1999
Disclaimer: Elements of this plot (and the title) resemble George Orwell's 1984. I own nothing from either Orwell or Rowling but am merely having a bit of fun combining the worlds. See end of chapter for further explanation.
Prologue: By the Pricking of my Thumbs
"The last door in the second corridor on the eighteenth floor…the last door in the second corridor on the eighteenth floor…the last door in the second corridor on the eighteenth floor…"
A young girl muttered the words under her breath over and over again. She could not get it wrong. It was an important task. She would never get the chance to meet anyone remotely interesting if she couldn't follow simple orders.
Her breath caught in her throat as she reached her destination. The eighteenth floor.
Anyone who was important worked on the eighteenth floor at the Ministry. Everyone knew that.
It was said He even held an office here. Not that she would even know what He looked like if she were to cross him.
Come to think if, she was not entirely sure she wanted to know. She wanted excitement and she wanted to meet important people. But she couldn't shake the feeling that to meet him would be to meet death.
The Protector. The Liberator. Father to them all.
He was God and the Devil rolled into one. Not that she would ever voice that opinion to anyone.
Her eyes darted around nervously. Perhaps it was dangerous to even think such things on the eighteenth floor. One could never be too careful.
She shook her red hair and started down the second hallway. The last door…
The last door on which side of the hallway?
She bit her lip in thought. No one had mentioned the possibility that there would be a door on each side. They only told her the last door in the second corridor on the eighteenth floor. Knock on the door three times. When it opens hand over the envelope. Do not allow your eyes to leave to floor. Do not look at the person who opens the door. Then turn around and come back.
A cold sweat broke on her forehead, if she chose the wrong door they could kill her. They had killed others for less.
She had just wanted a bit of excitement, really. But she hadn't wanted to die.
She certainly could not go back downstairs with the envelope still in hand.
While examining the doors closer she did notice that one seemed to be just a tad farther to the end of the hallway than the other. That must be to correct door, she decided.
Filled with new resolve she brought her knuckle to the middle of the door and knocked three steady times. As predicted, the door opened and she felt the envelope being tugged from her own hand.
A sigh of relief. She had done it.
Eyes still firmly on the ground she waited for the door to close once more before she dared to move.
It did not close, though.
She was aware of the rules. Clearly, she could not leave before the other party closed the door. She did not dare to peek up to see what they were doing, though.
"Lord, but they train you all to be emotionless," came from above her.
She was certain the surprise was evident on her face. Which, considering the comment, was slightly ironic.
"Look at me, girl."
It was a direct order. She could hardly ignore it.
Hoping beyond hope that she was not physically trembling she lifted her head to see a tall, slender male. She would guess him to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. He was handsome but not in a way to intimidate -- more of a friendly, playful handsome.
She was terrified.
Those who looked the least threatening in appearance were often those from whom you had the most to fear.
Not that she had anyway to know, but she heard rumors that the spies looked like this. What if he had a way of knowing she was having traitorous thoughts not even fifteen feet away?
Meanwhile, the man was still staring at her with something resembling interest.
"You wouldn't happen to be a Weasley, would you?" He finally asked.
With no shortage of confusion she peered up at him. "Sir?"
He waved her off. "No, of course you wouldn't know if you were a Weasley. But I'll eat my left foot if you aren't. No other family has hair that red."
Still avoiding his eyes she eagerly absorbed the information.
Weasley, Weasley, Weasley she repeated in her mind. As soon as she could find a way into the Hall of Records she would look up the name.
No one had last names any longer. There weren't families. There were only the purebloods and…the non-purebloods.
He cleared his throat and appeared to be almost uncomfortable. "I don't need to remind you the consequences of repeating that, do I?"
"No, sir."
"Good. I have another assignment for you, then, since you seem to be a capable girl."
She stared at the floor once again.
"Knock on the fifth door on the right in the other hallway. When the door opens hand the man this piece of parchment. I'll trust you not to peek at it on the way there," he said with what could be described as amusement.
Without a word she accepted the parchment from him and made her way down the other hallway.
She counted to doors and knocked three times on the fifth door.
"Well? What department are you from, girl?"
Her throat went dry. The parchment wasn't from her department so she couldn't very well tell him it was. But to refer to another member would not be at all wise.
"Speak!" he commanded.
She flinched and swallowed down a feeling of irrational anger that came with his animal-like treatment of her.
Feeling slightly rebellious she finally settled on her answer. "A gentleman from the other hallway instructed me to deliver this, sir."
The man grabbed the parchment from her and as he read it she could practically feel anger radiating from him.
"Bloody Black," she heard him mutter before he slammed the door shut.
Bloody Black? Was that some sort of curse, she wondered. Perhaps it was the first man's name.
Black, Black, Black. She would have to remember to look it up along with Weasley.
A/N -- 1984 is, quite possibly, my favorite book of all time. As Russian history is my nerdy passion I adore the book and how accurate it is. Anyway, point is that Big Brother is one of the most brilliant acts of fiction from the twentieth century so I hope George will forgive me for somewhat borrowing him along with certain elements of the plot. Also, the title is from Macbeth. Full quote is "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."
This is, obviously, an Alternate Universe story. The prologue is vague because…well, prologue are always vague, aren't they? I'm sure you've all figured out the main character by now. If not, though, stick around.
Oh, and the title has nothing to do with the Prince song. Though I will admit that is a classic, lol.
If anything is unclear or there are any questions either e-mail me or leave me contact info in your review and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
