A torrent of profound despair crashed down upon Oleandra's shoulders the moment the Tree-Portation Spell spat her back out into the Ministry's tenth-lowest level, home to the courtrooms and prison cells, and the current seat of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission.
Within seconds, she started shivering.
"Save it," Tracey's icy voice echoed in her mind. "We're done, Oleandra. Or Dark Lady. Or whatever you and your sister like to call yourselves these days."
What had she been thinking? That helping those the Muggle-Born Registration Commission had imprisoned would somehow atone for all the suffering she had caused? All these people she had harmed, directly or indirectly. What use was there in bringing Avalon back into this hellscape of her own making?
"Dementors…" groaned Mai, who was similarly affected by the cold aura. "Come on, snap out of it, Mai…"
With a supreme effort of will, Oleandra staggered to her feet and looked up.
Dementors glided between the cells, sucking streams of hope and positive emotions from the prisoners through the metal bars. They were playing with their victims, scarcely caring about sustainability, sucking their positive emotions dry. They knew many more meals awaited them.
Oleandra's face turned as white as a sheet.
"Would you mind taking care of those?" groaned Oleandra. "Too many people know what form my Patronus takes…"
"Er…"
At the sound of a male voice, Oleandra glanced sideways, her gaze falling on the youth at her side. Suddenly registering his presence, her hand automatically flew to the Elder Wand at her waist, only to realise that he had no magical aura whatsoever.
"I actually did magic?" the young Muggle said in astonishment, rubbing his arms to ward off the cold. "Ha… hahaha!"
Though completely blind, Dementors were far from deaf, even though they chiefly relied on their ability to sense emotion to locate and identify their prey. The outburst had not gone unnoticed, drawing their attention to the three newcomers, far healthier than the others who had already fallen into their domain.
"Are you an idiot!?" Oleandra hissed at the youth. "Who the Hel are you!? Can't you see the—"
Her voice trailed off. Of course he couldn't, Muggles were so painfully limited they could not even see Dementors.
"You're one of the Muggles I painstakingly gathered, aren't you?" said Mai, aghast. "Oleandra, you idiot! How could you possibly drag one of my men along with us!?"
"He must have performed the stances alongside us," said Oleandra in dismay. "When it comes to runic magic, once I've started the spell, the magic doesn't care about valid targets, as long as they're rune-shaped!"
"So what if I did the dance?" said the youth, as confrontational as he could manage with his teeth chattering like a nutcracker's. He was now shivering violently. "Does that mean I'm a Magician like you two bints?"
The Dementors were closing in on them, but still, Oleandra and Mai did not move an inch.
Since Oleandra's Corporeal Patronus was known to many, using it would all but reveal her true identity, so she was reluctant to make the first move. But what was Mai waiting for? Very soon, the aura of despair generated by this many Dementors closing in around them would make it impossible for either of them to summon the appropriate emotions, even if they wanted to…
"S-s-so cold," the youth stammered, teeth clacking. "What was I thinking?" he groaned. "I got excited, thinking I was special, but in the end, I'm just a worthless piece of human rubbish…"
Mai's features shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted, waving her wand in circles above her head.
The change in her demeanour told Oleandra all she needed to know. Mai probably couldn't perform the spell herself yet— but her previous incarnation obviously could. It had taken Mai a few seconds to exchange places with Morgan le Fay, and a few more to summon her body's magic, but she had finally succeeded in bringing into existence… a white-robed Dementor.
Oleandra still didn't quite understand how le Fay's Authority of Discrepancy work, as it was much less straightforward than her Authority of the Lake, but it also appeared to have had an effect on Morganna's Patronus. The Dementors swarmed the Corporeal Patronus like flies to a flame, entranced.
Suddenly, the Patronus's white cloak grew dazzlingly bright, forcing Oleandra to shield her eyes. When at last the glare dimmed, she found that the despair that had taken root in her heart had lessened, and that not a single Dementor remained in the detention area. The spell had effectively banished them.
"Oi, who are they?"
"Help, maybe?"
"Maybe it's a trap…"
Oleandra counted at least twenty Wizards and Witches behind bars.
"Wait, no, I recognise that woman! She doesn't have her badge, but she's definitely an Auror!"
"Alohomora," said Oleandra, pointing her wand at the jail cell's lock.
Nothing happened.
Alohomora the Unlocking Charm and Colloportus the Locking Charm were merely the latest in a long evolutionary arms race between thieves and homeowners. Some locks were simply too well enchanted to yield to a mere spell, demanding much more effort to break.
"Try Finite Incantatem first," suggested the portly witch whom Oleandra had punched on the nose the last time they'd met in these very cells. "Then Alohomora."
The magical gleam surrounding the lock dimmed for a moment at Oleandra's "Finite!" but quickly flared back to life. She eyed the Elder Wand in irritation. If only it recognised her, then she'd never have to worry about locks again. But for now, she was drawing a blank.
Unless…
The Wizards and Witches behind the bars looked at Oleandra warily, as she reached into her pouch and drew her engraving dagger. Slowly but surely, she traced a thin, shallow, horizontal line with the tip of the blade, before crossing it out with two evenly-spaced vertical lines.
"Onn…" Oleandra murmured. "Onn… Onn… Onn…"
As she repeated the spell, she rubbed the thin lines with the tip of her index finger, again and again. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but gradually, the metal lock seemed to grow warmer beneath her touch. She drew her hand back and saw the rune glowing faintly, a dull, dark red.
"Alohomora!" chanted Oleandra, giving her wand a twirl before pointing it at the lock.
The lock clicked open and Oleandra opened the door wide. The Ogham's magic had worked like a charm, and on her first time as well! Perhaps she was just talented at Runesmithing in general.
"What have you done?" an older Wizard amongst the prisoners moaned. "Now they'll definitely think I'm one of you Muggle-Born lot! You've doomed us half-bloods!"
"I dunno about the others, but I'm certainly not staying in here," said the portly housewife, shaking Oleandra's hand as she strode out of her cell. "So, what's the plan?"
The other prisoners exchanged glances, glum and defeated. It seemed they would have no choice in the matter. Without wands, they were entirely at the mercy of the three newcomers. They could either stay and definitely get sucked soulless by the Dementors when they inevitably returned, or gamble their lives on a deadly escape from the Ministry…