Thank you so much for coming back to this story! It's been over a year since I last updated and for that I apologize; I wanted to do this story the justice it deserved and it took me awhile to rediscover where I wanted this story to go. I would like to give a HUGE thanks for everyone that has reviewed this story; it was reading what you had to say about this story that motivated me to come back to it. This chapter is for you.
Messalina Lucien felt like she was getting ready for a date with the love of her life. She had woken early that morning from a restless sleep but she never would have known it considering the lack of exhaustion she ordinarily would've felt following such a night.
Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, Messalina painstakingly began the process of curling her hair with her wand. She had considered applying a Glamour to ease the appearance of her scars but decided against it, instead leaving them bare for the whole Wizengamot to see. They weren't the result of her father but they certainly made whatever she had to say about her childhood appear more credible.
Her mind was deliciously blank for the first time in a long time, absent of thoughts of Caradoc Dearborn's death, fear for the Prewetts and the Weasleys, and the complications of lying constantly to her friends. Keeping up with her lies and stories she was keeping from the Marauders and Lily and Marlene was exhausting as was trying to remember who knew what. But today, she had nothing to keep straight or any lies to tell.
At 8 o'clock, Professor McGonagall would arrive to escort her to the Ministry of Magic and act as her guardian as Mr and Mrs Prewett was supposedly out of the country. Messalina knew instinctively that it was a lie but she didn't begrudge her, in fact she was glad that she didn't have to face Mrs Prewett so soon after the Caradoc Dearborn affair. It would make her cry, she was certain, to remember the grisly death and how she had been pulled away from Fabian, sobbing, and loaded onto the train.
She had chosen her a somber outfit for the day that she hoped would help lend her testimony credibility: a pair of black jeans, a grey turtleneck, and a black cardigan. She could picture her mother's judging eyes in her mind's eye, the look of contempt instantly available every time Messalina closed her eyes. Smiling, Messalina wriggled into her jeans with more energy than she'd had in weeks.
When she was dressed, she glanced at the clock on the wall and was dismayed to see it was only 6:45, over an hour before she had to go to court with Professor McGonagall. Frowning, Messalina found herself walking to breakfast without thinking about it.
It had been a bit lonely over break with essentially no one else in the castle but Messalina found the silence therapeutic and was actually able to catch up with her studies. She had finally had enough time to gather her thoughts about her conversation in the kitchens with Sirius right before break. She finally agreed with his desire to complete her next year and half at Hogwarts so she could apply to the Auror program, although she couldn't help laying in bed with her blankets over head and cry for Caradoc and the end of youth.
She also had had enough time to process the Prewetts sending her back so abruptly, and for the first time she could remember, she found herself furious with them. She had already been at the Salisbury Manor, supposedly there until January, so her presence couldn't have been dangerous in and of itself. No, she had been led to believe they couldn't be worrying about her so they brushed her out of the way yet again. Fabian and Gideon had been especially adamant about preserving her youth and innocence and Messalina had had to laugh at that. She cradled her former quidditch teammate in her arms as he begged her to let him look at something beautiful before he died. She thought it was safe to say she was beyond coddling.
Above all else, though, Messalina found herself missing her friends. She felt she'd been behaving poorly recently, and while she couldn't be upset with herself about it, she wanted nothing more than to mend the bridges that seemed to be falling into disrepair. The Marauders were her best friends in the castle and she had avoided three of them like it was her job lately. Lily Potter and Marlene McKinnon were so sweet and loyal and Messalina knew she'd need to start treating them better. She knew they would be lifelong friends but it felt wrong to always be taking their energy and never having any left to reciprocate. Graham Pucey was a new man in love but Messalina had neglected him far too long. He deserved her attention, and John Higgs and Jenny Marquette were nothing but caring.
Above all others, though, she thought of Remus Lupin. He was always there for her, heart open and arms wide, no matter how she treated him. There was no one she would've rather have told Caradoc's story to and in the moment, he had known how to handle her. Most would've left when she screamed at them, but not Remus, no, he looked at her with such a deep sadness and she could see the desire to make it right in his eyes. And stay Remus did, holding her tightly in his arms and letting her sob. He didn't try to whisper sweet nothings or lie to her and say everything was going to be okay. He knew those were cheap comforts in her book and instead allowed her to grieve in her own way.
She had, after all, felt more safe and comfortable in those moments in the Room of Requirement than she had in a long time. Safer than when the Prewetts assured her Hogwarts would keep her safe, safer than the healers reporting her sickness didn't seem to be getting worse, and certainly safer than she had when had been ignoring everyone after returning.
He was a man she could love, if she ever felt safe enough to let someone in. He was such a kind, sensitive, and loyal young man with wisdom and experience beyond his years. He had different struggles than Messalina did but they made it so they could relate to one another on such a personal level that she'd never experienced with another person. Granted, she felt a physical attraction to Graham Pucey that was perhaps stronger than that she had towards Remus, but she could never feel what she felt for Remus for Graham. Remus was beyond special and Messalina knew she would count herself lucky if a day came that she could call him hers again.
The thought made her smile as she sat down to breakfast and she was grateful the Great Hall was empty, for she seemed incapable of removing the grin from her face.
When Professor McGonagall said 8 o'clock, she meant 7:56, or so Messalina learned. The Gryffindor Common Room door swung open only seconds after Messalina had sat in front of the fire. Gone were the thoughts of Remus and her friends, replaced by a dull anxiousness that made her regret eating so much bacon.
"Are you ready, Miss Lucien?" McGonagall asked. She was dressed in what Messalina imaged were some of her nicer dress robes, and Messalina was reminded that professors didn't always stick to their ordinary clothes when they weren't teaching.
"Yes, Professor. Thank you so much for doing this," she replied, standing up and casting one last look at the Common Room. It was a place of comfort and familiarity and she was about to be speaking to a bunch of people she didn't know in an environment she was unfamiliar with. It was truly a dream come true for her current state of mind.
"Of course."
The two worked their way to Dumbledore's office to use the Floo in relative silence, both seeming to have a lot on their minds.
"Have you been feeling better, Miss Lucien?" McGonagall asked and Lina smiled genuinely touched the woman had remembered. After all, she was deputy headmistress and Messalina hoped she had other matters to attend to than one student's personal health issues.
"Yes, ma'am. The rest has done me a great deal of good and allowed me to catch up on my studies."
"I'm glad - the last thing we need is a student of your prowess having to delay her Auror application." Messalina looked at her in surprise but the woman looked ahead, a coolly neutral look on her face.
"Thank you, professor."
"You'll be making a lot of enemies today, Miss Lucien, I'm not quite sure you realize that," McGonagall spared her a concerned look and Messalina only nodded at her. Her throat was tightening and Messalina wondered how it was that she had smiling not too long ago. It seemed she likely had nothing to smile about. "You've maintained a relatively low-profile in the eyes of your family, but this will bring you to their forefront again and they are not likely to forget again. I would have to ask you take that into consideration."
"My father deserves to go to Azkaban," Messalina replied quietly, reassuring herself of a basic fact she'd known for years. "The world deserves to know the truth about what he does."
"I am not advising you to lie or leave anything out, but to remember you'll be in more danger after today than ever," McGonagall warned as they approached Dumbledore's office. Messalina followed her up the stairs absentmindedly, chewing on her lip as she thought about her professor's words. "If you ever feel in danger, the headmaster and I expect you to report it immediately. You know this is no laughing matter; the time for jokes is long past."
"Yes, professor," Messalina murmured, taking in Dumbledore's office. It was no less impressive than it had been the last time she had been there but there was an eeriness she had not expected. Dumbledore's absence was palpable in the room and it sent a shiver up her spine.
"Miss Lucien, I cannot help you once we get there. It would not due for any of us if the wrong people were given the wrong impression about what is going on at Hogwarts. My job is to escort you to the Wizengamot but they will not allow me into the trial. They'll be judging every word you say, every move you make. Your father will likely be there, this is a full Wizengamot trial after all. He may try to dissuade you from testifying but you've been called and no matter what he says, you must speak. Should they find you hostile, you'll be given veritaserum and Merlin knows what kind of secrets you may spill. Just tell the truth the first time around and you'll be out quickly. I doubt it would be a lengthy questioning but the press will be there before and after. This trial is front page news no matter how hard your mother tries to do keep it out of the papers. Don't speak to them, come find me," Professor McGonagall spoke with such conviction that Messalina could do nothing more than nod, her heart racing and her stomach turning. "You'll be okay."
"I'm scared," she whispered, ashamed instantly of the tears in the corners of her eyes.
"You said yourself your father deserves to be in Azkaban. The Wizengamot has just asked for your help; you're not on trial here. All you have to do is tell the truth about anything they ask you about."
"Okay."
Messalina couldn't help but play with the visitor's badge on her chest as she lingered outside the Wizengamot's chambers. McGonagall, true to her word, had acted the professionally detached escort and had delivered Messalina to a clerk before disappearing. It was the first time Messalina had been on the floor she hoped to work on one day and she craned her neck as they passed a bustling Auror's area to see if the twins were there but their red heads were nowhere to be seen in the chaos. She sighed and kept walking, trying to quell her disappointment.
"The Wizengamot is ready for you, Miss Lucien," the clerk said, breaking her from her thoughts. He offered a tight smile when she hesitated. "First timer? Go sit in the chair in the middle of the room and wait for them to address you."
"Thank you," she muttered, taking a deep breath before entering the room. It was a huge room, with rows of chairs faced looking directly down at the area she was to sit in. There were perhaps fifty individuals there, all staring down at her, some curiously, some suspiciously, and most indifferently. Her legs felt like jelly as she sat and took in her surroundings, the only sound the rapid beating of her heart. Dumbledore was there, she realized with a start, next to the Minister for Magic. She ought to have foreseen that, she supposed, as the Chief Warlock was the head of the Wizengamot. She recognized more faces than she had expected: the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were frequently in the papers trying to reassure citizens. A few more looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't place them.
She looked straight ahead at the judges for as long as she could, trying not to turn her head and see where her father was. But curiosity got the best of her and she turned, locking eyes with the man and staring hard at him. Although he had been stripped of his usual attire and wearing the typical Azkaban rags, Marcus' presence was still as commanding as she remembered. His prominent aristocratic features stared at her, his dark eyes locked on her. It reminded her of a hawk and she shivered involuntarily.
"Do you understand that if you are found to not lying or not telling the whole truth to this court, you will be subject to a dosage of veritaserum and potentially time in Azkaban?" The scribe sitting not far from her asked and she nodded quickly.
"Yes, I am aware."
"Please state your name and connection to the accused," said someone above her and Messalina whipped her head to look up at the Wizengamot. Dumbledore appeared calm and Messalina tried to read the message she was sure laid behind his cool blue eyes.
"Messalina Magdalena Lucien, Marcus Antonius is my biological father." Her voice was surprisingly loud in the large room and she was relieved it didn't seem like she was going to have to yell for the entirety of her questioning.
"Why the distinction of biological?" Another voice asked and Messalina tried to scan the crowd for the speaker but was unable to locate him. She focused on Dumbledore instead, drawing strength from his collectedness.
"I was disowned during my first year at Hogwarts, partially for being sorted in Gryffindor and befriending what my family viewed as blood traitors, and partially for being discovered as infertile," she answered, refusing to look at anyone other than Dumbledore. The statement made her feel unbelievably uncomfortable and she tried to keep the discomfort off her face.
"With whom have you lived with since?" Messalina gave up on trying to locate the speaker and glanced at her father instead.
"Gwen and Samuel Prewett took me in; treated me as a daughter."
"And did anyone threaten you before you testified today?"
"My cousin, Antonin Dolohov, explicitly threatened that I should stay away from the Wizengamot and the trial." It felt odd to be naming names in the room and Messalina was growing more anxious by the minute. She couldn't lie and a dose of veritaserum was the last thing she needed. So she told the truth.
"In your time living at Lucien Manor, did you ever personally witness Marcus Lucien using Dark Magic?"
"Yes; he used the Cruciatus Curse on me at least ten times. Once was for sneezing when we had company. I was eight and in the middle of a bout of scrofungulus. He was also a regular at Borgin & Burkes, he would often take Antonin to go look at whatever cursed objects they had available that week," her voice stuck in her throat and she had to cough to keep tears out of her eyes. "He has more books in his library about torture and muggle slaying than anyone should."
"And you never reported these uses of an Unforgivable Curse?" a voice called with thinly-veiled suspicion.
"He is my father; he held all the power. And after I was disowned, I had no confidence I would be believed."
"The lack of a report makes this testimony weak; is there any proof?" The same voice asked, a high nasally voice that made her want to yell.
"My cousin Antonin and my mother were both present for most of the times. They could confirm it."
"Can you recall any other time Marcus Lucien used dark magic?" Dumbledore asked. Her eyes flew to his and she took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. It certainly wouldn't do to lose her temper.
"No, but I once heard-"
"Do not elaborate on matters we do not ask you about," a voice yelled down and she hung her head.
"Do you recall Marcus Lucien ever discussing his Gringotts account? Or funding a dark magic movement?" Fudge asked and Lina swung her eyes to him.
"Once, with my cousin Antonin, Avery Senior, Mr. Rosier, and Mr. Lestrange. They were debating how much they thought they could contribute without Gringotts getting suspicious about the amounts. They decided to remove small quantities at a time but fairly frequently. That they'd say it was for gifts for their family if anyone from the Ministry got wise to what was going on."
"And how did a young girl come to hear this information?"
"They weren't trying to hide it. I was having tea with my mother and their wives in the room next to them. We heard every word, as did our House Elf, Yorky." The thought of her poor house elf was painful and she tried not to dwell on whatever her relatives had done to him. A silence fell on the room and she looked around, waiting for the next question.
"If there are no more questions," Dumbledore began, pausing for a moment to see if anyone had anything else to say. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Miss Lucien. You are dismissed, however, we may call you back should we encounter more questions."
Lina nodded, glancing at her father as she stood. The look on his face was enough to make her quickly skirt from the room, eager to be away from the fury behind his eyes. She had made a lot of enemies today, more than she had already had. The thought made her sick and she wondered briefly if she was going to vomit. Pushing open the doors to the hallway, she was stunned as there were photographers snapping her picture and reporters asking her about her testimony.
Trying to maintain a neutral appearance and following Professor McGonagall's advice, she shoved her way through the throng of people until she reached the elevator. She would be meeting Professor McGonagall back in the Atrium and Messalina wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and try to forget about the danger the Ministry had put her in. And the danger she herself was in, considering that she had given her testimony freely rather than by force. The thought made her sick and she let out a low moan as she considered her family and friends. She had actually been eager to speak that morning and her own naivety and complicity in the increased threat made her sick. As the elevator came to a stop, she realized she was crying.
Up next: snapshots into what the other characters have been doing since we left them and insights into the Order.