CHAPTER FIVE: medicandi tempestas
[a brewing storm]
"and the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?"
The Cranberries, Zombie
in which she gets scared
Saturday mornings at the Ministry were often surprisingly quiet; or at least, less hectic than they were during weekdays. Which is why Asteria had been particularly caught off guard when she arrived to work that morning, finding a small army of news reporters and journalists forming a coalition outside the Ministry's main entrance.
It had taken her a decent 15 minutes of trying to battle her way through the crowd ⎯ receiving several elbows to the stomach ⎯ before she made it into the actual building itself. By the time she finally reached her office, she looked as though she'd been through another war ⎯ slatternly, dishevelled and positively furious with herself for not thinking to buy more Floo Powder when she went out the other night.
Her frustration only grew upon noticing the tower of parchments that laid on her desk ⎯ awaiting her approval before she sent them off to Percy for the final verdict. As if the current workload she'd been given by Robards hadn't been enough to busy her days.
"Ah, Miss Nott ⎯ you've finally arrived." Speak of the devil and he doth appear. Asteria turned just as Robards sauntered into her office with a strut that oozed arrogance, his lack of decency to knock causing Asteria to grit her teeth.
Gawain Robards was a rather stoic man, regarding himself in a manner that wasn't too dissimilar to Lucius Malfoy ⎯ though his arrogance and ignorance were on a different level completely. Being the head of the Aurory, Robards acted as though he held the authority to control everyone within the Ministry ⎯ Kingsley included until the Minister had promptly reminded him of his place.
Asteria could still picture the way Robards had sulked towards his office upon Kingsley's curt lecturing. As a Minister, Shacklebolt wasn't a man of many words ⎯ though Asteria had always been a fan of the way the man savagely, and successfully cut down inflated egos.
"I take it you've read through the file I gave you last week?"
Asteria sighed inwardly, rolling her eyes behind the Auror's back as she shrugged out of her coat; placing it on the silver coat rack in the left corner of the room. He had barely allowed her a moment to settle into her office before he hounded her with work.
"I did," Asteria nodded as she made her way to her desk, pulling out the file he had given her on Wand Tracing. "I just have one question before I pass it on to Percy ⎯ why are you appealing for the trace to only be placed on the wands of ex-Death Eaters?"
Robards frowned, folding his arms as he looked down at the brunette ⎯ promptly ignoring her offer to sit in the chair in front of her desk. He wanted to prove his authority, Asteria realised as she settled into her chair. "Well, I think it's fairly obvious given the recent disappearances."
Asteria rose a brow, her expression both one of confusion and mild offence, "and you think reformed Death Eaters are responsible for the recent disappearances of reformed Death Eaters?"
Her tone openly revealed her thoughts on Robards' appeal with an unbashful certainty. In Asteria's eyes, Robards' whole argument was completely ridiculous ⎯ all the file had proved to her was that the Ministry, or at least Robards, was as corrupt as Draco and Theo had been saying all along.
Robards wasn't looking to solve the crime, he was looking for someone to blame ⎯ to further isolate and make villains of an already subjugated group within Wizarding Britain.
"I've learnt that you can't rule out any possibility, Miss Nott," Robards shrugged with an insincere smile, "even the ones that appear the most peculiar."
Asteria narrowed her eyes in thought, leaning her elbows against her oak desk as she looked up at the man. "So why not appeal for the trace to be placed on all wands? Would that not be more beneficial?"
"Are you telling me how to do my job, Miss Nott?" Robards rebutted, his tone clipped and firm as he narrowed his eyes at the witch. However, instead of shrinking under his intense gaze as so many others had before her, Asteria matched his gaze with a vengeance.
She would not submit and roll over so easily ⎯ if she wanted something, she would get it; whether it was given freely or not. Upon noticing this, Robards' glare eased a little; though his expression remained sharp as if he was waiting for her to admit defeat.
"Appealing for the trace to be placed upon every wand in the Wizarding World would never be passed by the Wizengamot," Robards spoke with a patronising tone, as though he was scolding her for even suggesting it.
"Not to mention the fact that it would be entirely inconvenient ⎯ I'm trying to lessen my scope, Miss Nott, not broaden it."
Asteria fumed silently at his condescending tone ⎯ had she been a cartoon character, there was no doubt steam would've been expelled from her ears. Robards shifted his gaze around the office; a sly grimace pulled at his lips as he traced his eyes over the silver and emerald green decorations.
"So instead you focus your line of directory upon those who have already been singled out and outcast by society?" Asteria spoke with an assured voice. The accusation and venom laced within her words did not escape Robards' ears, though he didn't show any offence.
"Are you not, in effect, simply turning victims into perpetrators and creating yet another reason for society to distance themselves from us?"
Her anger and frustration were evidently getting the better of her in spite of how badly she had wished to control it. She wasn't arrogant enough to deny that society had reason to keep them at an arm's length ⎯ they had, after all, all (either willingly or not) been on Voldemort's side.
However, they had also all been placed on trial in the months after the war. Unlike the trials during the First Wizarding War, Veritaserum had been used and all Death Eaters who pledged loyalty to Voldemort and his cause had been awarded a life sentence in Azkaban.
The ex-Death Eaters that remained were those who were proven to have defected ⎯ those who had fought on the side of good and had never once raised their wand to execute a Muggle or fellow witch or wizard. It was irritating that society still excluded them upon the belief they possessed the capacity for evil, without even giving them the freedom to change their opinions.
It was even more irritating that the Ministry believed reformed Death Eaters would outwardly turn on their own when they were effectively the only people they could truly connect with in recent times. Slytherins were rather renowned for sticking by their own, after all.
"In my line of work, I've learnt that bad things tend to happen to bad people," Robards shrugged, looking unaffected by the words he had just spoken; though Asteria didn't miss his commination.
The witch narrowed her eyes at the man, not even trying to hide her blatant dislike for him and his accusations any longer. "Is that a threat?"
Robards had the cheek to smirk ⎯ the almost cruel curve of his lips setting Asteria completely on edge. She didn't scare easily ⎯ a trait that she had unfortunately gained during her childhood ⎯ however, something about the way Robards was looking at her, as though he knew something she didn't, was enough to make her feel uneasy.
"An observation," Robards corrected with a fiendish smirk; watching with a diabolical satisfaction as Asteria visibly backed down. "Have a nice day now, Miss Nott."
As the man left; taking the suffocating air of danger and threat with him, Asteria visibly relaxed in her chair. That was, at least, until Percy entered her office placing the latest issue of The Daily Prophet on her desk and Asteria came to the sick realisation of why the Ministry had been so crowded that morning.
THE DAILY PROPHET
SEPTEMBER 23rd, 2000
INJURY ON THE PITCH? CHUDLEY CANNONS HEALER FOUND DEAD!
ATLAS AVERY, widely sought-after healer was found dead in his London flat, which he shared with his wife, late on Wednesday afternoon. The 25 year old had recently finished a study placement at St. Mungo's and was known to be an esteemed healer and potioneer.
Upon a lack of suspicious circumstance and limited evidence, Avery's death has been ruled as suicide.
News comes just two months after Avery was reported missing by his grieving widow. He is among the seven known defected Death Eaters to have been reported missing in the last three months, though the first to be found deceased.
Avery was a known and loyal follower of the Dark Lord, pledging his allegiance on the side of evil at the Battle of Hogwarts. However, the skilled potioneer seemed to have been making an effort to turn his life around upon recently signing with The Chudley Cannons as their newest healer.
Colleagues and friends have described the deceased as an energetic, hardworking young man who was eager to make amends for his past discretions. Avery's father and only remaining relative, Rigel Avery, is serving a life-sentence in Azkaban on account of his war crimes and the death of 6 Muggles.
Did the pressure become too much for our all-star healer, or was there foul play involved?
Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Division within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has requested any conflicting information on the case to be brought forward and urges any witnesses of the six other disappearances to come forth.
Oceanview was Asteria's salvation. After the nauseating day she'd had, when Pansy had owled her about an impromptu night out in Muggle London, the brunette had instantly agreed ⎯ wanting nothing more than to burn the memory of Robards' diabolical smirk and chilling words from her memory.
Oceanview was a deceivingly large nightclub in the heart of Muggle London, complete with deafeningly loud music and dimmed lights. The few seats it had, other than the odd stool at the bar, were black leather booths which lined the entire back wall of the club ⎯ the large, sticky dancefloor being the main attraction.
The club smelt like alcohol and sweat ⎯ a scent decidedly disgusting to most sane people, though wickedly addictive to Asteria. Whilst the witch had never been known for her ability to let loose, there was something incredibly desirable about allowing your inhibitions to lower in a place where nobody knew your name or your past.
It was a form of escapism ⎯ a place where Asteria could be whoever she wanted, make regrettably poor decisions, and not have to worry about her dirty laundry being aired across Wizarding Britain the next day.
Dressed in a low cut, red bodycon dress that accentuated her envious figure ⎯ Asteria was ready to dance the night away and forget about the day's recent revelations and the consequences they held. If only Luna and Daphne had been on the same wavelength.
"Did you see the latest issue of The Daily Prophet?" Luna inquired from across the booth as she twirled her straw in her drink absentmindedly. Daphne visibly stiffened from beside Asteria, nodding her head with a firm scowl set in her features.
"It's ridiculous, isn't it," the redhead remarked with a bitter tone. "The guy goes missing for two months only to be found dead in his own home ⎯ and they rule it as a suicide?"
Asteria rolled her eyes, placing her vodka cranberry ⎯ her Muggle choice of drink that was both delectably bitter and fruity ⎯ on the table. "It's hardly surprising," the brunette retorted, her voice loud enough to be heard over the pulsating music.
"Robards seems to think that reformed Death Eaters are responsible for all the disappearances ⎯ he's got the Ministry running in circles."
Luna looked thoughtfully at the brunette as Daphne scoffed loudly; however, before either one could reply, Pansy made her return. The witch grinned almost manically as she carried a tray lined with 8 shot glasses filled to the rim back to the table. Tequila, no doubt.
"I've brought shots," Pansy grinned devilishly as she placed the tray on the table, shooting a deathly glare at Daphne as the redhead opened her mouth to dispute. "Do not argue with me Daphne Greengrass, this is girls night ⎯ that stick in your arse will not ruin my happiness."
Daphne instantly recoiled at Pansy's threatening glare. Nobody came between Pansy Parkinson and a good night on the town.
"She can't help it, Pansy," Luna spoke up from across the table - a devious smirk curled at her lips that was completely uncharacteristic of her usual serene expression. "It isn't in her nature to let loose."
Daphne stared bewildered at the blonde, a look of betrayal passing across her face ⎯ "I'd have thought out of everyone, that you would be on my side, Lovegood."
Luna simply smirked, shrugging her shoulders with false innocence. "I side with whoever satisfies my needs," the blonde retorted before reaching for her two shots, downing them one after the other without so much of a wince.
If there was one thing Asteria had come to learn about Luna Lovegood, it was that the blonde was much more of a minx than people had ever given her credit for. When she wasn't being patronised for her airy voice or ditsy outbursts, the witch was just as wicked and playful as Pansy.
"Oh, Zabini has ruined you," Pansy smirked devilishly as she grinned down at her newest friend ⎯ Luna's smirk simply broadened in response. Asteria was quite certain it was the other way round.
The relationship shared between Luna Lovegood and Blaise Zabini was filled with subtle touches, yearning stares and an electrifying hum of undignified chemistry. It had come to a shock to most when the two had been seen hand in hand exiting the Three Broomsticks three months after the war.
Though those closest to them were aware of just how perfect the pair truly were for each other. Daphne huffed, breaking out of her stupor as she looked between her three friends with a defensive expression.
"Well, I for one would much rather be sensible than be the fool who always takes it too far," the redhead stated, eyeing Asteria with an accusatory gaze.
Asteria shrugged her shoulders, unaffected by Daphne's words, "at least I'm consistent. I've been told my continuous lapses in judgement are endearing."
"And wickedly entertaining," Pansy added with a devious grin.
It was hard to recall the number of times Asteria had made a poor decision whilst inebriated on one hand. Her past of passing out on cold benches, picking fights with trees that were planted in ridiculous places, and losing shoes to ill-placed manholes is what had earned her the role of the group's entertainer.
Asteria shrugged unabashedly, "it's a known fact that Nott's are unable to handle their liquor; I'm grown enough to admit it."
Daphne and Pansy both grinned, the three girls sharing in a small moment of laughter. "Speaking of," Daphne began after a moment, placing her now empty glass back on the table, "how are you and Theo, Pans?"
The aforementioned witch stared at the redhead in disbelief, a look of utter betrayal and annoyance stretched upon her face. "Are you trying to ruin my night, Daph?"
Asteria stifled a chuckle as Daphne fell back against the booth ⎯ utterly confused by Pansy's switch in personality. Though, she shouldn't have been. Pansy Parkinson was as explosive as she was endearing ⎯ and she played both parts to an exceptional standard.
"From this moment on there will be no more talk of work, the corrupt Ministry, or idiotic men unless they're offering to buy our drinks." Pansy Parkinson, feminist extraordinaire ⎯ destroying the male hierarchy one alcoholic beverage at a time.
"And where in Salazar's name is Luna?" Pansy finished, narrowing her eyes at the spot Luna had once occupied ⎯ completely bewildered by how the blonde had managed to sneak away without any of them realising.
Asteria smirked, her eyes locked on the bar across the room where their blonde friend was currently stood ⎯ subtly trailing her hand down the arm of a very keen admirer as she laughed rather obnoxiously at something he said.
"Securing our next round by the looks of it," the brunette grinned devilishly, nodding her head in the bar's direction. Pansy smirked pridefully as her gaze aligned with Asteria's, watching as Luna successfully managed to secure four drinks from the oblivious man who thought he was about to get lucky.
"Oh, she is wicked."
The streets of Muggle London were still busy, despite it being well into the earlier hours of Sunday morning. People were congregated on the streets ⎯ talking and laughing, with some even stumbling into dark alleys to shelter their steamy displays of romance.
Asteria, however, had ducked into a deserted alley for a completely different reason entirely. For once, the witch had managed to control the amount of alcohol she had consumed that night ⎯ and, under the impression that she was sober enough to get herself home, Daphne had tasked herself with taking care of Luna and Pansy.
Both of whom were just as legless as each other; neither one retaining the ability to talk coherently, nor the balance to be able to hold themselves upright for more than a minute. Yet, whilst she may have been considerably soberer than the pair of them ⎯ Asteria was still far too tipsy to Apparate.
Something she had unfortunately learnt the hard way as she found herself tucked in a darkened passageway in Diagon Alley ⎯ braced on her hands and knees as she regurgitated the many tequila shots Pansy had forced her to drink that night.
At that moment she was truly a vision to behold ⎯ sweaty faced, scuffed kneed, and utterly delirious on account of her inebriated mind and the side-effects of Apparating. She hadn't even made it relatively close to the flat she shared with Hestia and Circe.
After a moment, Asteria muttered a soft "Aguamenti" to rinse out her mouth and a cleaning charm to wash her face free from the make-up that was slowly melting into her pores. Taking a few shaky breaths in an attempt to calm the drumming in her skull, the witch slowly managed to pull herself from the floor ⎯ her legs wobbling rather uncertainly for a moment as she braced herself on the wall beside her.
In contrast to the bustling streets of London, Diagon Alley was eerily vacant. There was no laughter or incoherent chatter filling the air ⎯ instead, the only noise came from the subtle whispering of the cool September wind as it danced through the various alcoves and passageways of Diagon Alley.
And, in spite of the usual magical atmosphere that encompassed it during the daytime ⎯ Asteria had pointedly decided that Diagon Alley was far more nightmarish when it was vacant and dim.
Pulling herself together, Asteria made her way out of the alley she had Apparated into ⎯ heading in the direction she thought her home was in when she began to hear footsteps shuffle behind her. Blaming her usual sense of poor judgement, Asteria spared a glance over her shoulder, finding nobody behind her.
Whether the footsteps had simply been a figment of her imagination on account of her still slightly foggy mind and paranoia caused by the multiple ex-Death Eater disappearances, Asteria wasn't sure. Though she made sure to hurry her steps, walking with an increased urgency towards her flat ⎯ her inherent need for self-preservation kicking in.
The footsteps only began to grow louder the faster Asteria walked causing the brunette a great amount of unease. Making a snap decision, the witch ducked into a passing alley; waiting for the follower to get closer ⎯ her reckless actions reflective of those commonly associated with Gryffindor. Not that she'd ever admit it.
Asteria braced herself as the footsteps grew louder ⎯ the slight shuffle of feet resonating against the stone walls alerting the witch that her stalker was close. Taking a deep breath, Asteria shot out of her hiding space ⎯ pushing the stalker against the stone wall as she held her wand against their throat.
"Woah, hey. It's just me!" Asteria scowled at Fred Weasley's shocked and defensive expression, pushing her wand further into his neck despite her relief. Whilst Fred may have loathed her, Asteria knew the Weasley twin did not possess the ability to cause her any harm.
His words may have been venomous and spiteful, but she certainly wasn't in danger of physical harm or potential death. Though Asteria seemed to grow even angrier upon realising that ⎯ irritated and furious that Fred had thought it a smart idea to scare her given society's current looming threat.
"Is that supposed to calm me?" the brunette retorted as she dug her wand into the side of Fred's neck ⎯ of whom, remained perfectly calm even though he was being held at wand point by a witch who hated him.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on a woman in the middle of the night?"
Fred smirked at Asteria's incredulous expression ⎯ amused in spite of his current situation. "She did, but she also taught me never to allow a woman to walk home by herself ⎯ it's not very chivalrous," Fred replied with a certain air of arrogance that left Asteria's blood boiling.
It was almost comical how little effort it took Fred Weasley to rile her up. Asteria lowered her wand, moving a few steps back from the redhead as Fred straightened his green, dragonskin suit ⎯ the colour, surprisingly, not clashing with his red hair like most of the more eccentric ones did.
"I wasn't aware chivalry was a part of your vocabulary," Asteria stated with a rather snotty tone, looking down at him in spite of the fact tha his figure towered over hers. Fred was unperturbed by her tone, having come to the quick realisation that it was simply an extension of her personality throughout the various short encounters they'd had.
Oh, how ironically mislead they both were. "There are many things you don't know about me, Nott," Fred replied casually, shrugging his shoulders as his eyes twinkled mischievously under the dimly lit lanterns that illuminated Diagon Alley.
And do not wish to ever know, Asteria thought rather defensively as she spared one last weary look at the tall redhead before resuming her walk home. It was only when she passed Eeylops Owl Emporium that she noticed she wasn't alone.
"What are you doing, Weasley?"
Fred tilted his head as he stared at the witch with a raised brow. "Walking you home," the redhead deadpanned as he walked steadily down the street beside her, "I thought it was fairly obvious."
Asteria rolled her eyes, "no, I got that. What I don't understand is why. I don't need your help."
Her words were firm and authoritative ⎯ displaying her fierce independence as she stared up at the redhead in an unyielding manner. And, Fred may yet have believed her had she not stumbled into him mere moments after uttering the final syllable.
Fred smirked, catching the brunette in a firm hold before she could hit the floor, "you were saying."
Asteria scowled ⎯ a red flush flaming at the base of her neck out of pure embarrassment. As it happens, high heeled shoes and cobbled stone streets didn't make for the greatest pair ⎯ certainly not when the wearer of said shoes also happened to be mildly inebriated.
The brunette scoffed as she braced her hand against Fred's arm ⎯ pointedly ignoring the way his muscles subconsciously flexed ⎯ as she unstrapped her heels, freeing herself from the torture of embarrassing herself a second time.
Though Fred matched Percy's height, his build was much more filled out. Unlike Percy's lanky frame, Fred was quite a bit more muscular and well-defined ⎯ something Asteria put down to the many years he'd played as Beater for the Gryffindor quidditch team.
"Besides, I heard that it's not very safe for ex-Death Eaters at the minute, and I couldn't bear to have your mysterious disappearance weighed upon my conscience," Fred remarked with a shrug ⎯ his words holding a certain edge as he continued to follow a now barefoot Asteria down the cobbled street towards Hestia's cafe.
He had been on his way home from the Leaky Cauldron ⎯ having met up with Oliver Wood whilst the Puddlemere Keeper was on break ⎯ when he had seen Asteria stumbling down the street. And, though his mind had all but screamed at him to ignore her and leave her be ⎯ he had been raised better than that.
Asteria chuckled dryly, not at all surprised by the bitterness that had returned to Fred's tone. It was more shocking, after all, to see Fred Weasley act even relatively selfless than it was to see him act like a prick. "And the shoe drops," the brunette commented with a twisted smirk.
Fred sent the witch a side-eyed gaze, raising one of his brows in slight disbelief. "Did you honestly expect me to be doing this out of the kindness of my heart?" the redhead asked as his usual infuriating smirk curled at his lips.
"My mother raised a gentleman, not an idiot ⎯ you're still a snake."
Asteria smirked wickedly ⎯ showing no concern for his words or disappointment for his true reasons for walking home. She hadn't asked nor wanted him to in the first place ⎯ Fred Weasley's existence, decisions, and words were completely inconsequential to her.
( What a fool she had been for ever believing that )
"And you, somehow, have just managed to become an even bigger dickhead," Asteria remarked ⎯ her tone exaggerated as if conveying the redhead just won an award.
Fred smirked, unperturbed by her words just as the pair came to a stop in front of the main entrance of Hestia's Cafe. "Your words sting, Nott," he spoke sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart in a mocking manner.
"You need to posses actual feelings for my words to hold any weight, and based on our last few encounters, it would appear you are sorely lacking," Asteria quipped with a sly smirk, watching with delight as Fred's expression fell into a scowl.
Asteria tilted her head, studying the redhead with mischievous eyes. "Perhaps, Weasley, you're just as heartless as I am," she remarked with amusement, her tone soft and yet still managing to seep venomously under Fred's skin.
"Perhaps, there's more snake in you than you realise." And with that, Asteria unlocked the cafe door with a soft flick of her wand ⎯ leaving Fred stood in front of the cafe irritated, bewildered, and anathematizing the part of him that found truth in Asteria's words.