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For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1
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24 – Classes, Week forty, Second year
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Sunday, May 28, 2000:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Gryffindor table: 08:34
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Mattie reached to refill her coffee cup, only to find the carafe empty. She winced, slurping the last dregs from her cup.
"Out again?" Shaundra asked quietly, in deference to the frantically studying students.
"Yeah, still the same problems with Charms and Transfig," Mattie sighed. Quietly, she complained, "I can just now get through some of the stuff we did in first year! I'm hopeless!"
"Think we could trade? I'll do yours if you do mine?" Arthur asked, to Felicia's snort. "I'm still barely an 'A' on Potions and Herbology."
"I think they're wise to that trick, mate," Charlie said. "Tuck in, we don't have OWLS or NEWTS to worry on."
"Poor bastards," Andrew agreed.
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Tuesday, May 30, 2000:
London, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office: 08:23
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"I can't do it," Cornelius Fudge whispered. "The revenue just isn't there. I can cut the Wizengamot or the DMLE. If I cut the Wizengamot, they'll vote me out of office in a trice, if I cut the DMLE, I'll ..." he swallowed heavily, "I'll have my throat cut."
He turned in his expensive dragon-hide chair, and looked out the magical window frame at the London skyline (despite the Ministry offices being underground). He whispered to himself, "I need gold. Enough for a few months, then the income taxes will come, and I can balance the budget." He turned, and idly flipped through the parchment littering his desk. It was even messier than when he'd had a secretary, but he'd had to economize, and she'd had to go. He glanced at a weeks-old report, and was about to bin it, when a name caught his eye.
Malfoy, Lucille: age 11 Assault by potion, attempted fraud by deception.
Convicted by Hogsmeade town court, held at Hogwarts
"Malfoy..." he crooned. "I wonder how she likes being held at school. I think she'd like her name and freedom returned. For a price, that is."
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Wednesday, May 31, 2000:
Hogwarts, Slytherin second-year girl's dorms: 06:00
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Sprink mouthed the words as they counted down: "Three ... two ... one!" Together, Lee and Sprink ripped the hangings apart on Mattie's four-poster, yelling "Happy Birthday!" and 'Aqueous Frigidus'! to douse her with freezing water.
"Hey, where is she?" Lee asked.
"Above you. 'Stupefy!'" Mattie called, and her two dorm-mates splashed face-first into the soaked mattress. She released the harness she'd rigged to the beams, jumping down to roll them over. She sighed, casting 'Enervate', and telling the two, "I thought we were supposed to be the sneaky house."
"So did I," Lee admitted. "By the way, Happy Birthday."
"Thanks."
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Wednesday, May 31, 2000:
Hogwarts, Potions classroom: 09:00
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The door banged shut, the second-years instantly falling silent. "Lab partners are as assigned (Professor Snape flicked his wand), you will complete the questions and brew Doxycide without your notes. Begin." Arthur groaned quietly, looking at Felicia, his partner, who looked ill. "Full moon?" he whispered, and she nodded. "Go tell the professor, Sprink is," he suggested.
"Miss Cortez, team with Mr. Morton," the professor called as Felicia left the class.
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Thursday, June 1, 2000:
Hogwarts, Transfiguration classroom: 13:00
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Mattie groaned to herself, she was doing her normal (poor) job in Transfig. She just hoped she had been some help to a slightly panicking Lee, who was now on her way to her first Potions final. 'I remember what that was like,' she recalled.
"Good afternoon," Professor McGonagall said. "For your examination, you will transfigure a cup and saucer into a soup tureen, in your opposite house's colours, so Slytherin to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff to Ravenclaw and reverse. Please fetch one, and good luck." Mattie groaned to herself.
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Malfoy was held in a remodeled broom closet, wearing only a hideous orange jumpsuit that was spelled on her and (at Dumbledore's request) a pair of warm woolen socks. She was allowed a self-inking quill, parchment, and a small table to write on, along with her first-year textbooks (but no wand). The entire space was about six by four feet, including her cot and the loo behind a partition. Steel bars locked her in, with a thick glass door a few feet in front of that, equipped with air holes and a silencing spell. A house-elf delivered three meals a day.
Malfoy looked up and sneered, while Sprink and Lee poked their wand tips through the holes. Visible on the wall behind Malfoy was a calendar, with today not yet marked off. Mattie grabbed the two wands, and said, "Don't, guys. Malfoy may be scum, but I'm not going to spray cold water on her when she can't fight back."
"You're too bloody noble, mate."
"Maybe. I've been on the other side of those bars, remember? I don't want to give her another reason to chase after me when she gets out."
"When she gets out? She's never getting out!" Lee said. Mattie simply raised her eyebrow, and walked toward the Great Hall.
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Friday, June 2, 2000:
Hogwarts, Headmaster's office: 09:33
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"I must say, this is most unusual," Albus Dumbledore said.
Ms. Merritt agreed. "It is unusual, but, unfortunately, legal." She eyed the Minister; then turned, "Miss Malfoy, the Minister has generously granted you an unconditional pardon. If you come to my town, I don't want to see a hair out of place on you, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Lucille said quietly, standing before her 'mother' Narcissa and her solicitor.
"She must be in school," Narcissa said. "It is too late for this year, but I will be enrolling her at Hogwarts next year. Still, she can sit some of her examinations." Lucille spun in shock, but the Headmaster was slowly nodding. "Her wand," he said, passing it to Narcissa. Lucille tried to snatch it, but she was slapped down. "If there is nothing else?" She stood, following her solicitor out the door. Albus did not miss Lucille sliding a Gringotts key into the Minister's hand.
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Friday, June 2, 2000:
Hogwarts, Narcissa's flat: 09:52
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"You're free again, with your name restored, Lucille. You will be staying with me when you are not in class, young lady. Is that clear?"
"Young lady?" she snorted. "If my damned disguise spell wasn't faulty, you'd find out who was Master here!"
"Oh, has the vaunted Malfoy cunning failed you?" she snorted. "Let me see, you had some unfortunate underling cast a spell on a charm, then poisoned them so they couldn't betray you." She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on her teeth, "Undoubtedly Nott. He hasn't been seen in months, he's buried at Azkaban under Lucius' name, I think."
Lucille snarled, and Narcissa slapped her. "Don't do that, dear, you'll get wrinkles before you're thirty. You forgot that Nott was also a Slytherin, and might just take steps against you. Next, you stole the identity of that Colonial, never dreaming that their government might suspect you." Narcissa shook her head, "Foolish, foolish move. Governments, and I am not including your bumbling idiot Fudge in that category, have two advantages over you, Lucille dear. Far more money than they know what to do with, and absolute scads of influence. Sit down, dear, or I'll petrify you."
Lucille threw herself into a chair, Narcissa replied with a stinging hex. "Properly, dear, properly. As a pureblood lady might." Lucille gave her a venomous look, but stood, smoothed her school skirt, and sat. "Legs crossed at the ankles, dear, tucked under the chair leg to the right. I see we'll have to work on deportment this summer. Now where were we? Ah, yes, governments." She tisked, "Another error you made, and that bumbling idiot Fudge later duplicated, was to threaten Mr. Wayne's daughter. Now, I will be the first to admit that your relationship with Draco was not perfect. After all, you were attempting to raise a good little clone of yourself for the Dark Lord, but he persisted in having a mind of his own. Then, when he dared to defy you, you killed him. You lost whatever lingering feelings I might have had for you that day, when you boasted, BOASTED of killing our son."
She closed her eyes for a minute in grief, and Lucille moved. Unfortunately, her skirt rustled, and Narcissa had her wand pointed. "I will treat you, Lucille Malfoy, like you treated Draco," she said in a cold voice. "You will go to school. You will excel in every class. You will sit and eat at the Gryffindor table, you will study with your house. You will gain points for Gryffindor, and may God have mercy on you, as I won't."
"And what about when you are occupied, 'Mother'? What then? Who will watch me then?" Lucille sneered.
"We shall," the Bloody Baron said, popping into existence with Draco and the other ghosts. "You will not know when we are observing you, Miss Malfoy, but remember, we have far more patience than you do."
"But... but you aren't allowed..."
The Baron waved that off, "There are very few spells that affect ghosts, Miss Malfoy. The restrictions you are thinking of are more of an agreement with the live ones, and in your case, there are no restrictions on us."
"Plot and plan away, Lucille," Narcissa said. "You will in any case, but remember to honestly list both your assets and liabilities. Among your liabilities, remember that you are in the body of an eleven year old girl, and that your opponents are Slytherins that are just as cunning and devious as you are."
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Friday, June 2, 2000:
London, Diagon Alley, Gringotts: 10:13
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"Vault 343, please," Cornelius Fudge told the goblin with a smile. He forced himself to stop fidgeting. 'Soon, you'll have enough gold to keep your good name on every wizard's lips,' he told himself. He followed after the goblin to the carts, steeling himself for the nauseating ride.
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"Vault 343," the goblin said, climbing out of the cart and holding up a lantern. "Key, please." Fudge scrabbled it out of a vest pocket, and the goblin opened the vault, giving him the lantern. Fudge dashed in, only to find...
A scrap of parchment on the floor, held down by a knut. The vault was otherwise bare. Fudge looked up as the door boomed closed, the locks clacking shut.
"Noooooo!"
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Saturday, June 3, 2000:
London, Diagon Alley, Gringotts: 13:10
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"Mr. Griplink," the head of security said. "Vault 343 was accessed yesterday."
"By whom, Mr. Pinchwaist?"
"Minister Fudge, sir."
"Ah," Griplink said, making a note. "We shall need to send in a cleaning crew. As that vault is a 'Bearer vault', it is now available again. Please remove the automatic locking charms, and any other bits of nastiness Mr. Malfoy used. What do you recommend we do with the corpse?"
"Minister Fudge was married, sir, although our reports indicate it was not a happy one. I suggest we return the body with the standard illegal access disclaimer. It is known he was quite desperate for gold. Attempted burglary of a client's vault will fit very well."
"We shall do nothing to the widow Fudge, or her vault, of course. She is, after all, a valued client, and I'm sure, deeply mournful." He made another note, "Find out when the funeral is, and we will be sure to send a modest arrangement. I shall go myself, to express the bank's sympathy at her loss." He tapped his fingers in thought; saying, "Yes, that should do. Pity Mr. Fudge was killed by his ally. However, we do not need to show what happens when you steal from and torture goblin kin."
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