In The Heat Of The Night

He thinks he's educated, airs those family shares

Will protect him, we'll respect him

He moves in circles of friends who just pretend

That they like him, he does the same to them

And when you put it all together

There's the model of a charmless man

Charmless Man, Blur

The walk to the carriage was quite a pleasant experience; there was a good breeze in the air to break the heat that had plagued the nights and days for the past few weeks. Even if this was not a merry group, a sarcastic Death Eater and an uncooperative Operative was not the best company Alamus Clayfield had enjoyed a walk with. He stared straight at Nott, a sense of deep satisfaction growing inside him, spreading like a shot of good firewhisky. Another Death Eater for Azkaban, another result to report to the Minister and the Daily Prophet, in times like these all captures were reported. Strictly for morale purposes of course. The summer had been dreadful so far, not since the late seventies and early eighties had Alamus seen anything this bad. The dead Aurors, Operatives and Unspeakables were coming in faster than they could be buried and accounted for. He had seen it all before. He'd seen them lying in their own blood and tears. Some were barely out of their teens and they had wet themselves at the epiphany of death. Grown men had called out for their mothers and woman had screamed for fathers and brothers to save them. Alamus himself had seen them die, trying to block out their screams, knowing that he couldn't do anything at all and walked past them through the blood and tears. And they had been ready for war, These Operatives had been ill prepared, after being told for twelve months that the Potter boy was mentally unstable and You Know Who had not returned. Well the Ministry were paying dearly for their mistakes now. Still, it was not Mr Fudge's fault, he had done the best he could in such situations. As he had to constantly remind his Operatives, Fudge did what most men would have done with a story that had seemed so fat-fetched; he denied it. Alamus would have done the same and so really the amount of criticism was unnecessary. The Prophet was being awkward, asking what had triggered the rise in Death Eater activity? Alamus did not know, and nor did he have any desire to find out. Investigation could be left till later.

"Ahhh, straight ahead Celeste, the lake's just there."

"I know Alamus, I'm not blind!" she spat back at him. Really, was there any need to be that rude? He was simply being courteous and polite. Something younger Operatives seemed to have neglected these days. Maybe the matter could be added to the Operative's Handbook, social etiquette. He could write it himself. He felt his mind wandering and brought his attention back to Nott, whose head was still pulled tightly back.

"Celeste, my dear. We do want him in one piece you know," she took absolutely no notice of him "He must stand trial you see." She continued to ignore him and that vile piece of filth Nott laughed.

"I wasn't aware anything I said was amusing to you, Mr Nott."

"Oh yes, everything you say is amusing to me, Alamus."

A Death Eater referring to him so personally deeply offended Alamus. He expected to be referred to by his first name when he was well acquainted with a person, not by someone he had just met and he especially didn't want his name uttered by a filthy Death Eater. He was just about to give him a piece of his mind when they reached the carriage, and the thought was discarded. As he scrambled forward to open the door, he felt himself trip over and blushed red as he heard Nott and Celeste laugh. He thought that was rather unkind: he would not have laughed if Celeste had fallen over. Really, the rudeness of people like Celeste was extraordinary. He expected it from Death Eaters because they were bad to the core and couldn't be expected to know better but from supposedly educated people like Celeste, well he had no hope for the younger generation. He fumbled with the lock, entirely due to the humiliation of course. Nobody could accuse Alamus Clayfield of being incompetent, nigh on thirty years of devoted service to the Ministry put paid to that. Alamus held the door open and attempted to help Celeste as she threw that vile filth Nott into the carriage.

"Well there you go Alamus. Be careful, my new best friend here likes to shoot his mouth off. Give him a smack and you'll be alright."

"Aren't you coming with us? I thought you'd like to see him locked up. Bask in your achievements. I'm sure the Minister will be delighted to see you."

She looked at him incredulously and shook her head in disbelief.

"Listen. I'm tired, I have a split lip, I'm covered in bruises, my feet ache and my fiancé is ill. Why the hell are you trying to foist Fudge onto me now? I'm going home. Besides, I don't like Azkaban, for reasons you very well know." There was vehemence in her eyes, a hatred boring into him unlike anything he'd seen in a woman in a long time. Still he ploughed on, no point in letting her go without trying to persuade her. At least then he couldn't be accused of not trying.

"But Celeste, he would want to see you. The Minster is very proud of all who can bring us such filth like this excuse for a man here. I know you don't like Azkaban, but,"

"For the final time," she snarled and pointed her wand at his chest. "I'm not going. I hate Fudge, I hate Azkaban and I hate that piece of shit there. Now unless you shut up, I'm going to have t curse you all into next week. I have an ill person to attend to."

Celeste grabbed Nott and pulled his wand out of his robes before snapping it and throwing it on the muddy ground, before stamping on it viciously. Alamus glanced at Nott and saw he had tears in his eyes. Celeste glared at the two of them and turned away and Dissapparated. Alamus stepped into the carriage and tightly locked the door, before securing the chains around Nott's hands and feet. He smirked as Nott give a wince of pain and tightened the bonds. The carriage gave a jolt and began to move over the bumpy ground. Alamus idly wondered when was the last time the carriage had been cleaned. It smelt like a mixture if rotting meat and straw and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He looked out of the window and watched as Healers attended to dying and injured Operatives and Aurors. The screams of pain shattered what would have been a silent forest. Every so often he would see the body of a Death Eater being taken away, a morbid sense of delight stirring within him. He looked at Nott, who was watching the blood drip on to floor.

"Sano," Aramus pointed his wand at Nott's leg and the wound healed and both stared and the blood stained robes. "She's quite the vixen isn't she? Takes after her father. He never held back either."

"Vixen? The woman's a bloody monster. They normally send people like her to St. Mungos. Besides, who in the name of Merlin would marry her? Is he mad or does he just like being abused?

"You mean you don't know? You really don't know whom she is engaged to? My word, they do keep you out of the loop don't they?" Alamus smirked and looked out of the window again. The lime green of healers was a beacon in the darkened forest.

"Why would I know who she's married too? I didn't know who she was?" Alamus looked at Nott and smirked. Good God did these type of people tell each other anything? He looked up at the ceiling and frowned at the peeling paint before looking back at Nott. If Nott didn't know anything about Celeste then Alamus would be damned if he told him anything else.

"Now quiet, I don't want to hear another peep out of you until we reach the coast, which thankfully is only a few miles from here."

The words "patronising bastard" reached Alamus' ears, but being the kind soul that he was he ignored them. He didn't see Death Eaters as just filth; they were filth that needed to be educated. He was a great believer in reeducation, by any means possible, maybe the Minister would allow Alamus and a few others too oversee it. The rest of the journey seemed to pass without incident, with the exception of some snarls from the chained Death Eater, who kicked the doors and seat like to sulky ten-year-old.. After around an hour of feeling his see vibrate and beginning to feel travel sick due to the bumpiness of the road Alamus felt the carriage stopping abruptly and he fell to the floor with a bump. He stood and with as much dignity as he could manage, unchained the giggling Nott and led him to the boat waiting to take them to Azkaban.

"Now then. We will ask you your name, date of birth, address and any relatives who need to be contacted, the present Aurors, Jeff Chaplin and Charlotte Makepeace will then escort you to your cell. Now, details please."

"Esme Stephen Nott, 29^th August 1946, 67 Janus Lane West Yorkshire, Wife Susanna and son Theodore. Thought I'd save some time." Alamus sighed at the speed of the words but still wrote them down on the parchment offered to him by Miss Makepeace. Biting his lip as he forgot Nott's sons name he looked at Chaplin who mouthed the name Theodore at him. Signing his name with a flourish he beamed at the assembled group.

"Really, are you that desperate to get into the cells? Enjoy your visit. Mr. Chaplin, Miss. Makepeace, take him away."

Alamus watched as the Death Eater was led across to the boat and smiled grimly as they sailed slowly towards the fortress, where the overworked Aurors on little sleep, began to forget to check on prisoners. Nott, like the rest, would be out within days.