Title:Cannon Fodder
Author: Amarylis Cemetery
Rated: PG13 for character death
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling and Scholastic/Bloomsbury etc.; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Feedback: Is very much appreciated.
Word count: 1360
Summary: (OC centric, character death, gen) Hufflepuff loyalty wasn't famous for nothing, after all.
Notes: Unbeta'ed. Honestly, I just felt like writing something based off an original character that didn't border on Mary Sue-ish. Though her name is, obviously, a reference to those abominations of nature. : )
Sometimes, Mary conceded, fighting in a war sucked.
Not that she'd ever just sit back and let things happen. She wasn't that type of person. Her housemates used to say she should've been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff. Really, she wasn't impulsive, but her morals wouldn't let her let something like this go.
Besides that, being on the good side was difficult at times. It was hard to sit in on meetings where people discuss the Best Ways to Not Die and How Potter Can Save Us All. It was hard listening to the reports of the injured and dead, whether they were muggle or not. It was even harder to notice sudden holes in their ranks where people she once knew stood.
She wondered if it might have been easier for her to stay in the muggle world as a child. She loved magic as much as any other magical person, but Mary didn't know if being in this world was the best choice. She realized, though, that she'd much rather know her enemy and be able to fight back, so as to protect herself and her family.
She sighed near inaudibly, catching only the attention of the girl to her right. Granger gave her a curious look and Mary just smiled back wanly. Granger gave a small smile in recognition before returning her attention to Shacklebolt.
Today, there were three spots open around the table. A man she'd known in school, Logan, was missing, as was one of the Weasley boys - Charlie, she thought it was.
Of course, Snape's spot was always open these days. No one dared to sit there, not when most were unsure of his true loyalties. Mary suspected that Shacklebolt and Potter, at least, knew, as they discouraged newbies from taking that chair, but maybe there was a curse - who knew for sure, anyway? She'd never been good at sensing magic, not like Potter and his sidekicks.
That wasn't fair of her, she knew, to lump Granger and the last Weasley boy as sidekicks, but she was allowed a little spite, right? Nothing against Weasley, but she really didn't like Granger. And because Granger was, actually, a genuinely good person, Mary wasn't even able to feel vindicated when the girl got things wrong. Granger didn't even know that Mary disliked her and, because guilt always bubbled up whenever Mary had a good opportunity to mock her, she kept it that way.
Granger was just too smart for her own good, Mary thought. She was just too knowledgeable and quick, and that really chafed Mary because she'd worked very hard to have her voice heard, when this young chit waltzed in and everyone paid attention to her.
To be honest, Mary knew that she was just a foot soldier - her opinions counted little, even if she did come up with some good ideas. And it wasn't because she was a Hufflepuff or Muggleborn - both Smith and Granger held a good amount of sway in the Order. It was because Mary was really nothing special. She was average, magically, and she had a hard time looking at the big picture. She was a detail-oriented person, but one who couldn't see the forest for the trees.
Mary didn't want to be some lauded war hero. That was Potter's job, Shacklebolt's, Tonks's, Granger's. She just wanted to be involved, wanted to make a difference. She wanted to be more than cannon fodder.
She bit back another sigh as the meeting concluded. Beside her, Granger quickly stood and made her way towards Potter and Weasley - probably going on another "secret mission." Those three had gone on many of them over the past six months and Mary wondered if they were ever going to make progress. Or maybe go back to school.
"Are you all right, Brown?"
Mary looked up to see Tonks giving her a courteously concerned look. Mary felt her lips twist into a vague smile.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Mary responded, lifting herself from her worn chair and heading towards the door. Tonks followed at her elbow.
"You look a bit troubled. Did something happen?"
Do we need to watch you? Are you becoming a liability? That was what she really meant. Probably because Logan's disappeared and no one seems to know where he is. Mary wondered what Tonks would have to do if Mary admitted to feeling depressed because of her uselessness. Maybe they'd send her out into the field, unprepared.
A useless soldier was a statistic, after all. A useless soldier with classified knowledge was a sacrifice.
When did she become this jaded, Mary asked herself, a bit disgusted.
She heard herself answer, "No. Don't worry about it; I just need some sleep." Maybe then she'll be a little less disillusioned, Mary hoped.
Then again, maybe then someone will call her by her first name. How unlikely.
With only a nod, Tonks left her alone, presumably to find Lupin. Mary stood awkwardly in the foyer for a moment.
She could remember a time when she had friends bidding her well at the end of each meeting, smiling at her after particularly disturbing recounts, clapping her on the shoulder as they left by floo. That was back when she was new, when she'd been brought in by a trusted Order member on recommendation. Now, she'd earned their trust - Hufflepuff loyalty wasn't famous for nothing, after all - but not their respect, not entirely.
She found herself missing Logan now more than ever, because he, at least, had been a friendly face, someone who knew who she was. Now, headstrong, little Mary Alice Brown was alone, all her friends and almost-friends missing or dead.
How very depressing.
A chill ran up her spine as she moved towards the fireplace. It was time to go back to work like a good little soldier, back to the Minister's office to spy and report any and all Ministry happenings she tripped upon.
Perhaps she'd find something truly important and the others would finally accept her as a valuable member.
Maybe she should've been in Slytherin instead.
Exhausted, Hermione trudged into the war room (or, really, the old parlor on the second floor that they'd first found the horcrux locket in) and took her seat next to Molly. But as the meeting started, Hermione noticed that the petite blonde with blue eyes that usually sat in the chair to her left was missing. She froze, guilt filling her veins as she realized what must have happened.
The woman - was it Maria? Martha? No, Mary - had been especially polite to her, even after Hermione had accidentally embarrassed her not long after she, Harry, and Ron started the horcrux hunt. (It had been over something silly, concerning potions ingredients uses, but she could clearly remember the unattractive shade of purple the woman turned and how Mary had apologized for making the mistake in her logic. Hermione had always felt bad about Mary's extreme reaction and tried to be more careful about her word choice around Brown.) Mary had always been quiet, only giving facts in her reports, always with only the most important details. The woman had been extremely concise and respectable, even if she'd been too withdrawn to notice the appraising looks sent her way.
Halfway through the meeting, Kingsley spoke softly, "We lost Mary Brown Monday night during the Death Eater attack on Dunmire. She was brave and dedicated to the cause - she died as she simultaneously called the Order and protected Muggles from thirteen Death Eaters. Because of her, we were able to capture the Carrows and Rookwood."
Hermione bowed her head in remembrance, only vaguely noticing as quite a few people did the same around her.
Later, when she had the time between searching for horcruxes, researching the Founders, and looking up obscure spells to help Harry, Hermione felt a little bad about not attending Mary's funeral. She felt she should have paid her last respects, but reasoned that she could always visit the grave once the war was over.
And though she never forgot the woman or her sacrifice, eventually, Mary Brown faded from her everyday memory.