Disclaimer: Rowling owns it, not me. Sorry to dissappoint you...
Authors Note: ARGH! I cannot seem to stop writing new stories! I'm sorry... I'm trying to work on ALL of them (Meilan has Ch2 of EtU at the moment, and is doing her thing with it) but it just isn't working well. This one I like though, as Bill is *slurpie*. Fun fun.
This is rated R for slightly-more-than-occasional cursing by the way. And no, not the magical kind. Dori has a foul mouth to match her temper. 'Nuff said...
The Vigilante and the Curse Breaker
Ch. 1
By: Ruth Wilson
Rating: R
Pairings: BW/OC, RW/HG, NT/KS, GW/DM, HP/LL and others.
And that is our main objective for the moment." The tall, slightly pudgy man was pacing his office, making motions with his hands as he spoke. "We're working in co-operation with Ministers Fudge and Umbridge to find more ways to gather information, but at the moment, that's your only liberty. Here's your MoM badge for the English Ministry, it will allow you to go in the back way. You'll be working security for the Department of Mysteries - Not the most glamorous job, I know" He held up a hand to stave off any of her questions, and hurried on. "But still good to get you where you can hear things. No one pays much attention to security guards, you know." She nodded, tapping her wand against her palm in thought.
Dorothy McBride had never really wanted a desk job. In fact, she'd lobbied against it all her life. At the moment, she was on the ministries payroll, but she didn't work there. She did odd jobs, but mostly just so they would stay out of her way. She had her own agenda, one that did not give room for a leave of absence so readily as they.
"Of course not. Am I to be deaf and dumb too, Minister?" She asked, her eyes probing but her face blank. The Minister of Muggle Defense Against Wizardry laughed nervously, pulling papers from the top of his desk.
"Oh, what a joke. You do say the funniest things, McBride." He tittered, handing her a folder... several folders.
She knew the names inside. She'd known for weeks what this would be about. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Rubeus Hagrid; Keeper of the Keys and Grounds to Hogwarts; Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry... the list went on. But they held little interest for her. Hogwarts, and it's Headmaster had gone a bit off lately, she'd heard. Not that she'd ever believe it. She'd been taught by Dumbledore, and there was no way in hell that the man could lose his marbles so soon.
And as far as Dumbledore wanting to take over the ministry of magic? Hmmph. Well, suffice to say that it was not very likely. "I do feel the need to say that we chose you for this assignment becasue of your family connections. Your Uncle, as you are no doubt aware, is very close to Dumbledore. We were hoping you could - well... use your family ties to get closer to him." She raised an eyebrow, and nodded.
"And these-" She lifted the folders slightly, " Are the people you suspect of organizing this 'army'?"
"Yes."
"Minister, who will do *my* job, while I'm gone?" The man seemed a bit flustered, and she could almost see him crossing his fingers behind his back.
"We'll get someone on it right away." He promised, taking in one hand a tissue from his desk and wiping his glowing forehead with it. She considered, knowing that Jerry would take up the late night jobs, even without Ministry authorization, and that she hadn't seen her uncle in over ten years...
"Fine. I'll be in England by Wednesday." She got up, shook the ministers - rather sweaty - hand, and left the office.
The moment she was clear of his eyes she began to vigorously rub her right hand against her robes. That had been quite unpleasant. Not that Minister Ross was ever anything but.
The disapparition room was three floors down and to the left, so she walked quickly to the elevator, and -luckily - got it all to herself.
Finally alone, she sighed. Minister Ross almost seemed to think she worked for him... well, so she did, but as a spy? Right. Blood was thicker than payroll, or so she'd always been told. It seemed time to pay Uncle Remus a visit.
The house sure hadn't changed, she mused, standing slightly outside the gate to Number 12... then again not much ever changed in England. She tucked some of her black hair behind her ear as she walked towards the house, trying to remember when she had last bee nhere. She must have been twelve, or thirteen. She'd come with Remus to clear out some of Sirius's things.
Why would they be back at Grimmauld Place now though? What possible use could Dumbledore have with the house of a convicted murderer? She was usre to find out if she'd stop gwaking, that was for sure. The walkway was black marble, as were the front steps, and she quickly scaled them to reach for the doorbell. Before she could press it though, the door was opened.
The witch before her was red haired, and rather plump, and oddly familiar - though Dorothy could not place her face with a name. It had been forever since she'd been in England, whoever could she be? Well - whoever she was - she was annoed; Dorothy had no idea why, of course, and must have seemed a bit puzzled, because the woman stopped short.
"Are you looking for someone, dear?" She asked, her voice smoothing out over the pebbles of frustration she was feeling. Dorothy nodded, and pulled the folders from her robes.
"I need to speak with Remus Lupin, if possible. It's urgent. If you tell him Dorothy needs to see him, I'm sure he'll listen to me." She explained, holding the folders against her. The other womans face scrunched up just slightly as she thought about it, and she nodded.
"Of course, if you would just wait in here..." She motioned to the main hall, and a chair. Dorothy voiced her thanks and sat down.
"Oh, and please try not to be too loud." The witch asked, slightly embarrassed. "The house is rather sensitive." She scurried off before Dorothy could ask exactly how the house was so 'sensitive', and into one of the side rooms, shutting the door behind her. Dorothy took this time to look around the house. The walls seemed rather bare, as if they had once been covered and were now naked of pictures and tapestries. The walls were a dull greyish blue, and the furniture was all dark wood. There was a staircase just a few feet from her, and she could just barely see a landing and another set of stairs at the top of it. She supposed she could attribute the darkness to the lack of candles, and light outside.
There were muffled voices coming from the room that the witch had gone into, several of them, though she couldn't identify a one of them. She tugged slightly at her cloak and wished that she'd worn somewhat of a less muggle outfit. Not that she didn't love her patchwork jeans and red sleeved tee. She took pride in her figure, and worked hard to keep it that way. But she seemed to remember the English being much more uptight about that sort of thing than the Americans that she'd spent the last few decade or so with.
The door opened, and Dorothy looked up, suprised to find that she had been studying the floor during her reverie. The red haired witch nodded to her, and she got up, shifting the folders from her left hand to her right, and walked through the door.
The room was rather large, and open feeling. There was a fireplace along the left wall, and couches and chairs everywhere. A large open archway along the right wall led to what looked to be a dining room. Situated in the living room though, were several people, many of which she didn't recognise, and several that she did. For one, was her Uncle, and he got up and crossed over to her when she entered.
"Uncle Remy." She sighed when he offered her a hug, and she took it. It had been years since she'd seen him, and she slipped easily back into calling him by his childhood nickname. They pulled apart, and he studied her for a moment before offering the usual greeting after such a long abcense. "You've grown so much." She smiled, and rolled her eyes slightly, and looked over Remus's shoulder, her eyes widening.
"What the hell is *he* doing here?" She backed up just a bit, pointing at Sirius. His black hair was longer than she remembered, and he looked more worn, but he was the same man she remembered, blue eyes and all. What was going on here? She'd never been an idiot, she'd heard things, things that Remus had worked hard to keep from her. She knew he'd effectively killed Lily... she didn't think anyone had rocked her world as much as Sirius had when he betrayed the Potters. She wished they weren't in England. Anywhere across the ocean, and she had full and total authority as an employee of the ministry to curse him three ways to Azkaban.
Remus looked a little shocked, as did Sirius - that wouldn't get him anything with her. He'd killed Lily, and Peter, even. Dorothy held no pity for murderers. She looked at her uncle and backed up a little more, realization hitting her. God, was he in on that too? What about all the rest of the people here... how the hell could any of them sit in the same room with that sadist? She had to get out, god, who would have thought- the Ministry had to know. Now.
And she would have told them, had she not turned and ran straight into Bill Weasley.
In the space of half a second she knew it was him. He had let his hair grow out, and his eyes were as deep and emotional as always. He was - still - a full head and a half taller than her, which had always annoyed her to no end. He was dressed for sitting around with friends, the gap in his robes showing his celtic cross necklace that he'd always worn. And that dragon tooth earring... he was still wearing it. She felt like crying because of it. The tackiest piece of jewelry she'd ever bought the man, and he was still wearing it. That was just like Bill.
"Shit." She muttered, and then her hands flew up to her head at the sudden slash of pain inside it. God, not now... 'No. He can not have me. I am my own, and I will not allow it. I will-'
When she woke, she was immediately alert. She wasn't quite sure where she was yet, but it wasn't her apartment. She could hear voices - soft, almost as if they were in another room - but couldn't make out what they were saying. Her head was still lightly throbbing, just behind her eyes, but it was pain she could control. she didn't mind it much.
Sirius, and Remus... And Bill... what the hell were the three of them doing here? Together?
Her eyes flew open as she sat bolt upright, finding herself on one of the couches she'd seen earlier, and realized that she had passed out. She hadn't passed out since she left England. She'd been able to block him with an ocean between them, but not three feet from him. Not even she was that good.
Looking past the archway, she saw her uncle, and Bill - now that they were sitting next to each other she realized that the red haired witch was his mother, Molly - and Sirius, as well as Dumbledore, and at least a dozen other people that she didn't know. This was not good.
They would have, of course, sealed the front door. She could kick herself for not having brought a portkey. That was just stupid of her. Not that most people would blame her, she was going to see her uncle for chrissakes!
A hush fell over the other room, and she knew without looking that they were watching her. Just as well, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of watching them back. She was a hazard. She'd heard too much, and there was no way that she could get herself out of this now. They would wipe her memory of course, maybe send her back to america thinking that she'd never seen any of this. More than likely they'd kill her. It was simpler. The dead couldn't tell tales.
But how had Molly gotten into this? The Weasley's had always been so against dark magic of any sort, so firmly set in the ways of the light. And everyone who had lived for the past fifteen years knew that Sirius Black had been Voldemort's second.
It was a good thing that Delia had gotten all of the family heirlooms. Dorothy couldn't imagine what would be done with them if the ministry got their hands on them. The braid of Morgan De Arr's hair, and the sword of Waldorf- the russian conqueror. They were safe in Argentina with her baby sister and Martin. All she'd brought with her to Grimmauld Place was the folders, and they had been set at the floor by her feet, seemingly untouched.
She saw Molly get up, and walk into another room, only to return moments later with a cup of some steaming liquid, and bring it out to the main room. Dorothy still refused to look up. She needed to think of a way to get out. She wasn't in her position for nothing, she knew.
Molly sat down beside her, and set the cup down on the table, and waited. Dorothy could feel everyone holding their collective breaths.
"I'm not thirsty, thank you." She muttered, just loud enough for Molly to hear, and pulled her knees up so that she could rest her forehead on them. Let them think she was sulking. She didn't mind. The less they thought of her the better of an advantage she had. She could feel Molly start to reach out to take the cup back, and then stop, and return to the other room. Everyone's gaze lingered in her direction, and most of them turned away. All but one, and she knew who he was.
Slowly she looked up, and returned his look defiantly. Bill Weasly would never give up. That was for sure. He had the temberment of a godamn mule, and that was on a blah day. If he started a project, he finished it.
She wasn't planning on letting him finish her.
'Stay out of my head.' She tought at him, anger boiling up inside her. After all these years he thought - he dared to violate her mind. He'd worn out his welcome there long ago.
'Why?' was his response.
'Because I'm not yours. You cannot lay that claim to me.'
'Who says I'm laying claim to anything?' He replied, being careful to nod whenever someone at the table stopped speaking. 'You're still beautiful, you know.'
'You're still an arrogant jackass.' She spit out in her head, and she could almost hear him laughing at them both.
'At least some things never change...' He trailed off, and she felt his mind edging away from hers. Good, now he could pay attention, and she could calm down. A hot head got the new recruit killed, she remembered on of her professors telling her once.
Hey, if she was gonna go out, she wanted some questions answered first.
"So," She started, tracing the outline of her kneecap with one finger, "Anyone care to answer my question?"
Authors Note: ARGH! I cannot seem to stop writing new stories! I'm sorry... I'm trying to work on ALL of them (Meilan has Ch2 of EtU at the moment, and is doing her thing with it) but it just isn't working well. This one I like though, as Bill is *slurpie*. Fun fun.
This is rated R for slightly-more-than-occasional cursing by the way. And no, not the magical kind. Dori has a foul mouth to match her temper. 'Nuff said...
The Vigilante and the Curse Breaker
Ch. 1
By: Ruth Wilson
Rating: R
Pairings: BW/OC, RW/HG, NT/KS, GW/DM, HP/LL and others.
And that is our main objective for the moment." The tall, slightly pudgy man was pacing his office, making motions with his hands as he spoke. "We're working in co-operation with Ministers Fudge and Umbridge to find more ways to gather information, but at the moment, that's your only liberty. Here's your MoM badge for the English Ministry, it will allow you to go in the back way. You'll be working security for the Department of Mysteries - Not the most glamorous job, I know" He held up a hand to stave off any of her questions, and hurried on. "But still good to get you where you can hear things. No one pays much attention to security guards, you know." She nodded, tapping her wand against her palm in thought.
Dorothy McBride had never really wanted a desk job. In fact, she'd lobbied against it all her life. At the moment, she was on the ministries payroll, but she didn't work there. She did odd jobs, but mostly just so they would stay out of her way. She had her own agenda, one that did not give room for a leave of absence so readily as they.
"Of course not. Am I to be deaf and dumb too, Minister?" She asked, her eyes probing but her face blank. The Minister of Muggle Defense Against Wizardry laughed nervously, pulling papers from the top of his desk.
"Oh, what a joke. You do say the funniest things, McBride." He tittered, handing her a folder... several folders.
She knew the names inside. She'd known for weeks what this would be about. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Rubeus Hagrid; Keeper of the Keys and Grounds to Hogwarts; Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry... the list went on. But they held little interest for her. Hogwarts, and it's Headmaster had gone a bit off lately, she'd heard. Not that she'd ever believe it. She'd been taught by Dumbledore, and there was no way in hell that the man could lose his marbles so soon.
And as far as Dumbledore wanting to take over the ministry of magic? Hmmph. Well, suffice to say that it was not very likely. "I do feel the need to say that we chose you for this assignment becasue of your family connections. Your Uncle, as you are no doubt aware, is very close to Dumbledore. We were hoping you could - well... use your family ties to get closer to him." She raised an eyebrow, and nodded.
"And these-" She lifted the folders slightly, " Are the people you suspect of organizing this 'army'?"
"Yes."
"Minister, who will do *my* job, while I'm gone?" The man seemed a bit flustered, and she could almost see him crossing his fingers behind his back.
"We'll get someone on it right away." He promised, taking in one hand a tissue from his desk and wiping his glowing forehead with it. She considered, knowing that Jerry would take up the late night jobs, even without Ministry authorization, and that she hadn't seen her uncle in over ten years...
"Fine. I'll be in England by Wednesday." She got up, shook the ministers - rather sweaty - hand, and left the office.
The moment she was clear of his eyes she began to vigorously rub her right hand against her robes. That had been quite unpleasant. Not that Minister Ross was ever anything but.
The disapparition room was three floors down and to the left, so she walked quickly to the elevator, and -luckily - got it all to herself.
Finally alone, she sighed. Minister Ross almost seemed to think she worked for him... well, so she did, but as a spy? Right. Blood was thicker than payroll, or so she'd always been told. It seemed time to pay Uncle Remus a visit.
The house sure hadn't changed, she mused, standing slightly outside the gate to Number 12... then again not much ever changed in England. She tucked some of her black hair behind her ear as she walked towards the house, trying to remember when she had last bee nhere. She must have been twelve, or thirteen. She'd come with Remus to clear out some of Sirius's things.
Why would they be back at Grimmauld Place now though? What possible use could Dumbledore have with the house of a convicted murderer? She was usre to find out if she'd stop gwaking, that was for sure. The walkway was black marble, as were the front steps, and she quickly scaled them to reach for the doorbell. Before she could press it though, the door was opened.
The witch before her was red haired, and rather plump, and oddly familiar - though Dorothy could not place her face with a name. It had been forever since she'd been in England, whoever could she be? Well - whoever she was - she was annoed; Dorothy had no idea why, of course, and must have seemed a bit puzzled, because the woman stopped short.
"Are you looking for someone, dear?" She asked, her voice smoothing out over the pebbles of frustration she was feeling. Dorothy nodded, and pulled the folders from her robes.
"I need to speak with Remus Lupin, if possible. It's urgent. If you tell him Dorothy needs to see him, I'm sure he'll listen to me." She explained, holding the folders against her. The other womans face scrunched up just slightly as she thought about it, and she nodded.
"Of course, if you would just wait in here..." She motioned to the main hall, and a chair. Dorothy voiced her thanks and sat down.
"Oh, and please try not to be too loud." The witch asked, slightly embarrassed. "The house is rather sensitive." She scurried off before Dorothy could ask exactly how the house was so 'sensitive', and into one of the side rooms, shutting the door behind her. Dorothy took this time to look around the house. The walls seemed rather bare, as if they had once been covered and were now naked of pictures and tapestries. The walls were a dull greyish blue, and the furniture was all dark wood. There was a staircase just a few feet from her, and she could just barely see a landing and another set of stairs at the top of it. She supposed she could attribute the darkness to the lack of candles, and light outside.
There were muffled voices coming from the room that the witch had gone into, several of them, though she couldn't identify a one of them. She tugged slightly at her cloak and wished that she'd worn somewhat of a less muggle outfit. Not that she didn't love her patchwork jeans and red sleeved tee. She took pride in her figure, and worked hard to keep it that way. But she seemed to remember the English being much more uptight about that sort of thing than the Americans that she'd spent the last few decade or so with.
The door opened, and Dorothy looked up, suprised to find that she had been studying the floor during her reverie. The red haired witch nodded to her, and she got up, shifting the folders from her left hand to her right, and walked through the door.
The room was rather large, and open feeling. There was a fireplace along the left wall, and couches and chairs everywhere. A large open archway along the right wall led to what looked to be a dining room. Situated in the living room though, were several people, many of which she didn't recognise, and several that she did. For one, was her Uncle, and he got up and crossed over to her when she entered.
"Uncle Remy." She sighed when he offered her a hug, and she took it. It had been years since she'd seen him, and she slipped easily back into calling him by his childhood nickname. They pulled apart, and he studied her for a moment before offering the usual greeting after such a long abcense. "You've grown so much." She smiled, and rolled her eyes slightly, and looked over Remus's shoulder, her eyes widening.
"What the hell is *he* doing here?" She backed up just a bit, pointing at Sirius. His black hair was longer than she remembered, and he looked more worn, but he was the same man she remembered, blue eyes and all. What was going on here? She'd never been an idiot, she'd heard things, things that Remus had worked hard to keep from her. She knew he'd effectively killed Lily... she didn't think anyone had rocked her world as much as Sirius had when he betrayed the Potters. She wished they weren't in England. Anywhere across the ocean, and she had full and total authority as an employee of the ministry to curse him three ways to Azkaban.
Remus looked a little shocked, as did Sirius - that wouldn't get him anything with her. He'd killed Lily, and Peter, even. Dorothy held no pity for murderers. She looked at her uncle and backed up a little more, realization hitting her. God, was he in on that too? What about all the rest of the people here... how the hell could any of them sit in the same room with that sadist? She had to get out, god, who would have thought- the Ministry had to know. Now.
And she would have told them, had she not turned and ran straight into Bill Weasley.
In the space of half a second she knew it was him. He had let his hair grow out, and his eyes were as deep and emotional as always. He was - still - a full head and a half taller than her, which had always annoyed her to no end. He was dressed for sitting around with friends, the gap in his robes showing his celtic cross necklace that he'd always worn. And that dragon tooth earring... he was still wearing it. She felt like crying because of it. The tackiest piece of jewelry she'd ever bought the man, and he was still wearing it. That was just like Bill.
"Shit." She muttered, and then her hands flew up to her head at the sudden slash of pain inside it. God, not now... 'No. He can not have me. I am my own, and I will not allow it. I will-'
When she woke, she was immediately alert. She wasn't quite sure where she was yet, but it wasn't her apartment. She could hear voices - soft, almost as if they were in another room - but couldn't make out what they were saying. Her head was still lightly throbbing, just behind her eyes, but it was pain she could control. she didn't mind it much.
Sirius, and Remus... And Bill... what the hell were the three of them doing here? Together?
Her eyes flew open as she sat bolt upright, finding herself on one of the couches she'd seen earlier, and realized that she had passed out. She hadn't passed out since she left England. She'd been able to block him with an ocean between them, but not three feet from him. Not even she was that good.
Looking past the archway, she saw her uncle, and Bill - now that they were sitting next to each other she realized that the red haired witch was his mother, Molly - and Sirius, as well as Dumbledore, and at least a dozen other people that she didn't know. This was not good.
They would have, of course, sealed the front door. She could kick herself for not having brought a portkey. That was just stupid of her. Not that most people would blame her, she was going to see her uncle for chrissakes!
A hush fell over the other room, and she knew without looking that they were watching her. Just as well, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of watching them back. She was a hazard. She'd heard too much, and there was no way that she could get herself out of this now. They would wipe her memory of course, maybe send her back to america thinking that she'd never seen any of this. More than likely they'd kill her. It was simpler. The dead couldn't tell tales.
But how had Molly gotten into this? The Weasley's had always been so against dark magic of any sort, so firmly set in the ways of the light. And everyone who had lived for the past fifteen years knew that Sirius Black had been Voldemort's second.
It was a good thing that Delia had gotten all of the family heirlooms. Dorothy couldn't imagine what would be done with them if the ministry got their hands on them. The braid of Morgan De Arr's hair, and the sword of Waldorf- the russian conqueror. They were safe in Argentina with her baby sister and Martin. All she'd brought with her to Grimmauld Place was the folders, and they had been set at the floor by her feet, seemingly untouched.
She saw Molly get up, and walk into another room, only to return moments later with a cup of some steaming liquid, and bring it out to the main room. Dorothy still refused to look up. She needed to think of a way to get out. She wasn't in her position for nothing, she knew.
Molly sat down beside her, and set the cup down on the table, and waited. Dorothy could feel everyone holding their collective breaths.
"I'm not thirsty, thank you." She muttered, just loud enough for Molly to hear, and pulled her knees up so that she could rest her forehead on them. Let them think she was sulking. She didn't mind. The less they thought of her the better of an advantage she had. She could feel Molly start to reach out to take the cup back, and then stop, and return to the other room. Everyone's gaze lingered in her direction, and most of them turned away. All but one, and she knew who he was.
Slowly she looked up, and returned his look defiantly. Bill Weasly would never give up. That was for sure. He had the temberment of a godamn mule, and that was on a blah day. If he started a project, he finished it.
She wasn't planning on letting him finish her.
'Stay out of my head.' She tought at him, anger boiling up inside her. After all these years he thought - he dared to violate her mind. He'd worn out his welcome there long ago.
'Why?' was his response.
'Because I'm not yours. You cannot lay that claim to me.'
'Who says I'm laying claim to anything?' He replied, being careful to nod whenever someone at the table stopped speaking. 'You're still beautiful, you know.'
'You're still an arrogant jackass.' She spit out in her head, and she could almost hear him laughing at them both.
'At least some things never change...' He trailed off, and she felt his mind edging away from hers. Good, now he could pay attention, and she could calm down. A hot head got the new recruit killed, she remembered on of her professors telling her once.
Hey, if she was gonna go out, she wanted some questions answered first.
"So," She started, tracing the outline of her kneecap with one finger, "Anyone care to answer my question?"