October 7, 2005~
She sighed, then vanished the comment that she had just written on the 3rd year student's paper on the properties of lacewing fly antennae in healing potions.
I need to take a break from grading, she sighed, one hand coming up to massage her aching head. I've been reading 2nd year student scrawling on parchment until I have a splitting headache, and my grading is showing it.
Her daughter slept peacefully on the rug in front of the fireplace, having played with her toy broom and wand until exhaustion overtook her. The house elf peered into the room, then smiled when she saw that her charge was asleep.
"Shall I put the young miss to bed, Madame?", asked the house elf.
"Let her sleep, she's fine." Marie said softly, setting her quill aside after wiping it. "It's the weekend, no need to rush her off to bed."
She rose from her chair at the desk, laden as it was with papers to grade, and walked over to the couch.
His old couch, she thought with a twinge of sadness.
Picking up a knitted throw, she unfolded it and carefully covered her daughter up. As she stood back up, Marie grimaced slightly, closing her eyes tightly. A gentle touch on her hand startled her, causing her to gasp in surprise.
"Does Madam need her potion?" Asked the house elf, wringing her hands uneasily.
Mutely, Marie nodded.
"Let's see if a full dose will do it, shall we?" She said, smiling bravely. "Doubling it might be a bit too much."
The house elf's ears drooped slightly, then with a sigh of resignation, she left the room to retrieve the potion.
It's been…six years since I last saw him, Marie thought, despair welling up in her heart. Six long years, no sign of him, no word from him.
As if he had vanished from the face of the earth.
A wave of dizziness swept through her, causing her to clutch desperately at her desk to stay upright. A stack of papers and parchments slid off, scattering across the carpet. Biting her lip to keep from screaming, she forced herself to take slow, even breaths. Her house elf came flying back into the room, a precious vial of her potion extended in her hand. Marie snatched it away, tugging the cork out and gulping down the vile elixir inside. Dropping the container, she leaned weakly against the couch, closing her eyes to wait for the potion to take effect.
It's getting worse, she thought despondently, shivering slightly.
January 15, 2005~
Seemingly insignificant choices can make for life-altering moments.
Marie had sent the Headmistress an owl, explaining that she wasn't feeling well and did not feel up to chaperoning students in Hogsmeade. But seeing the clouds clearing and the sun coming out did much to lift her spirits, and so everyone was rather surprised to see her coming across the courtyard to join the party of students and professors.
"I see you have recovered quickly," said the Headmistress, smiling. "The weather?"
"Oui, Headmistress." Marie answered, grinning broadly. "It's such a lovely day, even with the snow. I didn't want to be cooped up in the dungeon, grading on a day like this."
It was about noon, after Minerva and a few of the other professors had stepped into the tavern for a bit of lunch, that the perfect day came unraveled. Timothy Hawkins, a 4th year Ravenclaw, burst into the room.
"Headmistress!" He gasped, struggling to catch his breath, his face red as a beet. "Come quickly! She's killing him!"
As one, the professors rose and followed Minerva and the boy out the door.
When they turned the corner, it was truly a ghastly sight.
A huge clump of bloody meat lay in the middle of the street. As she stared at it in horror, Minerva realized that it was still breathing, somehow. It was what remained of a man, horribly maimed and mutilated.
Nearby, a smoking hole gaped in the frontage of Bohannon's Fine Home Things, broken china and teapots scattered around it. Terrified women and children wept. An owl, separated from its owner, fluttered nervously from one perch to another.
Scanning the crowd of people, Minerva gasped.
Three aurors, their wands out, were cautiously approaching a woman who was lying on the cobblestones. Another auror lay unconscious, or worse yet, dead, near the wounded man.
"Merlin's beard…" Poppy gasped, just before she approached. "It's Fenrir Grayback."
The Headmistress followed her through the crowd, moving to the aurors.
"Stay back, Headmistress." One of the aurors said, holding up one hand. "She's stunned, but we have to make sure she's restrained."
Minerva looked down at the woman, whose face was bloody and blackened with soot. One hand gripped a broken stub of her wand tightly. As torn as her clothes may have been, as dirty as she was, the blonde hair gave it away.
Marie Delacour.
The room was sparsely furnished, just two chairs and a table. Everything that could possibly be used as a weapon had been removed. Now she sat in one of those chairs, idly drumming her fingers, her head pillowed on her arm. The jailer's key rattled in the door, and it swung open, admitting a tall man in a long auror's coat. He was carrying a thick file, humming an irritating tune off-key.
"That will be all, Clarice, thank you." A rather familiar voice said, causing her to lift her head to look at him.
"Are you sure, Sir?" The young woman asked nervously. "She's very dangerous, and I have orders to…"
"Won't be necessary, love." Auror McNair grinned nastily. "I do believe I can handle her."
Marie looked up, her blue eyes frosty with contempt.
"I will not answer any questions without my counsel present."
McNair chuckled, sitting down in the chair across from her.
"Off with you, Clarice." He said, plopping the heavy folder down in front of him and opening it.
With a disapproving frown, the young jailer left the room, the door closing behind her with a solid thump.
Marie glared steadily at the Auror, as if she could will him out of existence. He calmly ignored her, shuffling through his papers. Rummaging in his coat, he extracted a set of reading spectacles and started to read.
Five minutes passed.
Ten more passed, with McNair reading the papers as if they were the most enthralling book he'd ever seen.
Marie squirmed slightly in her chair, annoyed with this hateful man.
He glanced up at her.
"Sorry, just going over some of my notes, love.' He smiled.
"Rot in hell."
He chuckled again, turning back to his papers. She wished she could throw a stinger at him, but her magic was negated by the special handcuffs—some kind of special metal that acted as a magic absorbent. The best she could do was a very weak Lumos, not much more than a floating globe of light that flickered out within a few seconds.
Ten more minutes passed. Marie grew more impatient with each passing minute.
"I want to go back to my cell, sir."
He looked at her over his reading glasses, his eyebrows lifting.
"Sir, is it now?" he grinned. "Only yesterday, it was fils de pute—'son of a whore'. I'm delighted that you've seen fit to promote me."
"I was asking nicely, since you have me at considerable disadvantage." She snapped. "Asshole."
"How quickly kindness fades." He said mockingly.
He abruptly stood, walked over to the door, and laid his hand on it.
"Apara maxima silenceo domicile." McNair said softly. The door and walls around the room, even the ceiling and floor, glowed a pale blue, just for a moment. He quickly walked back to the table and sat down, taking off his reading glasses.
"Listen to me." He said, in a soft, urgent voice. "The charm will only last about 30 minutes at most, less if they detect it—which is not likely, but we needn't take such a chance. We need to talk, and you need to cooperate."
"I…" She began, suddenly rather uneasy. He stared intently at her.
"You're in a lot of trouble. Granted, you nearly killed Grayback, but you also caused a lot of damage doing it. I can talk to the Minister of Magic, convince him that you were helping me to capture Grayback by drawing him out in public, but I want you to answer just one question."
"I…alright." Marie swallowed nervously. "What is it you want to know about Grayback?"
"Grayback?" McNair scoffed. "I want to know why you are so damned determined to find Severus Snape."
Marie's eyes widened. She felt herself go weak, and might have collapsed had she not been handcuffed to the solid wooden chair.
"I…I won't answer without counsel present." She stammered, forcing a brave front despite the tears welling up in her eyes.
McNair ran a hand through his shaggy hair in exasperation and sighed.
"Damn it, girl." He snapped, startling her. "I…I know that you've been looking for him for years. You've been in constant contact with the Malfoy boy, and you've been making inquiries looking for his mother. I need to know why."
"I won't answer."
For a long moment, McNair stared silently at her. Taking out his wand, he tested the charm on the door, then turned back to her, tucking his wand away.
"Maybe, I could tell you where he is." He sighed. "But I want to know why you have to find him."
Her jaw set in defiance, she only trembled slightly as she glared at him. She could taste blood in her mouth—no doubt she'd bitten her lip—but she wasn't about to give McNair the satisfaction that he'd gotten under her skin. Several minutes went by, with not a single word said. Finally, McNair sighed heavily.
Fumbling in his coat pocket, he stood up, then leaned across the table toward her.
"Open your mouth." He said.
"I…I beg your pardon, Sir!" Marie snapped, recoiling from the man who loomed over her now.
He sighed again, then held up the vial in his hand.
"Policy." He sighed, uncorking it.
"Veritas potion?" She scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "I thought that was illegal to use these days."
"Smell it, then. You're a potions mistress, aren't you?"
Warily, she leaned forward and sniffed at the proffered vial. Her eyes widened.
"That's…" She gasped, wincing as pain shot through her, causing her to bite her lip again, this time to keep from screaming aloud. Marie closed her eyes tightly until the cramping, burning agony passed, leaving her panting weakly, her cheek pressed against the smooth wood of the table.
"Please, Miss Delacour." McNair said, gently lifting her head and putting the vial to her lips. "Drink it. You need to take it."
Marie nodded her head, swallowing the vile potion that was her lifeline. Once she had finished, she rested her head on the table for a few moments, listening to McNair cork the vial and put it in his pocket.
"Feel better now?" He asked, after about five minutes had passed.
"Yes." Marie said softly, sitting back up. She was paler than usual, but as the potion took effect she began to feel stronger.
"Poppy gave me the potion. She was concerned about your welfare."
"How long do I have to stay here?"
McNair sighed again, spreading his hand out.
"Well, if you cooperate, do as I ask…you could leave tomorrow. I'm under heavy pressure to smooth this little incident over."
"What do you want from me?" She sighed.
He slid a piece of parchment across the table to her. Leaning over it, she carefully read it; it turned out to be a fairly generic statement that she had assisted the Ministry of Magic in a year-long operation intended to flush out one Fenrir Grayback and bring him to justice. It was noted that the timing of the arrest was complicated somewhat by the suspect confronting her, the undercover agent, and that unforeseen and regrettable collateral damage occurred that was in no way the responsibility of the agent or the Ministry.
At this last, her lip curled in contempt, and she gave him a scathing glance.
"Let the poor shop owners pay for the damages, is it?" Marie scoffed.
"They have been compensated, trust me." McNair said, rubbing his eyes. "Most of the structural damage was not that bad, and thankfully, not that much was destroyed. It could have been worse; you could have tried to butcher him in Flourish & Blott's, or Olivander's. Or if your students were present."
She held up her hands, bound as they were with the magical handcuffs.
"How will I sign?" She asked softly.
She trudged up the path from the apparating point, the gates of Hogwarts looming before her. It was nearly midnight. Marie hadn't counted on having to stop at Ollivander's to get a new wand; she'd spent nearly three hours with the old wizard dodging questions about what happened with Grayback—"Sorry, Sir, Ministry business, it's confidential." She'd repeated that phrase several times, in between answering more generic questions about her magic and trying out dozens of wands.
The most peculiar thing about the visit was that Ollivander had a virtual twin to her old wand, the one that had served her so well for years (though it was a bit shabby from use), and it was nearly useless to her. In the end, she left the shop with an odd wand, a twisted bit of ebony only about nine inches in length. All the same, Ollivander seemed satisfied with the match, and it responded well to her magic.
As Marie closed the door to the main hall behind her, Minerva stepped out from behind a stone column, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
"Were you a student, I would assign you to detention with Filch."
Marie jumped, startled.
"Sorry." The Headmistress said softly, walking up to her. "A poor attempt at a jest."
"Headmistress, I'm sorry—"
"It's alright, dear." Minerva said, taking her arm as they began to walk down the hall. "I know enough of your experience with Grayback, I understand your reaction. You were trying to protect yourself and your students."
