In the cold beginnings of a new morning, the wind howled fiercely, beating against the brick walls of a grim orphanage in the heart of London. It wasa new morning, indeed; the moon was still hiding behind ebony clouds that blanketed the orphanage in a layer of rain and thick fog, and through the dirty window, a young girl sat staring. She hardly blinked, her dark gaze unfocused on the city in front of her. Her shoulders weighed with exhaustion, and yet, she could not bring herself to lay down.
Against her wishes, her eyes began to flutter shut. She could feel herself leaning down on her desk, resting her cheek against the cool wood. Her shoulders began to relax as sleep ebbed at her mind. She was so, so close... And then—
"YOU! YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED ME!"
She leapt away from the desk like it had burned her, the imaginary shouts still ringing in her head. She clamped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut as the most horrible images flashed through her mind. A boy, only a few years older than her; his once friendly gaze was full of a familiar sort of hatred. Familiar only because it was the same nightmare that had haunted her for the past month.
It was halfway through July, and to Lucy Rochester, each day felt like an eternity.
Her eyes shot open as she realized that no, he wasn't here, and no, he wasn't mad at her. But he should be. Would he be? He said he cared about her, and when he was there, she never doubted that for a second. But then he hurt her. But did he hurt her, or was she complaining too much? He hadn't physically hurt her, he killed the people who did hurt her— but he'd petrified her friends, lied to her all year. No, yes, of course he hurt her...
Then why did she still miss him so much?
She bit her lip, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. What was the point of trying to stop anymore? It wasn't like anyone would see her. She rarely left her room at Wool's Orphanage, and when she did, it was unbearable. Everywhere she looked, the other residents would shoot her amused looks and whisper about her. She'd never minded before, but now they weighed on her mind. Now she hadn't the energy to fight back. Because, well, they were right, weren't they? She was a freak, and she was evil, even if she didn't mean to be. Little did they know that she opened the Chamber of Secrets and nearly loosed the darkest wizard history had ever seen onto the world. Little did they know she had brought on death.
Sniffling, she wiped the tears out of her eyes with her sleeve. She had no choice but to sink into her desk chair again, returning her gaze out the window. It was the easiest place to look, she found. While the iron gate of the orphanage stayed the same, the city behind it was rarely consistent. Different people passed by every day, and she never saw the same cloud twice. Last week, a man had walked by with quadruplet children. She'd pondered whether or not he had a wife for an hour straight. It certainly didn't matter if he was or not, but she'd rather spend time thinking about that than... less desirable things.
She wasn't sure how long she looked out the window, but it was morning when she snapped out of her daze. The sun had just begun to rise, and something flew closer from the distance. She squinted, and then she sighed, looking away.
Another owl. Lucy glanced at the ever-growing stack of unopened letters on her desk and felt a rush of guilt. Five from Harry. Four from Ron. Seven from Hermione. A combined total of fifteen from Cedric, Daisy, Heidi, and Maxine. And last, but not least, twenty from Anthony Rickett. She had a feeling this one was going to be the twenty-first, since she knew Anthony had a black owl, but as she opened the window to let the owl inside, she noticed that it had a peculiar shade of yellow eyes.
"Thank you," Lucy said, taking the letter from the bird's foot. It stared at her suspiciously as she set the letter to the side. She waited for it to leave, like all the others had, but it stayed, staring at her. Lucy glanced pointedly toward the window. "You can go now." The owl didn't so much as blink. She sighed. "What, d'you want food or water? They're on the desk too, you know."
The owl hopped over to the letter and tapped the surface of it with its foot.
"I'll open it later," she said, feeling traces of irritation start to prickle at her. She didn't want to ignore her friends. She just... She was kind of afraid of what they would have to say to her.
Just then, the owl screamed at her. Lucy's jaw dropped at the audacity, but it wouldn't stop screaming and flapping its wings, to the point where she was worried one of the orderlies would burst in at any moment.
"Okay— okay, geez! Stop bloody yelling at me!" she hissed, snatching the letter from underneath its foot. She had to know who the hell owned such an annoying owl. Examining the letter, she couldn't recognize it off the top of her head. It was in a cream envelope with a neat wax seal stamped in the centre of it. She ripped it open, pulling out a slip of paper.
Kid,
Did you think I was joking when I said I wanted you to work for me? You haven't written to me in a bloody month, and I know your school year ended. Show up today at noon and I might forgive you.
She flipped the piece of paper to the other side.
PS: If you don't, the owl won't leave and he will scream until you kill him.
At this point, Lucy was considering the last option. She scowled, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Did she want to go to Diagon Alley? No, not really. She had a terrible haircut and she was sure her face wasn't looking any better. But... she really didn't want to deal with a screaming owl.
"Fine," she said at last, frowning. "But only to politely decline," she added. The owl was looking a bit too smug for her liking.
Mallory's owl hooted, and then left through the window.
Lucy headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth, when she nearly stepped on something on the ground. Ford let out a surprised hiss and darted out of her way. She fumbled for the light switch, staring down at her snake in surprise.
"Boss— I didn't think you'd be up already..." Ford said. He sounded... kind of guilty?
She studied him, confused. Ford had been the only one she'd talked to for the entire summer, and it was mostly him asking questions about human items. She was happy to answer them, but now, looking at his... nest behind the bathroom door, she was kind of concerned. She'd never thought to turn on the lights before.
"Ford... why do you have stacks of paperwork in my bathroom?"
He slithered his way up her leg, curling around her shoulders. "I've been brushing up on my skills," he admitted. "S'not often snakes like me can break into filing cabinets, y'know?"
Oh, geez. She'd trained a kleptomaniac.
Maybe she was a bad influence.
"I... I'm kind of proud of you, actually," she said, crouching down to look at the files. There were mostly boring tax papers, but at the top of the pile, undisturbed, stood a name in bold print. Her face went cold at the bold letters: TOM RIDDLE.
"I remembered the name, just like you told me! One of the two names I can read!" Ford said happily. He turned to see her stricken expression, then blinked. "Boss?"
"Uh... Good work, Ford," she said. She reached into the stack and put another few pieces of paper on top of his file so that his name was blocked from view. She cleared her throat, straightening up. "Really— I'm glad you're having fun. Just don't get caught, okay?"
"Nobody suspects a thing," he said proudly.
No, she imagined they wouldn't expect a snake to steal from their filing cabinets. They'd suspect her.
Ford left to steal more files, so she took the chance to get ready for the day. For going outside. She could hardly believe it herself. She found Wool's Orphanage unbearable this summer. The very sight of it repulsed her. And yet, she didn't want to leave, because at least here, she was in the same quarters that Tom once inhabited. If she tried hard enough, she could pretend that nothing changed at all from last summer, and that he was simply resting inside the diary. The ruined, stained diary.
She brushed her teeth, wincing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The cut on her cheek had healed, but it left a visible white scar. Deep, sunken bags hung below her eyes, and her hair was, well... Let's just say Lord Voldemort was not known for his skills as a barber. She was willing to deal with it for now, since it was one of the few things that reminded her how Tom was a bastard. And with how much she missed him, she really needed a reminder from time to time.
She changed from her pajamas into her skirt, green sweater, and then her standard Wool's issued coat. She would have gone for the Weasley sweater, but now she felt too guilty to put it on. It'd been because of her that Mrs. Weasley nearly lost her only daughter... She shook her head, instead heading toward her desk chair to take the satchel off the back of it. The motion was so familiar to last year, when she always made trips to Diagon Alley, that she almost forgot what'd happened since then.
She headed down the staircase, skipping the steps as she went, when she heard whispers from down below. She glanced down to see Jennifer and her friends pointing and giggling amongst themselves. Lucy ignored them. It wasn't until she passed them that Jennifer called out, "Nice haircut, Rochester. Is that what they call you now?"
"I'd imagine so," Lucy answered vaguely. She wanted to get this over with quickly. It wasn't often she left her room, so she might as well earn back her standing while she was here. There was less trouble that way. "Now are you going to say something mean already, or can I go? I'm on a bit of a schedule here."
"Knew she'd come back swinging eventually," Emma muttered to Nathan. They scooted over on the stairs so Lucy could pass. The other boy sighed and slipped the redhead a few coins.
Jennifer scowled; she'd been getting used to Lucy staying quiet during meal times. She thought for a few minutes before she smiled nastily. "Hey, nice haircut, by the way. I heard you went all psycho and cut it yourself— is that true? Did you miss your old one that bad?"
Lucy grit her teeth. Her hair had been a sore subject before, since the other children cut it, but now she felt especially touchy about it. He cut it; it was proof that he existed, once. She looked Jennifer straight in the eye and jerked her head to the left quickly. Suddenly, the older girl felt her hair tugged in that direction; Jennifer let out a shriek. Her friends went silent, and they said nothing as Lucy continued on their way. Nathan snickered as he caught up with her, Emma trailing behind.
"All it takes is one look from you, doesn't it?" he said admiringly.
She shrugged, shoving her hands in her pockets.
"Where are you going?" Emma asked, falling into step on her other side.
"I dunno. Somewhere in London, I guess." She frowned, tugging at the end of her hair. "Maybe I'll get a haircut."
Emma offered her a reassuring smile. "I don't think it looks that bad. Bishop's exaggerating like she always does. You look beautiful."
"No, Emma, it's quite bad," Nathan admitted. "The ends are split and everything— ow, Emma!"
"Who made you a barber all of a sudden, Nathaniel?!"
Lucy's lips quirked up slightly as Emma went in on Nathan for being rude. She remembered how last summer, the girl was quiet and timid; now, she was nearly as headstrong as Ginny. Lucy felt a bit guilty for staying away from them for so long, but it was easier to feel guilty than to explain why she was being such a stick in the mud.
She waved goodbye to them as she reached the gate. It was usually locked, and she didn't know why. Wool's stopped admitting orphans a few years ago and the youngest of them were around Lucy's age, maybe a year younger than her. There weren't any dangers of little kids running through the streets.
She instinctively knew the way to Diagon Alley, and so she didn't have to think much about it. The London sky above her couldn't seem to decide whether it would show the sun or not; at times, a dark shadow cast over the city, but in the next moment, it was as sunny as could be. She tried to predict when it would change as she walked. It was a fun enough activity; she reached the Leaky Cauldron in no time.
Tom the Bartender smiled as she closed the door behind her. He set down a huge, glass mug, resting his palms on the countertop. "Lucy, right? I was wondering when you might show up! How was Hogwarts?"
"Oh, you know..." Lucy made a vague hand gesture that had no real meaning, but he smiled anyway. "The usual... hahah...hahh..."
"Glad to hear it. Heard there was some funny business awhile back, but it seems to have cleared up by now." He summoned a clean cup and filled it to the brim with butterbeer. He slid it toward her, and she caught it before it went off the table. "It's on the house. Tell Malady I said hello, yeah?"
She was stunned for a moment by his casual display of kindness, but snapped out of it quickly. She thanked him and sipped on her butterbeer on the way to Mallory's shop. The taste had never been good to her, but she supposed that since nothing tasted very good anymore, she might as well drink the entire thing. Besides, sometimes it was the thought behind something that made it good. Even if it tasted like absolute garbage.
She took her time on the walk over to Mallory's, pausing to look at a few magical shops. She wasn't in a huge hurry. She had two hours before it hit noon, and even then, she was sure the woman would forgive her. She had time to appreciate the vivid scenery Diagon Alley offered. And... she liked it. There were so many changes since last year that she didn't feel like she was repeating the same adventure twice. There was nothing to be reminded of. Bright bursts of sparks shot out the chimneys of different shops, and there was a constant bustle of wizards moving through the alley, their colorful robes whipping behind them. She spotted a wizard with a crooked, plum colored hat potting a case of transparent Cackling Bluebells outside the joke shop. Near Florean Fortescue's, a witch played a wooden flute as shimmering music notes shot out the end of it.
Slowly, she could feel a smile curling on her lips.
She made her way to the entrance of Knockturn Alley, where she knew Mallory's shop to be. It was a perfect entrance for the woman's somewhat (very) illegal business practices. Close enough to the rest of the dark wizards, and yet it was inconspicuous enough not to draw any suspicion. And now that it was nearing noon, she had to weave through a crowd of wizards to get inside.
The bell chimed as she stepped through the doorframe. There was a man at the cash register. He couldn't have been younger than his mid-twenties, but his shoulders were sunken in such a way that it reminded Lucy of a moody teenage boy. He looked her way, plastering on a fake smile as she entered.
"Welcome to Malady's, what may I get—?" He stopped, examining her appearance. "Look, if you can't afford anything, then leave. This isn't a shelter and I'm far too busy as it is."
...Excuse me?
Her eye twitched. So this was Eric. Admittedly, Lucy thought that Mallory was exaggerating when she complained about the man, but now she completely understood.
She wasn't really in the mood for joking, but she kind of owed it to Mallory to do something. And so, she looked Eric in the eyes and glowered at him.
"Don't make me kill you," she warned.
Eric blinked at her. "...what was that?" He said hesitantly.
She sighed, reaching her hand into her pocket. "Well, I suppose I gave you a fair warning..." she said, taking out her wand. She aimed it at him. "Hand over the money."
To her surprise, Eric immediately opened the register and pulled out a handful of galleons. She stared incredulously as he held them out for her to take. Really? This man was going to let a child rob him? Wasn't he a wizard?!
"Good Salazar, Eric! What the fuck are you doing?!"
Mallory Alpin stormed out of the back room, her cloak trailing behind her as she angrily approached Eric. She shoved the galleons back into the register. "How stupid are you?! She's ten years old!"
"I'm definitely not," Lucy asserted.
"She had her wand out," Eric defended himself, scowling. "I'm not dying over a sandwich shop!"
Mallory pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep breath. She stayed like that for a short pause. Finally, she straightened up and waved her hand toward the exit. "Fucking hell— just go take your break already, Eric," she ordered. "I can't stand the sight of you."
The man shot Lucy one last glare, shoving his hand in his pockets. He left the shop, grumbling to himself.
Mallory scowled at his back until she finally looked at Lucy. She opened her mouth, presumably to tell her off for robbing her employee, but then she paused. She furrowed her brow as she took in the girl's appearance.
"Nice to see you again, kid," Mallory said at last. She jerked her head in the direction of the back room. "Let's talk, shall we?"
"You're not going to kill me, are you?" Lucy said hesitantly as she followed the woman. "Because I've gone through an awful lot of trouble last year to prevent that and it'd be a shame if I died in a restaurant out of all places."
"I'm not going to kill you," Mallory snorted. "And I can see that." They reached a round oak table amidst the crates of items. The top of it was filled with paperwork and various shimmering objects, but Mallory vanished them with a flick of her wand. She sat down and gestured for Lucy to do the same.
"So," Mallory began.
Lucy squirmed under her gaze. She knew she looked terrible, but she really didn't want to rehash everything that happened last year. It seemed that every time she looked at someone, they were asking how she was, or they wanted to know what happened. During her last week at Hogwarts, she couldn't count how many people came up to her and asked her about Voldemort. And she didn't want them to know; nobody could understand all the private, calm moments she shared with Tom, all the quiet reassurances he'd give her. They could not possibly understand how he had once been a brilliant friend. And how, even now, she wished he was there.
She was almost wincing in anticipation from Mallory's silence.
"So..." Mallory said once again. She then leaned back, considering Lucy. "How would you like to help me with something?"
Oh. Well, that was not where Lucy expected the woman was going, but she was thankful all the same.
"Mallory, I have no idea how to cook anything—" she began.
Mallory waved her off. "No, not with that. I have Eric for all that brain numbing work. I'm talking about my real business, Lucy."
At once, Lucy straightened up. Something strange tugged at her throat. She was... excited?
Mallory tried to conceal her smile as she continued. "There's a flat in Knockturn Alley. It's on the top floor, and the owner is currently..." she checked her watch. "Hard at work in the Ministry, and he will be until five o'clock. Maybe four-thirty. He's an Auror, so be careful. I need you to get in there and find something for me."
"You want me to break and enter?" Lucy said, not quite believing it. There was no way someone would offer her so much fun, free of charge.
"I'm telling you to break and enter."
"What am I stealing?"
"Ah! Rule one: never admit to stealing," Mallory said, pointing a finger at her. "You're out on a reclaiming job."
"Okay, so what am I stealing?" Lucy repeated.
Mallory knew there was no use in arguing with her. She rolled her eyes. "You're reclaiming something small, so you'll have to keep your eyes peeled. It'll be a vial filled with white fog. Don't open the vial. Once you find it, stop at Borgin and Burkes and give it to him."
Lucy nodded. It sounded simple enough, but she felt a little sense of importance that Mallory trusted her with this on a whim. While she liked to nick stuff at the Orphanage, she'd never gone this far. She knew she should feel guilty right now, but the promise of a fulfilling task, using magic, was too enticing to pass up.
She really needed a distraction.
She should have asked more questions, like what should she do if the man came back to his apartment early, or how to check for alarms, but she couldn't be bothered. Honestly, she didn't care about the potential dangers. She wanted to do something and not think for once.
Mallory suppressed a smile at Lucy's quietly contained excitement. She dipped her quill into an inkpot and scribbled down an address. Lucy scanned it a few times before she memorized it. She set the paper on the table and headed for the door.
"Don't you want to know what I'm paying you?" Mallory called after her.
"Committing crimes is payment enough!" Lucy called back. She said that as she was walking out the door, and a few wizards shot her cautious looks. She ignored them, stowing her hands in her pockets as she rounded the corner.
The staircase down to Knockturn Alley was cracked and uneven, and if she wasn't paying careful attention, she might have tripped down them. She noticed an old witch crouched at the end of it, ready to rob anyone unlucky enough to fall. Lucy smiled faintly. Knockturn Alley was certainly a fitting place for an adrenaline rush.
She received a few glances, but no one walked up to harass her so far. There was, she noted, a certain sense of vulnerability now that she didn't have Tom Riddle walking beside her. Without him, she was on her own, and the thought frightened her. Suddenly, the shadows on the buildings seemed a lot darker. She gripped her wand tighter, narrowing her eyes. Tom was gone. She had to learn how to get along by herself.
Right now, she didn't have the faintest clue where to start.
Lucy weaved between the crowd of people, mindful to keep a tight grip on her bag. She felt it tug a few times and she rolled her eyes at the attempts. If people couldn't figure out how to keep track of their belongings down here, then that was their own fault.
At the end of the alley, she spotted the apartment tucked into the corner. She had to go down a darker, thinner passage to find the small corner of flats. All of them were made of brick, and the ones lower to the ground were stained with suspiciously coppery splatters. She decided not to think where they came from.
Getting into the building wasn't hard. A woman with long, white hair left it, and Lucy ducked in before the door shut behind her. At the front desk, she saw a balding man snoozing, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. Lucy checked the clock; it was only 1:00 in the afternoon. She had plenty of time.
"Huh," she said, looking at the front page of the man's newspaper. Usually, the front page was crammed with as many pictures and headlines as possible. The text was nonsensical, often switching places time-to-time in the middle of reading it. But now, it was as plain as day. She saw a huge picture of a man, laughing madly as he held an inmate number.
Before she could read further, the snoring man dropped the paper onto the floor. He snorted in his sleep.
She shrugged. Whatever, it was probably some stupid wizard news that didn't concern her. She'd likely hear all about it at Hogwarts. She didn't give it another thought as she headed toward the staircase.
Lucy could hear the noises of witches and wizards moving about in their flats. The walls were thin enough so that she heard their muffled voices, some laughing, some shouting. She kept this in mind, walking to the door at the end of the hall. She considered its appearance. If she was stealing from an Auror, he had to have placed some sort of protective charm on it.
She stared at it for a solid minute before deciding her course of action.
"Duro," she said, pointing her wand at the door. Slowly but surely, the entire thing turned to stone. She looked all around her to see if anyone noticed or cared, but evidently, a bit of noise in Knockturn Alley was nothing to bat an eye at. She grinned slightly and turned back to the door. "Bombarda!"
The stone door smashed open, leaving bits of debris all over the inside. She hummed to herself, stepping over the shattered stone. If Tom could have seen that, he'd have been furious. She could almost hear it now: 'Do you want to get caught? Is a little subtlety that hard to manage?!'
She laughed quietly, imagining it as she crossed into the apartment. She didn't linger on the thought too long; she had a vial to find.
She wasn't surprised to see a mass of chaos inside. There were stacks upon stacks of parchment, and on the wall, red thread connected various maps and diagrams. The shattered stone lining the floor didn't look so out of place, compared to the rest of the mess.
"Wow," she said out loud. "What a loser."
She crossed into the living room. It was equally as messy, but at least it was in a cluttered sort of way. The man was not one to care about awards, she noticed; piles of them had been tossed carelessly to the corner of the room. She crouched in front of one and raised her eyebrows at the name.
"Alastor Moody? Blimey, and Ron makes fun of my name," she muttered.
She thought that Lucy Eve Gina Naomi Diana Eleine Rochester was a fine name.
Lucy figured it was time to stop messing around, and so she began looking. And she looked everywhere. She didn't want to touch anything with her hands— she wasn't sure if wizards knew about fingerprints, but it was better to be safe than sorry— and so she opened drawers with spells and levitated objects around. At one point, she sneezed and accidentally shattered an expensive looking urn.
...At least there weren't any ashes in it, right?
I am a terrible person, she decided.
"Should I repair it?" she asked no one in particular. She certainly had the ability to. Then she snorted, waving a dismissive hand at it. "Nah! This is a robbery." Remembering Mallory's words, she cleared her throat. "Er— I mean, this is a reclaiming mission..."
And so, she went back to searching.
Three hours passed by.
Lucy was about ready to tear her hair out. She knew he was an Auror, but really, did he have to make it so hard? She looked everywhere. In the bathroom, the bedroom, heck, she even tore up some of the floorboards. And there was nothing. She was beginning to question if Mallory had given her the right information, but she dismissed that thought quickly. There was no way; Mallory was brilliant.
"From this day on, I will be an enemy of the Ministry," Lucy declared to the empty, torn apart room. She should have felt bad about the mess she made, but she was here for a fun crime, not a smart one.
She closed her eyes and thought hard. If she was an Auror, if she had an important vial, where would she hide it? It would have to be accessible in case he was planning to move it quickly, but also well hidden.
At that moment, the clock struck four. She nearly jumped out of her skin as a musical chiming filled the room. She glanced around, until her eyes landed on a cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. It looked sort of antique, and there were about five more next to it. She stared at the clocks long and hard. Then, she clamped a hand over her face.
"Are you kidding me?! I'm an idiot! Of course it's in the clocks!" She groaned into her hands. She dragged her hands off her face, glaring at the clock. She was going to be nice, but not anymore! She levitated the clocks onto the couch and cut each and every one of them open. In the last, most plain looking one, she found the vial.
"This was not as fun as I thought it'd be," she complained to herself, stowing the vial away in her bag. She went to leave the flat, when a thought struck her. She broke into this guy's house, but she also broke his house. She had followed the definition of breaking and entering way too closely.
Biting her lip, she pulled out her wand and traced a few letters in the air. Yes, she learned the spell because Tom did it. Yes, she knew that was sad, and no, she didn't want to talk about it.
By the time she was finished, five glowing yellow letters floated in the air.
Sorry!
Lucy was such a nice person.
She left the building without any trouble, and she was amazed to see that the man at the front desk was still sleeping. She shook her head, resisting a smile as she headed back into Knockturn Alley.
"Oh, Borgin!" Lucy called, bursting into his shop.
The short man let out a short yell and nearly fell off his stepladder. He clung onto the wall for dear life. When he finally straightened himself, he turned around to glare at her.
"You again," he hissed.
Lucy beamed. "Me again! And boy, do I have a treat for you!"
She pulled the white vial out of her bag and presented it to him. Borgin stared at it, his sunken eyes widening at the sight of it. "Is that—?" he said, and even though Lucy had no idea what it was, she nodded anyway. "Hail Salazar, I didn't think Malady would manage it. Old Moody's had that memory hanging over my head for ages."
"Memory?" Lucy repeated.
Borgin snatched it out of her hand, scowling at her. "Yes, a memory. Now leave, will you? I have customers to attend to."
Lucy turned to look at an old witch in the corner. She met eyes with her at the same time as the woman slipped an amulet into her purse. The woman stared at her, unsure, but Lucy simply nodded at her.
What? It was Borgin.
"So where's Burke?" Lucy asked, peering around behind him.
"Leave!" he snapped.
"Alright, alright! No need to shout," she scowled, muttering under her breath. She gave one last cursory glance over the shop before deciding that there was nothing of worth. She was a bit tired, too, and so she finally left. Not because Borgin told her to. She wanted to make that clear.
She took her time on the way back, stopping to look at various shops. She was quite pleased with herself, humming as she walked.
Then, ahead of her, she saw a familiar figure walking through the crowd.
The smile fell off Lucy's face. Great. It was the Auror. The smile slid off her face. He hadn't spotted her yet, but he didn't look happy in the slightest. She could see him holding something in his hands. Was that— a piece of stone from the door? Whatever reason he had for holding it, she didn't want to find out. She shoved through the witches and wizards, ducking into a side alleyway.
She ducked behind a few crates, holding her wand in her hand. She stayed there for at least twenty minutes, waiting. And then, when she was sure no one was there, she peaked over the crate. No sign of Moody. She sighed in relief, sliding against the wall to the dirty ground. A small smile pulled at her lips.
"Who's the best robber around these parts? This girl right here! Take that, Voldemort," she quietly boasted. Then she paused, furrowing her brow. "Wait, Voldy wasn't a robber, was he? Well, I suppose since he nicked things as a child, he had the makings of one—"
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," a wry voice informed her.
Lucy shot up quickly, her first thought being NOT MOODY! But she sighed in relief. It was simply a random stranger, sitting across from her. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed him sooner, but then again, she had been rather focused on evading Moody. Lucy couldn't see his face because of the shadows, but he was sitting with his arms hugging himself, shivering.
She knew it was suspicious, and she shouldn't talk to strangers, but the fact that he hadn't killed her while she was hiding obliviously behind a crate was a good sign.
"If that's only the first sign, I'd better watch myself," Lucy said, thinking of all the strange things she'd done. "I appreciate you not killing me while I was hiding from the wizard cops, by the way."
The mad snorted, shaking his head. "I should thank you for not turning me into the... wizard cops."
She sat back down, tilting her head at him. "You're on the run, then?" she said, merely curious. Tom would have been screaming at her right now to stop talking to creepy wizards in alleyways, but she was having too much fun to care. "What for?" she asked eagerly.
He was quiet for a few moments. Then he said, "Let's just say that it's not for robbery."
The shadows shifted with the sun, revealing the man's face. His cheeks were hollow, and sunken bags hung under his eyes. His hair was long and matted, and from the looks of it, he hadn't had a good meal in weeks. But most curiously, Lucy noted that the man sitting across from her was the exact same man on the front page of the Daily Prophet.
"I really should have read the newspaper," she said, squinting at him. "You're that one guy. You know... that one guy... Bloody hell, forget it, I'm not even going to pretend to know." The man stared, like he was unsure how to respond to that. "Sooo, what'd you do? Murder? I've known a few blokes like that."
"That's bloody concerning," the man told her.
"You win some, you lose some," Lucy dismissed. She held out a hand for him to shake, grinning. "I'm Lucy Rochester, by the way. But if any wizard cops ask, I'm Draco Malfoy."
The man let out a loud, barking laugh. He seemed surprised at the sound of it afterward as he reached forward to shake her hand. "That's brilliant," he said, laughing quietly. "I'm— well... I'm Sirius."
"Seriously?" she joked.
Sirius shook his head, still laughing. "That was shit."
"Listen, Sirius, I'm a walking circus."
He looked at her, bemused. "You really have no idea who I am? Are you Muggleborn? Surely, the ministry would have put it on the television."
Lucy shrugged. "I've been a bit... disconnected lately," she admitted, frowning. "But— if I had to guess— I'd say you're Sirius Black?" Slowly, Sirius nodded. "Mall— my boss told me about you. Well, she told me about all the Death Eaters, really. She said you killed thirteen muggles."
"Would you believe me, if I told you I didn't?"
Lucy shrugged, hugging her knees. He might've, he might not have. She hadn't been there when it happened, so short of trusting the word of an escaped convict, she had no way of knowing. But even if he had killed those muggles, she was a bit confused at how calm and... kind of cool he was acting. He knew what a television was, which was more than any other Purebloods at Hogwarts, and he hadn't said the word muggleborn with any revulsion.
But then again, could she really trust her own instincts anymore? She never dreamed that Tom was capable of anything so sinister, and he turned out to be the Darkest wizard that history had ever seen. She didn't feel like she was in danger right now, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Right now, I believe you," she decided, looking him in the eye. "Maybe later someone else will persuade me, but for now I think you're innocent, Sirius Black."
"Huh," Sirius said, leaning back. He looked past her, musing. "That's more than anyone else has given me. You're too trusting, Lucy Rochester, you know that?"
A boy with piercing blue eyes flashed through her mind, and Lucy frowned, feeling very cold all of a sudden. Her grip on her knees tightened. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
He seemed to notice that he'd struck a nerve. He opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better of it. He looked away, clearing his throat. "Well— whether I'm innocent or not, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt anyone... except for the only one who deserves it."
Well, that was ominous. "The less I know, the better," Lucy assured him. She had enough going on this year; she didn't need to get caught up in an escaped convicts' revenge scheme on top of that. In fact, she'd been talking to Sirius for longer than she'd expected to. She went to check the time, but stopped, realizing that she had no watch.
"It's almost five-thirty," he said, holding up a neat, engraved pocket watch. She raised her eyebrows at the valuable looking object. "I stole it," he admitted.
"So you are a robber!"
"At least I didn't have Mad-Eye Moody after me. You must be insane."
"Insane or not, I got away with it, which is more than I can say for you," Lucy pointed out.
He laughed again. "I'm innocent, remember?"
"For now," she warned.
"For now," he amended.
Lucy stood up, brushing the dirt off her knees. She was having a lovely time talking to an escaped convict, but she had to get back to Mallory before the woman assumed she got arrested or something. And besides— as interesting as Sirius Black had been, she wasn't in the mood to befriend anymore murderers. No matter how nice they acted.
"I have to get going now, but it was nice to meet someone who's not secretly Voldemort for once," Lucy said earnestly.
Sirius blinked at her. "What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing," she said hastily. She better not have jinxed that one. As it was, she scanned him over suspiciously. "...You're not, right?"
"Not what?"
"Not secretly Voldemort?"
"What— no! How many times has that happened to you?!" Sirius was beginning to look very disturbed now.
"You'd be surprised!" She insisted. "So, uh... good luck to you and your revenge endeavors, Sirius."
"Thank you, Lucy. And good luck... not meeting Voldemort, I suppose?" he said questioningly.
Thank you, she thought, with all seriousness. He had no idea how much she needed that luck.
She went to leave, before a thought struck her. Sirius looked awfully unhealthy... and innocent or not, she didn't have it in her to leave him entirely empty handed. She opened up her satchel and dug through it, until finally she extracted her pouch of coins. She took out about ten galleons and handed them out to him.
"What—" Sirius's eyes widened. "No, no, I really couldn't—"
"Take it as proof," she said, shaking her hand slightly. "That for at least ten minutes, I knew you were innocent."
Sirius Black stared at her then. For a few moments, he was silent. He allowed her to drop the coins into his hand. "I'll pay you back," he assured her, pocketing the coins. "And should you ever read the Daily Prophet— and you find me guilty— I wouldn't blame you."
He was doing an awfully good job at convincing her, but she had to remain on guard. She knew how badly things ended when she fell for kind lies. She offered him one last smile, before leaving Knockturn Alley behind. She walked, for once, not thinking of Tom Riddle, but rather, the strange convict in the alleyway.
She headed into Mallory's restaurant, her hands in her pockets as she hummed to herself.
Mallory was waiting expectantly at the counter.
Lucy looked at her, and she beamed.
"Mallory, you'll never guess who I just met!"
The walk back to Wool's Orphanage was a cold one, but despite herself, Lucy couldn't help but feel warm inside. Her chest still ached, and she had a feeling that wouldn't change for a while. But there had been a few moments today where she felt something other than a constant sadness. And that... that was amazing in itself.
She found that her fingers kept finding themselves running through her newly cut hair. After she returned, and announced to Mallory that she met Sirius Black, the woman cut her off halfway through and informed her that her hair was so ridiculous that she couldn't stand to look at it for a moment longer. She forced Lucy to sit in a chair, and she cut her hair to an even length as Lucy recounted her tale.
"It's a miracle you're alive," Mallory told her, snipping away at her hair. "Then again, if Moody didn't do you in, I think you're set for life."
"What was that about anyway?" Lucy demanded. "You sent me to steal from the best auror out there?"
"I wouldn't have sent you if I didn't think you could do it," Mallory scoffed, and Lucy fell silent. A smile pulled at her lips. Mallory trusted her. She was just glad that she hadn't disappointed the woman.
Now, Lucy couldn't stop touching it. She saw it in the mirror, and she liked it. It was different. She was definitely going to grow it out again, but for now, she was happy with it.
I wonder if Tom would have liked it too.
Lucy banished the thought, her smile fading away. Tom, Tom, Tom. It was always Tom, wasn't it? It made her angry, how she couldn't think of anything else. How even on the best day she'd had in weeks, he still wormed his way into the front of her mind. She felt her eyes start to water, which made her even more angry, that she had just been happy a few moments ago, and now it was all ruined. He always ruined it.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but the rest of the walk felt cold. She crept into the darkened Orphanage, mindful not to attract any orderlies, and snuck her way up the staircase. She knew which steps to avoid, but even the quietest ones creaked.
She reached her room, closing the door behind her. Here at Wool's, nothing had changed. Ford was fast asleep at the foot of her bed, and Grayble was curled up next to him. At her desk, Snape sat watching out the window. He turned his head to face her and let out a soft hoot.
Her first instinct was to crawl into bed too, but now, the pile of letters on her desk seemed impossible to avoid. Her stomach coiled with guilt. Sucking in a deep breath, she sat down, picking up a piece of parchment. She'd read them later. She shouldn't waste anymore time.
Lucy pulled out a red muggle pen, and for the first time since the beginning of summer, she put it to the parchment.
Dear Anthony,
Sorry it's taken me so long to write...