Title: Impossible and Improbable
Author: Okidokiboki
Well…apparently New Year's resolutions are just made for breaking. Sorry about that. Technically, I shouldn't be writing now because I have an AP Physics exam on Monday, and the extent of physics that I have understood from my teacher this year can be summed up as nothing. I just felt like doing something other than studying. Thanks for putting up with me. And thanks for reviewing despite my inability to update. And I apologize if this is an awful chapter. I took the AP Euro test yesterday, so my brain is kind of frazzled. But at least I'm still in a European mood. Kind of.
Disclaimer: If I was living in Stalin's Russia, I would own more of Harry Potter than I do now.
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Chapter 4: Merde!
It was about a month after he had been put in Azkaban, Harry decided. It was hard to keep track of the time. He heard the sound of a door opening somewhere. Raising his head, he saw the same man who had brought him to his cell bring another prisoner. He lowered his head; he did not really care who was being brought into the jail. It was probably some Death Eater, and Death Eaters did not usually have anything kind to say to Harry Potter.
The jail cell across from was opened as the prisoner was brought in. He heard the creaking door shut and then locked with the spell that the old warden whispered in his croaky voice. Harry still did not look and see who was across from him.
But then the prisoner said something that made him raise his head.
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It was about a week since his meeting with the stranger at the café. People in the ministry were surprised about Fudge's ongoing good mood
If only they knew, he thought.
He had a plan now, and had already started carrying it out. He had help, now, to get back his position. The job that was rightfully his. Yes, things were finally turning around for him. Elizabeth Bouclier would rue the day that she had agreed to take the position of Minister of Magic. Fudge laughed, ignoring the stares of people around him.
Oh, this was going to be fun. He only wished that he could see the reaction of Elizabeth….
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"Vous ne l'avez pas fait, n'est-ce pas?"
Harry raised his head to see a very a girl in the cell opposite.
"Uh…bonjour?" Harry could not think of what to say. He had never really been taught how to speak French. Great, he thought, just when there's someone to talk to, I can't speak the right language.
The girl laughed. She had black hair and bright blue eyes. She looked like someone Harry knew, but he could not figure out who. It was something about the way she held herself—confident, but sad.
"Your accent is horrible," she mockingly said back.
"Well, excusez-moi if I've never taken a French lesson in my life," Harry bit back. Sitting in Azkaban did not do wonders for one's patience. Yes, he was happy there was someone to talk to, but it was taking him a while to remember how to actually talk to someone other than himself.
"It's okay, it's okay. I was just saying, you didn't do it, did you?" She had a light French accent.
"Do what?"
"Don't play dumb, Harry. Everyone knows who you are and what your are accused of doing."
"Oh wow, I thought the whole news of me killing Dumbledore was going to be kept a secret. I thought that whole crowd that heard the verdict would just forget everything. I-" He stopped himself mid-sentence. He knew that he should probably give the girl a break, but it was hard to control his temper. He had no one to talk to for so long, so now that he did, all the anger he felt started pouring out.
"Hey, don't worry. I believe you're innocent."
"Oh, yeah. A lot of good that's going to do me. Why don't you tell the world that, I bet they'll release just because one girl thinks I'm innocent."
"Normally, when someone believes someone is innocent, the innocent person says, 'Thank you for believing in me.'" She was smiling a little less now, but she had a caring look in her eye. That made Harry more angry though. He did not want her pity. Not when he did not have it from the people he wanted it from the most.
"Why should I care what you think? Everyone else thinks I'm guilty. Fudge thinks I'm guilty, Hogwarts thinks I'm guilty, my own best friends think I'm guilty!"
"What makes you think you're best friends think you're guilty?"
"I saw they're faces when they put me in Azkaban. Ron looked more affected than after he asked Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball. And Hermione, she looked more dumbfounded than if she had gotten a zero on a paper. They think I'm guilty. I know they do."
"Just because they're confused doesn't mean they think that you're guilty."
"If they thought I was innocent, they wouldn't look confused. I've seen their faces when I've been accused of something. When people thought I was the heir of Slytherin, they had a different look because they believed that I wasn't. When people accused me of being a nutcase, they knew I wasn't. They've been used to me being accused of stuff. And I'm used to seeing their faces whenever I am. I just-"
Harry could not continue talking. He did not realize how loudly he was talking until suddenly everything became silent. He had his back against the damp wall and rested his head on his knees. Everything he had been thinking about had just come pouring out of his mouth to a complete stranger. Every bit of hurt and sadness that had come with the silent accusation he had seen in his friends' eyes had just spilled out. He wished he could take the words back; he did not really like talking about his private life to a girl whose name he did not even know.
The girl interrupted the silence, "Catherine."
"Sorry?" Harry raised his head.
"My name is Catherine Bouclier."
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"Merde!"
Elizabeth Bouclier swore only when she had to. And she only swore in French when she was very, very mad. And right now, she was incredibly angry. Why did this have to happen now? She had enough to worry about.
Fudge. This was his doing, and she knew it. Ever since they had their "discussion" the week before, he had been very upbeat. He had been very polite to her. Of course, she had been suspicious. Men like Fudge were rarely nice without a reason. He had even asked her how her daughter was. And of course, now she knew why.
"Salaud!"
That bastard. He was the only in the Ministry to stick people in Azkaban right now. And of course, he was misusing the power. He had started with Harry and was now continuing on to Catherine. The problem was, she could not fire him because of it. It was only an Auror's intuition that made her believe that he was carrying out a personal vendetta. She had no hard evidence that he was lying. He had papers "proving" that her daughter had been involved in some discreet espionage with Voldemort. It was a total lie, he knew that she knew that. That was what was driving her insane. He knew that she was powerless to stop this for now.
She was not worried about the safety of her daughter; the dementors had been out of Azkaban since the beginning of the war. But she did not want her daughter stuck in a jail cell. Catherine was all she had left now. Catherine's father—she could not even bear to think of him. It brought back so many sad memories.
Elizabeth sat down in her chair. She was done pacing, which meant she was done thinking. It was time for action.
Fudge had gone too far when he had involved her daughter in his quest. But he had made a mistake—he had underestimated her.
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"Bouclier, huh. So you're the daughter of the Minister of Magic."
"Aren't you the quick one," Catherine replied, rolling her eyes.
"What are you doing here?"
"The same thing as you, I suppose."
"And that would be…?"
"Dealing with Fudge's inability to move on from the past. He creates crimes for us and then places us here. In my case, I supposedly exchanged secrets about top secret Ministry security plans with Voldemort. Of course, Fudge manages to completely overlook the fact that I was at Beauxbatons at the exact time that I told Voldemort how to bypass Ministry officials. Apparently, I have the ability to be in two places at once. Kind of cool, huh."
"Uh…sure."
"Oh, come on. Lighten up."
Harry stared at her with disbelief. "Lighten up? I'll see how bright and chipper you'll be after a month in this place. I've had nothing to do but count the number of drips per minute. I've tried going all A Little Princess by befriending the rats, but then I have to compete with them over my food. And now that I've got someone to talk to, it turns out to be some naïve girl who thinks that being stuck in Azkaban is cause for celebration because her mom is the Minister of Magic and thus makes her invincible."
"Actually, it's been two months since you've been imprisoned here."
"Great. I missed the anniversary. I'll have to throw a huge party for the three month anniversary now. Maybe I can invite all the rats over and that warden guy."
"Oh, I'm not invited?"
Harry scowled. This girl was driving him insane. She seemed to have no sense of their situation. Her mocking optimism was getting on his nerves.
"Look, I'm sorry. I know that this has probably hard on you—"Harry scoffed at the understatement, "But it's just, this can't last. Something good is going to have to happen."
"What makes you think that?" Harry was having a hard time being as optimistic about everything."
"Well, it's just that Voldemort can't win. You're going to get free and save the world. That's just the way it works."
"I hate to break it to you, but this is not the magical world that appears in Muggle books. Voldemort might win. The world might end with death and destruction. People may not have the happily every after they always wished for."
"You're still alive though. As long as you're still alive, aren't we allowed to still hope. There's a prophecy about it."
"Yeah, because I'm going to defeat Voldemort while stuck in a cell in Azkaban talking to some idiot girl that thinks that everyone's going to die happy. Besides, how do you know about the prophecy?"
"My mom. And just because I haven't given up does not mean I am an idiot. I just think that it's not over till it's over."
"Give it up." Harry was getting impatient again. This girl just did not know when to stop. He knew that she was trying to help, but he did not want any help. He just wanted a different life where he would not have to deal with so much tragedy.
"Look, just because it might be hard—"
"Hard? That's an understatement. I've lost my parents, my stepfather, and now I've lost my best friends. I'm supposed to fulfill this prophecy or lose my life. Winning anything hasn't really a common streak in my track record. Besides, doesn't anyone stop to think that maybe I'm tired of having to save everyone. I just want to be a normal teenager instead of a tragic hero."
"I'm not here to argue with you. If you want to be difficult, then fine. Go on being depressed. It's not going to do you any good, though, just constantly moaning and groaning. You've had two whole months to be pissed off. You're not going to get anything by remaining so bummed out. You are who you are; it may suck, but it's what you're stuck with."
Harry kept silent. In his isolation, he had forgotten what it felt like to have someone else be right.
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Yeah. This chapter was the result of procrastination and listening to bhangra after watching 21 Jump Street, Alias, and House. I would make it longer, but I have to go to sleep soon. Don't worry, I actually have some idea of what's going to come up in later chapters. With any luck, I'll have chapter five up sometime soon.
Catherine is the result of reading Darkness at Noon. The book, if you haven't heard of it, is about a Russian Revolutionary hero who is high up in the Communist party. He is put in jail because of suspicion that he was plotting to kill the leader. The book follows the psychological and physical torture he undergoes. One part I liked was that he taps messages to the guy in the next cell. I was going to do something similar to Harry, but I realized that Harry has never showed any evidence of knowing Morse code. So I stuck the prisoner in the opposite cell. Don't worry, there is more to Catherine than being the daughter to the Minister of Magic. Most of you can probably guess, but I'm not revealing anything till later.
Review and everything will unfold sooner. I promise.
By the way, to those of you who were wondering, merdemeans shit and salaud means bastard. Just in case….
Au revoir!
