PART 1: 1998
Act 1
"Theodore Nott?"
A thin boy in a checked suit looked up at the minister, and nodded.
"I am he."
Shacklebolt Kingsley sighed, and opened the first page of Nott, Theodore's portfolio. Next to him, Hermione Granger, who was working as an intern for the Secretary of Defense, chewed on her pencil apprehensively.
"Are you quite sure you can take notes for this case, Miss Granger?" Kingsley whispered kindly.
She nodded, and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, began to type onto a fresh sheet.
Theodore Nott (P 917)
Charge: Death Eater activates, attacks against Muggles, accused Death-Eater
It wasn't going to be a very happy hour.
He was alone on the platform. Night had fallen long ago, and darkness had infested the world around him.
Theodore felt lonelier than ever.
"Theodore Nott, you are charged with the attempted murder of three muggles, of being a member of the Death Eaters and taking part in their terrorist actions, and of infiltrating information from Hogwarts to the Dark Lord. The jury has sentenced you to 10 years of living in the muggle world. Your wand will be taken away from you, and all of your activities will be traced until your sentence is over. No magic will be allowed under any circumstances. In the event of the violation of any part or a whole of this punishment, you will serve the triple of your present sentence."
That terrifying speech still echoed in his ears. Oh, the cry for justice! If only they'd known how awful it had been. He'd had to watch silently as the one man he hated most tortured innocent people to their deaths, see the terror filled eyes of children when they looked up at him from the back of their mothers' skirts.
It had been cruel of him. He admitted that he should've had more courage. The audacity to say no to the orders of his father, of the Dark Lord. But he, like many others, had been driven to evil by the commands of those who he feared.
So many had died, so many had died innocent. They had been brave. But he had lived. Why, oh why had he been granted life when so many others that had been braver had perished?
"Are you Theodore Nott?"
The wizard looked around, startled, and his right hand went instinctively to his pocket, where he usually kept his wand.
Alas, he remembered with a jolt that it was somewhere in a vault in the Ministry or Gringotts perhaps, along with many other confiscated wands that belong to ex-Death Eaters that were facing the same punishment as himself.
The previously deserted station now held another visitor. A tall woman in her forties wearing a white long-sleeved shirt blouse and a dark green vest approached the seventeen-year-old.
"I am he." It was the second time he pronounced those words during that day.
The woman smiled. "I'm Thebazile Skinbone. You are to be staying with my sister for these next —er, few— years. The Ministry has informed me of everything, you have nothing to hold back. I trust that you are both hungry and sleepy after your long trip, and I have a warm soup prepared for you at my sister's home."
Theodore was dumbstruck with her matter-of-factness. It was odd, that someone in the muggle world could be so—so calm knowing that they were in front of a terrorist, an almost murderer.
"Er, yes, that would be nice, if it's not too much trouble for you," he replied uneasily, uncertain on how to act in front of this decided lady.
Arielle smiled at him, and extended her hand. The Slytherin looked at her confused.
"Oh, I'm a witch all right. We'll be apparating; I haven't bothered with the car. Mind you, this is the only time you'll be able to, I've gotten permission from the Minister, but otherwise you must remember that all magic is strictly prohibited. And don't try to apparate home, or run away, it won't be of any use because without a wand you can't so you'll probably splinch yourself, and then you'll be in a cold cell in Azkaban with nothing but the dementors for company."
And Theodore Nott experienced the last magic that he would for another decade of his life.
When he opened his eyes, Theodore found another pair staring curiously back at him. They were a bright green colour, and as immense and snooping as a cat's.
"Hello. Who are you?" asked their owner, a girl that was standing by Theodore's bed.
The wizard rubbed his eyes, confused. Then the previous day's events came dashing back to him. A grunt was all the girl got for a reply, and suddenly she disappeared out of the room as a shout of "Isabella! Get down here this instant!" echoed through the walls.
Theodore didn't have any time to recollect what had just happened and just lay dazed on the bed he had slept in. The young wizard looked around the room. It was pleasant and cozy, with beige walls, an empty bulletin board and a vacant bookshelf on one wall. There was a built-in wardrobe in another, and his suitcase was on top of a small wooden crate that stood at the foot of his bed.
Yawning, Theodore looked at the clock that had been conveniently placed on his bedside table.
8:37.
Why had he had to wake up so early? His muscles were still tired and his brain needed rest. Nonetheless, Theodore climbed out the blue comforter and opened his suitcase.
Two minutes later he was sitting in a wooden chair in the dining room.
A chestnut-haired woman was sitting next to him, spreading marmalade on a croissant. At the head of the table was a tall, muscular man wearing glasses, biting a piece of excessively buttered toast as he read the newspaper. Then there was Thebazile, who was sitting diagonally from Theodore, in front of the woman next to him, who the wizard guessed by now was her sister.
And across from Theodore sat the most bizarre 11-year-old girl he had ever seen.
She was the green-eyed intruder that had interrupted his sleep and so casually asked who he was, as if it was an everyday occurrence to find a complete stranger sleeping in your guest room.
She had blonde, almost silvery hair that was held back by a bronze diadem.
Theodore was instantly reminded of Luna Lovegood—but as the 11-year-old looked at him again with those eccentric eyes of hers, the witch dissapeared from his mind. There was a faint mocking tone to the girl's gaze, and the way she looked at him over her bowl of cereal made him think she knew something that he didn't.
No, she wasn't like the Lovegood girl at all.
The man at the head of the table cleared his throat.
"So, Theodore, did you sleep well?"
The boy nodded.
"Brilliantly. I do apologize for not introducing myself sooner but as I'm sure Ms. Skinbone has todl you, I arrived very late last night and was rather tired."
The man smiled and excused Theodore's apology with a wave of his head.
"No need to apologize, young man. I'm Victor Dewdrop, the woman next to you is my wife Arielle, you already know Thebazile, and the girl in front of you is my daughter, Isabella."
Theodore smiled at Isabella.
"So you're Theodore?" she asked.
He nodded.
"And why are you staying here?"
The wizard looked at Thebazile for help.
"Theodore is going to stay with you for a couple of years, Bella. His parents were friends of mine and now that they've passed away, he has to live with you until he can get a job and buy a house."
Theodore was amazed at the ease with which Thebazile had conjured her story, but he deducted that it was probably the "official" reason the Ministry had told her to say to everyone. He supposed Mr. and Mrs. Dewdrop also knew too from the encouraging smile Isabella's father was giving him.
"Off to the lake with you, young lady; you spend far too much time at home reading those wretched mystery novels!" ordered Arielle as she took the dishes to the kitchen.
Isabella sighed and rolled her eyes, but hopped of her seat and fled out of the room all the same. Her departure from the house was confirmed by the slam of the front door.
With his daughter gone and belly satisfied with breakfast, Victor Dewdrop put down his reading glasses and newspaper.
Suddenly, Theodore realized that the man had been reading the Daily Prophet.
Thebazile noticed his surprise.
"They know about magic. No, they're not wizards, it's only me. See, my father was a wizard, but my parents divorced and my mother remarried a muggle, and had Arielle. Arielle doesn't have any magical powers, but she knows about it all, and so does Victor. I think his second cousin is a squib, or something. Anyway, I know the Ministry made it seem that you would be living in a completely muggle home, but the thing is, how to explain a new arrival without arousing suspicion? So instead, they have found a few half-magical families such as ourselves to accommodate you and the other—er, sentencees."
The young Nott nodded in understanding. "May I?" he inquired, gesturing the newspaper.
Thebazile smiled.
"Just this once. It's only here because I brought it, and remember that you cannot contact the magical world. I'm leaving this afternoon. If you have any messages you want to send, I can do so with my owl, Desdemona."
He shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I prefer to isolate myself starting now. If not I'll just get too homesick."
Thebazile shrugged, and left the room, leaving Theodore with the newspaper.
He was dumstruck with the headlines.
Death Eaters out in the muggle community!
Thirteen death eaters were trialed yesterday in the courtrooms of the Ministry of magic. Reports say that nine of them will serve fifty years in Azkaban, while the remaning four have been sent to live with muggles for 10 years. "We want to give them another chance; show them who they have been fighting blindly against, and how muggles are really no different than us," stated the Minster for Magic, Shacklebolt Kingsley. The Wizard Council were all in favour for this action, excepting the prestigious Dolores Umbridge who stated that "these terrorists deserve more than this light punishment" and that "it seems unbelievable that so many respected Council members have agreed to this appalling sentence for the offenders." Nevertheless, think what you will, but know that in that muggle village next to your house, there may well be an ex-Death Eater, serving his decade, waiting for the freedom that will come to him in a few years. ~Rita Skeeter