Chapter Thirty-Seven
Daisy couldn't help but think that she and her brother were rather good-looking.
She had gone through her phase of thinking that she was the Better Twin (long before Nick Mason gave her that title) and she would be forgiven for thinking that for most of her childhood: she had been the academically-driven one, collecting accolades as if she would not be satisfied until she held a Nobel Prize in her hands; she was objectively prettier than her brother, slimmer (which under her mother's indirect influence she had come to equate with better), capable of charming just about anyone, more pleasant – more everything. Dudley had only confirmed that she was better because he had gone through a very long phase of stamping on all her achievements (encouraged in no small part by their father who would ruffle Dudley's hair in guise of punishment), as if he knew she was better and he was doing his best to sabotage her.
Then everything had changed.
Time apart had brought them together under a set of twisting circumstances, and whilst Daisy struggled, Dudley thrived. He was now the strong one in the family, the one who made dinner when their mother arrived home late from yet another meeting with the solicitor defeated by the meagre source of income trickling in, the one who calmed Daisy down when she was clearly about to throw a tantrum, the one who put her together after an episode, the one who could be counted on to make everything okay. Though Daisy was ashamed to admit it, she was completely surprised to see how much her brother had grown up, how much he had changed for the better. She'd predicted, along with Harry, that he wouldn't last until summer without a television set and yet one had yet to pass the threshold of their new home. Harry had almost choked on a mouthful of pasta when Dudley pointed out over dinner one night that it gave him more time to do his homework.
His Mason-related weight-loss had remained, and his new-found love for rugby was slowly, but surely, turning what was left of his childhood chub into muscle. He'd also shot up, and he now stood taller than Daisy, awkward in this newfound height that wasn't also accompanied by a sideward growth of his waistband, but his sister thought he carried it well. In fact, Daisy was quite proud to note that she had grown up herself, since she was quite sure that her brother was now the Better Twin, even in looks, and she wasn't even jealous. She was just proud to be his twin.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Daisy asked as she re-tied his tie, having judged his own usual manner of tying ties too messy.
He blinked at her. "What kind of question is that?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Just wondering. You're no longer at an all-boy's school, you're on the rugby team, you seem pretty popular, and you're good-looking – it's not a stupid question."
"No, just a weird one."
"Should I be asking if you have a boyfriend?"
Daisy didn't miss the way her brother stiffened, but she carried on what she was doing, neatly patting the black tie into place and stepping back to admire her handiwork. Perhaps all those hours their mother had spent reassuring him that he would be a heartbreaker when he grew up had paid off; the black suit made him seem older than he was, and fit him perfectly rather than clinging to all his curves the way previous suits he'd been stuffed into had done so.
"Do we really have to talk about this now?" Dudley asked instead, turning so that he could look at himself in the vintage full-length mirror that had been one of Daisy's covert birthday presents. Though his sister had insisted she wanted no birthday presents, it hadn't stopped her brother and mother from randomly acquiring things for her and presenting it as something else.
"No, but I thought I'd ask since it's probably a crime that you don't have one or the other," Daisy said, coming to stand next to him, sizing the both of them up side by side in the mirror. "You look really good."
Dudley frowned at their reflection. "So do you when you're not going on hunger strikes."
"Yes, well – sometimes you have to resort to drastic measures to get things done."
Daisy thought her current thinness gave a tragic air to the already sombre outfit she wore. Black was slimming as it was, though she would have argued the layers of lace of her dress added their own padding, even if it was then cinched at the waist and tied into a large stiff bow in her back. Her favourite feature of her outfit was the small veil that covered half her face, the dark material contrasting sharply with her hair and eyes, though the short lace gloves were a close second. She looked so…dramatic.
"I still don't get what this is," Dudley said, frowning at his sister as she stepped closer to adjust her veil, pulling it even further over her eye. "The man tried to kill you. Why are you organising his funeral?"
"The man was my father," Daisy said simply. "As he was yours."
"He stopped being my father a long time ago, Daisy. He tried to kill you!"
"I know that, Dudley. Believe it or not, I do remember getting shot. I do remember the moment where it sunk it that I was going to die. And I remember feeling so relieved that you were the last face I got to see." She turned around so that she could reach up and iron the crease between his brows that always formed there when she talked about That Night, which was rare and often random so it often caught off guard. Most of the time she seemed content to act like it had never happened. "All of that doesn't change the fact that he was my father and I loved him and I want to say goodbye."
"I want to dance on his grave."
"I know you're only coming for me, Dudley, so thank you. I'm glad you are."
"You're my sister, and if this is important to you, of course I'll be there." He seemed to struggle with something, open and closing his mouth before he decided to ask anyway. "Did…did Lockhart have something to do with this? Is that why you're always so sure Dad is innocent?"
"No, he didn't," Daisy said, sighing sadly. "He told me so when he came for that nice little visit at St. Mungo's. Told me I should have probably killed him earlier – Dad that is. I know I should have done, but I chickened out, didn't I? Could have avoided this big old mess if I had just made that branch fall a little higher. Life insurance usually pays out for freak accidents, right? Oh well, at least he's dead now and his blood isn't on my hands. I'm not sure if I'd actually be able to live with having killed him, you know what I mean? In a way, I think it's probably best it ended up this way."
"You remembered," Dudley said slowly.
"Yup. Seems Snape is right – low blood sugars do trigger memories." Daisy paused, placing a hand around her waist. Even as a dancer, she'd never been so slim. The hunger had been excruciating at times, but Daisy had needed her mother's guilt at having to shove Nutrition Potions down her throat in order to let her organise the service in the first place, and the barrage of random memories that assaulted her without warning to give her reason to put one foot in front of the other. She needed to do this. "I also remembered why I tried to kill him."
"Why?"
She looked up at him. "No one hurts us, Dudley, and gets away with it. You taught me that."
"Then why the fuck are you doing this?"
He didn't understand what she was doing, he just understood that she was doing…something.
She smiled at him, her eyes bright despite the dark bags under them. "You'll see. If you're the still the Dudley I knew, I really think you'll like it."
On that cryptic note, she turned and left the room, making her way downstairs. He took a moment to follow her, frowning at the space where she had been stood. What did she mean if he was still the Dudley she knew? He knew he'd changed – he'd had to grow up over the past year or so – but he hadn't changed that much, had he? He had noticed that he was now more prone to reasoning with Daisy when that had been her role before, though perhaps because he was now less angry than Daisy was. His anger could easily be pounded into someone's face or satisfied by reducing someone to a blubbering mess every now and then; Daisy carried the sort of anger that gave her a glint in her eye when she contemplated the logistics of extinguishing another person's life. It worried him sometimes, the ease in which she contemplated killing people, but he often reasoned to himself that as long as she knew in which reality she was doing the killing, he didn't really mind.
Dudley wasn't happy to find Marcus waiting for them downstairs.
"What's he doing here?" he asked, eyeing up the older boy in a similar black suit.
"Where Daisy goes, I go," Marcus said simply.
"Don't even bother arguing with him," Daisy interjected as Dudley opened his mouth to do just that. "He's coming. It's the only way he'll ever get to ask Dad for my hand in marriage, isn't it?"
"This is preposterous," Petunia snapped from where she stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the proceedings with a frown. Harry stood beside her, arms crossed, a similar expression on his face, given that he shared a similar opinion. "Daisy darling, you clearly aren't well. You've not been eating, you've not been sleeping and-"
"You don't get a say in this," Dudley snapped. "Just be grateful that at least when you die, Daisy will have a funeral service for you too, even though you did exactly the same thing that Dad did to her."
"Dudley-"
Dudley hadn't digested the news that Daisy was supposedly Marcus' mate very well – in particular the part in which their mother had known all about it from the start.
"Is that how much she costs? A few hospital fees here, some legal fees there, a bit of magical protection and you're allowing some…thing to marry her? I mean I thought we'd seen it all with Nick Mason – he was something else alright - but a troll? He's actually half of some creature and that doesn't bother you? That is what my sister has to spend the rest of her life with? Sometimes I think I have got to be in some sort of alternate dimension where both my parents are clearly out of their bloody minds and don't actually give a shit about my sister. They just pretend long enough to sell her to the highest bidder!"
"Oi – watch your mouth," Marcus snapped. "That's your mother you're talking to – have some respect - and I am not a thing."
"What are you going to do about it, Flint?"
"Nothing," Daisy said, stepping in between the two of them, casting them both a warning look as they took threatening steps towards one another, "because we are leaving. See you later, Mum – Harry."
"Have fun burying the man who tried to bury you," Harry said dryly.
"Technically he's already buried and we're just going to have a memorial type thing, but thank you anyway."
She blew him a kiss before she swung open the door, relishing the feel of the sun on her skin, glad that their clothes were wizard-made so black under the summer sun wouldn't be an issue. She didn't know why but the air outside the front door felt so much better than the air in the garden. It probably had something to do with the fact that she 12 Firth Street was beginning to feel very much like a prison given the elaborate ends she had to go to just to leave it.
"You'd better get used to me, because I'm sticking around," Marcus snarled at Dudley as they followed Daisy down the front steps to the waiting town car that gleamed in the morning sun.
"Didn't realise trolls were immortal," Dudley sneered. Though he wasn't really in the know on how to kill trolls in the same way that television had taught him to kill vampires, werewolves and demons, Dudley was pretty sure that you could kill pretty much anything with fire.
He was beginning to feel the irritation he felt at his sister's situation growing into anger when he was distracted by the interior of the car. Having expected to have to figure out a way to ensure that Marcus didn't get to cosy with Daisy as they sat together in the backseat, Dudley was completely taken aback when he got in after Daisy to find himself in an interior that belonged to a limousine, staring at Levi-Strauss and Snape already settled in the large seats opposite.
"What is he doing here?" Daisy demanded, as her brother tried to wrap his head around this new piece of magic. If this is what Daisy had been talking about, then she was right – he did like it. It was like he was in a Mary Poppins bag – but a car version!
"I am your legal guardian," Snape said.
Daisy ignored him in favour of glaring at what she supposed was her future uncle-in-law. At least now it made sense why he continued to help her even though he mostly acted as if he was waiting for the moment she dropped dead. "He's not coming," she informed him.
"Yes, he is," Levi-Strauss said simply, not even looking up from the paperwork open in his lap. "There's been too much speculation about you not being seen together in public since the Malfoy boy's birthday. For him not to be here today, to provide much needed support as you say your last goodbye to your father, is not an option. Especially since it was his idea."
"To hell it was!"
"That's what The Daily Prophet will be told, and that's what the Prophet will print. Given the state of you, I'm sure it won't be that hard to believe that Professor Snape is a man at wit's end, unable to figure out what to do with you as the grief eats away at your fragile self, and so this is his last ditch attempt to help you recover, and so on and so forth. You'll get to read this one."
"Oh, so you won't be threatening all my friends with legal action this time? How kind of you."
"And, as your legal guardian," Levi-Strauss continued, happy to find that her voice was slowly beginning to take on the quality of background noise, "he also needs to be here for our other business."
"What other business?" Dudley and Snape asked simultaneously, turning to glare at each other when they did, as if they were offended to find themselves in similar situations of ignorance.
"Fine," Daisy snapped, ignoring her brother's demanding looks and closing her mind as best as she knew how. There was no way she was going to let Snape ruin this. "Just know that I don't like it. And I want a new one."
"A new what exactly?" Levi-Strauss asked, the exasperation evident in his voice as he finally looked up at Daisy.
"Legal guardian. I don't like this one."
"I can't do this anymore, Marcus. She is going to drive me to an early grave."
"That's probably her goal," Marcus said, a smile on his face. Their interactions always amused him, except when his Uncle Xander took it too far and actually upset Daisy. "Humour her. For me."
"You touch her again, I'll break your hand," Dudley said, glaring at the way Marcus had taken Daisy's hand in his.
"You threaten me again, and I'll break your face."
"There will be no breaking of anything," Daisy announced. "You'll hold my hand and –" She took her brother's hand in her free hand "-you'll hold my hand. I need all the hand holding I can get. I hate cars. Especially wizarding ones."
"Why?" Dudley asked. "They're so cool!"
"You think this is cool, wait until you see it in action."
Though Dudley was half expecting the car to take off and fly them away, he couldn't hold his gasp of amazement as the car squeezed itself through impossible spaces, jumped red lights, roundabouts and violated just about every traffic rule that Dudley knew of. It was like being in the inside of a really cool videogame. He did his best to ignore that nagging feeling that he only got to enjoy all the awesome parts of the wizarding world because of something weird like his sister being shot or because they were on the way to say goodbye to his father – his dead father. If he thought about things too long his eyes would start to prickle and he'd lose his appetite, so he fixed his eyes on the scenery outside, trusting Daisy to give his hand a squeeze if she needed him.
After a while, Snape broke the silence that had settled in the car, each lost in their own thoughts and Levi-Strauss lost in case-law that was written in an alphabet that Daisy didn't recognise (though not through lack of trying).
"I get the feeling that you're upset with me," Snape said, interrupting her ponderings on the possibility that Levi-Strauss was half-troll too. He was after all Marcus' maternal uncle, and if Marcus' mother was a troll… Perhaps she would have to break her self-imposed vow that she didn't want to know anything more about Marcus and his family than she needed to. It wasn't that she wasn't bursting with questions but more that she didn't want to grow any closer to Marcus than she already was. She'd realised that she grew rather…possessive over people she deemed hers, and she currently wasn't envisioning a scenario involving a direct confrontation with Tom.
"I didn't know you had feelings," Daisy said, her expression blank as she looked at him.
"Did you remember something?"
"That I don't like you."
Snape frowned as she rested her head on her brother's shoulder, closing her eyes once was comfortable, the gesture indicating that the conversation was already over. He would have pushed it, were it not for the warning look that Marcus shot him. Personally, Snape did not care if the girl had no energy because she was starving herself to manipulate her mother who had worked tirelessly to keep her safe, alive and well, but he supposed that even if she had been at the height of her health, today was always going to be an emotionally draining day for her. Even if Snape suspected that there was an ulterior motive to this memorial service, it couldn't be easy for her.
For him, this distance between them was just frustrating. They'd been growing closer over the past couple of weeks as they tried to figure out a tentative balance in their new relationship but all of a sudden – without explanation - Daisy had shut down to the point where she simply refused to be in the same room as him. Snape wanted to know what had happened; he couldn't make sense of it. He'd lost count of the times he'd apologised for his failure to see what was going on in his own House – to both Daisy and Petunia – and he was as gentle with her as his character would allow (he'd spent more time than he'd like to admit finding her a birthday present). Stinging Hexes were hardly the sort of thing that would cause her walls to go up, be it her emotional walls or her mental walls.
That was another thing that had bothered him: who'd taught her Occlumency? He suspected Riddle but he hoped it was Zabini or Draco, since they would know the rudimentary elements of the skill taught to all children of their status in order to keep family secrets from being discovered at first glance. At the beginning he'd been certain it was the Zabini boy, but it was as if the more she remembered, the more she seemed to withdraw within herself.
Snape frowned as he watched her. There was only one thing that he could think of that she would remember that would cause her to act like this – she'd found out about the Chamber of Secrets. He knew he'd slipped up when she first woke up after being Obliviated, implying that Lucius held some responsibility in the matter, but he'd never imagined that Lockhart's Memory Charm would begin to fade and she would begin to piece things together.
It worried him.
He'd joked often with Lucius that his favourite way to die would be of old age, but it was often when he was staring directly at the possibility of death that he realised that he really wasn't the joking type.
Dudley frowned as the car progressively slowed down, pulling up the grey gravel path that led to the cemetery car park. So transfixed by the way the car manoeuvred and keeping the lid on his grief he kept locked away tightly for fear of what might happen if he faced it, he was surprised to find himself in Cornwall. He recognised the cemetery because he had been down here with the local kids one night, sneaking out so he wouldn't have to face another night with dogs and a whiskey-filled Aunt Marge snoring away in front of the television. He'd expected to be in Dudley, where he knew the family grave was located (it was once a point of pride that he was named after the resting place of his Dursley ancestors, now he thought it really morbid and unfair that his father had given him all that weight to carry), which wasn't too far from Cokeworth, if his geography served him well.
"Daisy?" Marcus asked as Daisy swayed a little as she stepped out of the car. Her pallor was a little frightening given that the first thing that Daisy always did in the summer was get a tan, happy to gloat that she could do so without burning and peeling like Dudley had a tendency to do. Against the black she wore, she looked almost ghostly.
"I'm fine – I just really don't like cars," she answered. Instinctively, Dudley stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Lockhart can't Apparate so we went everywhere by car. Sometimes…" She seemed to lose the words though, clinging instead to her brother as she remembered the fear that filled her every time she got into the trunk, uncertain whether Tom would simply walk away, leaving her to slowly die in a ready-made coffin.
"You don't have to do this," Dudley said.
"I do."
"Why are we here anyway? The family plot is in Dudley."
"I know but Aunt Lizzie is a nightmare. She screeched at me down the phone at how she wouldn't have a would-be murderer buried next to her Thomas and how Lucas and his family would one day be there, and she wouldn't want her baby and her grandchildren sharing the same resting place as liar, a cheat, a scumbag, blah, blah, blah. So I told Aunt Marge to just put him anywhere to which she just said 'Well, that's lucky because we already had him buried here'. So Dad's here now."
"But he'd already picked out where he wanted to be buried," Dudley said with a frown.
"I know," Daisy said, giving him a final reassuring squeeze before she stepped out of the hug, seeming much steadier on her feet. "I guess we'll just have to find a way to indoctrinate yours and Lucas' kids to want to restore their disgraced Grandpa and Great Uncle Vernon to his rightful place in the family plot."
"What about your kids?"
"They won't bear the Dursley name, will they?"
Dudley glared at Marcus at this realisation, allowing himself to be pulled along by Daisy, who seemed to know where she was heading. Marcus and Snape followed at a distance, Dudley noting with relief that the greasy-haired git had ditched that weird dress thing wizards seem to be so fond of and also wore a suit. Snape's fashion sense had always gotten Vernon riled up when he came to inform them about the progress (or rather lack thereof) in finding Daisy; it was as if their father took great offence to Daisy being kidnapped by men who wore robes.
Aunt Marge and Uncle Alfred were already there, staring darkly at the simple tombstone by which they stood. Flowers had already been laid, a simple but luxurious white arrangement that Daisy knew her father would have been proud of. Uncle Alfred was the first to notice them and called out "Kiddo!" opening his arms wide as he would in the past. Daisy ran towards him, despite the fact that she most definitely no longer felt like a kid, and took in the familiar scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke and expensive cologne that was synonymous to Dursley family festivities to which he always appeared at without fail as she hugged him as tightly as he hugged her.
"I tried to come see you but your mother said you weren't up for visitors, that you might not want to see anyone who would remind you of your father – and then you moved and I – I was so relieved when you called," Uncle Alfred rambled, holding her at arms-length to study her. "You're so brave. You didn't have to do this."
"I wanted to," Daisy smiled, taking in her uncle's haggard appearance, from his crumpled suit to the five o'clock shadow that would soon begin to take on the qualities of a potential beard. He had alcohol on his breath, but that was normal for him, and now at least he had reason to be drunk. Even from the conversations they'd had on the phone, Daisy could tell that the loss of another brother had hit Uncle Alfred hard. "I would have called sooner but recovery's been hard."
"I can tell."
"What you can tell that is their mother's been starving them," Aunt Marge piped up from where she had finished crushing Dudley in her usual hug. "The girl was shot in the stomach so it might be forgiven, but what about my poor Dudders? Look at how thin he is! I told your mother she should have sent the both of you straight to me. I always knew she couldn't handle it. I always said-"
"I don't care, Aunt Marge," Dudley said coldly, his face expressionless as he looked down at his aunt. "Mum does the best she can to look after us after what your brother did. I don't want to hear what you have to say about her. I'm not even here for him. I'm here because Daisy needs me, and she promised I could dance on his grave."
"Why – I never!" Aunt Marge spluttered just as Uncle Alfred asked, "Who are they?"
"This is my friend, Marcus Flint," Daisy introduced. "He wanted to be here for support. His family are helping out with my recovery – paying for specialist treatment and stuff. And that is Professor Snape – he's Marcus' uncle. Here for the same reason."
"It's very kind of you to look after my niece," Uncle Alfred said, shaking both their hands briefly. He didn't really think Daisy should be having friends who were older than her and male, but now wasn't the time to point it out. He'd take her out for ice-cream later in the summer, spend more time with her just like he'd always said he would do, and then he'd give her all the advice Vernon wouldn't be able to now. He really had to make an effort to see her outside of Christmas and Easter. He frowned at the realisation that Christmas would never be the same again – their best Christmas' had always been at Privet Drive.
"Have we met?" Aunt Marge asked as she shook Snape's hand, narrowing beady blue eyes at him.
"I don't believe we have."
"Hmph. I feel like I know you for some reason." She stared at him a little longer before shrugging, the movement throwing the black shawl she'd thrown over her black dress on askew. "Oh well. Shall we get started? I left the dogs with the Colonel, but he threw out his back last week, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to him."
Daisy had the feeling that Aunt Marge was processing her brother's death in the same way that Dudley was: ignoring how she felt about it. She was very matter-of-fact when speaking about Vernon, as if his death was an inevitability, usually making sweeping statements attesting to the fact that he had been doomed from the minute he laid eyes on Petunia Evans and her scrawny giraffe neck. Daisy also got the feeling that her Aunt didn't know what to do about the fact that Vernon had tried to kill his daughter – she would catch Aunt Marge given her quizzical looks as if the answer might be written on Daisy's forehead. She wanted to find something wrong with her niece apart from the fact that she was far too bloody thin, because otherwise, if there was nothing wrong with Daisy, there was something wrong with her brother, and Margery Dursley wasn't sure if she was quite ready to accept that yet.
"Did you bring the flowers?" Daisy asked her aunt.
It was only through years of practise that Snape did not roll his eyes as Daisy passed out the single bouquets of Gerbera daisies, each containing three or four of the large coloured version of the common daisies, though he had noticed that Daisy favoured the bruisewort version of the white and yellow variety. How utterly predictable that they were either her father's favourite or the flowers that Daisy would pick to say goodbye to him; the former utterly sentimental and the latter rather vindictive.
"I thought we'd say a few words about Dad," Daisy said once everyone held flowers in their hands, Dudley with a slightly look of disgust on his face. "These were Dad's favourites – at least that's what he told me. It was when I was learning about all the flowers in the Evans family, wondering who Mum had named me after that he turned to me – you know, how he'd just randomly say something in the middle of the ten o'clock news like it'd just come to him – and told me I was called Daisy because that was his favourite flower. Told me Mum wanted to call me Rose."
She paused, unsure if she could make it through without crying despite the promise to herself that she would not break down. This was much more real than she had expected as she planned this in a hurried haze. Vernon Dursley. 1958-1993. Beloved brother, faithful son, father. The simple grey headstone with its white engraving felt so…final. There was none of the flourish and embellishment that Daisy felt would have made her feel better, because she knew it was what her father would have wanted. This was plain and to the fact – there wasn't even a mention of him ever being a husband. This was all she had left of her father. It felt so wrong.
"Daisy," Dudley said quietly, "You don't have to do this."
And she couldn't. It took her by surprise, since she'd felt fairly certain that she'd made peace with her father's death, accepted the betrayal and done her time crying herself sleep but she'd ignored the one thing that came out in full force as she stood at his grave, readying herself to truly say goodbye. She'd had this long speech planned, something ambiguous that underlined how much she both loved and hated him, but all she could feel was her anger. She didn't care that he'd shot her; that, strangely enough, she could forgive. Daisy had reasoned that was why her father had shot her and not Dudley, because if something went wrong, Dudley would have never forgiven a bullet wound to the stomach all in the name of staying out of jail. What she couldn't forgive was the very fact that he was dead.
"You're a fucking coward," she hissed, her hand clenched tight around the flowers. "You – you should have stayed! Instead you took the coward's way out. You left me! You left us with all your crap! I-I-I-" To Daisy's horror, her breath caught in her chest and her brain forgot how to breathe at the torrent of anger. This is why she couldn't get angry at him – because she'd been told she should be angry at him for the wrong thing. He'd chosen to leave her – the minute he'd shot at those wizards, he'd known what was going to happen, and that hurt more than anything. He hadn't thought her worth sticking around for. "I hate you!"
"Hey – Daisy – shh, it's okay," Dudley said, pulling his sister into a hug before she kicked out at the flower arrangement. He'd felt that kind of anger from Daisy before; it made the back of his neck stand up and the last time he'd felt it she'd destroyed her bedroom with the force a hurricane. The last thing they needed was her causing a scene.
"I've been so stupid," Daisy whispered into his shoulder in between sobs she could not control. "I didn't want – why did he hate me so much?"
"Because he's scum."
"I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'm so sorry." Her fingers clutched at the material of his suit tightly as she thought of all the times spent arguing with her mother and brother over a man who'd chosen to leave her – to leave them. Her veil dug into her face as she pressed herself into her brother's shoulder wishing that she would never have to feel this pain again. Every time she thought it was over…
"It's okay," Dudley soothed, feeling his eyes prickling in relief. He wasn't sure how much longer he could have done fought with his sister about their father, how much he could have squashed down his anger and confusion that she just couldn't see. It hurt him to see her hurt, but at least now she was focusing on the truth.
They were all silent at the crack in Daisy's armour. So used to seeing Daisy use tears to manipulate and get her way, it was unsettling to see her naked sorrow, the way she kept clinging to her brother as if he truly was the only thing keeping her standing. Snape glanced around the graveyard, catching the faint shimmer of the Disillusionment Charm that the photographer that Levi-Strauss had hired was giving off in the distance; he would have to make sure that this was not one of the pictures that ended up splashed across the front page of some stupid magazine. Not only might Marcus murder his uncle, but Snape had grown rather protective over Daisy - despite the fact that she clearly heralded his imminent demise if he did not play his cards right - and he knew that the rest of the world seeing her so vulnerable would destroy her even further.
"I'm sorry," she said when she finally stepped away, wiping at her eyes. "I didn't realise – I thought I could forgive him for this but I can't." She placed the flowers in front of the wreath, the bright reds contrasting against the white flower arrangement. "Goodbye, Dad. Hope you rot in hell."
"I second that," Dudley said, placing his own flowers besides his sister's. "You always said that out of all the things I did, I should never make my sister cry. What about you, huh? You're a joke."
The remaining Dursleys were equally succinct in their goodbyes, perhaps taken aback by the vehemence in the twins' voices as they finally said goodbye to their father. Daisy had sounded so together on the phone that they could have allowed themselves to hope that she had merely brushed aside her father's actions as a momentary lapse in judgement but to see the reality before them was...hard.
"He was a good brother," Aunt Marge said, ignoring her nephew's glare at those words. "He made terrible decisions, but then he usually figured out a way out of them. I guess this time he just dug himself a hole he couldn't get out of. Goodbye Vernon. You really messed up this time."
"He was a great brother," Uncle Alfred said. "After Thomas – after Thomas passed away, it felt like the whole world was crumbling but Vern was always there for me. Even when he was running around you two or trying to conquer the world, he had time for me. He never judged me. He loved me for me and I loved him for that. And now he's gone." He inhaled deeply, wiping at his eyes. "Goodbye Vernon, you stupid bastard."
They stood there in silence for a few moments long after Marcus and Snape deposited their flowers respectfully by the man's grave, however strange a memorial service this had turned out to be. Marcus thought it rather odd that they'd chosen to bury the man given that his mother had always told him that the only way to ensure the dead stayed dead was to honour them with fire whereas Snape thought the twins should have just spat on the man's grave and been done with it. He'd had the courtesy to spit on his own father's grave and he'd felt much better for it.
"Right well – that's that," Aunt Marge said, clapping her beefy hands together. "I should be getting back. I'd invite you back but not really got any rooms ready and besides, you, young man, need to make sure your sister gets to a doctor – and a restaurant. You're much too thin."
"I think her size is the last of her concerns, Margery," Uncle Alfred rebuked gently, pulling Daisy into another hug, this one much gentler than his earlier one, as if he was now afraid to break her. "You just focus on getting better, whatever that means for you. You'll come visit soon though, won't you, kiddo?"
"Of course, Uncle Alfie," Daisy smiled, though she had only vague recollections of visiting her uncle once in her life. All she knew was that he lived in Swindon. She supposed that it was because everyone had always come to visit them at Privet Drive. Petunia had the best cooking after all, but as he turned to say goodbye to everyone else, Daisy realised that she didn't know that much about her uncle.
"It was a nice to meet you, despite the circumstance – Marcus was it? Remind me how you and Daisy know each other, again?"
"Through school," Marcus lied effortlessly as he shook Alfred's hand. "As you might know, Professor Snape taught Daisy."
"Hold on – Professor Snape? I know that name from somewhere," Uncle Alfred said, turning blue eyes on Snape, trying to figure out why this man's name meant something to him. "You used to be Daisy's chemistry teacher at Our Lady of Grace didn't you? Yeah - you're the one that worked with the police to keep my brother and Petunia informed about Daisy's whereabouts when she went missing, aren't you?"
"I am," Snape said, confused by the other man's tone of voice. The last thing he expected was to find himself staggering backwards from the punch that Alfred had just landed on his nose.
"You bastard!" Alfred snarled, struggling against Dudley who was doing his best to hold him back. "You fucking bastard! They still had a chance – they had a chance until you stuck your ugly home-wrecking nose in it! You ruined everything!"
"Uncle Alfie, what are you talking about?" Daisy asked, making sure that she was positioned firmly between her uncle and Snape, who himself was letting out expletives as he held a handkerchief up to his nose to try and stem the bleeding.
"Ask him! Go on – ask him why he deserves to get the pounding of his life!"
They all turned expectantly to Snape.
"If you don't get that man out of my face, I will have him arrested," Snape snarled, though his delivery lost some of its effect due to the nasal tone and the blood spotted handkerchief hiding most of his face. "And given the Dursley family track record with arrests, I'm not entirely sure that's a risk you want to take."
"Is that a threat you greasy-haired dick? I'll gladly go to jail if it means I get to wring your scrawny little neck! Come fight me like a man!"
"We've got this," Dudley said as Marcus moved to help drag a swearing Alfred away from Snape and towards Aunt Marge's Beetle (Dudley had never understood why for such a large woman she had such a tiny car). Luckily for them, Alfred had inherited none of the Dursley bulk that characterised his older brothers (or his sister for that matter) – he had a leaner build, and his diet of cigarettes, alcohol and bachelordom had done nothing to help expand his muscle mass, so between Dudley and Aunt Marge he was easily subdued.
"Uncle Alfie what are you talking about?" Dudley demanded once it seemed that their uncle had accepted that he wouldn't be beating Snape into a pulp today. "Why did you punch him?"
"He's the one your harlot of a mother was spreading her legs for, isn't he?" Aunt Marge huffed, her face red from the exertion. "Come on Alfred, let's get you home and get you sobered up. Honestly – you're the only one in the family with a fancy degree and you turned out to be the most useless out of the lot of us. Can't even hold your whiskey – in you get."
"What did you say Aunt Marge?" Daisy asked.
"I said that that…thing is what your mother had an affair with. Thought I recognised him from somewhere. Your father used to call us at all hours about it, didn't he, Alfred? He even hired a private detective and all that jazz – I thought I'd seen him from somewhere. I didn't pay it much mind. I always knew your mother was good for nothing but I also knew that Vernon was only bothered because it justified his tryst with that little trollop - you know the one who answered his phones? Northern bint and all. I thought he was going to get a divorce, I never thought…"
Her voice trailed off as she looked at Daisy. Some nights Aunt Marge wondered if there was something she could have done to stop what had happened, to stop her brother getting himself killed and leaving behind the kind of damage that might take years to fix. She wanted to find the words to apologise for her brother, to explain what made Vernon the way he was – he'd turned out just a little more Dursley than was necessary – but instead she gave an exasperated sigh as she caught sight of Alfred curled up in the passenger seat of her car.
"What are you crying about this time?" Aunt Marge snapped. "Honestly, the men in this family – I've just about had enough. You're our last hope, Dudley. Unfortunately, Lucas has been brainwashed by his mother's wishy-washy left-wing Labour agenda." She kissed him on the cheek before pulling him into another hug, and then did the same to Daisy. Daisy was surprised by this, since her aunt had long marked Dudley as her favourite twin, and was even more surprised when Aunt Marge took her face in her chubby hands and told her, "No more tears, okay? Not for your father. He would probably want that, so don't give him the satisfaction. And besides, you've got my colouring so it doesn't do you any favours when you cry, so don't do it, alright? You're still a Dursley, and what don't do Dursley's do?"
"Let another see their weakness," Daisy answered, confused as to how to react to what she supposed was her aunt being…sentimental? With a satisfied nod, Aunt Marge patted Daisy's cheeks before turning towards her car.
"Don't be strangers, whatever that mother of yours tells you. Terrible taste in men that one. I told her not to marry my brother but no one ever listens to me, do they?"
The twins were silent as they watched their aunt squish herself into her car with surprising grace before driving out of the car park, Uncle Alfred still curled up on himself. Despite the fact that the sun was now hot on their skin, Daisy felt like an empty chill had settled into her stomach.
It was Dudley who voiced what was on both their minds. "I'm going to kill him."
"Where's the fun in that?" Daisy said coldly. "If he's dead, he doesn't suffer."
"You think it's true then."
"I've never seen Uncle Alfie lose his temper like that."
"I have," Dudley said. "It's the famous Dursley temper isn't it? Did Dad ever tell you the reason he and Uncle Thomas got kicked out of Smeltings?" She shook her head. "Me neither, not the whole story anyway – said I was too young to understand, but he gave me the basics of it. Uncle Alfie got bullied a lot when they were there, and so it always fell to Uncle Thomas and Dad to look out for him. One day, one of Uncle Alfie's bullies took it too far and so the three of them got together taught them a lesson. Things got out of hand, Dad managed to cover it up, but barely - him and Uncle Thomas still got kicked out. Uncle Thomas went to the army, Dad ended up in Grunnings thanks to one of Grandad's connections, and Uncle Alfred finished at Smeltings and went to Oxford."
Daisy gaped. "He did not."
"He did. He only looks like a tramp because he's a drunk. He sold his first business after Uncle Thomas died and he never tried again. Aunt Marge would tell you he's not got any of the Dursley Determination. He's some sort of business consultant, I think, you know the ones that come in to randomly give advice and stuff? Think he only does it to pay the bills really."
"Maybe he couldn't live after his brother died," Daisy said softly, her heart clenching for her distraught uncle. He'd lost two brothers now and he was barely thirty. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You don't seem that bothered about leaving me on my own though, do you?"
She didn't want to have this argument with him – not today. "Let's get back."
"What are we doing about Mum and Snape?" Dudley asked as he fell into step with her as they slowly made their way over to where Marcus was stood waiting for them, arms crossed as he leant against the car.
Daisy wrinkled her nose. "I say it's not true. It can't be true. He's…gross. Mum would have to scrub him down in the bath before she even considered going anywhere near him in that way. And surely he'd be way nicer to me."
Dudley looked uncertain. "I don't know…they did get pretty close."
"Dad probably said it to make him look less like a bastard. Like Aunt Marge said – he needed to make something up so he could screw his secretary."
"She was really pretty," Dudley offered. "She had huge boobs. Like massive."
"Ew, Dudley. Ew," Daisy said, slapping her brother's arm, though she couldn't help the lift in the corners of her mouth. "Look - there is no way that our mother had an affair with Snape."
"What if she did, Daisy?"
"Then she gets to bury her second husband."
"They're not even married."
"I was being dramatic!" Daisy huffed, glaring at her brother's grin. "God – you're so annoying sometimes!"
"What are were you being dramatic about?" Marcus asked as they reached him.
"Life. Where's Snape?"
"In the car – Uncle Xander helped him fix up his face." He frowned. "You're really lucky your uncle doesn't know Snape's a wizard. That could have turned out a lot worse."
"No, it couldn't," Daisy snapped. "The next time Lucius Malfoy's Division does anything to my family, he's going to wish he let me die."
"Speaking of Malfoys," Marcus said, choosing to ignore the murderous intent in Daisy's voice as she spoke of Lucius, "your guests have arrived."
Dudley didn't know how to react when he followed Daisy into the car to find himself staring at Jean-Pierre Malfoi and his father - how did these people just appear? Dudley had only seen the older man once when at the Mason's chateau so might have failed to recognise him, though the white-blonde hair was a give-away. It was the same as his son's, who sat beside him, ever the good-looking stable boy or whatever he did at the Masons, his presence instantly wearing away at Dudley's self-confidence.
Dudley didn't understand why they were there. He frowned. Was this what Daisy had been planning?
"Monsieur Malfoi – Jean-Pierre, it's good to see you again," Daisy greeted. "I hope you had a pleasant journey."
"We would cross a 'undred oceans for you, Marguerite," Xavier Malfoi said, inclining his head towards Daisy in greeting. "Hello, Dudley. I 'ope you are well."
"Err – hi," Dudley said. "What exactly are you doing here? Aren't you – aren't they like me?"
"You are not telling your brozzer about us? Oo would 'ave known zat ze English and zeir secrecy would be going zat far? We are ze Malfoi – ze French branch ov ze family you are knowing as the Malfoys. Surely you 'ave heard of zem given 'ow much zey terrorise your sister's kind?"
"I've heard of them."
"Now you 'ave heard of us. We are 'ere because your sister is needing us to be. You see, she cannot be promised to her friend 'ere if she iz still betrothed to Nick Mason. The rules of magic do not allow such things – it cares not if the promise was made by wizard, troll, veela or Moldus. It cares only zat ze promises not be broken."
"Indeed. And as such, could you please confirm whether Daisy is betrothed to Nick Mason, son of Francis and Cheryl Mason?" Levi-Strauss asked. From his straight-back posture and his formal tone, it was clear he was not comfortable in the present company.
Malfoi shrugged. "It depends."
"On what?"
"On whezzer ze deal was formally broken or whezzer Mason simply assumed zat ze problem would be going away with Vernon's death," Malfoi said. "If ze former, zen no, zey are not. If ze latter, zen yes. If ze former, zen we are done here – zere is not much more to be done by us. 'Owever, if it iz ze latter, zen I assume you 'ave a problem, one we can 'elp wiv."
"What would be helpful are the details of the betrothal contract, or better yet, its whereabouts."
"Ah, zose are deux choses I am not currently disposed to 'elp you wiv. You see, ze details? Only Mason and Dursley were knowing ze details, so where it is, only ze one who is living is knowing - if such contract should even exist. 'Owever, I am knowing enough details to per'aps be 'elpful after all."
"So what are those details?" Levi-Strauss pressed. Malfoi had an evasive style that he did not like, but one that he could see Daisy being fascinated by, no doubt equally entranced by by the heavy French tilt in Xavier Malfoi's melodic voice. Levi-Strauss had thought Lucius Malfoy was bad enough, but the man sitting in front of him with the effortless tousle of waved hair and charm oozing from every gesture was even worse.
Malfoi's pale eyes fell on the twins. "Per'aps ze children should be goin' outside momentarily."
"What are the details?" Dudley repeated, though a slight tremor in his voice betrayed him. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he gulped instinctively under Malfoi's curious gaze. The older man had never heard the fat boy speak either, only catching glimpses of him a few times around the château; he'd assumed the boy was like his father, but there was something…softer about Dudley, even if he looked much stronger than the previous summer and not so fat.
"Very well. The arrangement was simple: there would be an international merger deal between Mason Industries and Grunnings Inc. in exchange for ze union between Marguerite and ze Mason boy. There was also a six-figure sum agreed in exchange for Dudley until the twins reached 18, at which point-"
"There was a what?" Daisy demanded before she could stop herself. Her stomach was doing flips at the implication and suddenly the large interior of the car felt much too small, her dress much too heavy and the air certainly not enough. She was grateful that they were still stationary or she might have retched up. She'd suspected but...but it couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. "What was agreed to in regards to Dudley?"
"Daisy, don't make him say it," Dudley said, his eyes closed as his hand crushed Daisy's own.
She wanted to say something more, but instead she stared at him until he looked at her. "You and I will talk later," she informed him. She wanted to cry and hug him and apologise profusely over and over until he shoved her off. Until that moment it had not occurred to Daisy that every time Dudley questioned how she could still love her father despite his attempt on her life, he might actually be asking instead 'How can you still love him after what he did to me?'
Dudley nodded before looking back at Xavier, "Carry on."
"Once the twins reached l'âge de majorité des Moldus, Daisy and Nick would be married, and zere would be another exchange of money zat had yet to be decided. 'owever Mason went back on 'is word. Ze merger was never going to happen – he was using Dursley to – 'ow do you say – whiten ze money? Money launder? Vernon was so blinded by ze lifestyle zat he zuddenly found 'imself in zat it took 'im longer than it should 'ave for him to see ze signs – your fazzer was being set up from ze start. He found out. I suppose he 'oped Marguerite's death would buy him some time. It is 'ard to prosecute a man too 'arshly if he has just lost his daughter."
"So how do we find out if the betrothal still stands?" Marcus asked. However fascinating it was to find out more about Daisy's deceased father and his stupid choices, that was not the point of today – the point was to find out if there was Muggle runt to beat into a nice pulp or not. The uncertainty was making him anxious.
There was a gleam in Malfoi's eyes when he answered. "We merely ask Mason. If he says no, zen zere is no problem. If he says yes, zen we ask him to break ze arrangement. He is not so strong - he will only need a little…encouragement."
"Unless I'm mistaken," Levi-Strauss said, "you cannot legally do anything to the Masons until the Malfoi debt is repaid to the Muggle society for its crimes committed during the Grindelwald Wars. It's the reason why you're working for them in the first place."
"Repayment is only about 30,000 Galleons," Daisy pointed out.
"Only? Surely, even you would know the value of a Galleon. Do you have any idea-" He stopped suddenly, his pale green eyes flaring with anger as he realised he had just overlooked one crucial point. "How exactly do you know the amount of reparation that the Malfois still have to pay? Oh no. No, no, no – absolutely not."
Daisy gave him her best innocent look, knowing full well that it wasn't going to work. "What?"
"This is your doing. You knew you weren't betrothed to Nick Mason, didn't you?" He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. "You really are your father's daughter. This wasn't about saying goodbye or about your betrothal – it was about getting the Malfois into Britain. Did you know she was going to do this, Marcus? No, of course you didn't. She'd rob you blind and you wouldn't even notice." If she hadn't spent the past two years in Slytherin being reprimanded by Snape, Daisy might have flinched at the cold look Levi-Strauss levelled at her. "I suppose you already have a reason for the Mason's imminent disappearance too."
"Zey like to 'ike," Malfoi offered cheerfully, drawing the attention back to him. "Many, many accidents are 'appening to 'ikers in ze French montagnes all ze time. Zere is nuthin' for you to worry about, Maître Levi-Strauss. We are only needing you to cover ze legal aspects. Zose réprésentants légales are being so expensive and until we recover our family fortune, we can only rely on ze good fortune of ze Dursley children and zeir imminent inheritance. Perhaps you are knowing someone who could 'elp us with any potential murder charges."
"You're going to kill the Masons?" Dudley asked, so he was sure that he knew what was going on. Though he could tell that Malfoi was speaking English, his accent was thick and Dudley wanted to be a hundred percent sure he knew what was going on. Though his stomach churned heavily, and he was fairly sure he would be sick the first chance he got, he suddenly understood what Daisy had meant earlier on. It was insane...but he did like it.
"Kill iz such a strong word. Let us say zat we are 'elping Fate speed up ze natural process."
"They're not yours to kill."
"Ah, you 'ave a very good point," Malfoi smiled. The Dursley children were proving rather interesting – the fact that they were twins and yet only one was magical, was interesting in itself, but they had a dark edge to both of them. Perhaps it was because they had been raised by a father for whom the end justified the mean. "Zen we shall not kill zem. Luckily for us, wizardkind 'as 'ad ze sense not to get rid of dungeons. Very 'andy for keeping people alive but not alive. And mon père always told me zat zere are only trois places in ze world where people will tell ze truth: in ze confessional, on zeir death bed, and in a dungeon."
"It is illegal to torture Muggles in Wizarding Britain," Levi-Strauss pointed out. This was not what he had signed up for. He hadn't signed up for the babysitting tasks he was often saddled with in regards to his nephew and his…mate, but that was far more bearable than the headache involved with releasing the likes of the Malfois into the wild.
"As far as we are knowing only les enfants des moldus in zis country are not permitted to leave it. Tell me, Maître Levi-Strauss, why are you so adamant in stopping the Dursley children from 'aving what is owed to them? Zey are fatherless because of zose people, zey 'ave suffered because of zose people, and zey are penniless and 'ave been driven out of zeir childhood 'ome because of zose people. Allow zem to 'ave what is owed to zem."
"And what's in it for you?"
"A debt is repaid to Marguerite," Jean-Pierre said, speaking up for the first time. "I sent ze book zat made her Lockhart's target – I am her senior. I did not mean any 'arm, and I could not 'ave known, but I should 'ave known better."
"Not to mention, of course, the 30,000 Galleon debt that will be repaid," Snape said scoffed. "Though as Daisy would like to have us believe, it's only 30,000 Galleons."
Snape did not like this because Lucius was certainly not going to like this. In fact, Lucius was going to be fuming, and Snape really wasn't looking forward to spending his time reminding Lucius that as Marcus' mate, House Flint would more than likely be afforded custody in the event that Lucius did manage to have Petunia declared an unfit mother and himself an unsuitable legal guardian. The only reason that the Flints didn't have custody of Daisy now was that public opinion would probably not be favourable to Daisy marrying into her ward family, especially one of…dubious heritage. Snape knew he had his work cut out convincing Lucius not to attack Marcus' troll heritage – he'd probably win, but at the same time it would raise a lot of uncomfortable questions about the place of Magical Beings in Wizarding Britain that Minister Fudge had carefully avoided throughout his career.
So far Fudge's politics on the matter were fairly liberal; the wizarding population could be as prejudiced as they wanted so long as they did not ask the Wizengamot to pass overtly discriminatory rules, whereas the Magical Beings who operated within the wizarding world could do as they wished so long as they asked for no protective legislation and did not contravene the peaceful order of the society they were so kindly being allowed to live in and the suffocating bureaucracy of the Being Division of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It had surprised Snape – and outraged many people – that Fudge had then allowed the Muggleborn Welfare Division to be built on the same floor that housed the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Though he had vehemently denied all accusations that the Ministry considered Muggleborns to be creatures, the implications was clear.
Politics aside, Snape came to a clear conclusion that Daisy had to know about the Chamber of Secrets. There was no other reason to release a family of Old Supporters, dubbed as such because they were supporters of a time when the fantasy of getting rid of the Statute of Secrecy and putting Muggles in their place was still the ideal. They did not care for blood status, or whether they were dealing with wizards or magical creatures – magic was might. From what he knew of Daisy, she would not risk potential harm to her family unless the means justified the end, an end such as destroying Lucius Malfoy for being the reason that had put her into contact with Tom Riddle. How did she know? What could she have possibly remembered? Unless, of course, someone had told her.
"Justice will be served," Malfoi continued. "Ze Masons will disappear from zis world – as zey should - but no blood will be spilled. Ze Dursley children will 'ave what iz owed to zem. And we, the Malfoi, we will finally be free once more; free to redeem ze Malfoi name, free to serve our world instead of those…persons. After all, it is not our crimes we were paying for but zose of our parents and grandparents. Do you not trust Marguerite's judgement of character?"
"This is a terrible idea," Levi-Strauss said. Daisy was a terrible judge of character, in that she seemed to be drawn to those who had a similar character to her own. He turned to his nephew. If there was anyone who had any hopes of shutting it down, it was him. "Marcus? Thoughts?"
"Is this what you want?" Marcus asked, looking down at Daisy. She nodded. Marcus turned back to his uncle. "Then it's what we do."
DRAMA AT THE DURSLEY FUNERAL
It seems that barely a day goes by without another episode being added on to ongoing Daisy Dursley saga. Amidst growing fears for her mental health, mainly linked to an inability to process the grief of her loss and the betrayal by the man supposed to be her father, Daisy's legal guardian Professor Severus Snape resorted to the last thing that he could think of: he organised a memorial service for the Muggle man that tried to kill his ward and her cousin Harry Potter.
Present were the remaining siblings of Vernon Dursley, Daisy's brother Dudley, Professor Snape and Marcus Flint, a seventh year Slytherin. Questions have been raised about the presence of the latter, whose distant relation to the Hogwarts Professor would not justify his presence. Sources have mentioned that the seventeen year old has been a constant presence in Daisy's life since the beginning of her Hogwarts career and that it is, in fact, his relation to Maître Levi-Strauss that explains why the world renowned Legal Representative chose to take on the case of the Muggle Petunia Dursley's in her constant custody battle to keep Daisy by her side. Could it be that the Slytherin pair are more than friends?
However, it was not the presence of Flint which shocked the most at what should have been a simple but sombre affair to allow a troubled young girl the time to grieve, but the revelation that the Dursley brutality runs deep. Sources close to the family have revealed that Vernon's brother attacked Professor Snape on the day in a drunken stupor. It was only the Muggle's ignorance of Snape's status as a wizard that saved him suffering a similar fate to his brother. Or was he really as ignorant? What could have possibly provoked such an attack other than a hatred for wizards?
Luckily, no such hatred seems to be found in Daisy. It would seem that Professor Snape's continued efforts to help his ward have paid off, as supporters and readers have attested to the young Muggleborn witches renewal in replying to their letters of well-wishes, revealing that whilst still struggling with her recovery, she is beginning to look to the future, though perhaps a future away from the brutality of her Muggle upbringing.
MASON WIFE FRAMES LOVER THEN KILLS HUSBAND AND SON
Another day, another twist in the Dursley saga that rocked the construction world in late spring. Last night, Cheryl Mason, wife of Francis Mason was arrested on suspicion of two counts of murder and one count of attempted murder.
A statement provided by the French Constabulary revealed that contrary to what Mrs Mason declared when she called the authorities two days ago in a frenzied panic, her husband and son had not been trapped under an avalanche. A search of the area uncovered no bodies or clear evidence of an avalanche ever taking place. Suspicions raised, the French police investigated the chalet the family were staying where they found enough elements to detain Mrs Mason. However, due to the legal justice reserved solely for the rich, Mrs Mason was soon released and flew back to Britain.
However, the suspicions of the French prompted a fresh look into the Mason case on this side of the Channel, which led to the arrest of Cheryl Mason late last night. Though there has yet to be an official statement regarding the facts of the case, the News of The World can exclusively reveal from reliable sources that the arrest was based on the discovery of explosive love notes, revealing that Cheryl Mason and Vernon Dursley were involved in a torrid love affair.
It is suspected that Cheryl grew jealous of Vernon's wandering eye, and decided to formulate a way that would end his relationship with his wife and have him lose interest in any other women he was pursuing. Memos exchanged under aliases allegedly reveal that Cheryl was inciting Vernon to kill his daughter. Suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder after being locked in a warehouse for weeks by bullies in a teenage prank gone awfully wrong, Vernon claimed that his daughter was the reason he couldn't possibly leave his wife and family. Within these love notes, it is said that Cheryl makes several allusions to the fact that "life would be so much better if she was gone". The shotgun Dursley used is suspected to have belonged to Cheryl's grandfather, an avid hunter. This new line of investigation could reveal that it was Cheryl who planned the attempted murder of Dursley's daughter and instigated her lover to execute it.
Investigation is also being undertaken in regards to the responsibility of Vernon in the money laundering case. Emails found on the Mason personal computers in conjunction to the search are rumoured to reveal that it was Francis Mason and not Vernon Dursley who was responsible for the scandal in the Grunnings Inc.. This could potentially release the Dursley children inheritance, which had been tied up in paying damages and fines incurred by their late father. Before his death, Vernon Dursley had acquired the controlling shares to Grunnings Inc., and depending on the legality of their acquisition, the Dursley children could be looking at a non-negligible inheritance, not to mention compensation from the Masons.
A/N: Ah, them Dursley family dramas. So much drama in this chapter. So much. (Which probably explains why this chapter is so bloody long). I must say, I quite like the Dursleys, at least my interpretation of them. I'm going for "vile yet human". There's potentially hope for Dudley (and Uncle Alfred), but his sister is such a terrible influence (be it Daisy or Aunt Marge). We'll see. At one point I'm going to have to consider raising the rating. Maybe. I feel like I'm skirting the line. On another note, I'm going by the logic that wizards can get away with subtly manipulating the Muggle world without causing too much of a drama with the ICW. And that Levi-Strauss has a lot of influence in the press. Even the Muggle press (the second article is from Muggleland).
And finally, if there's something I've mentioned here that has you all "what the eff?" I can assure you it's either a massive plothole or it will all be revealed in due time. But as you can see, the Masons weren't merely superfluous characters mentioned for the lulz, so I probably have something up my sleeve ;) Until next time!