Throughout his rule as minister thus far, Isaiah had come up with quite a few marvelous ideas, and sometimes it was certainly had to choose which one he deemed to be the most successful. There had been a lot of work to be done to right the wizarding world, particularly after the foolish reign of Shacklebolt and how much sway Potter had in that. The first right move he’d made was telling the right people that they were clearly mentally unstable, allowed that opinion to fester and grow until they’d lost credibility and Shacklebolt had been ousted from his position. After all, that had gotten him to where he was today. Then, of course, there were the experiments on werewolves, the revitalization of the beast division, different regulations and laws to limit what Death Eaters and werewolves could do, along with other lesser creatures. But all of that seemed to pale in comparison to his biggest victory as minister. And that was the work camp. Prior to its creation, he had talked it up, obviously, giving it a name that gave off the hope for fresh starts. But he’d had in mind just what he wanted it to actually be like, and it was certainly succeeding in bringing the Death Eaters to their knees. If everything continued along as scheduled, he was sure more purebloods would be filing in by the day as well, as he found them guilty for whatever crimes they had obviously committed.

It was because of that reason alone that he felt the need to check up on the camp on occasion, making sure that everything was running as smoothly as possible and that the Death Eaters were doing as they were bid. That was what brought him there today, walking about examining everything that was going on. The work seemed to be progressing nicely, and by that he obviously met that it was just as menial and unnecessary as ever. On occasion, if something actually did need fixing or work in the magical world, the camp would do something that was actually useful. But for the most part, it was just whatever were the most difficult and pointless tasks that came to mind. They kept the workers tired, thirsty and hungry, obviously, providing only a bit of water throughout the day and no food. This really only amused him, since in his mind they deserved far worse.

This day was a particularly hot one, and to his knowledge several Death Eaters had already passed out due to heat exhaustion. But the weakness of others wouldn’t be a reprieve for the ones still able to work, obviously. This wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. Isaiah continued to walk about the camp, examining it, and he knew that his undersecretary was around somewhere, taking notes of her own at his bequest. It was normally after these visits that he came up with some other brilliant idea for the camp, and he knew that this time would be no exception. Summer months brought along so many more options, after all.

@pius
@miles
@lifelongpotterhead
.... if any of you dare....

It may have seemed like much time had passed since Pius was a respectable man, but to him, he could remember it plain as day. He often reflected back to the life that he was robbed of. The man had a good family, a good home, and a rather great position at the ministry. Yes, the former minister often thought about just how good he had it and how close he was to building himself more into an even higher position. Pius knew that he had always dreamed of being the minister of magic. Even in his teenage years, he had possessed an abnormal interest in current events as well as politics. He used to dream of what that day would be like when he was made the leader of the ministry and all of the ideas he wanted to implement, particularly in the field of education. Once, he had a daughter of his own, his hope was to instill things that would make her Hogwarts experience even more enjoyable, such as study abroad options for a term.

Alas, his brief stint as minister was nothing like he imagined. In fact, he barely remembered anything from his time in the position. It was not at all how he dreamed it would be. Instead of being the benevolent leader he had hoped he could be, he was no more than a mere puppet for the darkest wizard of them all. Because of this, he was now one of the most hated men, and was quickly ousted from his position at the end of the war, knowing he could never return. No, the damage was done. He could never return and be the leader he was. Pius Thicknesse knew he could never return to the life before the curse.

It haunted him everyday. The reputation he had as well as the supportive family was just all gone. Now, he was reduced to a mere slave, once again, for someone’s ugly political agenda. The new minister was about as much of a monster in his opinion as Lord Voldemort was. What in bloody hell does he think he is doing? He thinks his cause is any more righteous than that of Voldemort just because he believes this shit is justice. He shook his head and spit into the flower bed that he was supposed to be pulling weeds from. It was too hot for this bullocks. Many of the other workers had already passed out, and he wasn’t about to be one of them. He wasn’t some minion that could be controlled. He didn’t belong here like the other Death Eaters. And damn them to hell too. They’re the ones that cursed me. For all I care, everyone can go to hell and rot there with Voldemort himself.

The new minister, Durant, and his many mindless employees all had believed that Pius had never been under a curse and acted under his own volition. His pureblood background didn’t help defend him either. Bullshit is what that is. I wouldn’t dare push them away! I would never have done anything… His thoughts trailed off like they had many times before. Thinking of his wife and daughter hurt more and more as time went on. Every time they crossed his mind, the wizard would fight back tears. He should have been out of here by now, in his mind. The camp worker was told his sentence would have been over almost two months ago. I should be out of here, trying to find them, but if that damn tyrant Durant has his way, I know I’ll die here.

Pius could hear someone approaching. He knew he would be in trouble for just sitting by the small garden and doing nothing, but at least if someone approached, he hoped they would be rather large and able to provide some momentary shade before he was punished. More than likely, he thought it would be Miles coming over to talk to him more about getting out of here, which would be unfortunate, but at least he would block the sun. The former ministry worker turned to look to see who it was, and was absolutely disgusted by what he saw. “You,” he said with udder disdain in his voice, clearly communicating his presence was unwelcome. The only thing this minister could was a public decree that he would be leaving here at this moment, and even then, the gesture would have been too little too late. Pius turned away from the man and pulled a nearby weed from the garden and threw it over his shoulder at Isaiah, not really caring if it hit the man, but hoping it would.

He wasn’t a well-liked person in the work camp, obviously, but that only made it more amusing to him when he did decide to pay the place a visit. The more criminals that hated him, the better he was doing his job, in his mind. Isaiah would not allow criminals to walk around not paying their dues and he did deem the work camp a fair bit better than Azkaban—so they should all be grateful, anyhow. In some ways, the work camp was worse because it was far more demeaning, but outwardly he would always say that the criminals of the wizarding world should be glad that they were being given the opportunity to leave freely so long as they did the necessary work at the camp and didn’t cause trouble. Of course, very little work in the camp was necessary, as most of it was absolutely pointless and was simply what would take the most time or be the most strenuous. In the heat of the summer, he knew that it was technically important to keep the criminals from dying of… exhaustion, or the like. It was a problem in the winter, as well, and he would say to anyone that asked that they kept up very well with that, wanting to keep everyone in working condition. The truth of the matter was he didn’t give a damn if any or all of them died in the work camp. It would be doing the entire wizarding world a favor.

Isaiah always tried to determine when spirits were lowest at the camp, split between thinking it was the dead of winter or the middle of the summer. As someone who never personally had to work in a blizzard or work during sweltering heat with very little water, it was a hard thing for him to determine, but it was amusing all the same. Frostbite was a real concern for them in the winter, as was heat stroke and dehydration in the summer. He supposed that summer was probably worse for them because they were put to bloody work; there were less options of work to do in the winter and some of that even annoyingly did require the indoors, so it was less back-breaking than work in the summer months. That made summer the best time of year for Isaiah to check up on everything, knowing that they were all taking the brunt of their punishment in these months.

As he was walking, he noted a criminal pulling weeds which he considered to be an exceptionally amusing job though not nearly as difficult as it should be—which was something to consider. When the man turned around, Isaiah narrowed his eyes slightly, vaguely recognizing the face though he couldn’t place it immediately. To him, all criminals were more or less the same, but he certainly knew this one from somewhere. Years of hard labor could make someone nearly unrecognizable, he knew, and it was only when the Death Eater spoke that he remembered. A small, amused smirk filled his features briefly once the former minister had turned away from him. It wasn’t as if he could openly be pleased by anything happening here, making sure to always keep his expression relatively solemn. Isaiah moved slightly out of the way when a weed flew in his direction, chuckling under his breath. “Thicknesse,” he stated, “To your feet,” Isaiah ordered, wondering if the man was going to make this easy or difficult. It made no difference to Isaiah, but he was going to gain some bit of amusement at the former minister’s expense, regardless. If he didn’t get to his feet willingly, there were guards that would force him into it and the man looked like he would snap like a twig if anyone touched him anyhow. Another sign of a job well done, he mused.

Pius was a hardened man. There wasn’t much that he tolerated or could even bare. The only person he had encountered as of late that hadn’t filled him with rage had been the random woman in the alley. He didn’t quite trust her or get what she was up to, but she had said something that had made him feel like he wasn’t quite as alone in all of this as he thought he was. Whether that was a good thing or not had yet to be determined. It had almost put a complete new spirit into Pius. One that was even more cantankerous than before.

With being in the camp though, it was hard to keep those good spirits alive. People were always miserable. With the summer heat, people had been passing out from dehydration that was so bad that many of them were probably on death’s doorstep. Sometimes, he wondered if some of these death eaters thought that they could get out faster by working harder. Clearly, the tyrant of a minister had no hopes in doing that. Bastard can’t even uphold his word and let the prisoners out when their sentence is supposed to be up. No way in hell he’d let anyone out early. Merlin, did Pius hate Minister Durant, and the only thing that made his blood boil more than thinking about the vile man was seeing the prick in person.

As luck would have it, the man was here, paying one of his ego-inflating visits. Pius knew the asshat got some sort of sick satisfaction and inflated self worth from seeing the death eaters in the state. The man thought he was some great hero when really, he was just like the prejudiced Dark Lord. Normally, this news would just sour the old minister, but not today. No, unfortunately for the minister, Pius had a bit of fight in him. He would not go so quietly. Sure, as a former demagogue, he knew it was only proper to show respect to the minister, and he did intend to do so, but in his own way.

With a sarcastic smile, he turned away from the garden and faced the minister, still sitting. “All hail, our great ruler, and mighty king, Minister Durant. For he has decided to grace us mere peasants with his presence today,” he said boastfully and sarcastically. Noting his instructions to get to his feet, he still only sat with a crooked smile upon his face. “Come now, Minister Durant. Surely, you would appreciate me better in this position, as it is more suitable for bowing to your greatness and kissing your holy boots.” Pius slowly rose to a position of kneeling on both knees. “Or perhaps you would prefer me in this position, as it is well-suited for ass-kissing, which you seem to love so very much.” The former minister, finally stood to his feet, knowing some sort of terrible backlash awaited him. He stared at the dictator with a crazed and determined look almost daring the man to make his move. He had nothing to lose.

Isaiah did find it incredibly necessary for Thicknesse to be here. The former minister was worse than the other Death Eaters in his opinion. Not only did he work with the Dark Lord, but he the impudence to act as though he didn’t do it willingly. He was the face of the campaign, the one that had put Voldemort’s laws into place. And he wanted to act as though he did that because he was under the Imperius Curse. There was no way that the man was so weak-willed, which was almost a compliment, in Isaiah’s mind. He had known exactly what he was doing, and it was taking the position of trust that he had been given and using it against the wizarding world in order to cause more harm than good. He did it to help his Dark Lord, to make sure his laws went into affect correctly, and Isaiah had actually laughed when he had heard that the man would be bringing about the case that the Imperius curse had been involved. They hadn’t accepted that reasoning from anyone this time around. Too many people had gotten away with dark arts and murder during the first war with that claim, and he refused to let that happen again.

Thicknesse was lucky that he wasn’t in Azkaban. He deserved to be. He had taken advantage of a position of power, a position that Isaiah took very seriously. He’d worsened the situation all around, making Voldemort have even more power than he’d already had and probably appointed a hell of a lot of the crooked members in the Ministry that they’d weeded out after the fact. A smirk widened across his face at Thicknesse’s words, surprised to see that there was still some bite left. He liked to think that he’d successfully torn down all the Death Eaters by now, but there was clearly more to do. That could be arranged, obviously. Perhaps Thicknesse had just unintentionally gave Isaiah his next directive, stricter regulations at the work camps. It was something to consider, but he liked the sound of it already. “Oh, Thicknesse. Just because you abused your position of power to treat others like they were beneath you as you delved the world into darkness doesn’t mean that I’m not well aware that I am just a man. No king, no grand ruler, just a man trying to undo the horror that you and your people have committed.”

Did the man really think he was going to get a reaction from him? No, Isaiah did his dirty work behind the scenes where others couldn’t see it. Outwardly, he was simply a far better man than he actually was. Isaiah could admit that his methods were ones that most would deem questionable. But they produced results that were for the best of the wizarding world. They would not be safe until the purebloods and Death Eaters knew that they didn’t have a chance in hell ever resuming their former positions in life. They would die in this camp, if he had his say. He watched him carefully as the man got to his feet. He wasn’t nearly as beaten down as he should be if he was talking like this. That could be changed and it would be. “The mighty have fallen, Thicknesse; you’re certainly a right state worse off than the last time I saw you.” Isaiah stated, vaguely.

It would be one thing if this so-called minister was just doing his due diligence. Yes, as a person with a particular interest in politics, Pius could at least understand if that was the case. If there were forces screaming for the former minister’s head, he could at least comprehend why the man would place him here. Hell, he may even thank him for keeping him safe. However, there was no mob declaring a death wish to the camp worker. This sentence he was serving was only due to the twisted and distorted belief that Isaiah Durant held that he was somehow a death eater. It enraged the man to no end to think that the ministry rested in the hands of someone so completely idiotic and uncaring. Truly, if he was worthy to be a minister, he would be fair and seek out appropriate evidence before he handed a verdict of what he believe to be “justice.”

Pius often wondered why the minister hadn’t shipped the whole lot of them to Azkaban. With how much he obviously loathed them and didn’t believe there to be any point of redemption for the death eaters, as evidenced by his refusal to release him or anyone, then it was only a matter of time before they were thrown there to rot. Perhaps the group that Miles spoke of could get him out of this hell before it came to that point. Dammit, don’t fall for what he is saying just yet. Miles could be just blabbing to try to get you to his cause. Pius hid a smirk. If the minister was truly with it and not a complete moron like he believed him to be, he would be busy tracking down Miles Brant and breaking down his cause rather than wasting his time with someone who wasn’t even a death eater. Alas, Durant proved to be more and more of a idiotic asshole every time Pius encountered him, which was way too much in his opinion. He really was surprised someone hadn’t rose up and killed this clown yet.

Alas, he was certainly in no position to defy the rule of the minister, but he didn’t give a shit. He was a man who had nothing to lose, and it made him feel better to think of the minister’s demise. And if he couldn’t carry it out, then he would act in defiance of the man’s authority with every chance that was bestowed upon him. He knew the minister could make his life hell, but it already was. Every second away from his family was torture, and sure, he would kiss ass to Isaiah if he thought it would get him back to him, but he knew it wouldn’t. Nothing he could do would change the tyrant’s mind and for that, he would hate him with every fiber of his being. Pius would show nothing but disgust and rage towards this creature that dared to call himself a man through every word uttered and thought acted upon.

If Durant thought he would get some sort of reaction by saying how terrible of a leader Pius was and how he was so dark and cruel to everyone, then he really was wasting breath and would be better off dead where he wouldn’t be uselessly taking up everyone’s oxygen. In order for Pius to feel guilt, it would imply that he did something that would merit it. But he knew he didn’t. It was the Dark Lord that did it, but he knew that ignorant wizard would never believe such a thing, so he kept his mouth shut. Unlike the minister that stood before him, he knew when not to waste his words trying to change the minds of others. It came from being a skilled politician, something this young fool wouldn’t understand. Instead of responding, he just stared back, returning the same smug smirk. “Treating others like they are beneath you? Oh dear! It seems you have slipped into a state of hysteria as you have started talking to yourself. I would call a nurse to escort you to St. Mungo’s, but our ill are denied privileges such as health care, courtesy of our great and wonderful Minister of Magic,” he said with resentment in each word he spoke.

His eyes never left the minister as he stood in front of him. The only time they even shifted was when Pius felt the need to roll them when Isaiah Durant made some stupid comment about how the “mighty had fallen.” This minister really was oblivious if he thought Pius was to have the same inflated ego as him. The former ministry worker had been a man of equality, one that wanted every member of the magical community to have a voice. There was true justice in that, and any wizard that claimed they wanted to better the magical community would have stood by that. Isaiah Durant, on the other hand, cared about his own agenda and not the issues that mattered to the people. He obviously didn’t believe in equality as he punished the purebloods and death eaters, and that was not what the wizards and witches of this time needed, especially after a war where prejudice nearly destroyed their world. No, it was only a matter of time before this minister would be overthrown. Pius was simply just impatient to see who would do it and how they would. “You’ll have to forgive me as I don’t really recall the last time we saw each other. I try to forget them and each encounter is so unpleasant that they all start to blur together after a while, wouldn’t you agree?”

Isaiah greatly enjoyed coming to the work camp, as he did deem it one of his more brilliant ideas. Azkaban was something that was necessary for those that were really far too gone to even be slightly useful for everyday society, and he did like to toss the worst of the worst in there to rot for the rest of their miserable lives—which would be short ones, if he had any say in it, and he obviously did. But he found the work camp to be an entirely different kind of torture and one that was very, very effective to most criminals. Doing redundant and usually pointless work by hand taught them humility, or so he told the public. Really, he found that humiliation was a good lesson for them all and he did so enjoy seeing how far the mighty had fallen. He also just wanted them all to feel as much pain as possible in their miserable lives, which was why he obviously found it unimportant to give them enough water throughout the summer months, nor did he care to try to keep them inside during the winter months. If they died there, that was fine by him, because it was one less pureblooded scum roaming the streets. That would help everyone sleep better at night, not having to worry about being attacked by some rogue purebloods and their malevolent agendas.

He didn’t even comprehend how Thicknesse thought that anyone was believing that he was under the Imperius Curse and that he was still sticking with that story all of these years later. Did he really think that would spare him? Keeping to a story that no one believed? He was lucky that he wasn’t rotting in Azkaban, as it was somewhere that Isaiah certainly believed the man belonged. But he would much rather slowly wear him down with this humiliation and torture that was life on the outside with their limited rights and he would continue to take away these rights until they were all dead or wished that they were. Then, he would feel as though his work was complete. All that Thicknesse was proving from his ridiculous words was that he needed to be taken down a few more notches and that was something that could very easily be arranged. The guards would target anyone that he told them to without question, and so Pius was just making his life even more unpleasant with every word that he uttered. He would find that out soon enough, he knew, but outwardly Isaiah had every intention of being the diplomatic minister with good intentions that much of the public believed him to be. That meant that he was not going to be outwardly affected by anything that the aggravating former minister said, however hard the man tried. “I assure you that the guards here are well trained in dealing with any health problems that may arise,” he said, dismissively, which was… true enough, he supposed, well… no, he was sure that they would manage to muck that up, but that would really only be amusing. “The time of the healers in St. Mungo’s should be spent dealing with citizens that abide to laws and not with criminals, when we’ve provided suitable means to deal with any health issues you come across while at the camp.” He didn’t state that he thought the best healthcare for dealing with any Death Eater or pureblood was just killing them, as there was no point in spending any time in trying to heal any injuries.

Isaiah really did believe that the great majority of all purebloods were inherently evil by nature. They came from a line of folk that thought they were superior and thus were always more likely to move toward dark magic in order to keep the power to themselves. However, there were always the rare few that he did believe to be rather innocent, and that was a card that he could very innocently play in order to further aggravate the former minister into doing something that could certainly cause him to have a very rough time in the camp for the near future. “You’re quite funny, Thicknesse—it’s quite the shame that your wife and daughter didn’t think so, or perhaps they would still be around.” If there was ever a pureblood that he believed to be innocent of any wrongdoing it was Pius’s wife, and he had helped her to get away from the Death Eater for that very reason, which he was quite sure that Pius knew nothing about.

To Pius, only a completely insane person that had no regard for the people the led over would have come up with an idea such as this: the work camp. In fact, he believed he had heard there being a muggle tyrant who had done this years ago by putting people into things called concentration camps and launched a massive war. Hmph, looks like someone can’t learn from history to prevent it from repeating itself. The thought, however, did reinforce just all of the terrible things he believed about Durant: he was a monster, a dictator that cared about nothing except just how much power he fucking had. To him, it made him no better than Voldemort himself.

It really was hopeless that to ever hope that this man, no this creature from hell, would ever see reason. Isaiah Durant was surely too blinded to truth in pursuit to feed his appetite for control. Pius knew someone like this could spread a lie they cared about the wrongdoings and wanted justice for those that were hurt, but in reality, he only cared about his agenda and it coming to play just so he could see how great he was. Yes, the Dark Lord, reincarnate really, stands before me. Only this time claiming the opposite side in an attempt to fool us all. Being a prisoner to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may not have been something he really remembered nor had control over, but he at least knew he learned one thing, and that was that once people cling to an ideal, they will more than likely die with it. Durant would never change his mind about the purebloods, and he would never believe there were innocents that were cursed. His only hope of the affliction of working in this godforsaken place would be the minister being overthrown. Ah, now there’s a cause I could get behind. Unfortunately, it would probably be some asshole like Durant that just wants to be in control of the wizarding world.

The former minister took no liberty in hiding his rolling eyes at the man’s words about the guards being perfectly capable. Oh yeah, that makes sense. That makes total fucking sense. That’s like saying just because someone can repair a damn broomstick, they can mend a goddamn broken bone. “Surely that’s insulting all of the training a healer does, don’t you think, minister? Basically, you’re saying anyone can be a healer. If I was a healer, I would find it rather offensive that you would imply that all of my training was unnecessary and anyone could do what I did. Best rethink that if you’re wanting to win the affection of your people,” Pius said with a snide smile. Really, he hoped that his pride would allow him to think that the camp worker had no idea what he was talking about, and would say something that idiotic outside the walls of the camp. “Well in that case, Minister Durant, please let me know when you will be escorting me to St. Mungo’s since I broke no laws.” Fucker.

Really, it astounded Pius that no one saw the similarities between the so-called leader of the ministry and the Dark Lord that use to terrorize them all. Like Voldemort, this man believed that there was something wrong with people simply based on their family line, only no one seemed to give two shits because it was the opposite of what You-Know-Who thought. He was manipulative, just like the heir of Slytherin. God did it kill him that Durant just got away with this complete bull shit. Luckily, he had been prisoner long enough to not really fall for any of the man’s words or let them get to him. The minister’s error was thinking that he could attack him with memories of his family. While, Pius would never show it, it did sting. It was fucking painful actually. He thought about it all of the time, and it would damn near kill him if he couldn’t cling to the good memories of his family. In the moments he loathed himself for pushing them away, he reminded himself of the times he was able to make his girls smile, and he vowed to himself, he would bring the laughter and grins back. “It’s interesting you mention it, Durant. You know, my daughter’s very first real laugh was due to me. I was trying to feed her, but she wasn’t having it. Naturally, trying to encourage her to eat it, I took a bite of it myself,” he paused smiling a bit at the memory himself, “I made a face and sit it back out. Unfortunately, I spit it on her,” he chuckled. “I was so afraid she would cry, but instead she laughed out loud for the first time. And even though I am a wizard, that was the first time in my life, I really saw magic.” He closed his eyes for a second, trying to distance himself from being here and allowing himself to return to happier moments. “From that moment on, I was always making her laugh. From dancing with her, to telling her stupid jokes, to even falling flat on my ass when she wanted to learn dueling techniques. So you see,” he said suddenly with his demeanor having an obvious shift, “for me to stop making her laugh, wouldn’t be something typical of me. If that ever happened, it would be like I wasn’t me anymore. Like something...obviously...overtook me,” Pius said with utter annoyance in his voice as he had stated this multiple fucking times.

To him, it was nothing short of amusing that Thicknesse continued to spout his excuse that he had been under the Imperius Curse and forced to do Voldemort’s biding—as if he hadn’t realized by now that no one was going to believe the word of a Death Eater, of someone who ruined lives at his master’s command. As if the late dark wizard would put someone in charge that he didn’t explicitly trust… as much as the monster could trust anyone, really. No, Isaiah would never believe Thicknesse’s excuses, and they fell on deaf ears no matter where he was or whom he was speaking to. Years had passed, and he still attempted to spew that rubbish; Isaiah did wonder when he was going to quit. Did he think eventually someone would hear his complaints and save him or something ridiculous like that? Did he really think that anyone was going to listen to him after all of the damage he’d caused? No. Thicknesse would be in this camp until he took his last pathetic breath, and Isaiah didn’t care if that day came tomorrow or twenty years from now. In fact, the latter was almost more tempting since it would just be more hell for the bloke who arguably deserved it more than most in here. There was no telling what else he did under Voldemort’s command, but it just so happened that his biggest sins were incredibly apparent. Nothing and no one would save him now, and Isaiah would make sure the man figured that out sooner rather than later. He’d have to let the guards know that they had someone new to focus on, as they did like to take out their anger on the scum in this camp.

He sighed at the man’s comment, wondering if he realized that he talked a bloody lot and no one gave a damn about what he was saying. Surely, Thicknesse realized that. He could never speak another word in his sorry existence and no one would give a damn, and yet he continued to run his mouth as though the words were supposed to have some kind of impact on Isaiah—and they never would. “I do think that the heat is addling your poor mind, Thicknesse,” he commented, before turning his gaze to the guards, “Get the man some water,” Isaiah ordered, watching as the guard walked off before looking back at Thicknesse. “I do believe I said the guards were trained in dealing with health matters. Not an insult to a healer in the slightest—clearly, we don’t pick up any old person off the street and expect them to heal you lot.” Healing was something that Isaiah didn’t give a damn about, but there was a lot that he would pretend to care about, clearly. Healthcare for the criminals in this camp was just about the last concern he had, as he’d rather them drop dead than spend a knut on healing them—but he wasn’t going to explicitly say that. “Must you continue to spout your same sad tale? You faced a fair trial, like everyone else. If you had broken no laws, you would have been found innocent.” Isaiah stated, a comment that he’d repeated many times to many different criminals over the years. “It’s no one’s fault but your own that you thought you could hide behind an Unforgiveable, as if we would believe that codswallop after the last war.” Just thinking of all of the Death Eaters that went free last time because their excuses had been believed, allowing evil to continue to roam the world and pass on their teachings onto the next generation.

Finally, the guard returned with the water, and Isaiah made a show of looking down at his watch. He couldn’t condone poor treatment… in public, but he couldn’t stop something that he didn’t see after all. As he did so, the guard offered the cup of water to the Death Eater, pausing thoughtfully before bringing it back to his own mouth, hacking up, and spitting into the cup before finally handing it back to the man. With the amount of water that they were given in a day, it would be amusing either way to see how Thicknesse reacted to this. Isaiah glanced back up at the criminal in time to see the guard walking away, crossing his arms across his chest as Thicknesse continued to ramble on once again. Isaiah would never understand why he had so much to say, but Isaiah had plenty of cards to play to shut him up. “Funny… when your wife came to me begging to help her disappear, she didn’t say anything about you being ‘overtook’ by anything. She just said that she needed to get away with your daughter before worse happened.” He commented, which was an outright lie. His wife had said that Thicknesse was ‘not himself,’ but Isaiah only took that as being so immersed into dark magic that nothing else was important. Clearly, the woman didn’t know what she was talking about, but he had a feeling that Pius thinking his wife was even convinced of his guilt would get the man to finally shut the hell up.

Pius supposed there were probably those pathetic people out there that claimed to have been under a curse when in reality, they took joy out of doing Voldemort’s bidding. It would make sense why there were some that were skeptical, but really, it wasn’t those claiming to be cursed that brought back the vile wizard, and it wasn’t like anyone could bloody well do it now if they wanted. No, it was just stupidity and paranoia that kept the minister from any rational thought at this point. Anyone would have a brain would have realized that upon searching, there would have been nothing indicating that he was a death eater and a Voldemort supporter. Hell, his wife and daughter ran away for crying out loud. Did that not account for anything? Did that not show just how much he was out of his mind? Had his years as an honest, diligent, and even well-liked ministry worker meant nothing in all of this? And it’s a wonder why I hate people, is it? It is like everyone has turned their back on me. Pius knew that maybe he should even be angry with his family for leaving him, but he couldn’t. He knew if he was, there would really be no reason to live, and he understood they left to keep themselves safe. At least, that is what he had to tell himself to keep going.

When Durant spoke about the heat getting to him, it took everything in Pius to not laugh. He knew he was probably already skating on thin ice, but he didn’t really care. Still, he wasn’t going to blatantly put himself there. Heat getting to me? Oh, I bet he would love that! What does the asshole know of the conditions he puts me through? His eyes shifted to the nearby guard who was instructed to go get water. Pius no longer could contain himself and snorted at the minister. There was no way in hell that Isaiah Durant would actually be wanting to cater to the needs of any camp worker. Therefore, Pius kept his eyes on the guard, looking to see what kind of poison would be placed into this drink supposedly offered from generosity. “Clearly,” he replied sarcastically to the minister without taking his eyes off the dopey guard. Could have fooled me. It appears you hire whoever appears the most braindead. In Pius’ mind, these guards wouldn’t know how to tie a show unless without a wand stuck up their ass, let alone do treatments for the most minor of injuries when needed. He only looked back at Pius when he mentioned a “fair” trial. “I think the term ‘fair’ is subjective, wouldn’t you agree,” Pius said as he cocked his head with unamused look. He would go to his grave swearing up and down that his trial had lacked evidence and appropriate witnesses. “And for future reference, you will tire of hearing it before I tire of saying it. You seem to forget a man existed before the war. One that was a respectable man, one of integrity and honesty. I’m still that man. I speak the truth, and I never tire of it.”

His eyes moved from the minister as the guard returned. The man could have kicked himself for not keeping his eyes on the guard, even though it was useless. That guard had all but completely disappeared, but perhaps even just timing how long it took could have gave him an idea of just what could be happening to this glass of water he was going to get apparently. Being as Pius didn’t trust it, he had no intentions of drinking the water in general. Yes, he could probably use the beverage, but he would rather die of his own stubbornness than at the hands of those in charge of this dreaded camp. Besides, the rush he was feeling from trying to stand up to the minister and not take him shit was keeping him energized and going. Pius kept his lips closed as Durant brought the cup up to him. The guard was now gone, and he knew a battle was already stirring now that there were no witnesses. He smirked again at Isaiah’s words. Really the man sounded quite ignorant, and if Isaiah believed he could intimidate or manipulate Pius, then he was in for a disappointing awakening. Pius had resisted the curse cast upon him for as long as he could. He did not so easily fall to the will of others. “That only makes logical sense, doesn’t it. Death eaters had taken over me. Who knows what could have happened to her and Norah? I don’t blame them one bit,” he said with a confident smile at the man. He wasn’t backing down. If Pius were to be brought down from this fight, he would still go down swinging. In fact, Pius’ grin had now turned to pure amused laughter. All he could do in response to the minister’s tactless gesture was really, in his mind, the best response he could have. Pius drew all the saliva he could before spitting it at the feet of the minister. At least it was good to know they had a mutual hatred for each other.