Fandom(s): Doctor Who
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble
Genre: Sci-fi, fantasy, adventure
Word Count: 2192
Summary: Doctor Who/Harry Potter crossover: The Tenth Doctor and Donna fly through a crack in the walls of the universe and land in a world where humans can perform magic. Getting mixed up in the cold war between the Death Eaters, the Ministry of Magic, and the Order of the Phoenix, all sides want the Doctor dead!
None of Donna’s complaints or tirades had any effect on Dawlish or Moody. She had spent the evening in alternating bouts of rage and silent sulking, and eventually stomped off to bed upstairs. She really didn’t have anything to complain about other than being trapped: the room and bed were comfortable, the food was fantastic (she couldn’t believe either of them could have been the one to cook it), and the house was packed with things to do… if you were a witch. Since she wasn’t, she couldn’t activate most of the devices available, and none of the books in the ample bookshelf were published after the year 1848. The morning brought nothing new. Her attitude had improved, but neither man cared to talk to her more than what they felt was required. She spent most of the morning reading a book on the history of wizard music, 1500-1700. Actually, she spent most of the morning falling asleep while pretending to read a book on the history of wizard music, 1500-1700.
At about a quarter to twelve, she was woken up by the loud clump-clump-clump of Moody’s wooden leg as he walked to the front door. Dawlish saw her jerk awake and began speaking.
“So you know, we’re to meet with our colleague in fifteen minutes, to do an exchange. They’ll give us Crouch - your ‘Doctor’ - and you’re to go with them. They’ll fix you up right nice, so that you can go back to your life before him without any problems.”
“I told you, he’s not anybody. He’s my mate. He’s the Doctor! You let him go!”
Dawlish seemed about to retort, but bit his lip and said nothing.
Moody, peering out of the curtains at the front windows, grumped. “She’s too much like Dumbledore, Tonks is: too ready to see the good that’s not there. She should have executed him herself, before he had the chance to charm her.” He grunted. “The day I can’t trust an auror…”
Donna’s eyes narrowed. The auror with the Doctor is having doubts about the whole thing? That’s a good sign.
“Not wanting to kill a man isn’t a bad thing, Mad-eye,” replied Dawlish, careful to keep his expression neutral. “She’ll do it if she has to, but she doesn’t have to, this time. I don’t blame her. Normally, you’d be the one saying that.”
Both of Moody’s eyes focused on Dawlish’s face, his expression dangerous. “This isn’t normal. Remember that.”
Dawlish returned his gaze, calm and direct.
Grunting, Moody left the window. “Let’s go.” Without stopping Dawlish’s for acknowledgement, he pulled out his wand, turned, and vanished.
Donna eyed Dawlish. “You’re not going to tie me up?”
“No. I trust you won’t run away. And if you do, then I’ll Stupefy you again.”
“Brilliant.” She sighed.
Dawlish, wand in hand, grasped Donna’s arm firmly, apologizing for the force. He turned in place, and the world went dark, imploding on her.
Donna came out of the Apparation stumbling and gasping for breath. She was pleased she kept her breakfast down. It took a moment for her to recover enough to see that she was now in a grassy part of some city park, not sure which one. The area was ringed with trees, except towards the greater part of the park; there were joggers running down a cement path and families enjoying picnics, all far away. Donna looked around for a bench in vain, and plopped down on the ground. Dawlish had already moved from her side, joining Moody as they cast spells around a large area.
“What’re you doing?” Donna called to them.
“Anti-Muggle spells, so they can’t see us. Keep them out of the way for a bit,” Dawlish muttered. Donna didn’t see any difference, and shrugged. After a round of magic, Dawlish joined Donna on the grass while Moody drifted around the glade, maintaining vigilance. Donna could see that Moody’s magical eye was constantly whizzing around in all directions, and she wondered how he didn’t get dizzy from it.
“Ah, there.” Moody indicated a direction off to Donna’s right, towards the path that ran through the park. The magical eye must have great range, as she couldn’t see anyone in that direction other than a couple of families and the odd jogger. But, with the object of the meeting approaching, she couldn’t sit still anymore. Getting up, she wandered as far away from where Moody was looking as she could get without leaving where she thought the magical protection circle ended.
“Don’t go farther than that,” Dawlish warned her.
“Yeah. I’m just walking. Cool it off, wand boy.” She was fidgeting again, and she clapped her hands down on her sides to still them.
It wasn’t long until she saw her. The small woman had bright pink hair and wore black leather. Her air of command made her far more menacing than Dawlish, at least in Donna’s poorly-informed opinion.
Dawlish rose from the grass to await the approaching woman, situating himself directly in front of Donna, about ten feet ahead. He murmured back to her, “Stay behind me. Don’t get any nearer.”
“Don’t be stupid. I want to see this at least.” She stood up and shifted to the side. Dawlish groaned, but didn’t move.
The pink-haired woman stopped about fifteen feet away in front of the two aurors. They all had their wands out, though held loosely at their sides, not up like weapons. She greeted them first, nodding at each. "Dawlish. Mad-eye."
Dawlish returned, "Tonks," while Moody merely grunted.
"I take it that's Donna." She smiled directly at the red-haired woman. "Wotcher."
"Hey," Donna replied in a neutral tone.
"Where is he? I told you to bring him." Dawlish's inflections clearly indicated that he outranked her and that her disobedience did not please him.
She was not cowed. "We need to talk about this first. He is not who you think he is."
Dawlish crossed his arms. "So you said in your message last night. If he's not Barty Crouch, then who is he?"
"He calls himself the Doctor. He's a Muggle who happens to look like Crouch. He's truly non-magical."
"See? That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Donna blurted. Dawlish turned to cast a silencing glance at Donna. Moody remained impassive, staring at Tonks.
"You're telling me that Barty Crouch, Jr. has some Muggle lookalike, or a squib twin brother that no one knew about? Preposterous." Dawlish shook his head, rolling his eyes.
Tonks was getting angry, balling her fists. She stepped foward, closer to Dawlish. "I didn't think you'd listen. I hoped, but I knew you wouldn't."
"You've been Imperiused. We need to take you to St. Mungo's."
Tonks barked a laugh, tossing her head back. "I haven't been Imperiused. Do you really think that he could have successfully done that to me, Lupin, and Dumbledore? Because we were all there, and we all know the truth."
Throwing his hands up, Dawlish turned and walked around a few steps. "Oh! That's where you hid him. Don't know why I didn't think of checking the school."
"You didn't answer my question."
Moody’s voice cut across the two of them. “Doesn’t matter. We have a duty to perform. ‘We’ includes you, Tonks. It’s time to hand him over. It’s time to end this. Now.” He was not bothering to conceal his contempt. Donna understood that Dawlish didn't believe that the two women and was simply trying to do his job, but Moody was unreasonable. There was something going on here. Possibly something personal between him and this Crouch guy?
Tonks strode over to stand directly in front of Moody, her stance defiant. “I know what happened that night at Hogwarts. I know that Fudge had Crouch killed, without trial, without even verifying his guilt. The man was under Veritaserum, Mad-Eye, and he would have told Fudge everything, if he’d just asked. I know that Crouch did terrible things to you, and terrible things in your name, but even you would have given him his due process, if only because we needed to know why.
“That’s all I’m asking here. I’ll bring the Doctor here, but I demand a guarantee that you won’t kill him until you have had an adequate chance to judge for yourself. He is not Barty Crouch.”
Moody stared at her, barely containing outrage at her presumption of telling him what he would or would not have done, but before he opened his mouth to speak, Dawlish cut in. “Tonks is right, Mad-Eye. We need to do this right. Be ready for any treachery, but he has the right to speak his piece.”
Mad-eye spun and stumped off to the edge of the clearing, fuming. Dawlish nodded to Tonks, “I think that’s a yes. Go get him. Appear right where you are now. Got it?”
“Course. Back in a mo’.” She turned in place and disappeared.
Donna discovered that she had been holding her breath and exhaled long and slow. Moody was angry and dangerous, and she didn’t trust him. She needed to watch him carefully, for the Doctor. She tried to calm herself down by watching the other patrons of the park going about their business. She saw how the passersby never even looked in their direction, as if they couldn’t even see the clearing. This magic was very powerful.
A couple of minutes later, a tall, brown-haired man in a shabby overcoat appeared, a little to the left of where Tonks had been standing. He nodded to Dawlish and called a somber greeting to Moody before moving off to his right. About ten seconds later, Tonks appeared with the Doctor, to whose arm she was holding tightly.
“Doctor!” Donna called. She tried to go to him, but Dawlish turned and blocked her, arms outstretched.
“No, stay back.”
“Donna! Stay back. Don’t come near me!” The Doctor held out a hand, palm forward, to halt her advance, and urgency was plain on his face.
“All right then.” She wrung her hands but didn’t move, and Dawlish turned back to the Doctor.
Moody, who had watched the arrival from the edge of clearing, advanced now. “Bartemius Crouch, Jr., I order you to submit. Surrender your wand. Any hostile action and I will end you right now.” His arm directly out in front of him, he strode forward until the tip of his wand was two feet from the Doctor, pointing at his sternum.
The Doctor held both his hands up, demonstrating they were empty. “I’m not Bartemius Crouch, Jr., no matter how much I may look like him. I’m the Doctor. I don’t have a wand or any other weapon.” Careful to keep his face and voice neutral, he looked at the auror, his gaze level.
“Coward!” Moody shuddered with rage, his free hand balled into a fist. “Always hiding behind lies and disguises. ‘I’m not Bartemius Crouch! It wasn’t me, Father!’” His tone mocked the Doctor’s tenor. “Can’t face it, eh? Can’t take responsibility for your own actions?”
“Just listen a moment! I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m really not who you think I am.” The Doctor was hunched forward, his hands by his ears, palms forward. “I’m just a Muggle who looks like him. Don’t take my word for it. Use your magic to figure it out.”
“I’ll use my magic, all right, if you don’t stop your babbling. Crucio!” The Doctor’s entire body jerked and he swayed on his feet, but he maintained direct eye contact with Moody, his brow furrowed with concentration.
Donna screamed, “Stop that!” She lunged forward, but Dawlish caught her, holding her back. “Make him stop!” she pleaded with the auror.
“Trained to resist that, are you? Then…” Eyes blazing with anger, Moody drew breath to cast another spell.
“No!” screamed Tonks. “You promised not to hurt him. You promised to listen to him.”
Lupin moved to position himself between the Doctor and Moody, but the Doctor waved him away. “No, don’t.”
“I promised no such thing,” Moody spat at her. “It’s time for him to die, for good this time, for all of his crimes. For what he did to me.”
“Mad-eye, stop this. Now.” Dawlish’s command above the rest of the voices, drawing Moody’s attention. Though Donna still struggled against him, his speech was even. “You know Crouch better than all of us. Look at him! Is he anything like that crazed Death Eater? Do you doubt Tonks, Remus, and Dumbledore? Think, man! If there’s a single doubt in your mind that this is Crouch, you need to stop.”
Mad-eye drew himself up to stand against his comrades. “I doubt nothing. This is the man who captured me, tortured me for nine months in my own trunk, who took my face and used it to lead Potter to the Dark Lord. I don’t know how he’s managed to charm all of you, but he cannot deceive me!” Staring the Doctor directly in the eyes, he raised his wand and opened his mouth to speak the Unforgiveable Curse. “Avada-”