Chapter 22: The Great Shout-Off

Marcie reddened with indignation. "You consider this entertainment?! You're all freaks, freaks and perverts, if you find it funny to watch other people suffer! I refuse to participate in this charade. I'm leaving."

She marched toward the stairs leading out of the gym. As she drew level with the edge of the bleachers, a few people in the audience began to snicker. She kept walking. The laughter got louder.

It was then that she figured out that she was walking, but she wasn't going anywhere. The floor was simply moving her backwards as much as she tried to walk forwards.

"In a surprise move, one of the competitors attempts to leave the arena. Unfortunately, that's not permitted. So sorry, madame," the pale, sneering man said, making no attempt to conceal the laughter in his own voice. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay and fight it out."

Marcie pressed her lips together, feeling her face begin to heat. They want me angry, she thought desperately. I won't give in. I can't.

She did.

"HOW DARE YOU?" she shrieked. "How dare you bring me here to make fun of me? How dare you steal my daughter's affection away from me, her natural mother? How long have you been watching us? How long have you been watching her? How long have you wanted her?"

She snapped her fingers, the idea coming to her in a flash. "That's it, of course, that's the answer. That's why she is – what she is. You did something to her! You did something when my daughter was a baby, something to turn her into a freak like you, so you could steal her from us! What's wrong, don't you have enough of your own? And you call yourself a mother! How could you?"

The other woman – the announcer had said her name, was it Molly? – scoffed. "Really, now, do use some common sense. Assuming you have any. I've seen brighter people than you who've had heavy objects dropped on their heads. What's your excuse – did your pig of a husband fall on top of you at some point?"

The freak section of the audience hooted.

"If you had ever showed Helen the affection she deserves, or any affection at all, we would never have had to interfere. Children seldom do accidental magic if they are loved and cared for." Marcie took a breath to respond, but Molly wasn't finished. "And if you had kept an open mind about her, instead of simply believing what your husband told you – honestly, this isn't the 18th century – you would have seen what a beautiful child she was, and that her magic was a gift, an inborn gift, not a curse. I'll also have you know that we certainly do not lack children of our own. I am proud to be the grandmother of twenty-seven wonderful children."

"I hope you're not counting Helen in that number," Marcie sneered. "She's no granddaughter of yours. If you were my mother, I'd probably kill myself." The normal part of the audience, many of whom showed distinct signs of having been pranked already, sniggered.

"If you were my daughter, I would have spared you the trouble long ago," Molly retorted. The freak audience laughed again. "You closed-minded, foolish woman. You wanted to know how long we've been watching you, well, I'll tell you then. We've always watched the Dursley family. Because once they were in danger, in danger for their lives, and we wanted to prevent anything bad from happening to them."

"Liar!" Dudley shouted from the bleachers. "It was all tricks, all tricks to get back at us for what we did to Potter, just like what you're doing now."

"Don't speak unless you're spoken to," Molly snapped in Dudley's direction, then restored her attention to Marcie. "During that period of danger, Dudley met you, and it became apparent where things were going. My son-in-law asked that we keep watching you, not because we wanted to spy, but because he was afraid that something might happen, something exactly like what did happen. A child left out, neglected, for no better reason than that she looked like a great-aunt who was different. We could not, would not, allow that to continue."

"Children need discipline," Marcie returned. "And she needed firmer discipline than a normal child."

"Why? Because she was not normal?" Molly shook her head in disbelief. "How can you be so blind? She needed love, love and reassurance, not to be pushed away! If you had kept up what you did, with Helen's temper, it's quite possible she could have torn your house down and killed you all by accident!"

"I know that's a lie!" Apparently, Dudley couldn't contain himself. "My parents did worse to Potter, and he never killed anyone."

"He was tempted," said the vampire man, rising from his seat to shoot Dudley a look of loathing. "You have no idea how he was tempted. And you and your parents were lucky, in that Harry Potter was a forbearing and mostly even-tempered child. Helen, although you do not know her well enough to see this, has something of a short fuse. Do not contradict the lady again, or I will make you regret it."

Molly nodded thanks toward him. He returned the nod and sat down, still looking angrier than Marcie had thought was possible. A red-haired woman next to him slipped her arm through his comfortingly.

"You make me sick," Marcie spat. "So sure you know what's right and what's wrong. So self-righteous and full of yourselves. How would you like it if I came into your home, took one of your children away from you because I didn't think you were doing it right?"

"If I had ever treated one of my children as you treated Helen, you would have every right to do so!" Molly said indignantly. "You were this close to criminal neglect – one speck more and you would have crossed the line. And then, suddenly, she improved. She stopped misbehaving, as you called it."

"As I called it?" Marcie sputtered. "She destroyed every breakable thing in the house! Twice!"

"And both times because you made her angry by denying her some trifle it would have been perfectly fine to let her have!"

"You've never dealt with a child like her," Marcie said. "You don't know what it's like."

All the freaks in the audience began to laugh. Even Molly looked vaguely amused. "You are quite correct. I have never dealt with a child like her."

Finally. A point for me. Marcie smirked.

"I raised seven magical children."

Marcie gaped. "Seven?!"

"Let us return to the subject at hand," Molly said firmly. "Helen's behavior improved – no thanks to you. You never questioned. You simply began to allow her freedom again. Freedom to come and go. And when she began spending large amounts of time at a neighbor's house, you never investigated. SHE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT THERE!" Molly shouted suddenly, causing everyone to jump. "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN EXPLOITED, OR GETTING INTO UNTHINKABLE THINGS! WHY DID YOU NEVER CARE ENOUGH TO CHECK ON HER?"

"But – she wasn't," Marcie protested feebly. "Dudley said he'd known Mrs. Figg for years, she used to babysit his cousin..." Something connected inside Marcie's head. "SHE'S ONE OF YOU, ISN'T SHE! SHE'S ANOTHER FREAK LIKE YOU! EVERY SECOND MY DAUGHTER SPENT WITH HER, SHE WAS BEING CORRUPTED!"

"Arabella Figg is not a witch," Molly said with satisfaction. "But she is a friend of our families. And yes, much of the time that Helen supposedly spent at her house was actually spent at my own home, or at the home of one of my sons or my daughter. And if you had ever deigned to go and visit her and ask, she would have told you that. But no. She took 'the blasted girl' off your hands. So you let Helen go freely to a place you knew next to nothing about."

"I always wondered where she picked up her filthy ways," Marcie said bitterly.

"Filthy ways like reading?" Molly pounced on the phrase. "Or didn't you ever notice she could read? Filthy ways like music and mathematics? Did you ever know she could sing, or that she needed help learning to add? Of course not, because you never asked or cared about her!"

"I was referring to her filthy way of hurting people," Marcie said contemptuously. "Which of your precious grandchildren taught her how to fight with her fists? She's bloodied her brother's nose more than once."

"Her brother Sirius, I believe that was – "

"SHE HAS NO BROTHER WITH THAT FREAKISH NAME!" Marcie screamed. "HER BROTHER'S NAME IS CHESTER. STOP REFERRING TO HER AS IF SHE WERE YOURS!"

"She is ours," Molly said crisply. "By our choice and by hers, Helen belongs to us. She has belonged to us for the past six years."

"Six years!"

"Yes, six years. She was five when she asked to be adopted, so she could have a real family. We gave her what she asked for, which you apparently never did. She is ours, and we will not give her up. And if I were you, I wouldn't call 'Sirius' a freakish name. At least not if you want to leave this room unharmed."

The werewolf on the second tier growled in apparent assent.

"You don't scare me," Marcie growled back at it, emboldened by the energy of combined anger and panic. "You," she snapped at the pale man, "you said we wouldn't get hurt. Going back on your word so soon?"

"I said that you wouldn't get hurt if you were rational and polite," the man replied in a tone colder than ice. "Criticizing someone that most of the people here cared about is hardly rational or polite. Down, Remus." The werewolf snarled but lay down.

"You dare to talk about being rational?" Marcie was aghast. "You dare to talk about politeness? How do you justify stealing someone else's child? Is that rational? Is that polite? Is that fair?"

Molly sighed. "My daughter and son-in-law did nothing underhanded to gain Helen's affection. They called themselves her aunt and uncle, visited her only once every few days – for heaven's sake, they left her in your house, when she and they both wanted desperately for her to leave it! They wanted to give you every chance they could to keep her! And if you recall, Harry tried to speak with you on this subject, politely and like a rational adult. You shouted at him, and your husband tried to attack him physically."

"He insulted us," Marcie hissed. "He invaded our home. And now you have dragged us here for more insults, more humiliations. How can you live with yourselves? Tell me that."

Molly snorted. "We have no qualms – any of us – about what we do here tonight. You deserve much worse."

"WHAT COULD BE WORSE THAN THIS?" Marcie shouted. "STRANDED IN THIS PLACE, LOCKED IN LIKE ANIMALS BY THIS – THIS – ABNORMALITY OF YOURS, TEASED AND TORMENTED FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT! AND NOW YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY WE DESERVE WORSE! TELL ME – WHAT COULD BE WORSE THAN THIS?!"

"I will tell you," Molly said in a tone that was so full of righteous anger that Marcie took an involuntary step back. "To live your life unwanted and unnoticed. To watch someone else get everything you want while you get nothing. To be ignored, slighted, neglected at every turn. And if you try to speak up and ask for something better, you're slapped down and told you deserve nothing. You're punished for things you can't help or change. And this is the only life you know."

The gymnasium was as silent as if everyone had been turned into stone. Marcie's one step backward had turned into a series, since Molly was stalking slowly forward.

"That is the life my seventh son had before we met him. That is the life you would have let Helen have. And that is the life I wish I could give you. As long as you live, never to hear a kind word, never to have anyone speak your name in love. That is what you deserve."

They were face-to-face. Marcie could feel the other woman's breath on her face, feel the heat of her anger, feel those eyes boring into her soul. For the first time in her life, she knew what true fear was.

The freak audience broke into applause. The six identical men were chanting "Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum," as the women clapped in time. The vampire man stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled ear-piercingly, and the werewolf howled.

Marcie whimpered and wished it would all go away.

And as Molly grabbed her wrist again, it did, with a horrid jerk that felt as if it started somewhere inside her body. She was back in the hallway where this had all started, leaning against the wall weakly.

"One last thing," Molly said darkly. She pulled out her little stick and said something. Marcie squealed as she felt something sprout on her forehead.

"They'll fall out within a few days," said Molly. "But the scars will be permanent. Consider them a remembrance gift." She spun on her heel and walked down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

Marcie ran her hand across her forehead fearfully. There were two of them, whatever they were, and they were sharp and pointed.

She pulled out her pocket mirror and shrieked. There, on her forehead just below her hairline, were a pair of devil's horns.

-----

Around the corner, Molly smiled to herself. She got off easy. I should have given her a tail to match. But I won't torment her any more just yet.

She set off in search of Dudley and Chester Dursley. There was plenty left of the night.

-----

(A/N: So, was it what you were hoping for?

Kraeg001: 15-odd years of friendship with Harry and company has loosened Minerva up a bit, I think. Yes, I thought you'd enjoy traying twins. James Black is exactly who Minerva says he is. More about him in the sequel. Remember, Elizabeth has a father; he just didn't know how to deal with her before. He'll get some advice. And you DO have front-row seats. So to speak. ::cackle:: Great review! Thank you also for providing Molly's first crack at Marcie – the one about Dudley falling on her head!

athenakitty: Yes, yes, yes, maybe, and yes.

Nalini213: Glad you think my traying twins were funny. I originally intended for them to be sitting on the trays, but standing up is more fun...

Queen of the Jungle: Thank you for noticing! I love that scene myself! I was a little miffed that no one else mentioned it.

Annikaya: I vote for Molly too! But there will be lots more pranks, I promise! The night is far from over!

AKA Hummer: More assonance than rhyming, I think, but thanks for noticing.

Gyre: You have a point. I think they consider themselves paid from the fun they're having.

emikae: Thanks for asking. See bottom.

Lady Cinnibar: You don't HAVE to... but thank you for doing so anyway! Ren Fairs rock! See bottom for your question.

Tanydwr: What a great review! You're going to spoil me! Thank you for noticing my Percy and Penelope bits. I figure Percy had to let go of some of his pride to reconcile with his family, and he found out everyone liked him better that way, so he stuck with it. This story ends when Helen achieves the status of the title, but the sequel will pick up right where this leaves off. As for the pranks... I just think like the twins. Dangerous to do for long, but useful for writing.

Joshua: Hey, I'm just emulating the Goddess of Canon. By her own admission, she has around 200 characters, and more to come. Thanks for the compliments.

Nimohtar, Magic Caster, Ravens-Jade, harryp123, LadyRaven13, Egyptian Flame, prisoner nomber 961: Thank you very much!

To those who asked about Elizabeth Petrov: Notice that she's around the age of Harry's children. That places her grandfather in the age bracket of Harry's parents. Her last name is significant, as are her looks. Any guesses now?

Early update for all my lovely reviewers! Keep reviewing please, there's no such thing as too long or too often!)