One Day at a Time

Of Muggles, Death Eaters, and Rationales

I cautiously swung the front door open, immediately pointing my wand at the face of the man who was standing there. Judging by his clothes, he was a Muggle. One of my neighbors, no doubt. "What's going on? Is everything alright, Leslie?" he hurriedly asked. He seemed almost surprised that I had actually opened the door. In his right hand he held a squat metal wand with a thick curved handle.

"Excuse me?" I said skeptically. "If you're looking for a Leslie, you have the wrong place."

"No, you're Leslie. I saw your name on the mailbox downstairs." What on earth is a mailbox? I thought to myself. "I-I heard all of these crashes and yells form your apartment. It sounded like somebody was being murdered or something, so I came running." A nice gesture, I thought, but a Muggle stands no chance against an armed wizard. His eyes were scanning the room behind me when they landed on the still forms of Seginus and Matar, and his face quickly gained a terrified expression. "Oh my God!" he yelped.

With a lightning fast movement and the words "Accio metal wand," the silver object in the Muggle was holding flew out of his hand and into Tarazet's.

The terror on the Muggle's face increased, if possible, and he haltingly took a step back. "What type of sick game are you people playing at?" his voice quavered.

"Tarazet," I moaned, "Now we're going to have to obliviate him."

"No! Don't kill me!" the Muggle near shrieked, and it looked as though he was ready to start sprinting away from the open door as fast as possible.

I waved my wand and he fell to the floor in a body bind curse. "Silencio," I murmured, before levitating him into my apartment and shutting the door.

Tarazet was looking at the metal wand with a curious look on his face, turning it different ways to regard it from different angles. "What on earth is this?" he said, perplexed. "I thought it was a wand of some sort, but I've been trying all sorts of spells, and it's not doing anything. I don't even know how to hold it; it's not a straight line." There was suddenly a very loud bang! which caused both of us to leap about a meter into the air, and a chunk of wood went flying off the table Tarazet was standing by. We exchanged shocked looks before he said, "Well, this is useless. You pull a switch, a trigger and it casts a weak curse at whatever it's pointing at."

I couldn't help but smile at Tarazet focusing on Muggle toys instead of paying attention to the three men lying on the floor. "Look, we should decide what to do with these three," I told him.

"The Muggle will be the easiest to take care of," my brother jerked his head toward the petrified man. "We can just erase his memory and dump him in the hallway. He'll think he was walking back to his place."

"He might notice if he's missing his wand," I said pointedly, as Tarazet was still curiously regarding the metal object.

"I honestly can't comprehend how Muggles' minds work. This is such a worthless object," he said, tucking it into the man's jean pocket. Once we had wiped the Muggle's memory and put him out in the hallway, there still remained the unconscious forms of our two oldest brothers to deal with. We stood silently, looking at them, before Tarazet nudged Seginus's form with his foot and said in a rather subdued tone, "Well, what do you want to do with them?"

The many possibilities hung heavily in the air, and the fact that they were escaped Azkaban prisoners seemed to be the obese elephant in the room, one who was taking up every molecule of space. A shiver went through me as I remembered something Tarazet had said: "A death sentence would be more merciful than a life sentence in Azkaban." To say I disliked Seginus and Matar would have been putting it lightly, but they were my brothers…could I really send them back to Azkaban? Or kill them? my mind hauntingly added. "Let's—let's just dump them somewhere," the words struggled to be released from my lips. Someone else will have to bring them to justice. Or whatever it is the courts are supposed to serve out, I thought.

"I know somewhere," Tarazet said simply. "I can apparate them."

"I want to go with you," I blurt out, unsure what had possessed me to say it.

"Alright," he looked mildly surprised, but together we levitated our two eldest brothers into the hallway, where we could apparate. A moment later, a grassy clearing swam into sight. There were tall trees surrounding it, and fallen logs criss-crossed it, growing with vibrantly colored mosses and wildflowers. A warm breeze and the sound of rustling leaves were the only noises, excluding Tarazet's tired breathing from having just apparated three people. "Ready to go back?" he panted.

"This place is beautiful," I murmured. "How'd you know about it?"

He frowned and said in a cold tone, "It isn't very beautiful when you think there might be an auror hidden behind every tree. This was one of my hiding spots when I was on the run from the law."

I felt a pang to think that someone could be in such a terrified condition that a beautiful place like this could seem like a nightmare. At that moment I got a very strong urge to apologize for my behavior fifteen years previous, and I opened my mouth, the words ready to spill out. But nothing came out. I had been too stubborn to so much as mention it thus far, and that stubbornness seemed to be constricting my vocal chords. Tarazet didn't notice or at least didn't react to my silent struggle. "We can go back," words finally managed to leave my dry lips. With a crack he disappeared, and a second later I finally followed him. He was waiting for me in the alley behind my apartment building and together we trudged back up the stairs. "More clean up to do," I rolled my eyes as I surveyed the mess the duel had left my apartment in.

"We should probably worry about cleaning ourselves up first," Tarazet said pointedly, and my eyes leapt towards his still wounded shoulder. "Perhaps you should look in a mirror if you think I'm the only one that's hurt," he smirked. He transfigured a nearby book into a mirror and handed it to me. I was quite shocked to see a long, very thin gash on my left cheek. It was leaking large red droplets of blood, and I had not even noticed. I pointed my wand at my check and muttered the incantation to heal the simple cutting spell.

Tarazet was regarding his shoulder and biting his lip, concentrating. "The counter curse is 'Chal..Chal-something. Ugh! It's on the tip of my tongue; I just can't remember," he said in an exasperated tone.

I frowned, thinking, "That's the froideur curse, right? Makes it feel like you have frost bite?" He nodded and after a second I remembered the counter curse. "Chaleur," I made a broad sweeping motion over his shoulder with my wand, and the blue color faded to his normal pale skin color.

Together we quickly cleaned up the rest of my apartment and Tarazet asked me with a wrinkled brow, "What did Seginus and Matar say the last time they were here?"

"Same as this time. They think they have a right to run my life because I'm their youngest sibling. The quote-unquote 'rebellious' one," I explained in an annoyed tone.

My youngest brother shook his head, "I can't believe them. Their beliefs are straight from the Middle Ages."

"Or straight from our parents," I added bitterly. Tarazet pursed his lips but didn't say anything; even if he had gotten along with our parents better than I had, he recognized why I didn't and rarely pushed the matter. "Do you want to have lunch?" I changed the topic of conversation and moved towards the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Considering you haven't been living here for more than half a year, I'm not quite sure I trust the food in your kitchen."

"Don't worry, I threw out everything that wouldn't keep before I moved into Hogwarts," I said in a light-hearted tone, scouring the empty cupboards. "Oh, look, here's something. An unopened can of jam," I placed it on the counter. "And some crackers. Bit stale, but still edible."

At this point Tarazet had wandered over, and was skeptically holding the strawberry jam in his hand. "This should be an interesting meal," he laughed with an amused smile on his face.

"Oh, look, canned coup! Gold mine," I placed it next to the two other edible items I had found.

"It's becoming a veritable fast, now," my brother grinned.

"Nothing but the best for you, Mr. Colburn," I made an extravagant gesture like the maître-d' at a fancy restaurant. He laughed and transfigured a nearby spoon into a pot, before dumping the can of soup into the pot. It was chicken noodle soup, and it made an unappetizing splat sound as it hit the bottom of the pot. "I do own pots you know," an amused smile danced on my lips.

"I know, but what fun would that be?" he said, hiding a smile.

"Transfiguration was always your favorite subject," I said as I started spreading jam on the crackers. Tarazet followed suit and after munching silently for a few moments I casually said, "So I'm not sure how well jam goes with saltines."

"No, they don't," he cheerfully replied, taking another bite.

Once the soup finished warming up, I poured it into two bowls and we sat at the living/dining room table, slurping in silence. Tarazet had a very determined, yet hesitant facial expression, as though he was thinking of how to phrase a thought that must be said. I looked at him and desperately hoped he had forgotten the original reason he had wanted to have lunch together. Unfortunately, it seemed as though I would not be so lucky. "Liseli," he finally started. "I know you were in Manchester on Tuesday evening, and it doesn't matter if you deny it a million times. You're my sister and I'm not going to mistake some random person on the street—or, I suppose, to be more accurate, some random Death Eater—for you." I gave him a steely glare. He could make the accusation but that didn't mean I had to confirm it or volunteer anything. I almost felt like an impertinent child giving him the silent treatment. "Was it Regulus who took you to your first meeting?" he was looking me straight in the eye.

Seized by a sudden feeling that it would be useless to hold out forever, I grudgingly gave him the piece of information he was asking for. "No," I said, not relinquishing my steely glare.

"Who then?" he asked with a hint of hurt and confusion. His unasked question hung heavily in the air: "Why didn't you ask me?"

"One of the Lestrange brothers," I replied, only now I couldn't bring myself to continue the steely glare.

"Who?" he quizzically asked, looking at me intently.

"I can't remember his first name. He was a Slytherin in Deneb's year. He was…always talking about how great…they were. He practically sounded like he was a professional recruiter for them," I couldn't bring myself to say the words "Death Eaters."

Tarazet looked puzzled. "Deneb's year? When did you become a Death Eater, then?"

I flinched at the second question, but still answered, "In my Seventh Year. I never talked to Lestrange while he was at Hogwarts—you know that. I owled him because I knew he would take me to them," I said guiltily, not look at my brother's light blue eyes. He was looking at me, stunned, and the unasked question still hung in the air. "I—I didn't want anybody to know," I offered as a measly attempt at an explanation, an apology for why I had not entrusted my brother with such an important task. But he was still looking at me, not satisfied with my poor explanation, knowing there must be more. "The less people that know, the better, the safer," I added as another meager attempt.

"Merlin, Liseli, I'd have died before I betrayed you," he sounded shock and offended that he had to clarify such a thing aloud.

"I know," I felt another twinge of guilt for not asking him. "It's just—I didn't even know if I was going to go through it, when I first thought about joining. I talked to Lestrange, and he said he would come talk to me again when his Dark Mark burned. I mean, you know that's how newcomers join—when somebody else's Dark Mark burns they bring the newcomer with them. Well, he came to me when his Dark Mark burned and said 'Are you coming or not?' I didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity. All of the pros and cons kept flashing haphazardly through my mind, and I was absolutely torn. Finally he got annoyed and said, 'Aw, you're wussing out. The women always do. There's a reason most Death Eaters are men.' And then I was just seized by this burst of anger and the pros won out—I'd be part of something powerful and respectable, a lot of people I knew were joining it, and I'd get to learn and use powerful magic. And the cons seemed to diminish. There were a lot of Death Eaters, not that many were killed or arrested, and Regulus had made it sound like you never had to kill anybody. I wasn't a pureblood fanatic, but that wasn't even the emphasis I'd heard a lot of people use when talking about joining, and I was plenty used to be surrounded by pureblood elitists—I mean, almost all Slytherins were. So I went with him to my first meeting and was branded with the Mark. By that point it was already too late to turn back, but I was still unsure if I actually wanted to be a Death Eater, so I didn't tell you at first. Then when we got to doing the actual attacks, I really started regretting my decision, and I was too ashamed to admit that I had joined. I hate admitting when I've done something wrong—you know that." I was giving him a pleading look. I wanted him to accept my explanation as an apology for not asking him to take me to my first meeting and for never telling him later. Apologizes, being another form of admitting you were wrong, were something else I hated doing, even when I felt terribly guilty.

He gave a sad sigh."Liseli, I know we have—er—different beliefs concerning Muggles and Muggle-borns. And I know—that I can act rather—disrespectful towards your beliefs." He said the last sentence with jerks and pauses, as though each individual word took a momentous effort to say; he was as stubborn as I was when it came to admitting wrong doing. "I'm saying this because I want you to know that I mean what I'm about to say next, and I mean it in the sincerest way possible." I looked at him, wondering what would require both an apology and mournful seriousness as a prelude. "Don't—don't do what Regulus did, okay?" His voice cracked. "I know he had a change in heart and decided he wouldn't be a Death Eater anymore but—just—don't—don't be like him. Don't be a martyr for your beliefs. Promise me?" His whole face was twisted into a pained, worried expression.

My light blue eyes locked onto his. "I promise."

A/N: Quick tangent, I was practicing writing one hundred word drabbles a while back, and I wrote one about Tarazet which I just published. It's called "The Professor and the Counterfeiter," so check it out! The link is the standard start of the fanfiction url followed by /s/5454396/1/

Onto notes about this chapter…The Muggle's "metal wand" at the beginning of the chapter was intended to be a gun; could you tell, or do I need to describe it better? Also, do you think I developed Liseli's reasons for becoming a Death Eater enough in this chapter? Finally, a huge thank you to brandon279, Leslie, -DX-, gothic flower, angelofire, toasty1, PollyWantCookie for reviewing! Your reviews inspire me to update more quickly =D