A/N:Hello one and all and thank you for sticking though to Chapter 2. Thanks to those who have alerted, favourite, reviewed, and even viewed. I know sometimes first chapters are tough to get by and especially write, but I really appreciate it if you do any of the above and give the story a chance. Hopefully I'll be able to go back, scratch, and rewrite it properly. Also! I know Sirius was not an Auror but I thought it interesting for the sake of the story.
Chapter 2
November 23rd, 1978
There had been an uneasy calm after the storm. One could even say there was a suspicious lull, and most strange of all, at the Daily Prophet. One would think in midst of the war there would be a non-stop clattering on typewriters, hasty scratching of quills, and the constant bickering between desks. There should have been reporters fighting over the juiciest story, ready to squeeze the most nectar out of it and have their name stapled all over, but there was none. The only fighting and bickering that happened was trying to get the most interesting story out of the boring pile of the usual.
"Another 'store closing' story?" bellowed a lanky redhead from his desk, "I'm starting to get the feeling I'm not appreciated around here."
"Oh? Would you prefer this fascinating piece on 'new and improved' protective home locks? I'd switch with you any time, Alberts." A dark haired wizard hissed from his desk and he slammed a handful of pamphlets down on his desk so hard it sent his papers flying everywhere.
"Both of you shut it. It could be worse," a slender woman with a sharp voice spoke up. Her neat sleek blonde hair and ruby red lips gave her an air of class, that is if it weren't for her catty eyes, "You could be stuck writing on the long winter that awaits us, right, McKinnon?" Her blue eyes cut towards a nearby desk.
Marlene McKinnon had been flipping through a thick file nonchalantly with a separate parchment nearby jotting down notes. Her brow had been knitted for almost an hour and her perfectly trimmed white quill was anxiously twirling between her finger pads. At the sound of her name, Marlene had jerked from the vicious circle of thoughts clinging to the paper before her for any answer.
"Sorry?" Marlene asked. She blinked away her thoughts with much effort and hesitation only to meet her co-worker's pressing and awaiting gaze.
The catty witch chuckled and rose from her desk only to lean against it, her arms crossing and her length drawing much attention to her long legs that both male co-workers found it difficult not to notice, even Marlene couldn't help but. Her sharp blue eyes turned their attention down to Marlene's busy desktop.
"I was just explaining to Alberts and Matthews they should be grateful for their pieces, seeing as you got the short end this time." The blonde sounded more suspicious than affirming as her eyes danced along the file Marlene had been devouring the entire day.
Marlene smiled weakly before letting her hand smooth over the file and closing it; the attention she had been drawing to it was becoming scarily unnecessary, "Yes, I would say so, Cain."
It wasn't to say Marlene was scared of Gwendolyn Cain and her vicious and competitive air that gave her own a run for her galleons, but it had become a rule of Marlene's to steer clear of any and all possible conflicts that would involve Gwendolyn and her sharp ruby nails. Marlene dropped her eyes back down to the file in front of her before sifting her notes into the slit of the closed file.
Especially over assignments that could be the most important break of her journalistic career.
"Doesn't seem to be," Gwendolyn had snapped her attention to her nails and smoothing them over her pinstriped robes, "You've been consumed at your desk the whole morning—you haven't even gotten up for lunch. I dare say you've truly become fascinated by the weather."
Marlene looked up from fiddling with her drawer of quills with quizzical knitted eyebrows, "Weath—oh!" her eyes widened in realization that to the knowledge of the rest of the reporters at the Prophet Marlene was assigned to a weather report she had managed to have finished in meagre minutes with little to no thought, "Well, what can I say, Cain—I'm driven." Marlene finished with much disinterest as she could muster- to make it clear to Gwendolyn that she could care less of her observance.
It had become a habit of Marlene's since Hogwarts to have a complete tunnel vision on things. It was the only guarantee she would excel, have her high expectations fulfilled, and ensure she was the witch her family had always amounted her to be. With an overachieving older brother to compete with, which only tossed her stomach and boiled her blood to think of him, it was no doubt Marlene had managed to develop her own over-achieving mentality—even if that meant cutting down someone along the way. Although, it had become rather difficult for her to stop biting bitter comments from tumbling out of her poisonous mouth—instead she had decided on the McKinnon family approach.
Nonchalance. Disinterest. Impassivity.
She had much more important things on her mind than fuelling office animosity. Such as the story her editor had entrusted her with, something to keep hushed up for many weeks to come until her deadline where she'd hope and pray was heavy enough to be published with her name in print.
"McKinnon?" The long narrow office was lined with desks cluttered with bored reporters. From their desks uneven lights glared down at balls and stacks of parchment, worn out typewritters and Quick-Quotes Quills. The familiar sound that was the voice of the Daily Prophet editor in chief caused a ripple of reporters and writers sitting up right or immediately fiddling around with papers to busy themselves as Barnabus Cuffe made his way towards Marlene's desk.
The first time Marlene had been approached by Cuffe she had felt her hands shaking all the way to his office. Eyes had been following her as she made her way down the long lines of desks, some with curiosity others with envy. There was no expecting what exactly Cuffe had wanted of her as he collected her gruffly from her desk. Maybe she had displeased him with her article on the short staffing in St. Mungo's, his wife being a Head Healer. On the contrary, as she stepped foot in his cluttered and vast office Cuffe closed the door behind him and pulled down the blinds over his office door. There were stacks of old newspapers piled high in the corners, the air felt denser—almost aged from the yellow-brown hue of light and wooden furniture. It was comical enough to think that this is what it would feel like to be inside a Firewhiskey bottle.
"Sit, please." Cuffe said shifting into his large leather brown chair and motioned towards the chair across from him. Marlene looked down to the seat she had been clutching with her pale hand. She took a deep breath and pulled the chair out before making herself comfortable. There was an ongoing mantra chiming in her mind— I won't be fazed.
Cuffe looked at her with narrowed eyes, his aged ink stained hands were laced in front of him on his messy desk, and it only occurred to Marlene then how tired and aged Cuffe's face truly was. His greying hair black hair was slicked back, an air of professionalism and intimidation everyone at the office hoped to have mimicked. As the seconds ticked by Marlene felt her teeth pressing firmly against her tongue to stop herself from bursting to question what the matter was.
"You," Cuffe began slowly leaning back into his chair, "You are an exceptional reporter, McKinnon."
And the hard tension that had been kneading itself harshly into Marlene's shoulders began rising slowly. She nervously tucked her lips in and bit down in fear of speaking out of terms before she was fully done hearing Cuffe.
Cuffe smiled for a moment and extended both his index fingers that were once laced. He pointed at her with a knowing look, "You've been here for roughly a year and you've managed to give me the most interesting and informative story on short staffing at St. Mungo's – something I've been fighting over the Misses about to give me even a statement!" He was grinning at this point and reached underneath a tight stack of parchments and pulled out a familiar stapled piece—Marlene's piece.
"This." Cuffe pushed it towards Marlene, "Is Journalism."
Marlene gave a weak smile, her nerves leaving her as she peered at her article, "Thank you, sir." She managed; it seemed like the only thing she would be able to say with her thoughts calming from the fright she had given herself previously. There was nothing more gratifying to Marlene than being recognized for her work, especially being raised in the McKinnon household where it came rare to none.
"Now," Cuffe straightened up and he shuffled in his desk drawer, "that's exactly what I'm looking for." He pulled out a thick file and presented it in front of Marlene.
Her curious eyes met the file and darted between Cuffe and it, "Exactly for…?" with steady hands took it in her grip.
Cuffe took a deep breath and stared seriously at Marlene, "I know you've heard…rumours… about civilians joining in onsite of attacks, there are medical records of wizards and witches and their witness accounts of non-uniformed wizard fighting on the scene. It's not a peculiar phenomenon in midst of a war to have vigilantes, but they always seem to describe the same people over and over."
Marlene opened the file and she was immediately met with photocopies of medical records with respective pictures of the patients clipped to each one. There was a separate section of photographs that fell into her lap and her brow furrowed shifting through some of them— her mind jogging to identify the attack.
"That was the night of the attack in Trafalgar Square." Cuffe filled in seeing Marlene struggle with the blurry images, "Can you see what's so peculiar in those photos."
Marlene's brown eyes scanned each photo and shuffled them in her hands, "Those…" it was hard to focus on each moving photograph. It was an aerial view of the square, there were explosions and jet blasts flashing light into the night just barely enough to see the faint moving dark figures running into the scene, their cloaks billowing—followed by a clan of mismatched dressed wizards shooting back jinxes, "Those aren't Aurors…or anyone uniformed for that matter."
"Exactly!" Cuffe exclaimed and Marlene tore her eyes away from the fascinating pile in front of her. Cuffe's face had brightened and the lines defining his aging face disappeared.
"Aren't there better photographs, sir?" Marlene had brought her attention back to the looping picture of the same handful blurry wizard shuffling into the shot, "Then maybe it would be easier to identify these wizards and see if they match the witness accounts?"
Cuffe shook his head, "These were brought in by an anonymous tip. They're probably the best we're going to get—but don't you see McKinnon. This story could be just the thing everyone wants to read: an organized clan of vigilantes in midst of a war."
Marlene bit her lip nervously, "But, sir, although I'm sure these documents are very detailed—how can we be certain?"
The editor leaned back into his chair and a serious expression overcame his face. It was enough for Marlene to understand this was not going to be a typical story she was assigned to. There seemed to be too much personal investment and commitment on Cuffe's behalf and he seemed to be expecting the same from her. The air stiffened radically and Cuffe spoke clearly and direct.
"We have to be." He said bluntly, "In that file, you'll find more than just medical records, profiles, and witness accounts. There's a string of events of more than mere coincidences for there to not be some sort of organization trying to rise up in this war to help. Check the back of the file."
Marlene nodded nervously and fumbled with the file before flipping it over there laid a crumpled but smoothed out parchment. The edges were eaten away by a fire, almost drowning away the words "SEND HELP" in sharp cursive, and a large golden stamp marked the paper of a bird… a phoenix, with its wings spread open.
"Wha—?"
"This was found on the site on the attack at Trafalgar Square." He finished solemnly, "It was brought in by one of our photographers who found it during the clean-up."
Marlene shook her head confused, her mind fumbling to find the right words to the new found in formation, "So, this could be it. There could be some organization that's out to defy You-Know-Who and… working alongside the ministry?"
Cuffe chuckled sarcastically, "I wouldn't go as far as to say working with the ministry." He shook his head pointing to the emblazoned parchment, "No, no. I think they're out to get things done they feel the Ministry isn't getting done. Which is why I'm curious what the Head of the Auror Department has to say. He constantly dismisses the question as to these non-Aurors."
"Alastor Moody?" Marlene asked tucking the burnt parchment back into the file.
"Right. And as you might know, he's taken in a certain Black under his apprenticeship."
Marlene stiffened at the name and her fingers tensed around the file. Of course, she knew Sirius Black, anyone with the blessing of hearing would have been cursed to hear his loud mouth day in and day out—especially a Gryffindor. She refrained from rolling her eyes as she had taught herself for the seven years she had to put up with his and Potter's antics.
"Yes. But what does that have to do with this?" Marlene almost snipped from the annoyance bubbling inside her by only remembering Sirius Black.
"I'm not sure, but it's rather funny for someone as involved as Moody to have someone the whole wizard community is aware is the, pardon the pun, black sheep. He was an outcaste in that family, kicked out, every old pureblood family was aware of it. And now his family has been coming out as supporters of You-Know-Who. I don't buy why Alastor would openly declare Black basically his right hand." Cuffe's eyes were wandering around as if trying to catch the answer his musings were so desperately trying to knot together, "Moody is so involved I wouldn't be shocked to believe he's letting the vigilantes join in. And Black….why would he openly work alongside a Black?"
"No doubt, it would make for a good story to see how this all ties in. I have this gut feeling with all that information I've been collecting. McKinnon, I trust you're clever and bold enough to figure it out."
Marlene fell silent and her eyes had turned down to stare at the file in front of her. Two parts of her brain were arguing. She couldn't say it had often been an issue but in that moment, where everything was riding on her career, Marlene found it difficult to bring herself to a complete decision. If she managed to connect the dots Cuffe had begun to draw out for her, she would have a story that would prove her abilities and no doubt her competitive nature was crying to snatch this 'hush-hush' assignment before any other reporter was called to the stand. Then again, if everything turned out wrong she could have a big scandal on her hands that would crush her career and question her journalistic integrity.
It had been clear what Marlene had chosen when Cuffe had finally made his way to her desk. He flopped down a folded note on her desk without so much of a word, nodded politely to Marlene's co-workers, and made his way back up the stretch of desks to his office. It was unspoken rule that this assignment was to be kept under the table and not to be flaunted, something Marlene didn't find difficult at all.
She unfolded the note without a second thought and felt Gwendolyn's eyes strain with a dying curiosity from where she stood. If Marlene wasn't mistaken, she was sure the office was perplexed or either onto what Cuffe's random act was about.
Leaky Cauldron
2 o'clock
DON'T MESS THIS UP.
The click of her heels resounding on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley's chilly autumn afternoon. Marlene could still remember the look on Gwendolyn's face as she refolded the note quickly in reflex and made her way out the office with a forced smile. The skies were grey and dull and the streets were littered with splatters of reds and browns which her heels continued to click on towards The Leaky Cauldron. She brought the brown trench coat tighter around her as a chill breeze swept by and her rattling nerves ceased to stop. It was hard to decipher between the cold smoothing over her skin and the nerves consuming her at the idea of seeing Sirius Black—it was an instilled deep aggravation that sprung old feelings of walking out of Arithmancy alongside Remus to avoid Sirius and James' mocking grins.
It was, without a doubt, willing submitting herself to her own mocking. A nightmare she thought was over after Hogwarts.
Marlene managed to walk from one end of Diagon Alley to the next just in time to be ten minutes early. The warmth of the pub washed over her chilled face and her nose wrinkled in the process from the distinct bitter smell of the aging wood. The pub washed her in its dim hue of candle light, the soft chatter and the tinkering of goblets and cutlery.
"Good day, madam!" the innkeeper's voice cut Marlene's roaming gaze through the shabby pub. Her stomach flopped uncomfortably as she had tried to repress the thought of what being in the Leaky Cauldron meant—a commitment to deal with Sirius Black.
"Good day, Tom." Marlene offered a small smile to the older man's grinning face and Tom continued to wipe down a nearby table, "I'm unsure if Barnabus Cuffe's told you—"
Tom snapped up in sudden realization and wiped his hands on his already filthy apron, "Oh! Of course, of course! I've got you a table all reserved right over here!"
The barkeeper started walking and zigzagging through the tiny shabby tables. Marlene wrinkled her brow perplexed—surely Tom wouldn't think a business meeting with a reservation would be held in the main bar area?
"Exc-excuse me, did you say a… table?" Marlene had come to a halt after weaving through tables with much difficulty to see Tom wiping down a shabby table near the wall with the same filthy cloth. She wrinkled her nose further and watched Tom give her a sheepish smile.
"Cuffe let me know awfully last minute, dearie, sorry." He shrugged and without another word or hesitance turned to return to main bar.
Marlene eyed the table with a frown that eventually turned into a short scowl before rolling her eyes and wiggling her way into one side of the squared booth. It was rather dim and quiet at the near end of the pub and Marlene sighed at the appreciation even if she found it distasteful to hold a meeting outside a private parlour.
With a deep and exasperated sigh Marlene rummaged through her brown leathered messenger bag and brought out her quill and roll of parchment. The mantra chanting in her head, repeating to regain her nerve and patience. The thought alone of having to deal with Black's incessant bothersome behaviour brought her stomach to jolt in a sickly way. Marlene tried to cease the nerves that rattled through her and reminded herself that after this piece—if she were able to play Black smartly, she would have her story by no time and by then for sure she would have the certainty to never deal with his idiocy again.
But it served Marlene no good to sit there prepared, quill at hand and inkpot unscrewed. It was half past two and there was no sign of Black.
'Fantastic.' She thought with such heavy aggravation, 'What else could I expect from Black.'. Marlene came up with various theories to Black's absence, conspiracies if you will. She rolled her eyes harshly thinking that Black could only be doing this to irritate her and spoil the task she knew he was reluctant to take on behalf of Moody.
Just as the clock was to strike quarter to three Marlene started opening her bag to pack her things, but not before a sound so familiar no matter how much she had prepared and had been expecting it came as a complete shock.
"Alright?" Marlene looked up to see Sirius Black making his way into the opposite side of the booth looking very bored and making minimum eye contact as possible.
It was difficult to not be caught off guard but Marlene composed herself before she let her jaw slack even further.
"You're late." Marlene hissed through gritted teeth and turning back to look at her bag before roughly sitting it next to her again. The nerve of him, she could feel her neck beginning to flush with anger.
"You've noticed."
Marlene jerked her head up to look at him in disbelief. She didn't know why, she should have been expecting it. She gritted her teeth in aggravation and took in a deep breath before returning to her standard stoic expression. How very McKinnon of her. As soon as a quota of expression was conveyed it was far too much effort to continue and stoicism would take over. Her eyebrows were high and her lips tensed; she would not let him get to her.
"Now that you're here, Black, we could get started." Marlene knew she had to remain professional, it was the only way she was going to get through this, "I'm McKinnon from the Daily Prophet, I'm sure you know this and I also assume your Head has informed you as to why we're having this meeting." She sifted through her questions and looked up to see him with his arms crossed over his chest and staring past her head with a haughty expression. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes once more. Regardless, Sirius remained quiet.
Marlene had to play it smart. She reminded herself that there was a deeper story there that Cuffe was expecting than just unauthorized personnel coincidentally appearing at attack sights—vigilantes. And it was far too fascinating that a Black was working alongside Aurors. She had to be coy; she couldn't let him see that how much she had managed to speculate for herself. The answers would be far more difficult to get out of him.
"It is rather peculiar, the public has noticed, that there have been reports of unauthorized wizards fighting onsite alongside Aurors during the attacks."
Sirius remained quiet, unchanging with his gaze still past Marlene's head and staring straight at the opposite wall. For three counts he remained silent.
Marlene turned her eyes back to her paper and simply marked off the question.
"Now, there's been question as to the procedure to becoming an Auror, would you enlighten a tense public as to any security to the process."
"No," Marlene was surprised to have heard such quick reply. Sirius was moving to sit up straight, "But I am rather interested in securing my hunger." He raised his hand in the air and signalled Tom to wait their table.
Marlene's eyebrows knitted involuntarily, her stoicism failing her, "Excuse me?"
"Ah! Sirius! What can I do for you?" Marlene looked behind her quickly to see Tom leaning on her side of the booth wiping his hands with the same filthy cloth.
"Yes! Tom, my good man, can I get the steak and pie?"
"Sure-"
"Excuse me?" Marlene said louder this time giving Sirius a hard look and completely ignoring Tom who looked baffled by being interrupted.
Sirius looked to Marlene and his expression turned from friendly to haughty as it were nothing, "Oh, you're right actually."
Marlene relaxed for a second before looking down at her papers and widening her eyes in disbelief and annoyance.
"It's much too early for dinner and much too late for lunch. Tom, my good man, the soup of the day!" Sirius continued cheerily.
Marlene snapped up to look at Sirius with the same hard expression.
"Anything for you, love?" Marlene looked at Tom and shook her head and had to catch herself before answering incorrectly. She closed her eyes and opened them in effort to relax herself.
"No, no thank you."
Sirius stared at Marlene, almost as if challengingly and it was then that something sparked deep in Marlene. If there was anything Marlene was good at it, it was competing. It had been her drive to be the best and it got her where she was. She cared for no one and her competitive nature was deeply rooted from a tight upbringing of high achievers. She would have none of Sirius' childish tactics because she was cleverer than that.
As Sirius' soup arrived and he took a long slurp from his spoon Marlene refused to look anything but bored.
"Are you usually this unprofessional about all your appointments?" Marlene mumbled uninterested and she shuffled her papers once more.
Sirius smiled for the first time, a large grin beginning to spread across his face, "Only for the one I don't take home."
Marlene closed her eyes on reflex so that she was no longer reading her notes, "You're distasteful." She said blankly before opening her eyes again and pulling out a fresh piece of parchment.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not taking you home." Sirius' grin was wide and coy as he chuckled to himself before continuing with his soup.
But Marlene couldn't be fazed as she continued to prod Sirius with questions.
"Do you have any comments—?"
"No, I don't actually." Sirius interrupted with a loud clatter of his spoon and a long gulp from his Butterbeer. But Marlene moved on forcing herself to remain unfazed.
"In regards to St. Mungo's recent attack—"
"Yes, yes very sad."
"Would you say that—?"
"No, I wouldn't."
"Alastor Moody has made it clear that the Auror Department—"
"Is inside the Ministry of Magic."
Marlene inhaled deeply and turned her gaze to the mess Sirius was purposely making by smacking his spoon against the remaining pool of his soup.
"I hope you're usually this charming at your other appointments or do you only do this for special occasions?"
It was Sirius' turn to remain unfazed by analysing the back of his dripping spoon. His haughty expression etching his face with such little effort it was hard to believe Sirius was ever anything but.
"Is there any chance the public—?"
"You know, I remember you." It was then that Marlene froze, the words caught in her throat with such a straining pressure she swore her eyes would water. She couldn't move her head for anything in the world and her gaze went straight to her parchment of questions pretending to read. There was a heat so overpowering creeping up her neck she was scared Sirius would notice.
"From Hogwarts," he continued looking down to stir his chilling soup, "you and Remus took a few classes together—Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, History of Magic… all the boring classes that had the rest of us wondering why."
Marlene said nothing and found herself rolling her quill between the pads of her fingers.
"If I hadn't known Remus better I would have thought he fancied you—"
This caused Marlene to cough involuntarily in surprise and lose her grip on her quill. She turned to look at Sirius' sly expression still analysing his spoon rather than meeting her gaze. Marlene made a fist and tried to take in a shaking breath. No. He wouldn't win.
"That's ridiculous. Remus and I were barely friends." She muttered through the heat forming on her cheeks. Angrily picking up her quill she scratched off a question on her list imagining it was his face. The nerve of him.
"Huh." Sirius breathed out as if accepting her reply but there still seemed to be hesitance behind it, "Yeah, you're right. You were always far too high maintenance, even for Remus."
"Excuse me." Marlene snapped knitting her eyebrows at his sudden chatty and brash behaviour.
"Oh yeah, I remember you in Charms this one time, couldn't stand having anything below an O. You kept the class back half an hour at Flitwick's table struggling for another point. I remember it because I was so hung over from the previous night after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup all I wanted was to head back to my dorm, but you kept raising your hand incessantly answering every question, I swear even Evans that day found the scholastics in the room a nuisance." Sirius let out a deep chuckle at the expense of Marlene's pursing lips. She tucked them in and bit her tongue before her bad habit took a hold of her. The poison and sarcasm ready to drip off her tongue and remind Black of who and where he was.
Marlene smacked her quill down on the table before reaching for her bag, "Black, as fortunate as this situation is for your and my behalf, it's clear the feeling shared is mutual. I know you want to be sitting here as much as I want to be sitting across from a full sized man-child who can barely keep his soup in his bowl—but I'll have you know, the harder you make this the more meetings there'll be," she dismissed as hurriedly as she could and stood up after collecting her things, "I have my end of the deal to comply which is an extensive piece enough to fill a spread on a Monday morning paper and you have yours before Alastor Moody hears from my editor. My piece saves your department a heap of trouble as it will to mine."
And before waiting for Sirius to fully react while he stared up to the dusty ceiling with a bored expression, Marlene turned on her heel and exited the pub without another word.
'I won't be fazed.' Marlene repeated leaving the Leaky Cauldron and Sirius Black behind her.
If one thing was clear from McKinnon and Black's meeting was that neither was looking forward to the next time and neither was willing to go down easy.