Seven Years, Chapter 20.
Beta Reader: Chocolateowl.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own any characters (except for a couple of dead people). Stop asking.
Merula sat in the bed as her jaw dropped, staring at the Auror as her mind went blank.
"Are you certain?" she finally managed to splutter, unable to come up with a more coherent response. "Norway's Head Auror for the… First Wizarding War?"
Trent paused, as if struggling to find the right words. "I can even lend you my old textbook, if you want. Though I'll have to warn you there's a lot in those books that might keep you up at night. Lots of details that wouldn't be good for your imagination."
"I…" Merula started, but froze in place when she heard a shriek in the hallway. It was followed by the sound of the door slamming against the wall.
"Hey!" Trent shouted. "Tiff! For Merlin's sake, calm down! This is a hospital!"
Merula turned around just in time to see a glimpse of Tiffany as she slammed into her and a strong pair of arms pinning her arms in place.
"Need…" Meeula spluttered into Tiffany, unsure of if her words were getting across. "Air."
A second later, Merula caught a glimpse of both Tiffany and A.J., the latter dragging her friend back from Merula's hospital bed and back toward the doorway and the med-witch glaring at them.
"Excuse us," Trent said, nodding to the med-witch. "I can vouch for their presence. They're roommates of Miss Snyde here, and I know them well enough to be confident in their… maturity."
"Visiting hours are over," the med-witch replied. "Come back tomorrow."
"We're here to drop off Merula's homework," A.J. cut in, tearing a sheet of paper from a book in her hands. "All three days of it."
Merula choked at the words. Three days? She had been unconscious for that long?
"When are you going to be released?" A.J. asked, ignoring the med-witch. "I've been told Snape is willing to give make-up lessons, given that you've been physically unable to make his class."
"I-" Merula started, looking over to the med-witch. "I've been wondering that myself."
"We can release you tomorrow morning," the med-witch responded, though her arms were still crossed. "You would need to keep to strict conditions, lest that concussion of yours becomes even worse."
"That's fine and all," Trent cut in. "Tiff, A.J., drop off Merula's work and I'll fill her in on whatever you can't. It's late and I'm the only person she's going to be talking to tonight."
"Visiting hours-" the med-witch started.
"Don't apply to her guard," Trent finished the sentence with an all-too Slytherin grin. "I'm assigned to her, and orders are orders."
The med-witch grimaced at that, but she did nothing apart from pulling Tiffany and A.J. out of the room, then out of sight.
"Anyhow," Trent said as he pulled the door shut. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I recognize A.J.'s handwriting here, and there's something I want to ask you about."
"What is it?" Merula was confused at the question. What was so interesting about her homework that Auror Trent had taken notice?
"She wrote here," the Auror cleared his throat. "Can't believe how well it went. A hundred points and a sobbing Weasley."
Suddenly, Merula remembered the prank, one she had set up a week prior, before the Auror- the former Auror, had barged into her life and left her unconscious in a hospital bed.
"What of it?" Merula asked, reaching for the scrap of paper to read for herself.
"What was this about?" Trent asked, his voice neutral but guarded. "A hundred points is a lot, you know."
"Oh that," Merula hesitated at Trent's voice. She had expected him to be impressed with the achievement. If A.J. had been truthful, then Gryffindor would have seen a significant portion of their points cut away overnight, but he seemed cold, guarded, as if he was holding something back. "It's nothing."
"A.J. clearly didn't see it that way," Trent continued, tapping the paper, where A.J.'s hurried handwriting ended with three exclamation marks and a smiley face. "Tell me, what happened? Was it related to the House Cup last year?"
"I-" Merula started. "House Cup? I know we lost… but what does that have to do with anything?"
"I went to the Weasley household last summer," Trent said, pausing. "I needed to speak with Bill Weasley, on a… separate matter. I overheard the twins laughing at how Gryffindor stole the House Cup at the very last minute."
"And?" Merula asked. She knew already that she wouldn't like the answer, given how close Trent seemed to be, but her curiosity wanted to know how the story ended, as short as it might have been.
"Like I said," Trent said. "I knew A.J. and the others well enough to know they wouldn't take that kind of… theft lying down. That they would certainly retaliate, especially against the Weasleys."
Merula nodded at the words as her mind flashed over to A.J. and the luckless Terrence Higgs. She had cursed him and left him a mess for only saying a single word. It was easy to see how she would react to a larger insult, particularly one that affected the entire House of Slytherin.
"Who was it that you went after?" Trent asked, his voice surprisingly gentle and even. "Ron?"
Merula didn't say anything, but deep down she knew that her silence was enough of an answer for Trent. She could have laughed it off, but a late answer would give her away.
"Ginny then," Trent continued. "Is that right"
Merula wanted to lie, to continue the game, but she realized checkmate was inevitable. No matter what she said, neither of them could imagine Fred or George Weasley being pranked into tears, and certainly they couldn't imagine Percy Weasley breaking the rules. And that wasn't even mentioning the fact that Merula didn't even know the last Weasley brother's name. And so, she gave a defeated nod.
To her surprise, Trent only sighed and shook his head. "Seven years. From when I first got to Hogwarts to when I left, every year we won the House Cup, and I would be pissed if the advantage we built over an entire school year was wiped out at the very last minute too."
"So…" Merula understood then. "A.J. pointed out to me that Weasley- the one you called Ginny was staring at Potter like how most of Lockhart's fangirls stare at him, and well… it was an opportunity I wasn't willing to miss."
"Lockhart," Trent muttered, rubbing his chin slowly. "I don't like him, but… I can't put my finger on why."
Merula nodded. "Almost all the girls at Hogwarts seem to worship him. Even the Mu- Granger."
Trent gave Merula a long look, though neither of them said anything for a moment. "Back on the topic of Ginny, I can certainly see A.J. pulling something like that. After all, those eyes of hers were why Murk kept her so close until she graduated."
"Murk?" Merula blinked at the name. "The girl who knew all the curses?"
"Murk stood out too much," Trent said finally. "She resembled Professor Snape in a lot of ways. A.J. could play the role of a boring, normal student, and she was very good at… spying, as you are probably aware."
Merula nodded at that, remembering how A.J. had figured out the Weasley from across the Great Hall, one out of a hundred faces in a crowd. It had never occurred to her how much effort it would have taken, and given the results A.J. had led her to achieve, she couldn't help but feel that A.J. was good at more than just spying.
"Could I ask you to keep a secret?" Merula asked. "I don't want her finding out that I told you."
"Of course," Trent replied. "What is it?"
Merula took a deep breath as she wondered if what she was doing constituted a betrayal of the most dangerous seventh year at Hogwarts, but she suspected if Trent was going to push any further the specifics of the plan, and looking around the room, she didn't see any way to get away from Trent.
"I-" Merula started. "A.J.'s plan was to have me forge a note using Potter's handwriting, have them meet up in a place where she would almost certainly be caught:"
"And from the sounds of it, Ginny fell for it entirely," Trent guessed out loud. "Clever. Fifty for her being caught out after curfew, and another fifty on the part of Potter having written the note."
"Yes," Merula said. "They said they would have the letter delivered by an owl at-"
"Hogsmeade," Trent finished with a nod, a smile that flashed on his face turning to a grim line before he spoke again. "There's no way to trace a single owl when there's a hundred all on the move at once. And nobody could trace Potter's handwriting back to you either. Like I said before, clever."
Merula let out a deep breath and let her eyes wander back to the door. "Could I ask about my grandfather again? What was he like? His career as an Auror…"
Trent paused, then shook his head, his eyes turned to the window, a finger drumming against his face. "History of Magic was never my strong suit, especially with Binns teaching it. Honestly it's one of the few subjects I can't help you with, and even then, I only remember discussing the policies he implemented during the war, not anything about the man himself. If you want more on his life before that, you'll have to contact a historian."
Merula felt her heart sink as she looked down at her bed, and suddenly an idea came to her. "Could you ask for me? Professor Binns is, well, you know."
"I can try," Trent said with a nod. "It will take time, but I can try."
Merula was about to thank Trent when she heard a knock on the door. It was a loud one, and she glanced over in time to see the door swing open.
"Joe," Barnaby Lee, the mis-sorted Hufflepuff that had graduated the year before said with a little smile on his handsome, far too cheerful face. "Nothing's going on here?"
"Barnaby?" Trent sounded surprised, even startled, with his wand out, and Merula could see his jaw dropping for a second before he recovered. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi Merula," Barnaby said with a little wave of his hand. "Can I borrow your Auror for a moment? It shouldn't be long."
"Barnaby?" Trent protested again. "Why are you here? I know you have your own personal bed but you're obviously not hurt. Are you here for her?"
Barnaby paused for a moment, then he glanced over to Merula. "It's just a precaution, nothing more. And… as for her, I suppose I wanted to know if she ever got better."
"She's bound for a cell at Azkaban if she does get better," Trent replied with a roll of his eyes. "We both know that."
Merula swallowed heavily as she locked eyes with Barnaby, trying to decipher what the friendly wizard was saying. Were they… talking about her?
"Trent," Barnaby said a moment later, his voice having gained an unfriendly edge. "Turn around."
"Huh?" Merula heard Trent say. "What do you- shit."
Merula found her voice at Auror Trent's crestfallen face. "Are you talking about… me?"
"Not about you," Barnaby promised, the edge in his voice gone and a bright smile returning. "I'm just here as a… extra safety precaution. Think of it as the earmuffs you wear when dealing with Mandrakes."
Merula raised an eyebrow and sat up straighter, anxious to hear more. The screams of a grown Mandrake were fatal, and even juvenile Mandrakes were dangerous. Whatever comparison Barnaby had intended, given his sunny disposition, clearly wasn't going right.
"Barnaby," Trent said slowly, his free hand rising to cover his eyes in an act of clear exasperation. "That was… not a great example. Merula, that wasn't meant for you. I'm sorry you had to hear it."
Merula swallowed, but she nodded anyway, unsure of what else to say or do.
"What I actually came here to was to check on you and talk to Joe," Barnaby said with a slight shake of his head. "I'll need to have some privacy, if that's alright with you."
Merula nodded and turned back to face the wall, her mind wandering onto the topic of who Barnaby and Trent were talking about. A sentence to Azkaban was a serious matter, and Merula couldn't think of anyone who could have deserved it at Hogwarts, except the extremely dead Professor Quirrel.
"We're done," Barnaby's voice cut through Merula's thoughts. "Just a little thing, nothing more."
"Barnaby's still going to be with us for the evening," Trent offered after a moment. "Merula, can you walk?"
Merula blinked at the surprise question as she shuffled her legs awkwardly under the covers. To her surprise, she could feel them, and they seemed full and undamaged, if somewhat stiff, as if the emptiness that had brought her down in the early-morning street had been repaired completely.
"I think I can," Merula said, pulling back the covers to look at her bare feet at the end of the bed. "Is there any reason I shouldn't?"
"You suffered a bit of a concussion," Trent admitted after a moment. "Several hits to your head this last week. Not to mention that you just woke up after three days."
Merula swallowed when she saw Barnaby's jaw drop. She hesitated before she pushed herself out of her bed.
It was a calculated move, but if it was Arithmancy, Merula would have failed, because her legs felt like long, stiff planks of wood, and she would have fallen had strong hands not taken each of her arms and held her up.
"Right," Trent said when Merula was back into her bed. She was angry at herself for trying such and idiotic move and embarrassed that two people she genuinely liked witnessed it. "Barnaby, can you head out to a sweet shop? St. Mungo is great for a lot of things, but food isn't one of them."
Merula nodded gratefully at the suggestion, hoping to move beyond the topic of her embarrassing collapse and the second topic of the awful food St. Mungo was supposed to serve, if Draco's complaints from when he broke his leg as a child were anything to go by.
But to her surprise, Barnaby was surprisingly quick. Barely a minute after the med-witch had placed the last serving of a pale, unappealing stew onto Merula's bedside, Barnaby was back, a grin on his face.
"Not many sweet shops open in London this hour," Trent said, pausing when Merula suspected he smelled the same sweet, syrupy smell she associated with pancakes, but much stronger. "You went overseas?"
"Apparated over to my flat," Barnaby replied. "Went on a Floo trip to Quebec City."
Merula blinked at the location. The word itself was obviously French, but that clearly meant that Barnaby had left Wizarding Britain to get the delicious smelling food. "But France is in the same timezone as London…"
"True," Barnaby said, handing Merula a small paper package that the delicious smell wafted from. "But Quebec City is in Canada, and it's just after lunch there."
"Oh," Merula looked down at the paper bag, tracing her fingers around the leaf shaped pastry inside and trying to hide the embarrassment that had come over her little pastry was small and warm, and reminded her of the Canadian Quidditch team she had met and gotten an autograph from two summers prior. "I wonder if Maple gets to eat this every day."
"Doubt it," Trent said. "I'm told he does advertisements for this company, and he's probably eaten so much of their food for commercials he can't stand it now."
Merula laughed a little at the words and took a bite, jerking up in surprise at the soft texture of the pastry and the burst of thick syrup that came from inside.
"Also brought you a sandwich," Barnaby said with a wiry little grin on his face and a gleam of mischief in his eyes. It was so strange that Merula almost dropped the pastry. To her, Barnaby had been the perfect Hufflepuff before, so much like the prefect Myers Tiffany had introduced to her, but with a single grin, Barnaby looked chillingly like A.J. when she got a wicked idea.
"Better have one for me too," Trent said, grabbing at a paper bag Barnaby left on Merula's bedside table. "Tell me, Barnaby, where do you find these sandwiches? And why isn't there one for me?"
"I ate it on the trip back," Barnaby said in a cheerful, all too Slytherin tone. "You know how it is."
Merula paused at the mention of the sandwich, and she barely managed to catch the warm, delicious smelling bundle Trent tossed at her.
The package contained a sandwich, one with plain looking white bread and a block of pink meat within. And yet it made Merula's mouth water.
It was when Merula removed the sandwich from the package that she realized that she only held a quarter of the heavy sandwich, and what she had thought to be merely a single, heavy block was in fact several thin slices of meat. Each slice was a sliver of dark brown that reminded Merula of the steak Draco had ordered the last time they had visited Paris, the one he had taken two bites of before complaining it wasn't dessert, a steak Merula had happily relieved him of when he wasn't looking.
And yet the sandwich was even better than the steak. There was a rich, powerful contrast between the thin slices of beef and the soft, warm bread, not to mention a slight heat that tickled the back of her throat.
But it was when Merula looked over to Barnaby and Trent, no Joseph, that Merula understood the sensation bubbling in her heart. They reminded her of A.J. and the rest of the seventh years, and even of the dinners she shared with her parents, of happy moments that blurred together, yet remained the same. It wasn't like the quiet, polite dinners of the same food that made up meals at Malfoy Manor, not the awkward holiday dinners where the amazing food came with silence and glances between all the other children with each other but not her.
It was how a family should have been, Merula realized, and she felt tears rolling down her face as she looked down at the warm sandwich in her hands, and all the little things it had reminded her of. Of silly picnics she knew only through equally silly books.
"Merula?" Barnaby's voice was suddenly nervous. "What's wrong?"
"I-" Merula blubbered, trying to find words to express herself, but being unable to do so.
"Really Barnaby?" Merula heard Joseph's words come off as an irritated sigh. "Now look at what you did. Heartbreaker Barnaby all over again."
"No," Merula wiped away the tears still in her eyes with her sleeve, and her heart soared when she saw Joseph and Barnaby stop their bickering, their eyes on her own again. "It's… it's just been so long since I've been happy like this and…"
"And?" Barnaby finally broke the silence, but not until after Merula noticed him locking eyes with Joseph again.
"Well," Merula said the words mentally, and she felt her face grow hot in embarrassment. The words sounded like they came from a bad children's fairytale, one made for little Muggle children. "I think this might be the best meal of my life."
Joseph and Barnaby both stood there, their jaws slightly unhinged. But it was Barnaby that reacted first, and he did so by balancing another sandwich perfectly atop Joseph's perfect hair.
Merula lost all control at the sight, and she howled in laughter, not even noticing that Barnaby, and later Joseph himself, had joined in with her.
But at that moment, none of that mattered.
AN: Chapter 20 is complete. The rough draft of Chapter 21 is also complete, but that's going to be delayed until I get another chapter of one of my other works out.
Answers to comments:
1: The topic of the corrupt Aurors. As I'm a sticker for canon (whenever possible), the Aurors in question will see very similar outcomes as their namesakes.
2: Lucius is... Well, he has "bigger fish" to fry. You'll see. Eventually.
3: Admittedly, the end of Chapter 13 was much closer to Merula's fate in Hogwarts Mystery compared to The Philosopher's Stone, but simply to avoid spoiling the former, I'll avoid commenting too much further.
Next chapter: Clarice, Red, and Brown.
