the road to hell is strewn with roses

Charlotte looked up at the sound of the door, somewhat surprised to see her elusive sister let herself in. She looked the same as ever, despite it being over a month since Charlotte had last seen her, which was somehow comforting. Not that Charlotte was worried over Phoebe’s wellbeing or anything - she just liked things as they were. Grass was green, the sky was blue, and Phoebe wore red lipstick and leather jackets and turned up at the house only once in a while. Of course, Charlotte couldn’t let such an opportunity slide.  

“Stranger! There’s a stranger in our house!” she called out with a grin, her words contrasting with how relaxedly she remained draped across the sofa. Alfie’s exasperated and amused sigh only served to egg Charlotte on, and she raised the comic in her hands, pretending to cower behind it. “MAMA! PHOEBE’S HEREEEEEE!” 

Phoebe laughed. She actually laughed. Not one of those sarcastic, roll-your-eyes sort of laughs, but a true, genuine expression of amusement. Something Phoebe had been devoid of in the time she was away. Sure, business had been good, too good, and she’d have to find some time to slip Alfie the galleons her mother was too proud to accept passing it off as his own, but Phoebe, whether she cared to admit it or not, did miss being home. She missed her mother’s home cooking and her brother’s advice that was more fatherly then it should be, even her sister’s clever little quips.

“Good to see you, too.” Phoebe mused before properly greeting her family. Hugs for each of them starting with her big brother and mother then pausing before getting to her little sister, arms outstretched and a wicked smirk mounted across her painted lips. “Oh- get your ass over here, too!”

It took a moment for Finley to work out if Phoebe was serious but he still wasn’t sure if she had actually been upset with his comment or if she was trying to flirt with him. He stumbled on his words for a moment. He still had no idea and narrowed his eyes slightly trying to figure her out. In the end he left it. He didn’t want to put his foot in it by elaborating on why Phoebe and Vivienne were different. He got distracted anyway when she told him how quickly she could get the polyjuice potion. 

“Tomorrow?” He croaked. So this was really happening. Somehow he was going to have to get one of his wife’s hairs and take clothes from with wardrobe without her noticing. A hair would be simple enough. He had access to her hairbrush. The clothes he might have to be a little more sneaky about so she wouldn’t notice them missing. 

“Yes, I can get what you need,” he said still contemplating exactly how, but making the promise anyway.

Phoebe nodded, finite in her movements. There wasn’t any more time to waste. If they didn’t act quickly, who knew when the bastards would strike again? Not to mention, what would happen to her sister if they waited any longer? She had no choice but to abandon her more tactical approach to revenge and speed things up to as early as tomorrow. Besides, with all connections Phoebe had secured throughout the wizarding underground, getting her manicured paws on a vial polyjuice wouldn’t take her long. She just hoped the former minister’s son could keep up. It couldn’t be that difficult to borrow a few things from your wife’s closet. 

“Good.” Phoebe grabbed his hand and pointed her wand at his palm inscribing an invisible message within its folds. “Meet me at this location tomorrow at 8:00AM....” Her eyes darkened then narrowed, a crimson warning laced on her lips. “And don’t be late.”

Finley was already out of his depth. He agreed with Phoebe, that the ministry needed to do something more, the violence had gone on for too long with no aurors stopping it, or even catching one suspect. If his father hadn’t been in charge he would have assumed there was something inside the ministry keeping everything secret, or even contributing to the attacks. Finley had seen minor acts of corruption in the ministry before, but he couldn’t suspect his ex-coworkers of something like this when he could just assume incompetence. Still, whatever the reason people were being hurt, and maybe he and Phoebe could stop it. They were two sides of the same coin; both ambitious and sly although Finley had always previously stuck to the rules to get what he wanted. He was going to have to chance tact.

“Alright,” he agreed willing to take on whatever was ahead of them. “If we purchase some polyjuice potion you can disguise yourself as my wife - she and I have reason to be there together.” He paused a moment. He wasn’t sure that a. Phoebe could make a convincing Vivienne, or b. that Vivienne would be ok with any of this. He decided to address the former. “She’s much more… well, proper than you…” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Phoebe quirked an brow, half pleased with how easily Finley jumped on board with her plan to infiltrate the ministry, half wary of how quickly he underestimated her to portray his wife. The way Phoebe saw it, that would be the easy part. 

Sure, Finley wasn’t all wrong, Phoebe was not as proper as Mrs. Lestrange-Shacklebolt. Truth be told, the women couldn’t be more different. Vivienne was a media darling, perfect hostess and socialite while Phoebe—well—was not. They may have never walked a mile in each others Louboutins, but at the end of the day their shoes were still designer, and Phoebe sure as hell could manage that. 

“Anyway— I can secure the polyjuice potion as early as tomorrow morning, and I trust you can secure a proper costume.” Phoebe paused placing particular emphasis on the word proper for its dual meaning. Merlin knew that no matter how hard Phoebe worked for her expensive taste, nothing in her wardrobe could pull off the modest, wealthy socialite look. She highly doubted she even owned anything pink. “Clothes, shoes, jewels, etc. Anything that will make them believe I’m her. And of course, we’ll need a strand of her hair.”

Getting information from the Ministry was a little more than he signed up for. He thought that guarding public events with charmed up brooms to help would be a useful cause, but Pheobe wanted to get to the route of the problem. Finley admired her for that, but he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted to get involved with. Could he back out now? Probably not. But even if he really tried, there was something egging him on to side with her, to spy on the ministry and take the investigation into their own hands. 

As much as Finley liked to pretend otherwise, he loved power. He had witnessed everything it did for his father growing up, but Kingsley had always emphasised that there was responsibility that came with power and those who were most power hungry shouldn’t be the ones in charge. That was how the war happened. So Finley had pretended he didn’t want power, even to himself. He’d sat in that charms office hoping he’d just make his way up through the ministry. And hey. If it became minister of magic then it was to be. It wasn’t until he lost his chance to power that he realised just how much he wanted it and had been denying his own reality. Pheobe was offering a chance to get that power back. If they caught whoever did this the praise would be enough to give him the reputation make over he so desperately needed. And so he agreed.

“I still have some contacts. I’ll see what I can find out from them, although I doubt they’ll give up much. Protected secrets and all.”

“Of course. Of course. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know how difficult this will be.” Phoebe hissed, infamous scowl spreading across her even more infamous crimson stained lips. If this was going to be easy then Phoebe herself with all her wrongdoings and misdemeanors could waltz right into the Ministry of Magic, stilettos and all, and interrogate the ministry officials herself. This was the route she much preferred, but she wasn’t daft enough to gamble her sister’s life and avenging her brother’s on her selfish pride. 

As always, Phoebe would have to be calculated even when it came to a trip as seemingly harmless as this one. She liked to think there would be heightened security measures in such desperate times. Then again, this was the same organization that was failing to keeping its own citizens safe from dark forces. Maybe security wouldn’t be as tight as she thought. None the less, she’d be prepared. 

“Which is why I’m trusting you, a former ministry man with a score to settle, to play a little dirty if it comes down to it.” Phoebe continued, meeting his gaze with a steely one of her own before dropping her voice to whisper. She anticipated playing dirty and bending the rules was not his strong suit. “I can help, but I’ll need a disguise.”

Action needs to be taken… What did that mean? Finley should have learnt from the pheonix disaster that he shouldn’t just jump into things without considering them properly. It was in his nature to do his research, plan ahead and make decisions rationally, but Phoebe was right. He was hungry for some new purpose and she had made it all sound so intriguing. When her hand out stretched to his he had little option but to take it, giving it a firm shake and a nod.

“We have an agreement, and it sounds like you have a plan. Or a suspicion?” He wasn’t sure she would reveal everything at once, much like politics it was important to keep your hand secret in these kinds of dealings, but he hoped he’d get a hint at what she knew. 

“Something like that.” Phoebe mused as she concealed her wand and smoothed out the edges of her brother’s charcoal leather jacket. In due time she could reveal her secrets, but for now she would continue to keep things vague. Sure, the wheels were always turning but there were still a few missing pieces that Phoebe herself couldn’t obtain on her own. “I want to go after the bastards, but we will need to do our research first...”  

Phoebe nodded at the man, parting her lips as placed a steady hand on her hip, mindful of the way they swayed. “We will need to see what the Ministry knows, and well—I’m not exactly welcome on the premises, so that’s where you’d come in.” 

Finley nodded slowly along with her words trying to decide how much he should say. She clearly knew who he was, and he concluded that she might be bad talking the ministry just to get a rise our of him. She must know about his and his family’s connections to the ministry and how loyal he had been to them. She might even be a reporter trying to get him to comment on his father’s job negatively. Only a few months ago he would have given the ‘correct’ answer and told her how hard the ministry was working out of fear that she was, indeed, a reporter. Now, he was willing to take a bit more a risk. She didn’t look much like a reporter, and he’d seen his fair share. He’d become pretty adept at noticing when someone was prying for information for an article. Still, he didn’t want to show his cards just yet and spoke cautiously.

“Yes, well, I think it’s important that we all look ourselves and each other. Sometimes we can’t rely on other people to do that, even big institutions have their over sights. Of course I don’t know much about what the ministry is doing, but I know people don’t feel safe. I don’t feel safe.”

It had been the first time he had said that out loud. Finley had never really spoken about the imperius curse that had been cast on him. He didn’t see the point. He had internalised the blame for attacking his friend and until recently, when he and Julian had rekindled their friendly, he had still been sure that what had happened was all his fault. He was only just realising that he had been a victim and someone who was still out there had hurt him, if not physically then emotionally. It was difficult to know that while he had been under their control no one else seemed to have noticed and he hadn’t even realised anything was off. It was scary to know that if it happened again he might not be able to tell. 

“Of course the brooms are just a start, but you’re right. We need to take things into our own hands.”

Phoebe’s darkened charcoal irises flickered between Finley and his creation, a sinister grin sprawling across her features as a plan began to take shape in her mind. The narrative made sense. A former Ministry man, fallen from grace with a secret love for charms. With his talents and his connections to the Ministry combined with Phoebe’s knowledge of the underground and her ruthlessness perhaps they could form a lucrative alliance after all. That is...if she could trust him, of course.

“I know I’m right.” Phoebe quirked a manicured brow. It wasn’t a display of arrogance, just facts. The Ministry had continued to fail them ever since her brother’s murder. Like hell she was going to let them fail her again, not when her sister’s life now hang in the balance. She knew how bastards like these operated. There would be torture and mind games first before anything drastic. Charlotte had some time, but not much, which meant Phoebe would have to place her own bets now. 

“The time for just looking out for ourselves is not enough. Action needs to be taken, and you seem hungry enough, former ministry man.” she added, a tactic and a reminder, as Phoebe extended her hand. “What do you say you put this passion of yours to real use instead of towards brooms for a fake quidditch league?” She flashed her wand form beneath the leather jacket she inherited from Alfie, a show of power she would not hesitate to use if it came down to it. 

Relief washed over Finley when she lowered her wand and his grip on his own loosened now he felt he wasn’t in danger. It seemed more like she was worried he was going to attack her or someone else than she was going to attack him just for the sake of it. Still, she was pretty intimidating so he didn’t want to step out of line, whatever that line was for her. He’d have to tread carefully.

“Well…” he wasn’t entirely sure what her question was about. Did she want to know if he was manufacturing them for the people doing the attacks? Was she someone involved? Was she trying to work out if they were both on the same team? He eyed her curiously before replying in a round about way.

“They could be useful for anyone trying to avoid being hit by a spell. I’ve been working on shield charms for a long time, since I worked at the ministry and I know how in demand objects that are charmed like this might become. Necklaces with protection charms made a lot of money back in the days of the war. Why do you ask?”

Phoebe nodded along, studying Finley as he spoke and drinking in the possibilities. Charmed equipment could certainly prove to be useful in her future endeavors. She wasn’t daft enough to storm a secret bad guy headquarters alone, let alone without being prepared. Not that she even knew where the missing were being held, but when she found out she would be ready and there would be hell to pay. 

“Mainly curiosity...” Phoebe mused, choosing her words carefully.  She couldn’t reveal all her secrets, her motives, and plots for revenge. Especially not when she couldn’t be sure which side the former minister of magic’s son was truly playing for, but what she could do was test the waters and see if he bites. 

“You see, we can’t let the Ministry to continue to have all the fun. They’re been doing a shitty job at it anyway and continue to fail to protect us. I, however, want to be prepared. Just in case...in case we might have to take matters into our own hands.”

With her wand raised Finley didn’t dare let go of his own. He could hold his own in a duel but he wasn’t anything close to the best and so he needed every advantage he could get. Still, he doubted she’d hex him so publicly. She was probably just scared. Wasn’t everyone?

When she called him a ministry man Finley assumed she was just being cruel or sarcastic. The idea that someone didn’t keep up to date with the goings on at the ministry, especially such large events as his and his father’s downfall, was foreign to him. When he finally realised she was being serious the smile that he had previously been wearing dropped and he found himself a little lost of words. 

“Well I’m not a ministry man anymore, am I?” He said, shifting uncomfortably. The imperius curse incident that caused him to leave the ministry wasn’t something he enjoyed discussing. “I left a while ago. To focus on my new passion.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Well, maybe it was, but she wouldn’t know that. “Inventing charms. And well, charmed broomsticks right now. Although shield charms in general are interesting and useful in this climate.”

Phoebe wasn’t typically the type to get distracted from the task at hand, having all intentions of continuing her hunt for her brother’s killers and now her sister’s kidnappers. No matter how futile her efforts to ignore, it seemed that pausing her search to pick the brain of a former ministry man might be in her favor. Then again, does one simply break away from the ministry that easily? She’d have to thread lightly.

“Inventing charms you say…” she hummed lowering her wand to her side. A wicked smirk snaked across her crimson stained lips as she moved in closer, examining the broomstick carefully with just her eyes.  The man’s reasonings for following his passions made sense, and it was that very ability with charms that interested her now.

Phoebe’s eyes flickered from the broomstick to Mr. Shacklebolt, deliberate in her movements, as she dropped her voice into a low whisper. “ Indulge me, could these broomsticks also be useful in this political climate? In ways other than distracting ourselves with quidditch I mean...” She had nothing else to lose, might see what information she could get out of him.

Finley was already holding his wand over the broom, a large piece of parchment rolled out on his leg examining the notes he’d made about the charms he had so far cast on the broom. He was muttering under his breath, flicking his wand in an elaborate sit of motions when he heard Phoebe’s boots. He looked over his shoulder to see her marching towards him. Was she angry? Maybe she thought modified brooms were immoral or something. By the time she had reached him, demanding an answer to her question he had risen, wand still in hand but parchment tucked away. 

“It was just a simple charm,” it was far from a simple invention in his opinion but he decided now wasn’t the time to brag about his magical abilities. He bound the brunette more than a little intimidating. That was also the reason he hadn’t told her to mind her own business. 

It occurred to him suddenly that maybe the reason she was so suspicious was because she knew who he was. Maybe she had thought there was more wrong with him, and that there was some kind of dark magic which had stopped him from falling. He quickly tried to clarify further. “I’m working on a charmed broom to stop a user falling. I’m just trying out the prototype.”

As Phoebe got a closer look at the man, she kept her wand raised, more out of habit than of actual fear of a threat. The man didn’t seem threatening or in the slightest bit much of a match for her. Upon a second glance she even recognized him as the former Minister of Magic’s son and co-host of the Valentine’s Day party. From what she remembered, he was nothing to worry about. Then again, in times like these she couldn’t ever be too careful.  

“Interesting...” Phoebe trailed at the mention of the charmed broomstick. It certainly was an interesting invention: a broomstick that stops the user from falling. She couldn’t help but think of her brother for a moment. If only Alfie had a broom design like this during the World Cup. Maybe things would have been different...Maybe he’d still be here... 

The only question that Phoebe still pondered was: why? Why might someone like Mr. Shacklebolt put the time and the effort into charming broomsticks to catch riders from falling? Weren’t there more urgent matters to be worried about in the Ministry? Phoebe kept her gaze fixed, and an eyebrow raised. “And why might a Ministry man like yourself waste his time charming broomsticks when there are people disappearing left and right?”

The Ministry had really fucked up this time. All across the paper, the name of those missing were plastered and still no statement was given. Even though he was out of the political circle he could still imagine the running around that must be happening behind the scenes. The shouting and plotting and scrabbles to save the situation in the office his father had once held. He was glad he was out of that scramble for power right now, although he knew exactly how he’d clean this up if he were the one in charge. Quickly, make a statement about those who are missing, promising their family that they’d find them, and introduce a whole load of new rules which looked like they were keeping people safe but in reality did nothing more than show that the Ministry cared. Of course if they could find those poor missing people all the better. It was much more fun to come up with these plans from afar though than actually have to bet a career on it.

Finley had a feeling that if he was loosing hope in the Ministry, everyone else must be too. Luckily, it wasn’t his problem anymore. He could focus on other things - like brooms.

He’d never been that much of a quidditch fan. He’d gone to all the games and acted like he cared, even had a box seat he’d show up to with his father, but it hadn’t been until he’d met Toma and they had started discussing the sale of modified brooms that Finley had really started to show any interest. Now he wasn’t forced to like the game for publicity he actually found he quite enjoyed it. Enough to join an underground Quidditch league. 

Today was just a practise. He was using a public pitch just a few streets away from Diagon Alley, much smaller than a standard size, usually where families brought their kids to play. Today it was his test zone. Finley kicked off from the ground on a broom of his own creation - one that would stop the flyer from every falling off. It was time to give it a test ride. He circled the pitch a few times to make sure the broom still did everything it was supposed to before throwing himself off the thing. He had expected to be caught immediately but it took a moment for the broom to register that he’d fallen and by the time he caught up he was already close to the ground.

When the charm finally kicked in it just about saved him from crashing into the mud the only thing that had hit the floor being his wrist leaving it bruised and swollen. He cursed under his breath. 

From her vantage point just outside the practice pitch, Phoebe could make out what seemed to be an unidentified shadowy figure falling to the ground. It wasn’t like anything she had ever seen before as the figure never seemed to hit the ground, stopped by his the broomstick just before it was too late. Phoebe wasn’t the type to rush over to a person’s aid out of the blue, but with her sister’s disappearance no peculiar occurrence could be ruled out.  

She had already wasted too much time allowing silly distractions like parties and underground quidditch leagues to get the better of her, giving the bastards responsible for her brother’s death a chance to strike again and for a second time a little too close to home. Those bastards had already stolen Alfie from her. Like hell, they’d get away with taking her baby sister, too. Even if they weren’t necessarily on the best terms. 

Avery couldn’t help but snort at her self-depreciating humor. Maybe it was the alcohol or just the buzz of actually participating in something purely fun for the first time in ages, but he was feeling particularly agreeable and self-indulgent. He had always been curious about what his associate was hiding under that mysterious facade, and he couldn’t find it in himself to deny that he did often enjoy what little company she allowed him. Perhaps it was the handfuls of secrets they shared, but he felt a bit bolder tiptoeing along the very professional line they had set for themselves thus far.

“I had no idea you were so familiar with our night life. Apparently I was hanging out in all of the wrong places back home.” Avery shook his head in feigned disappointment, unable to stop the smirk that cracked through his usually placid demeanor. He gestured his head toward the plentiful alcohol selection before turning to grab another drink, throwing his voice over his shoulder at the woman.

“Work is never over for you, is it?” As if he could be one to talk, spending much of his spare time tinkering and running reports and working on his less… work appropriate projects. “Can I get the lady anything while she waits for the call?”

Phoebe laughed, lowering her gaze for a moment. Ah, yes. She was certainly familiar with the  night life of Avery’s home country, and it took all her energy to keep her thoughts from drifting to them. Killian and their nights on the Seine coupled with all their shady work deep within the seedy underbelly of Paris. Her darkened irises flickered back up to meet her business partner with a growing crimson smirk. “Not sure those are the of the types of places that are acceptable for a married man of your status. Then again, perhaps I have you all wrong, Lestrange. I was quite surprised in your... tinkering abilities shall we call it?” 

She thought about Avery’s proposition as she would any, carefully and calculated. Ever since the World Cup, business, death, revenge all seeming to get in the way of the more simple pleasures in life such as enjoying herself at a party. Even before the Wizarding World descended into chaos, Phoebe would at least reward herself with a night to herself every once in a while. Alfie surely would have wanted her to.

“I suppose I have some time to fill, and there is much to celebrate thanks to your particular talents.” Phoebe canted her head to the side in the direction of he bar. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Pandora let Phoebe string her along, already feeling one hundred times better in the presence of the middle Maddock. It was like she was absorbing her confidence, even if it was faux. Thrifted black Oxford heels clicked against the flooring as the smaller female attempted to keep up. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting, but being brought towards the sound system was not it. “Aw, that’s no fun,” the blonde quipped, only slightly joking. Suns wasn’t a hardcore druggie by any means, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get fucked up tonight, especially after all the shite she had been through the past few months.

“Hype song? What exactly are you planning…?” she trailed off, running a hand through her dirty blonde locks. What was her hype song? Did she even have one? Recently she had been listening to muggle music, songs by strong independent women to try and keep her going. “Have you heard of Lizzo? She’s sorta been my icon lately – maybe Juice? Or Truth Hurts?”

“There will be plenty of time for fun later. Rule number one of getting your revenge: you have to have your wits about you.” Phoebe assured the blonde as she toyed with the sound system, nodding her head in approval at Sunny’s song choice. “Excelente opcion.” 

With her mother being a muggle, Phoebe was familiar with most muggle music having practically grown up on it once her father left. Though she typically preferred latin selections, unable to shake the mother/daughter sing alongs to Jennifer Lopez around the flower shop, Phoebe most certainly appreciated the musical stylings of other strong independent women like the artist Sunny had mentioned. Without wasting anymore time, she changed the selection to Sunny’s choice. This party was certainly about to get started.

As the the first notes began to sound, Phoebe pointed her wand towards the closest dining table clearing off the dinnerware in a swift motion. Plates, silverware, and ornate glasses carefully sailed to the ground; she wasn’t the type to smash expensive china. Phoebe strode forward, nodding and extending a hand for Sunny for her to follow her. “Your stage awaits.”