1999
Chapter One: There's Daggers in Men's Smiles
She went back to the twelfth floor with a twinge of nervousness. She hadn't done anything wrong. At least, she didn't think she had.
She couldn't have refused the man, right?
If anyone was needed to take a message to the eighteenth floor again she would not volunteer. It was a bad idea to volunteer anyhow. Best not to draw attention to yourself in that way. If you volunteered too much they would wonder why you were so anxious to please. Or so anxious to be on the eighteenth floor.
No, it was better to be average. Invisible.
If He took notice of you it was only a matter of time before you were dead.
She could feel the panic rising in her throat. He often took notice of those on the twelfth floor. The twelfth floor was considered prestigious. The privileged.
The children, quite simply, who had the best blood.
She didn't know her family. She didn't even know her last name -- but she knew that her blood was pure. Here, that was all that mattered. Here, if your blood wasn't pure you worked on one of the first three floors.
Slaves.
They were inferior. She knew that. But she couldn't help but wonder sometimes…
Combined with the muggles the mudbloods, quite simply, outnumbered the purebloods. Even with thought they would be opposing ancient magic she didn't see how they couldn't use simple strength of numbers to take over.
Maybe they didn't want to.
Maybe they were just too ignorant to get organized in such a way.
There was no hope. She wasn't sure of how old she was but she had been around long enough to realize that if the muggles and the mudbloods were going to retaliate they would have already done so.
She shook her head. Of course there was hope. They had their Lord. She loved him. Of course she did. To prove it she repeated the phrase a few times in her head.
"Ginevra," a soft voice called out.
"In here," she responded from her sitting room.
A gawky man made his way into the room and stared at her questioningly for a moment. "What are you doing?"
"Drawing," she stated.
He peered over her shoulder to stare at the drawing of a man with shaggy black hair. "Drawing what?"
"A man I met today…on the eighteenth floor. I want to find out who he is."
"Ginevra!"
"Neville!" she mocked.
He twisted his hands in a nervous manner. "I won't help you."
She smiled prettily at him, "You won't help your very best friend?"
"Not with this. You're completely mad."
"Relax. I wasn't going to ask for your help with this anyway. However, there is another matter with which you can assist. I want you to find out who the Weasleys were."
"A family?"
She stared at the picture sadly. "I think they were my family."
Neville hissed and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to her feet. "You want to find your family? Now I know you are mad! Ginevra, they'd kill you for this. They'd kill me for this!"
She sighed. He was right, of course. And she knew it was wrong to ask him…but she didn't work in the Hall of Records. She didn't have access. He did. "Please, Neville? If you had the chance to find out who your parents were you would, right? Tell me you don't think about them…tell me you don't wonder."
"It's a fool's errand," he replied.
"Probably. But I have to know. Say you'll help me."
He looked into her eyes. He'd yet to refuse her on any of her other requests. "I'll try."
Ginevra smiled and gave her friend a quick hug. "You're the best, Neville! No one saw you come over, did they?"
He gazed over to the door, still startled from the physical contact. "I don't think so. Even so, I shouldn't stay long."
She nodded. She and Neville had lived in the same building for as long as she could remember. No one had family anymore and it was kind of dangerous to your health to have friends…but she liked Neville.
They visited when they could but no so often that anyone would notice an attachment.
As Neville slipped back out her door she went back to the picture of the man.
Black.
She darkened his hair. If that were his name it fit him.
The following day Ginevra sat anxiously at a table, picking at her lunch. Neville was supposed to sit with her today and let her know what he had found about the Weasleys.
When Neville sat beside her she stared straight ahead as if she hadn't noticed his presence.
"Lovely weather today, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes, beautiful."
"You work in magic control, correct?"
She turned her head toward him. "Yes, I do. What department do you work in, again?"
"Hall of Records," he said simply. "But your department is no doubt more interesting. Any incidents lately?"
"Nothing of note, really. There was a banned spell used by an unidentified man yesterday. We haven't yet been able to trace him."
Neville's eyes widened in feigned interest. "Fascinating."
"Indeed. Do tell me about your work in Records, though."
Here he lowered his voice, "I recently researched an old magical family. Powerful and extinct, of course. Seven children on file, six males and one female, all deceased. They didn't survive the revolution -- they were enemies of our lord." He cleared his throat, "It is no doubt dangerous to be of such blood."
"Indeed," she repeated. "I daresay your work is enthralling in its own right."
Standing with her tray she nodded to Neville. "I must get back to my department. Good day, comrade."
"Good day," he responded.
As she walked out of the dining hall Ginevra digested this new information. If the Weasleys were her family that could prove…fatal.
After the revolution opposing families had been systematically eliminated. All the blood traitors were singled out and given especially unpleasant deaths. No one knew who these families were individually, though. They had been erased from history -- the only record of their existence was in Neville's department.
She had been less than a few years of age when the revolution occurred. It was a possibility that she was killed in the records and allowed to live. After all, she would have been young enough to educate properly.
Ginevra supposed her curiosity was thus satisfied. If this was her family then she was undoubtedly the last surviving member. And it would most certainly not be in her best interest for anyone else to find out this information.
Blood was everything and if anyone of importance discovered she from a family of traitors they might think that made her dangerous.
Just suppress the information, she told herself. One could never be too careful. They said He could use his magic to read minds.
While walking into her department, though, Ginevra recalled her conversation with the man
Black
yesterday. You wouldn't happen to be a Weasley, he had said. No other family has hair that red.
Her throat went dry. He worked on the eighteenth floor and was obviously familiar with the family.
Before she could contemplate how disastrous this was, though, her superior had waved her over.
"Ginevra," he said without looking at her. "You're wanted on the eighteenth floor. You'll be met at the elevator."
Her hands began to shake.
A/N -- First actual chapter and already a cliffhanger of sorts. That has to be a new record for me.
The chapter title once again goes to Shakespeare. I am unbelievably horrible with coming up with chapter titles so I think I'll just use Shakespeare quotes throughout. I knew randomly storing up quotes would come in handy. This one is also from Macbeth. I promise to pick a different play next chapter.
Oh, and as for the comrade comment…eh, couldn't resist. I'll try to not be too annoying with everyone calling one another comrade, lol.
Please review!
