If someone was asked whether pretending to be an orphan was wrong, they would, without a doubt, balk at such an outlandish idea. To the average person, the answer was quite simple (who would ever willingly want to pretend their parents were gone?) but Emery Fawley's life was far from simple.
Another scorcher here in New Orleans. I'm all for breaking records but hottest day of the year? No thanks. Anyone else feel like we're only the city experiencing this heatwave? My advice: stay in—indoors and c—crank up that AC. Enough about—about this crazy weather. It's time f—for some…
"Not again," groaned Emery, smacking the small radio as she strolled down the candy aisle. "I just bought these batteries."
Slipping the radio into her tattered knapsack, she grabbed a handful of candy bars and a new set of AA batteries before waiting at the end of a long line. The middle-aged woman in front of her, blatantly flaunting her wealth with several pieces of expensive jewelry and a purse that cost more than every item in the convenience store combined, tapped her heel impatiently on the tile floor. She muttered to herself ("It's been ten minutes. How much could she be buying?"), her shrewd eyes watching another woman pay while struggling to keep the three children running around her under control.
Glancing around the store, as if expecting another register to appear out of thin air, her eyes fell on Emery and she immediately scrunched her nose at the scrapes and bruises on her knees and her golden blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail, a few strands out of place. Emery stared back at the woman, daring her to speak her thoughts out loud.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. You're short three dollars," said the cashier, counting out the bills.
The woman, stopping her oldest son, only a year younger than Emery herself, from sneaking a candy bar into his pocket, blushed at the sound of loud groans among the line. As she dug through her purse, the other customers were content with throwing her judgmental stares and muttering about how they were running late on their busy schedules. Ten more people were standing behind her since Emery had first joined the line, all looking just as frustrated as the others. Taking a glimpse at the clock hanging on the wall behind the register, Emery stepped out of the line and placed the pack of batteries and a five dollar bill on the counter.
"That should cover the batteries too. You can keep the change," she said, giving back the candy bars.
Surprised by her act of kindness, he placed the items into plastics bags. "Emery, don't you dare," said the woman, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. The guilt of having a young girl pay for her groceries was written all over her face. "That's all you made this week. I'm sure I have the money in my purse."
"You need this stuff, Grace. I'll make more money today. Besides, these people look ready to tear you limb from limb."
Emery helped her carry the bags to the bright red minivan parked outside the store. In the middle of lifting Grace's youngest daughter into the backseat, she seized her oldest son's hand, which was an inch away from the bottom of her loose jersey.
"Do you want to lose that hand, Toby?" she hissed. Darting his eyes to his untied sneakers, he shook his head. "Then don't do that again. If you want some role models, try your parents instead of someone like Luke."
Grace wiped sweat from her brow as she closed the trunk. "Thank you again, Emery. I'll be pleased when this mess is over. Having to shop among the muggles is such a hassle and driving is even worse. I nearly drove into a hydrant the other day. I don't know why they enjoy these metal contraptions. You best be careful out there. If those snakes catch you…well, you know what happened to the Adams girl. Her parents wouldn't have been able to identify the body if they didn't find that Fitchburg Finches pin in her pocket."
"I'm too quick. Did you tell your husband about my radio theory? I get half the credit if he uses it to arrest any of them."
"You know he doesn't as much sway with the aurors. The word of a twelve year old girl isn't enough for Graves. He'll want more proof." She made sure that each of her children were seated properly in the car ("Mom, I'm not a little kid," whined Toby, struggling to unlock the seat belt) before searching through her purse for her keys. "Ah, here they are. Why don't you stop by for dinner tonight? Candy isn't a proper substitute for a home-cooked meal. It will be my way of repaying you."
As Grace drove off, almost colliding with another car after turning into the wrong lane, Emery hurried over to the bike rack near the convenience store and was relieved to see that the lock on her new bike had not been tampered with, though she caught two boys eyeing it while eating their ice cream. Blowing her entire savings on the bike was worth it just for their envious expressions alone. Unlocking the bike from the rack, she rode it nearly thirty minutes outside the city until she reached a wire fence that dwarfed her in size.
She hid her bike behind the tall bushes and opened her knapsack, retrieving a map that showed the entire forest. Only a small portion of the map was covered in red X's and blue circles. She traced her finger along the trail highlighted in black, broken up by creases in the parchment. Folding the map, she placed it back in her knapsack and crawled through a narrow hole at the bottom of the fence.
The harsh sun made the long trek even more unbearable and she shoved the entire candy bar in her mouth before it melted from the heat. Stopping in the middle of a small clearing, she opened her knapsack once more and pulled out her radio, shinguards, elbow pads, an old mining helmet (blackened by the grime except for a small patch of yellow in the back), blue and black biking gloves, and a coil of rope . She tied one end of the rope around the jagged boulder near the edge of a chasm inside the cave and the other end around her waist. The light from the helmet was not enough to see the bottom of the chasm.
Taking a deep breath, she began her descent down the chasm, the music from the radio cutting through the eerie silence. She winced through the pain of her hand being cut by the jagged rocks, knowing that the rope was unstable and one wrong move meant falling to her death. In her head, she counted each step, remembering how far she traveled on her last trip.
"305…306…307. Here we go," she said, finding a hole in the chasm.
Climbing through the manmade hole, she untied the rope from her waist and continued down the path. At the end of the tunnel was nothing but a wall of stone. Reaching into the side pocket of her knapsack, she threw a pale green potion at the wall and quickly ducked her head, her hands over her ears. The walls shook from the ensuing explosion, sending dark, billow smoke and debris everywhere.
The smoke soon cleared, revealing that the explosion had not only shattered the wall at the end of the path but that the wall had been hiding something else: a wooden chest. Inside the chest was a collection of jewels, from diamonds to emeralds, and a sterling silver ring with a turquoise gem in its center and runes etched around the edges. She poured the contents of the chest into her knapsack, sticking the ring into a separate pocket. As she climbed back up the chasm, admittedly much slower than before due to the added weight, she realized that the radio was switching songs every few seconds.
"Hey Twiggy."
Her head snapped up at the mocking voice. A dark-haired boy in his late teens was holding the radio, turning the dial back and forth.
"I told you not to call me that," she snarled, holding the strap of her knapsack tightly to her shoulder. "How did you know I was here?"
"Heard Luke sent you out for another job. I thought we could split the money. Obviously, it would 70/30 since I'm older and I need the money more than you. The troubles of being a teenage runaway…"
"Piss off, Damon. Ask Luke to give you some work yourself. Oh wait, last time you did that, you pocketed half of the stuff and tried to sell it to someone else for a better price. I can't imagine why he doesn't trust you. Give me back my radio."
Damon sniggered, keeping the radio in his hands. "Ooh, I'm shaking. Let me put this in perspective. Unlike you, I have a wand and just last month, the Trace was lifted off me. The aurors wouldn't come running if I cast a stinging hex. I could even cast an imperius curse to make you cut up your own pretty face. Wouldn't that be fun?"
She was just about to prove that even without magic, she was capable of hurting him when she heard the pop song cut off in the middle of the chorus.
"Got a last minute request," he said, his once lively voice now robotic. "The newest hit from The Hobgoblins"
Knowing it was a sign of trouble, she shrugged in defeat. "Fine, keep the radio. See if you can get some money for it because I'm not letting you take the money I've earned. Next time, do your own dirty work."
She walked straight past him, purposely knocking her shoulder against his chest (an act that amused him) and thinking of the quickest way out of the woods. Her thoughts were interrupted by her legs suddenly being pinned together. Damon apparated in front of her, twirling his wand between his fingers.
"What's the rush, Em? You look a little spooked. Is it the song? Yeah, I don't like it that much either." She struggled to break free from the leg-locker curse. "Or maybe it's because of that theory you were telling the auror's wife the other day…how they seem to cause trouble when this song plays on a muggle radio station. Spoiler alert, you're right."
"D—Damon, take off the hex. If they find us here, we're dead."
"Us? Oh no, I'm not in any danger. I made a deal with them. They won't bother me at all as long as I bring them cute little kiddies," he said, pinching her cheek. "Hurting innocent children is a much more effective tactic. I decided to give them a two for one special today. I already got one brat. His parents will definitely pay a hell of a lot of money for his safe return but I'm not sure if your mother will even care. I bet it'll be weeks before she notices that you've gone missing."
"Forget what I said. We can keep splitting the money between us. We'll split it 80/20 if you want. Just please—"
The last thing she saw was the flick of his wand and then nothing but complete darkness.
Emery awoke at a sharp sensation pressing into her thigh. She found herself inside an abandoned warehouse, one that she passed frequently on her way to the woods. All the windows had been covered with wooden boards and the only source of light was from a small crack in the ceiling. Her arms and legs were tied to a wooden chair, a trail of blood trickling down her left leg. Hearing a muffled sound beside her, she saw another person tied to a chair just like her, except there was a burlap sack over their head.
"Look who's awake." Damon was sitting on a wooden crate, holding a blood-stained knife. Her knapsack was lying beside his feet though he did not notice it shake briefly . "Did you have a nice nap? Don't be scared. You won't be here very long and I'll make sure Luke gets what you promised him. Want to say hi to your new friend?"
With a sharp tug, he removed the sack from the stranger's head, revealing a pale boy around her age with platinum blonde hair that was slicked back with copious amounts of gel. Judging by his choice of clothes (a black suit with matching slacks and dress shoes and a dark green button down shirt), she assumed that he was a member of the snooty squad, her name for the wealthy wizarding families that loved to flaunt their money and power. He was mostly unharmed, except for a shallow cut running across his left cheek. His grey eyes darted around the building in a panic before resting on the only other people in the room.
"Untie me this instant. My parents will have every auror in this city searching for me," he hissed, sneering at the knife-wielding Damon. Hearing him threaten the much older teen, Emery wished that she was able to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Are you deaf, you filthy muggle? When my father hears about this—"
"I'm counting on that, kid. Oh and uh not a muggle, just a fellow wizard trying to survive in this crazy world. You two sit tight."
Tucking the knife into the back of his jeans, he hopped off of the crate. A chill ran down her spine when he patted her cheek a little too roughly.
"Don't worry, Em. I'm sure it'll be quick and painless. You should be a little happier. Remember what you told me when we first met? Now I'm helping you get what you always wanted. Maybe Daddy Dearest will be waiting for you with open arms."
"If I find a way out of here, you'll regret it."
With a quiet chuckle, he left the room. The boy, proving to be the worst companion during a kidnapping with all his whining, struggled to untie the ropes around his wrists. All that he managed to do was make an irritating screeching noise with his chair as he hopped up and down.
"Hey, stop that. If you keep making noise, they'll just kill us sooner so no one finds their hiding spot."
"The aurors will find me first. I'm sure they're on their way now, thanks to my father. He's Lucius Malfoy. He'd have every auror at his beck and call with a snap of his fingers."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
He looked at her like she grew a second head. "Malfoy."
"Heard you the first time, still doesn't ring a bell and on the list of things on my head, whatever that means is at the very bottom"
As he listed the so-called accomplishments of his ancestors, supposedly one of the most well-known pureblood families in the wizarding world, she spotted a sterling silver ring on his left hand, with snakes engraved on either side of the gaudy stone.
"Shut up. I don't care if your ancestors invented pixy stix," she said, scooting her chair closer to his. ("Pixy what?" he asked, having no knowledge of the muggle candy) "I need your ring."
"It's a family heirloom. Why would I give it to a mudblood?" She threw him a disgusted glare, never hearing that word from a person's own mouth. "You obviously are one if you don't know my family."
"Listen, rat face, I happen to be a pureblood. Your family must not be that great if they taught you a word like that. Only people without class say it. Whether you're willing or not, I'm taking that ring. It might be our only shot before the no-maj dump our bodies in the middle of some street."
Malfoy protested, insisting that the aurors were on their way, until she stomped on his foot, causing him to groan in pain. She managed to slip the ring from his finger and let out a low whistle. Her knapsack shook once more, followed by a high-pitched squeak.
"You're not really a pureblood, are you?" He eyed her oversized jersey that stopped just over the bottom of her shorts, the emblem for the Irish national quidditch team on the back, with disdain. "What's your name? I know all the purebloods and you've got an accent like mine, which means you're not from one of the American families. What's wrong with your left eye?"
"None of your business. Would you shut up? I'm trying to save our lives." She tapped the ring against the chair. "Sniffles."
"I don't need help from a girl…especially not one like you," he muttered.
Emery raised an eyebrow at him. "Like m—" She was distracted by a tiny niffler rolling out from her knapsack. "Sniffles, come here. I've got a treat."
The niffler scurried towards her as she showed it the shiny ring. "Why do you have a niffler in your bag? Are you m—if that pest even touches my ring, my father will have you arrested and expelled from the pathetic excuse for a school you attend here."
"Are you always such a charmer? Your plan might hit a snag since I don't go to school. Now shut up so I can get us out of here before Damon comes back with his new no-maj friends."
Sniffles crawled onto her lap and over her shoulder in search of the ring. She purposely held it underneath the ropes while keeping an eye on the closed door. In the midst of tearing at the ropes with his sharp nails, Sniffles let out a series of sneezes.
"You keep saying that word. What is it?"
"For someone who acts like he's king of the purebloods, you really don't know your history, do you? No-maj is what muggles used to be called in North America. It stopped a few decades ago when wizards decided that its meaning was a little too obvious. Five years ago, the word started being tossed around again but instead of referring to muggles, the squibs took the name for themselves as a symbol of honor."
Malfoy quietly sniggered. "We're being held captive by squibs. They're harmless. Honestly, my father says we should just call them muggles. If your little rat chews through these ropes, I can get my wand and tie them up. I'm top of my class at Hogwarts so I know a few advanced spells." I rolled my eyes at his arrogance. "Technically, I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school but my father will handle it with your Ministry. I was saving my own life."
"If you're top of the class, everyone else must be dumber than a box of rocks. It doesn't matter that they don't have magic. It didn't happen overnight. Centuries of being demeaned and cast aside...one day, it was just too much. They've been planning this for a long time. The aurors would've arrested all of them years ago if it were as simple as waving their wands."
Emery remembered the first time she heard of the no-maj over her radio. It was a hot summer's day in July, a couple days after her seventh birthday, and she was lying on her roof while listening to The Weird Sisters on her radio. In the middle of the chorus, the song was cut off and replaced with a broadcast from the auror department. Several prominent members of the magical congress had been found dead inside their offices, all tied up and gagged with their throats slit. The same message had been written on the walls: Justice for all. A week after that first incident, messages were sent straight to the president's office, threatening the lives of every wizard, pureblood, halfblood, or muggleborn, in North America.
Ten attacks later, all happening within the same week, the aurors were clueless about the group's identity and their method of attack, none of them involving magic, left them even more stumped. Grace's husband managed to prevent an attack while he was out on another case and when he brought the man in for questioning, the aurors discovered the reason for the group's strange methods: they were all squibs. The young man, just turned twenty six, was the son of a former president, disowned for his lack of magic at the age of seventeen, and instead of a profitable career in the wizarding world, he was nothing more than an accountant.
He revealed that the group, proudly calling themselves no-maj ("We're not ashamed of it, no matter how much you want us to be," one source quoted him saying in a local newspaper), were tired of being considered lesser beings than wizards. Their plan was to teach the wizarding world a lesson: that even without magic, they were a force to be reckoned with and deserved to be treated as equals. It was a worthy case with questionable methods, considering their most popular targets were children. Their threats were only taken seriously after the current president's niece was found sprawled out on the floor shortly before a meeting in her office.
Even with magic, the aurors had trouble locating any members of the group, which made them seem incompetent. Through their captured informant, they learned that the no-maj were not just experts at covering their tracks, ironically learning such skills from muggles, but they also had wizard allies who used their own magic to hide their base of operations.
Once Sniffles managed to chew through the ropes around her wrists, she untied her legs. She stopped Sniffles' eager attempts at taking the ring as she opened the side pocket of her knapsack, retrieving a compact mirror.
"I'm still tied up and you're checking your hair?"
"What part of shut up don't you understand?" she asked, dismissing Malfoy's whining with a wave of her hand. "Give me a minute. Alex."
Her reflection in the mirror was replaced with the image of a blonde, well-dressed man in his early thirties leaning back in his chair as he flipped through a folder. When she said his name once more, the man glanced around the office until his eyes fell on her.
"Emery?" He lowered his voice as two other men passed by his desk. "I told you this mirror was only for emergencies. If this is about Damon and his friends giving you trouble, you know I can't just arrest them unless I have a probable cause."
"I'm about to give you one. I was out in the woods…playing and we ran into each other. He knocked me out with a spell and I woke up in this abandoned warehouse with another kid. He keeps saying his name's Malfoy. I guess he's important or something."
"Draco Malfoy?" he asked, surprised. "He was here with his parents just a few hours ago for some business with President Warren. The mother came rushing in here in a panic, saying that he was kidnapped right outside the building. You're telling me Damon took him?"
"He's helping the no-maj. I think he's how they've been getting to all the other kids but I don't know exactly where I am."
Alex practically jumped out of his chair, gripping his wand. "I need one of you to cast a spell and we'll use the Trace to find your location. Can you do that for me?"
As he vanished from the mirror, she tucked it into her back pocket and began loosening Malfoy's ropes.
"Where's your wand?" she asked, untying the first knot.
"Why? Going to give that to your rabid pet as well? Hurry up."
"I'm saving your butt. The aurors are on their way but they can't find us. If we cast a spell, they can use the Trace and then you'll be back with mommy and daddy, Richie Rich. Now where is it?"
"Can't you use yours?" She reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a thin wand. "Hey! Give it back!"
Before she could cast any spells, she heard a door slam shut, followed by loud footsteps. She returned to her chair and hid Sniffles under her shirt ("Don't move") and the wand in her pocket. When Damon entered the room, all he saw was both of them still tied to their chairs though Emery was merely pretending by keeping her hands behind her back. From all the articles she read about the no-maj and their attacks, she expected them to look like hardened criminals but they were just ordinary people, ones she could have passed by on the sidewalk. She even recognized one of the men, tall, lanky, and balding, as the owner of a popular local bar and grill.
"As promised, Mitch," Damon told the man. "I know they're a little younger than usual but you want to be front page news, don't you? Who better than the son of one of the oldest pureblood families and a cute little girl?"
"Start with the boy. Let's send a finger to his father…see how much he's willing to pay."
"If you lay a hand on me, my father will make sure you never see the light of day, you filthy squib," threatened Malfoy as a girl, not much older than Damon, walked towards him clutching a knife. "He has more power than you could imagine."
The girl untied him from the chair but kept him pinned down with her elbow. His arrogance swiftly turned to fear as she grabbed one of his hands, the knife pressing lightly against his thumb. Instead of doling out threats, he pleaded with Mitch to release him in exchange for a hefty reward.
"Just name your price. I can pay it." He winced from the knife digging into his skin. "How much do you want?"
"This isn't about money, boy. It's about justice."
"Wait!" Emery's fingers curled around the end of the wand. "P—please don't do this. It won't change anything. You say you want to be treated better but if you do this, you're no better than the wizards who treat you badly. His parents did nothing to you. Don't take him away from them. You can kill me instead. Just let him go."
Malfoy's face was a mix of shock and confusion. The girl lowered the knife when Mitch nodded his head ever so slightly. He stepped away from the group and bent down in front of Emery.
"Aren't you brave? You're willing to spare his parents that grief but what about yours? How would they feel if the aurors came to their door to tell them that their little girl was gone, just when her life was beginning?"
"You could gut me like a fish and my mother wouldn't care so let him go and get on with it."
"I know you from my restaurant. You sit alone at a corner booth at lunch a few times a week while your mother wastes hours at the bar. She's quite something. She never leaves with the same man twice and can barely remember the days of the week but when it comes to people like me, she treats us like filth." He tapped her knee. "She doesn't treat you much better, does she? You're old enough to go to Ilvermorny but she keeps you at home. You're stuck with her day after day while your peers are learning magic. It's ironic. In a way, she's got her own squib. Does she even know you're missing right now?"
"Probably not but like I said, she doesn't care."
"That's sad."
"A little but she knows I can handle myself. I might not be at some fancy school but it doesn't make me any less of a witch." Mitch raised his hand when she pointed the wand between his eyes, stopping Damon and the rest of the squibs from advancing on her. "It's over."
"Is that so?" he said with a chuckle. "What spells could you possibly know to take us all down?"
"I only need one. Lumos."
A bright, blinding light emanated from the wand tip. Without any hesitation, she grabbed Malfoy's sleeve and dashed towards the open door, Sniffles tucked under her arm. They had barely made it halfway across the room when a wall of red-hot flames sprung up from the concrete floor. As the flames vanished, Damon took their place, his wand raised.
"Good try, kiddies, but not good enough. Back to your chairs. I'll only ask nicely once."
Emery steeled herself despite the fact that her heart was beating out of her chest and looked directly into his cold, dark brown eyes. "Get out of our way, Damon."
"I bet you think you're being really heroic right now but there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity. I've got a wand and five years on you. What do you got? A runt of the litter niffler, a whiny rich boy who's never been in a real duel, and then there's you…who doesn't even have her own wand. Just a smart mouth and—"
He was silenced by her knee connecting with his groin. Loud cracking sounds echoed throughout the room and seconds later, Alex and a dozen other aurors apparated inside, wasting no time in arresting the squibs. Alex lifted a frantic Damon up from the floor and confiscated his wand before handing him off to another auror. Fighting against the auror's strong grip, he insisted that he was a hostage like Malfoy and Emery, nothing more than an innocent victim, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
"You can tell us all about it during questioning, Damon," said Alex. His hardened expression fell as he turned towards the two children. "Let's get you two to the station. I'm sure your parents will be relieved to hear you're safe, Draco."
Placing a hand on both of their shoulders, he apparated them to the local auror office. Emery kept an eye out for Damon, hoping that they were not alone in the same room. If the aurors decided to arrest him for conspiring with the squibs, he would have no problem with adding a murder charge to the list. Alex fixed the cut on her leg with a flick of his wand and instructed them to sit on the bench near the front door.
"That's my seat," she said as Malfoy, still shaken from their near death experience, sat on the end of the bench.
He scoffed. "You don't own the bench."
"Actually, I do." She shoved him aside and pointed to the initials E.F. carved into the wooden seat. "Did that two years ago. This is the part where they make us wait until our parents show up. Least we're not the ones being arrested. Then the head auror, Graves, would be in here, shaking his head like a disappointed father while he gives us a stern lecture. It's the usual stuff. This is your final warning, blah, blah, blah…"
"How do you know all that?" he asked, surprised by her intricate knowledge.
"Heard that speech so much that I could probably give it to myself by now," she said with pride, crossing her legs on top of the armrest. "Alex makes it bearable though. If you behave until Graves talks to you, he gives you candy. Last time, it was sugar mice. Hope it doesn't take too long."
"Sorry, did being kidnapped cut into your busy schedule? What could you possibly have to do?"
The door to the head auror's office swung open and several aurors stepped out, including Alex and a middle-aged man, who was even taller than him, with weather-beaten skin, thick stubble, a burly build, and a scar that started under his left eye and ended at the corner of his upper lip. Alex walked towards the bench with the older man and handed over her knapsack.
"I apologize for what you've been through, lad. Rest assured, it won't happen again. Auror Barnes already briefed me on the warehouse where you were found and the rest of my men are questioning your kidnappers. I'm Herbert Graves, head auror." Malfoy winced as they shook hands, likely feeling the rough calluses on his fingers. "I want you to know that your safety is our number one priority. Those men are under lock and key until the president decides on a suitable punishment. They won't come near you again."
"Do I get a handshake too, Herbie?"
Graves shut his eyes for a moment then peered down at Emery. "Should I request a bed to be placed in one of the spare offices? I'm starting to think this is your second home. Care to explain why you used underage magic when you very well know that it is illegal?"
"Why do you always flex your muscles around Mrs. O'Brien when she delivers files and then purposely knock over your pen for her to pick up?"
"Fawley," he hissed in anger, his reddening cheeks making him look like an overgrown tomato.
She heard Malfoy whisper her last name but brushed it off, innocently shrugging her shoulders. "Sorry. I thought we were asking each other stupid questions. If I didn't use magic, how were you going to find us? You haven't had the best track record over the past five years."
"I don't have the time or the patience to deal with you." He smoothed the front of his suit. "Barnes, I'll be questioning the ringleader myself. Stay with them until their parents arrive."
Heading to the interrogation rooms, he mumbled under his breath. Some bits she overheard were 'insolent child', 'needs a leash', and 'she'll make my hair turn gray'. She placed Sniffles back inside her knapsack and slung it over her shoulder.
"Hey, no leaving until your parents get here," said Alex as she stood up from the bench. "Graves has a lot of questions for both of you."
"Really, Alex? Then you might actually have to get that bed. I'll fill her in on what happened but she probably doesn't even realize that I've been gone all day." He heaved a sigh at that sad truth. "Like I said, I was out in the woods when Damon grabbed me. That's all you need to know. Don't make me late today of all days."
Alex nodded towards the door. "Go on. I found your bike by the woods and chained it up outside. I'll handle Barnes. This is the last time, Emery."
"Sure but you uh said that the last ten times."
Emery left Malfoy's ring on the bench and hurried out of the office, dodging a voluptuous woman carrying a stack of folders…
~Draco~
Fawley.
When the head auror had angrily whispered that name, Draco thought he heard him wrong. Long before he attended Hogwarts, his mother had taught him all about his ancestry and the names of every pureblood family, even the ones considered blood traitors. He remembered that name, Fawley, and how his mother got choked up when explaining that the family line was wiped out during the wizarding war in Britain. The last remaining member had been a death eater and was killed during a crucial mission, one that could have turned the war in the Dark Lord's favor.
Though he tried to convince himself that he misheard the auror, he wondered if his mother was wrong about the fate of the Fawley family. It would not be that farfetched, considering the girl had an accent like his despite living in the states, her own claims of being a pureblood, and her initials carved into the bench.
It felt like he had spent an eternity inside the auror office, waiting for his parents. He glanced down at his ring, hoping that niffler had not left any marks. His ears perked up at the sound of his mother's voice and in a split second, the door burst open and she held him in a tight embrace. He could not understand a single word of her frantic rambling but was just relieved to be with her and not those squibs. As she kissed every inch of his face, in between checking him for any injuries, his father rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Draco, we were worried sick. This is all my fault. I turned my back for one minute and—oh, if they hadn't found you, who knows if I'd ever see you again?"
"It wasn't your fault, mother. I'm fine, I promise," he insisted, not wanting her to blame herself for his kidnapping.
His father shook hands with both the head auror Graves and Barnes. "I cannot thank you enough, gentlemen. If there is anything you need, I will ensure that you get it by any means necessary."
"We were just doing our jobs, Mr. Malfoy," said Barnes. "Draco wasn't seriously harmed during the encounter. He had a small cut on his finger but nothing worse than getting a paper cut. He's lucky that he wasn't alone. Emery was a big help to us in finding that no-maj hideout."
Graves frowned at the mention of the girl, clearly wanting all the credit. "She was the other child taken by the no-maj," he explained.
Draco was glad that his face was buried in his mother's shoulder, not wanting anyone to see him blush or to make eye contact with his father. He was embarrassed that he had to rely on a girl for help and hoped to tell his own version of his escape once he and his parents were back home, one where he had done all the work.
His face went from beet red to chalk white when his mother asked about the girl's whereabouts. She wanted to properly thank her for helping to rescue him.
"I'm afraid she already left. Her mother picked her up a few minutes before you got here," said Barnes, only he and Draco aware that it was a lie.
"Could we get an address? I want to thank her properly for protecting my baby boy."
He glanced at his watch. "I doubt she's home right now but you could check in Laveau Lane. I'm sure she's still there. Draco's free to go as soon as he just answers a few questions."
Another ten minutes was spent in the office being questioned by Barnes and Graves. Draco had to relive the first moments of his kidnapping: how he had been waiting for his father to finish up his meeting with President Warren and his mother was busy speaking with an old acquaintance when Damon had come up to him with a flyer for the upcoming quidditch match between the British national team and the American national team.
Damon, posing as the son of one of the American players, claimed that both teams were staying at a nearby hotel and offered the chance to meet them for a small fee of five dragots, the currency in the states. Draco, caught up in his excitement, had not even thought it was a ruse until Damon led him into the alley next to the hotel instead of the front door. He remembered being hit on the back of the head and then waking up in the abandoned warehouse, with the girl beside him.
After he told the aurors everything he knew, he was finally able to leave but wished it was to go home instead of in search of the girl. His mother was adamant about thanking her in person, even wanting to take her out for a nice dinner.
"Narcissa, if we can't find this girl within the hour, we are going home. Draco's been through quite enough, don't you agree?" his father said, his lip curling at a passing woman who looked like she had not bathed in days.
"Of course. It's only right that we thank her, Lucius. If she hadn't gotten into contact with the aurors, Draco could've been…as that auror said, he's lucky that she was there."
"Father, I didn't really need her help," whispered Draco. "I just wasn't able to reach my wand. If she didn't have that niffler with her, she wouldn't have gotten free either. Like you always say, Malfoys save themselves and I could've as well. I'm sorry if I disappointed you."
His father's silence was enough of an answer. He was about to convince his mother to abandon her hopes of finding a single girl in a crowded marketplace when he spotted a familiar quidditch jersey. His first instinct was to ignore it but seeing the determination in his mother's eyes, he understood that she was the one who needed this, not him.
"Mother, I think I just saw her. This way," he said, leading her through the crowd.
~Emery~
Emery squeezed past a group of tourists taking pictures of a frog statue. The sign on the wall behind the statue read Here lies Monsieur Vert Grenouille, a handsome wizard who was tragically cursed by Madam Laveau for his thievery. First turned into a frog and then a statue. Legend has it that her magic still remains on the statue and a single touch will cause the unfortunate witch or wizard to turn into a frog themselves within days.
She shook her head at a trio of teenage girls daring each other to touch the statue. It was nothing more than an elaborate prank, the statue created by a shop owner in his spare time, and an inside joke among the locals. Covering her face to avoid the flash of the cameras, she walked towards an antiques shop, the windows covered by wooden boards and a broken closed sign hanging on the door.
"Wait!"
Malfoy, the last person she ever expected to see again, was walking towards her. He sneered at a boy who whined that he stepped on his stuffed dragon.
"My mother's been looking for you. Your auror friend mentioned that you…were part of the reason that we were rescued. Not that I needed your help but I guess you did sort of help. She wants to thank you and maybe take you out to dinner."
"Pass. See you never."
"Wait." She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. "My mother was scared out of her mind that the aurors would never find me or that they would and I'd be dead. She really appreciates what you did. It's just one dinner. It's for her, not me."
"I don't do that."
"You don't eat dinner?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Not most nights, no. You're already making me late so just tell your mommy that you couldn't find me. By tomorrow, I'm sure she'll forget all about it because of some fancy party or a shopping spree. Bye."
Emery opened the door to the antiques shop and rang the dusty bell at the counter three times. To her frustration, Malfoy had followed her inside.
"Do rich people not understand what bye means? It means the conversation is over. Walk away."
"Not until you say yes. I already told you that I'm doing this for my mother. I want her to be happy and you coming to one dinner with us will do that. Why are you in here anyway? Didn't you see the sign? It's closed."
"Took you long enough," she heard. "You're usually quicker."
A young man in his early twenties, dressed in a white muscle tee, jeans, and leather jacket, stepped out of the back room. Flicking open a lighter, he used it to light the cigarette between his teeth, the flame illuminating his pale blue eyes. He placed the lighter back in his pocket.
"Getting kidnapped slowed me down a little, Luke."
"Heard about that. Did they find it in your bag?"
"I'm touched by your compassion but no, they never searched my bag."
Luke noticed a confused Malfoy standing behind her and grinned. "Didn't realize you got a partner…or is this a boyfriend? Are you finally on the market? I've had some interested customers for a while."
"Neither to both and you're a pig. He's no one. Are we making a deal or not?" She opened the side pocket of her knapsack and handed him the ring. "Maybe it's worth a little more since I almost died for it?"
After inspecting the ring for a few minutes, he placed it inside a tin box with other small trinkets. Her heart sank when he handed her two dragots.
"Nice work. I'll find you when I've got another job."
"When you were offering this one, you said it was worth 200 dragots."
"See, that's the beauty of having a kid do my dirty work," he said, hiding the box behind the counter. "I don't have to pay you as much. Hell, you're lucky I pay you anything, Em, but if you're looking to score more money, I've got those interested customers. They usually set the bar at fourteen but with that accent, I'm sure they'll make an exception. If you're scared about the pain, I've got some potions that'll numb it."
Her knuckles turned white as her fingers curled around the coins. "Bite me."
"You'll change your mind." She resisted every urge to whack him across the face with the crystal ball on the counter and stormed towards the door. "Tell you what, we'll talk about it more when I stop by your house tonight. When you're making breakfast tomorrow, remember that I like my eggs scrambled."
The door handle trembled in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she left the shop, Malfoy still trailing behind her. She headed towards the restaurant just around the corner, still holding onto the two measly dragots.
"What did you give him? I recognized some of the objects in his shop. I've seen them before in Borgin and Burke's. Was it dark magic?"
"Don't know, don't care," she said, barely able to contain her anger. "I just find stuff that Luke wants and he pays me...a lot less than he does the others. That ring should've been worth enough at least a month's stay at a hotel but he knows that. It's why he pays me so little. He knows that if I leave, he won't get the half things he wants. I'm the only one small enough to fit into the places where they're hidden."
"Leave? Are you trying to run away?" The way he said 'run away', it was like she was speaking another language. "Where?"
"Again, don't know, don't care. Can you just go away? The last person I want to be around is someone who probably wipes their butt with golden toilet paper."
"That doesn't even exist," he countered, her sarcasm flying right over his head. "And I'm not leaving until you agree to this dinner."
Climbing on top of a stool, she waved her hand in an attempt to get the attention of the frazzled woman behind the counter who moved with the speed of a cheetah . The restaurant was more crowded than usual, with the radios on every table broadcasting the Ireland vs US quidditch match. As she served butterbeer to three teenage boys gathered around one of the radios, their faces painted the colors of the US team, she spotted Emery's tiny arm waving behind their heads.
"What can I get you kids?" she asked, flashing a kind smile despite looking like she was seconds from passing out on the grimy floor.
"Just a strawberry lemonade and a side of onion rings, please."
"That'll be four dragots, sweetheart."
Emery's stomach growled like an angry dragon. "Four? Last week, that was only two dragots."
"Manager raised the prices. Business has been bad lately with all this no-maj craziness and having one of those poor kids taken just outside of here hasn't helped much either. I'd give it to you for just two but he's a stickler for the rules and I'd lose my job."
"It's okay. I have the money."
She opened the other side pocket of her knapsack to grab her money pouch. It was her secret stash, filled with money from retrieving things for Luke and babysitting Grace and Alex's kids. The woman offered to give her a few minutes while she helped the other customers.
"You know, you wouldn't need to settle for that pathetic excuse for a meal if you went out to dinner with me and my parents," suggested Malfoy, the match commentary distracting him.
"How many times do I have to tell you no? It's not like you want me at this dinner either. Leave me alone before I snatch a wand from one of these drunken idiots and turn you into a toad."
Emery tensed up at the sound of a high-pitched giggle. Her eyes flickered to the end of the bar where a men dressed in a similar crisp suits were downing shots of firewhiskey. The small circle broke apart as one man walked away, still holding his shot glass and his other arm snaked around a woman's waist. She was in her late thirties and looked as if she jumped off the cover of a magazine with her bronzed skin, long ebony hair that ended in soft curls, and sparkling chestnut brown eyes. The sleeve of her dress had fallen partially off her shoulder but she was more concerned with keeping the firewhiskey in her glass.
In the middle of drinking the shot, she noticed Emery sitting on the stool. "Emmie, sweetie, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"It's five o'clock."
"Is it? It feels like I've been here for much longer." She gazed up adoringly at the man. "This is Preston, a new friend of mine. He happens to be a very accomplished businessman. He works with…oh, what was it again, darling?"
"Potions. I've got apothecaries all over the world. When Reina told me she had a daughter, I didn't believe it at first. How could someone so young have a child?"
Emery held back a groan at that overused line. Preston was a carbon copy of the men her mother usually wrapped around her finger: handsome, wealthy, and two-faced. Around her mother, they were sweet and doting, giving her and Emery anything they desired, but when her mother was away, even for a minute, they treated Emery like a dog in her own house.
Her mother giggled, lightly patting his arm. "Preston, stop it. You're making me blush. Why don't you get us another round of drinks? It's on me tonight." She handed him a small pouch that was filled to the brim with dragots. "Emmie, have you made a friend? It's rather rude not to introduce us."
"Where did you get that?"
"Wh—the money? Luke told me you were hiding it in your bag. The Barnes pay you quite a lot to watch their children, don't they? Don't get upset. What does a twelve year old need with all that money? Now introduce me to your new friend. My, you look familiar. I just can't place it." She clutched her chest when Sniffles climbed onto Emery's shoulder. "How many times have I told you to get rid of that little rat? It's not a pet. I want it gone before I get home."
"Then I guess I have at least another day, depending on how long this one lasts," Emery muttered.
Preston was taken aback by her sharp tongue. Emery was sure that her mother would have slapped her across the face for her remark, if she was not tipsy and out in public. Instead, she conjured up a few fake tears and squeezed Preston's arm.
"I'm so sorry, Preston. I've taught her much better manners than that but you know how children can be at times. They never appreciate what we do for them until they're much older. Emery, apologize this instant."
"Draco? Here you are," she heard, saving her from making any apologies.
A well-dressed couple around her mother's age, Malfoy looking like a miniature version of the man, had just entered the restaurant. Emery assumed that they were his parents but was distracted by her mother's strange reaction. Her mother seemed to forget all about Emery's rudeness and was now attempting to hide behind Preston.
"I told you not to stray too far." She smiled at Emery beside him. "You must be Emery. It's wonderful to meet you, dear. I'm Narcissa Malfoy and this is my husband Lucius. We're Draco's parents."
Emery stiffened as Mrs. Malfoy's arms wrapped around her small frame. She had received hugs from her mother before but this time, it felt different. Her mother usually hugged her to keep up appearances of the doting single mother and Emery always knew it was for show, never genuine. She was unsure if it would be weird to hug back, even if she just met the woman.
"The aurors said you'd be here and I'm ever so glad we found you. We cannot thank you enough for all you did. You helped save my little boy." Draco stared down at his polished shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Is your mother around? We'd love to have her over for dinner as well. Our treat, of course."
As Mrs. Malfoy loosened her embrace, she caught sight of Preston and her mother. Mr. Malfoy, who was eyeing Emery with curiosity, soon followed her gaze and he nearly dropped his snake-headed cane.
"Reina? Oh my—we thought you were dead," said Mrs. Malfoy, looking at her mother as if she was a ghost. "The aurors found your body, along with—is this your daughter?"
It was her mother's turn to receive a hug and though she returned it, Emery noticed that she did not share Mrs. Malfoy's joy or relief. For a moment, she glanced uneasily at Mr. Malfoy before feigning a smile.
"Narcissa, this is…a surprise. Who would've thought we'd ever meet again, in New Orleans of all places?"
"Fate works in mysterious ways, I suppose. What coincidence that both of our children go through such a horrible ordeal together. If your daughter hadn't been quick on her feet, they could've ended up as the no-maj's latest victims." Her mother hid her cluelessness well, acting as if she was well aware of Emery's kidnapping. "You must come to dinner now. Your husband is free to join us."
"Oh, he's not my—Preston is merely a friend and we're much too busy. Perhaps another night."
"Surely you're not too busy to catch up with old friends, Reina," said Mr. Malfoy, speaking for the first time.
Emery detected a hint of tension between them. "Of course not," her mother agreed, holding onto Preston like a python squeezing its prey. "Dinner would be lovely, Lucius. Emery will need a moment to get changed. We can meet you there."
"Oh, why run all the way home? A quick flick of your wand and she'll be all set. I've already made the reservations."
The journey to the restaurant was filled with an awkward silence. Mrs. Malfoy was eager to discuss her mother's sudden return among the living, believing her to be dead for the past twelve years, but her mother was reluctant to discuss her past in front of a potential suitor. Judging by Preston's own curiosity, he knew nothing beyond what she told him herself. He was rather starstruck in the presence of Mr. Malfoy, proving that Malfoy was telling the truth about his family's importance. Along the way, her mother changed her outfit to something more suitable for the restaurant: a pale blue, knee-length dress and matching flats.
Emery had rarely been inside such a fancy restaurant, especially as an actual customer. The only other times were when she and a few other children sneaked inside to grab food from the kitchens. She was seated beside Malfoy and across from her mother and she found herself torn between drooling over all the food and digging into her mother's relationship with the Malfoys. Luckily, the struggle was short-lived as Mrs. Malfoy was more than willing to discuss her mother's past.
"She was one of the top students at Hogwarts in our year, you know," she told an intrigued Preston. "She even managed to impress Minerva McGonagall, our Transfigurations professor, and one day, she was called out of class. All of us were so worried that she had gotten in trouble, though Reina was hardly ever a troublemaker. We found out that McGonagall had her helping with a lesson with the seventh years. Imagine their faces when a fourth year was brought in to teach them. We laughed about it for days."
"And here I thought she was just a pretty face," he joked.
"Not at all. The only to ever beat her on an exam was Tristan, her late husband. He was quite the skilled wizard himself. There were rumors that he would graduate early and become the youngest auror in the British Ministry. Reina, do you remember the time—"
"I'd rather not talk about Tristan," interrupted her mother, pouring herself a glass of wine. "His death may have been over a decade ago but it's still fresh in my mind. Surely you understand, Narcissa."
"Of course, my apologies."
The conversation shifted to Preston and his potions business. While Emery was busy stuffing her face, her mother was setting the record for most glasses of wine in one night. She refused to explain the reasons for faking her death, only implying that it was safer for her and Emery to be far away from their home. When Mrs. Malfoy questioned why Emery was not a student at any magical school, her mother brushed it off, saying that Emery had no use for a magical education and was capable of learning enough on her own.
Mr. Malfoy commented on Emery's small stature. She swallowed the piece of bread in her mouth.
"I eat a lot. I just don't grow."
"You eat like your father, you know. He could eat enough meals to feed the entire Slytherin house but it only turned to muscle. I see you've gotten his bravery as well."
"Were you friends?"
"Yes, very good friends. I was with him on his last night. A shame that the wizarding world lost such a great man. He will always be missed."
"How did he die?" she asked, piercing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "My mother always says it was a work accident."
"Oh, it was no accident. He was murdered." Her mother lowered her glass. "He was on an important mission but before he could complete it, a coward struck him down."
"I think we're done here. Emery, it's time to leave," said her mother, standing up from the table despite Mrs. Malfoy's pleas. "Narcissa, I'm sorry. I have a busy day tomorrow and Emery needs some rest after what she's been through. It was lovely seeing you both. Perhaps we'll meet again."
Her mother practically shoved Emery, her mouth still half full of salmon, out of the restaurant. They were barely out the door when Mr. Malfoy apparated in front of them.
"Out of my way, Lucius," she snapped. "I apologize for leaving dinner early but as I said, I have a busy day tomorrow."
"I'm sure you and your new paramour are very busy, Reina. I just need a minute of your time. Surely you can spare that. I trust Emery won't run away. Come along."
Placing his hand on the small of her back, he led her into the dark alley beside the restaurant. Emery followed after them, staying hidden behind a pile of cardboard boxes. He pressed her mother against the wall, holding the cane against her throat.
"You really are quite clever, I'll give you that. Even he had no idea that you faked your death. How did you manage it? You must've had help."
"I don't have to tell you anything, Lucius. He's gone and that part of my life died with Tristan. I'm not afraid of you."
"If that were true, you wouldn't have stayed in hiding for so long," he said, with a smug smirk. "You would've returned after his downfall but you didn't. Were you afraid that he wasn't truly gone? You still fear it now, don't you? That's why you didn't enroll her in school. Even if it was at Ilvermorny, news would travel that the Fawley bloodline lives on. How noble that your daughter keeps that name with pride while you try to bury it by acting as if it was never your own. You may not have had the mark but I know Tristan told you things…things you were never meant to know. Where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"Do not play games with me, Reina. We may have reunited for only a short time but I've always been able to figure you out. You've fallen so far, old friend. Once a bright young girl with such a future ahead of her and now, a drunk who wastes her fortune away and plays the part of the beautiful ditz to wrap men around her finger…men who come in and out of her home night after night. You never even knew that she was gone, did you? What would Tristan think of you now? Being more concerned with your own pleasures than your child?"
He grabbed her mother's wrist before her hand reached his pale face. "Where is it, Reina?"
"I don't know and even if I did, why do you care? He's gone, Lucius. He's never coming back…or are you hoping to pick up where he left off?"
"Perhaps you've no idea but I am going to find it, Reina, and when I do, for your sake, I hope you were telling the truth. Don't think of leaving town. Now that I know you're alive, I can always find you and this conversation is far from over. Is that understood?" As she managed a weak nod, he lowered the cane. "Enjoy the rest of your night."
Her mother refused to say a single word when they returned home, except to order Emery straight to bed. When she even turned Luke away for their usual fun, it was clear that she was still shaken from her conversation with Mr. Malfoy.
The next morning, as Emery walked towards the stairs, she found her mother lying on a couch in the living room, several empty bottles of firewhiskey on the floor. She placed a blanket over her passed out mother and tiptoed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As she finished putting the food on her plate, she heard a hard knock at the door. Her mother, half asleep, stumbled towards the door, tying her red lace robe around her waist.
Emery placed the empty egg carton on the counter and peeked her head around the doorway. On the other side of the door was a man in flowing black robes, his shoulder-length, greasy dark hair framed around his face like curtains and a large, hooked nose settled between a pair of dark eyes.
"Preston, I'm sorry about last night. It was terribly rude of me to leave dinner like that and I owe you an explanation. Why don't you come inside for—" Her mother froze when she looked at the man she assumed to be Preston. "Severus?"
"It's been awhile, Reina. May I come in?"
"No, you may not" she replied, icily. "How did you—Lucius told you. He's already begun gossiping, I see."
"Actually, no. I haven't spoken to Lucius the past few days. Late last night, Professor Dumbledore received a letter from an auror in this very city. He spun quite the tale about Reina Fawley being very much alive and living under a fake name with her young daughter. Imagine Dumbledore's surprise to read such a thing when he had attended both your funerals twelve years ago. Your reasons for faking your death are your own and no concern to me."
"Severus, you don't understand—"
"And I don't care to, Reina. I'm merely here on his behalf to speak with your daughter. He wishes to extend an invitation to Hogwarts. All young witches and wizards deserve an education and the auror mentioned that she was not enrolled anywhere else. Where is she?"
Emery's heart leapt at his words. Her hopes of attending a wizarding school had been dashed when her mother tore up the letters from Ilvermorny last year. Attending Hogwarts would be a dream come true, a way to feel close to the father she never met.
"She won't be attending Hogwarts. She's perfectly fine with being homeschooled by me."
"The auror mentioned you'd use that excuse, the same one you used to turn down Ilvermorny. He mentioned other things in his letter which lead me to believe that you've taught her nothing. You've simply been wasting her magical potential. Where is your daughter?"
"She left before I woke up. I'm not sure when she'll be back. You're free to search the city but I doubt it's worth the trouble."
He peered over her shoulder. "Seems I don't have to look far."
Her mother's head whipped around and her freshly manicured nails dug into the door frame as she spotted Emery in the hallway, only a piece of toast between her teeth stopping her from cheering in excitement.