a wand and Severed the thong. It burst with a puff of green smoke, instead of just being cut into. He cursed louder as he danced back. Throwing the amulet to the floor, he ground it underfoot, only to have more smoke manifest.

  "Dark Lord damn you! What witchery was that?" He scrubbed at the green stain on his knife hand, ignoring his green shoe and trouser leg. He looked at the Puk with hate and rage in his eyes. "No matter, you little monster. The Magick will die with you. That's one thing all Magick has in common."

  As he spoke, the Pukwudgie began shrinking, clothing, bow, and all. He dwindled slowly from just over four feet to just under three. Many of the bindings from the Incarcerous dropped to the floor around the Puk's feet. Once the process was complete, the spell was reCast, this time binding the arms to the body, which had not been the case to begin with.

  The man gave an evil chuckle. "How sad is it, to have to be blown up like a balloon, before you can be of any use?" He eyed the Puk with a certain satisfaction. "It's nice to stop pretending you're worth respecting, you bloody animal. Be even nicer when I can put paid to all the animals." The last words were snarled.

  A sound came from deep in the Puk's throat. Lips and tongue were still not moving, but the vocal cords were beginning to loosen.

  "...ay... ay ki'se?'

  The man narrowed his eyes. "Primitive vigor, indeed. Your what?"

  "Ki... kins'en."

  "Ah, yes. Your kinsmen. The Viscount thinks perhaps they'll be a little more amenable to control. You've always been the intransigent one. When I tell them how you were butchered by Shacklebolt himself..."

  "N... no..."

  The grey-haired man shrugged. "Your word against mine. And since you don't get a word..."

  ***

  Nienna's mind raced. Zabini? Or one of their minions? Here? Her mouth firmed with resolve. She had to do something, and she had to do it very, very quickly. Duel? Attack? No. She was not ready to take on an adult, especially one that could Cast three strong spells in a row that quickly, and knew Auror-level spell mods to boot. But she had no other weapons...

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Wait. She glanced at the Secure Message Shield on the back of her hand. All she needed was just enough time to get past the man and out the doors. Once in the hallway, she could attract all the help she needed in seconds.

  The grey-haired man had his wand up, but not pointed. He was almost caressing it with the fingers of his other hand. His face wore an expression of cruel anticipation.

  "I've wanted to do this for years, you know. Ever since I first learned about the spell, I wanted to know what it was actually like. To watch the light, the life, drain from someone's eyes. You wouldn't know about him, but I joined under Crouch. He had the right idea. Any means, any spell, what ever it takes to defeat an enemy... But he was gone before I was senior enough to have an opportunity. And the new broom swept out all the Aurors who were ruthless enough. The new lot were too... observant. Too weak. Oh, Moody wasn't weak, but he let himself be shackled. And I think he never trusted me, not completely. I always had partners like Proudfoot, or Shacklebolt," His face twisted in a snarl. "Honorable men!"

  He was so wrapped up in his diatribe, he seemed to have forgotten about his prisoner as anything other than an audience. Nienna saw little twitches under the bindings as the Pukwudgie started to shake off the Petrification.

  "Under Thicknesse, that should have been my chance! With Corban Yaxley over the Law Enforcement Ministry, and Gawain Robards leading the Aurors, it should have been the perfect time! I'm not stupid. I knew who was really in charge. But they didn't trust me! And I couldn't prove myself to them, because of the worst damned run of luck a wizard ever had! Dumbledore made a fool of me, Dirk Cresswell made a fool of me, the Weasleys put me in St. Mungo's twice, as did a bloody little old grandmother in Upper Sodding Flagley! I was repeatedly Stunned and Confunded, I was infected with Spattergroit, and Blown the Hel up! The only good that came of any of it was the Tribunals believing I was too incompetent to be a Dark WIzard, barely worth shoving into a dead-end job for going on TWENTY YEARS!"

  His voice rose to a scream, blowing spittle from his gaping mouth. He stopped suddenly, panting, looking absolutely mad. Slowly bringing his wand arm up, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. When he spoke again, he sounded perfectly rational, if a little hoarse.

  "But that has all changed. I'm in good, with powerful people who value my talents. People who trust me for good information, and to take care of little monsters who get above their station."

  His sadistic leer was back. "I understand that you do not like the word, 'Slave.' Well, guess what? That's what you are. Your Chieftain flat out sold you to the Viscount, traded you for the Blackest of Magicks. And that word shall be the last word you ever hear, Sla..."

  ***

  "Oh, thank goodness, you caught him!" Nienna strode boldly out from behind the screen, back of her hand turned and forefinger raised. She had decided to skip right past the 'clutching at her necklace' level. "Well done, sir! You have really saved the day! We can't thank you enough! Really, thank you!"

  The man's gaze had snapped to her face, then was caught by the SMS. His eyes went blank, and he looked away, puzzled. When he caught sight of the Puk, his eyes widened, startled.

  "What in the world is that...?" He looked back to Nienna, only to be captured by the SMS again. "Oh. Ah, you're... welcome? Miss...?"

  "Robins," she said, briskly striding over. "Apprentice Auror Robins. I'm interning down at the Holding Cells and they sent me up to take charge of your prisoner. You have really done a great job here!"

  She was almost to him. She bent to sweep up the Pukwudgie with her right arm, contorting to keep the Shield in the man's face. The tribesman was no larger than a toddler, but much more solid. He was squirming slowly in his bindings. Her left hand wavered. "I'll get this out of your way. The Minister is on his way to congratulate you, just make yourself comfortable, Mr...?" She kicked herself mentally. She shouldn't have asked him anything, shouldn't have engaged his thoughts.

  "Dawlish," he said, still dazed. "John... Dawlish. Head of the... Owl... Post Office." He shook himself a little, blinking for the first time. "Owl. Owls." His gaze wandered over Ath?na, and settled on Belisarius. The barn owl hissed, fluffing out his feathers.

  "No! Don't meet his eyes...!" Nienna spoke desperately. It was too late.

  The man's expression was changing, contorting into rage. "You! Where...? Where the Hel have you been, you mite-infested feather duster? Why haven't you reported? Where is that damned Potter? The Contessa..." He seemed to remember he was holding a wand.

  Nienna had awkwardly shifted the Puk to her left arm, wanting to go for her wand, but she didn't have time. She ducked to the side as Belisarius launched himself at Dawlish. A Silently Cast spell flashed through the air above her shoulder and beneath the owl's claws. It has probably been an Incendio from the sizzling sound as it passed.

  Both owls were in the air now, blinding with wings, slashing with claws, beaks snapping. Dawlish snapped out, "Stupefy!" It grazed Ath?na, who fluttered to the floor.

  Nienna's heart screamed, but what she shouted was, "Belisarius, get help!" To his credit, the big owl corkscrewed off, avoiding spell after spell, and dived into the wall just over the sideboard.

  Dawlish gaped at this for the barest fraction of a second, before turning to find Nienna lunging at him. She got her right hand on his wand and forced it to the side, just as he shouted, again, "Stupefy!"

  Though not hit by the spell, holding the wand as it Cast sent a numbing jolt up her right arm. The Gauntlet shielded her barely enough to throw it off. The backfire surprised Dawlish, causing him to spasm. She tried to wrestle the wand away, but, of course, a full-grown man was much stronger than her.

  And the damn Pukwudgie would not stop squirming!

  He forced her arm back until the tip of his wand was almost touching her left shoulder. "Stupefy can't get through, hey?" he panted as he bore down. "Maybe something stronger, hey? Another one I been wanting to try!"

  His grin was a rictus of malice. "Cruci-YAHHHH!" He screamed in pain, and she yanked the wand out of his slack fingers. Blood was spurting in streams from his wrist, which was laid open to the bones. He stumbled and sat back on the floor, trying to stem the gushing with his other hand.

  Nienna stumbled back herself, but didn't fall. She automatically gathered up the Puk into a more secure carry position. He had stopped wiggling. She looked down to see him perfectly calm.

  Spattered in blood. With one hand free of the bindings. And holding the cutest little flint knife she had ever seen.

  She laughed shakily, and set him on his feet, quickly removing the gag. "Let's get you out..."

  "WARE!" The Puk's shout was surprisingly deep. She spun to see Dawlish come to his feet, and start to lunge at her.

  Her left hand rose almost automatically. And made a very rude two-fingered gesture.

  And things got... complicated.

  ***

  As Nieena gawked at the results of her... actions, she heard a quiet baritone 'Ahem?'

  She whirled to the side, to find Kingsley Shacklebolt standing by the sideboard, arm over his eyes, behind a shield that seemed to be under quite a bit of stress. Belisarius, on his shoulder, has his head rotated 179.5° away from her.

  "Ah... Miss Robins, if you would be so kind?"

  "Oh?" Nienna looked at the rude gesture she was still making, and blushed. She shoved the hand behind her back. "All clear, Minister."

  She turned back to the Puk, who was looking at her curiously. He was apparently unaffected by the Magick of the Shield.

  Minister Shackleford gestured with his wand, and cords puddled around the tribesman's feet. The two faced each other, unblinking.

  The Pukwudgie straightened, and brought a closed right fist to the left side of his neck, and tilted his head slightly to the right. The Minister for Magic mirrored the gesture. They turned and joined Nienna. On the way the Puk gently gathered up Ath?na. Belisarius fluttered down to the floor beside them. The tribesman detached a small, acorn-shaped wooden box from his belt, thumbed the hinged top open, and held it down to Belisarius. The owl took the scent, then spread his wings and bowed. The Pudwudgie dipped a finger into the box, and began anointing Ath?na's eyelids, ear tufts, and beak with a shiny, gel-like ointment, all the while murmuring under his breath.

  Two people, one Puk, and an owl, they all gazed down at..., well. They supposed they still had to call it 'John Dawlish.'

  "That..." said Minister for Magic Kingsley Shackleford. "...worked a lot better than we thought it would."