A/N: Hey guys, here's chapter two. I got a way better response than I expected and I'm glad so many of you like Marie. To who ever it was that told me to keep her mean (I'm sorry, I'm really bad with names, usernames even worse), I plan to. Thanks also to those that liked Sally-Anne, I wasn't sure how ya'll would feel about her since she's not an often used character.
Sorry to person that asked for femslash between our two current leading ladies, I don't plan to write anything but het in detail because I know I don't understand homosexual love enough to do it proper justice. I'm all about realism when things are supposed to be realistic (like character behaviour and relationships) so I won't contrive something I don't understand.
Also, to the people that enjoy romance as a heavy theme, don't read my stuff. I might have some flirting and kissing when it feels right, but I don't make it a big thing. I will never have any "soul-bond" or "I'll die without you!" nonsense. Blame it on me being asexual.
I might have mentioned it before but don't exact regular updates. I have a buttload of stories on the back burner as well as three others up that also need updating.
Marie burst through the door of the room she had been told was the library. If she had stayed in that room, she would have screamed the house down and set delicate ears to stinging with the vulgarity of her language. Barely taking half a second to affirm the truth of what she had been told, she none too gently slammed the door close again. She then immediately set to locking the door and barring it from entrance by shoving the heaviest armchair she could manage in front of it — one that took all her strength to move even with a boost of rage and adrenaline adding onto her strength. She then threw herself into the armchair and pounded the cushioned arms with her her remaining fury.
Oh, she wanted to —! And then she'd —! But Marie reigned in the urge to go back to the bedroom they had been in and beat the living shit out of those two arse-kissing, blindly following, promise-breaking pillocks. She was going to stay in that god forsaken library until she no longer wanted to bitch-slap and groin-stomp the next person that came to her spewing excuses.
Marie tossed her head back against the chair and glared at the dusty bookshelves that greeted her.
They had some fucking nerve!
Of all the stupid things they could have said in an attempt to make her less angry with them for not telling her a fucking thing, they chose 'Dumbledore told us not to'? Since when did they give two shits about what they were told? Why did they pretend that they were just innocent bystanders, forced to bend to the commands of others? Like they were actually the most rule-abiding people around!
Did they think that she was completely stupid?
It hadn't been Marie's idea to accept Malfoy's challenge to a duel at midnight back in first year, or start snooping in the restricted section when they couldn't find anything on Flamel. She wasn't the one that insisted they hijack a magical car and fly it to Scotland, or drug fellow students to use their hair in a restricted potion, or run off to the school library by herself when they were told to stick together. When it came down right to it, Marie never broke the rules unless she had to, it was them that tossed rules about whenever they wanted, so why would they even think that 'we were told not to' would be an acceptable reason to tell her jack-shit?
Ron she could sort of get since it was Dumbledore that told them not to do something, and Ron respected the headmaster more than he did his own parents, but Marie didn't get where Hermione was coming from. The bookish girl might preach respect for authority figures, but her actions told another tale. Marie had been there when Hermione lied right to McGonagall's face about the troll, and when she had talked Hagrid into telling them things he wasn't supposed to. She had heard directly from Ron how the other girl set fire to Snape's robes, and she had been part of the crowd that watched as Hermione hurled insults at the Divination professor before walking out in the middle of lesson; none of that spoke of the piety toward those in charge that she was always on about. Not even the worst of the arrogant bigots in Slytherin that thought themselves above everyone else dared to do anything like what Hermione had.
They didn't care about breaking rules and they regularly defied authority figures; why hadn't they been willing to do it once more? Was keeping their word to her less important than being heroic Gryffindors out on an adventure, proving their bravery?
Marie snatched up a vase that was sitting on a low shelf next to the door and pitched it clean across the room, taking some satisfaction in the way it shattered against a stack of books sitting on a study table and knocked the stack to the floor with several loud thumps.
Though she wanted to scream that she was furious because of her friends being distressingly disappointing, the truth was that their inanity had only compounded onto the anger she had seething just below the surface since the flock of owl that had given her more commands but absolutely no answers. She had been mad when the first Ministry letter said they were going to destroy her wand ("Good luck with that," she had sneered at the letter. Not much to destroy now that her wand was broken.) but the letters telling her stay put and behave infuriated her. Who they hell did they think they were to tell her what to do? She was an orphan that had no obligation to obey any of them, seeing how she wasn't in school and none of them were her legal guardians, especially when they expected her to just obey blindly.
She wished she had managed to give one of the 'guard' sent to pick her up a proper punch in the face when she still had the excuse of not knowing who they were or why they breaking into her relative's house.
Hadn't that been a trip? She had heard them making a ruckus downstairs while the Dursleys were out and Marie had met them at the stairs with a loaded shotgun pointed at them, dug up from her aunt and uncle's room where she knew Uncle Vernon kept a gun just in case. She threatened to blast their heads in until Professor Lupin stepped forward and tried to reassure her. In response, Marie turned the gun on him specifically and demanded that he prove that he actually was himself; she wasn't about to be taken in again by some polyjuice'd Death Eater.
She had allowed herself to be calmed down by her patient former professor after he had proven himself when Mad-Eye — the real one this time — growled, "You quite sure it's her, Lupin? I don't want to chance us bringing back some Death Eater impersonating her. We ought to ask something only Potter would know."
While she could agree that confirming it was really her was sensible, Marie was still peeved by the implication. "Why would you need to do that?" she asked, glaring a bit at the old Auror. "Are you telling me that you think the people you sent to watch me suck so badly at their job that I could have been kidnapped by Death Eaters right in front of them without them even noticing?"
That had put a bee in the paranoid old bastard's bonnet right proper.
She knew shouldn't have been uncooperative, but over four weeks with nothing, not the tiniest hint of a plan to remove her from Privet Drive — none mentioned to her — and suddenly a gaggle of wizards were standing matter-of-factly in the house as though them arriving had been a long-standing arrangement. As if she should have been sitting around, waiting patiently for them to arrive at their convenience. She was too offended to even care she was standing in front of them in an oversized t-shirt, over-sized pajama bottoms, and bed-head. If they wanted her to be ready and presentable when they deigned to retrieve her, they could have at least bloody well called.
It was only after Marie did prove herself, and she and Tonks had packed her things that they had taken to the skies like a flock of giant ducks flying south for the winter. That is, if the ducks were actually flying east and flew in battle formation. Marie was glad she had stayed dressed in her comfy and warm pjs.
Privately, even more privately than the mutinous thoughts she was already thinking to herself, Marie knew she was being unfair to the guard. It wasn't like it was their idea to completely disregard her right as a sentient life form to actually have a choice in plans concerning her. Not that that stopped her from being angry.
"'He thought it was best . . .', 'Made us swear not to tell you anything . . .'," Marie muttered to herself bitterly. What utter bullshit. If it had been one of them stranded and going out of their mind with worry, she wouldn't have given a damn what anyone said.
If owls were so fucking dangerous, why had no one tried sending her something through muggle post? Did they expect Voldemort to have his followers staking out the sodding post office, hiding in the back of a UPS truck, or impersonating mailmen? Did it take too much effort to have one of those bloody stalkers assigned to watch the house slip her a letter while they were under their invisibility cloaks? Why was all the thought given to keeping Marie informed reduced to 'Well, we can't do it the normal way. Guess the girl will have to be out of the loop'?
Fuck them all.
'We don't know anything either!' Ron had said. 'Mum won't let us near the meetings!'
As if that would make up for the fact that she had been left out! As it that made up for the fact that they seemed to forget all about her until it was convenient. Since the beginning of summer, nothing but drivel sent to pacify her. None of them seemed to remember that she had been sent back to her personal hell-hole right after a traumatic event that would have sent others gibbering to the mental hospital. There had been no 'Hello Marie, how are you holding up? I was concerned about how you were feeling after being forcibly used in a necromantic ritual.'
Her head gave a horrid throb and she clenched her eyes against the tears of frustration that leaked out. If she had a crowbar in her hands, she'd . . . She had been so happy to see them again earlier and now she was wishing they would just got to hell.
She jumped out of the abused armchair and walked purposefully toward a bookshelf. God dammit all, she needed something to distract her before she started bleeding out of her eyes from the pressure in her brain. A book would have to do. She would have tried to contact Sally-Anne, but her stuff was still downstairs and she really didn't want to go out and possibly run into Ron and Hermione again right away.
Marie's hand landed on a book that was shoved a bit out of sight between bigger books. She used her fingernails to claw it out from it's hiding place with curiosity. Someone had gone through some effort to hide this book. It was done in red leather with silver writing on the cover.
"Art of the Succubus," she read out loud, tracing her fingers over the spin, her new interest in the book in front of her shoving her frustration to the back of her mind. Sounded like the title of medieval erotica. She opened to a random page and flipped through a bit without reading it yet. She landed on a page with a moving picture of two guys — Renaissance era based on their hair — naked on a couch and rutting. Her eyes widened and she couldn't help but blush a bit. It certainly looked like medieval erotica as well.
What the hell was it even doing here? Marie couldn't help but notice that the binding was worn from heavy use. She looked up and considered the room more directly. It looked neglected and there was dust everywhere, even on the book she had just picked up, so obviously no one came in here often. That meant no one would miss anything should something disappear.
She flipped back to the front and started reading. She would read it until her anger died away. And maybe if it was smutty enough, she could send it to Sally-Anne. Sort of a 'sorry for skipping town without warning you; here's some tasty gay porn in apology' gift.
There were times when Marie wondered if she should have followed her Uncle Vernon's advice back on the day she had turned eleven and just gone to Stonewall High like they had originally planned. She would have never gotten mixed up in life-threatening situations or dark wizards trying to kill her; she would be on her way to a regular life in the muggle world, eventually graduating and getting a job that hopefully paid well. Her biggest concern would be grades and getting credits that would look good on a job resumé. Maybe a boyfriend or two thrown in. Everything would have been completely ordinary and she would have been just another face in the crowd.
Those instances of self-doubt would then lead her to berating herself for not appreciating what she had. Magic was real! She had friends! There were people that cared about her! Everyday always had something satisfyingly magical going on that she was never bored! What more could a girl want?
But it wasn't like she couldn't have made muggle friends, an annoyingly matter-of-fact part of her countered. She had already known that getting away from the Dursleys would lead her to find people that liked and cared about her; they didn't have to have magic to exist. And she was only going on about how she would miss them and magic so much because she had immersed herself so much in it. The truth of the matter was that if she never discovered magic, she would have continued living just as well as she had before, not missing it at all.
So really, was it specifically Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, and Sirius that she would miss? Coming down right to it, continued the annoying part of her, what she wanted was friends and people that truly cared. Who those people were as individuals didn't matter. If she had met a boy from Ravenclaw on the train before she met Ron, and that boy proved to be kind and friendly, he likely would have ended up as one of her best friends instead of Ron.
Continuing on this line of thought, it was very likely that Marie could have lived out her life as a muggle and been just as happy — maybe even more; not as much happiness to be had when people as trying to kill you — completely ignorant of the wizarding world. She could probably even leave the country and start a new life — like she had fantasized about before — and be just as happy as she had always been.
Marie wasn't sure how she felt about realizing such a thing about herself. Did that make her shallow? She liked hanging out with her friends and sharing things with them, but the person that was her friend didn't matter so long as they got along fairly well. Well, if she ever had a huge falling out like the one she had with Ron because of the Tournament, she could console herself with the fact that she could move on to different people with little difficulty. She just had to make sure she kept the fact to herself or else that falling out would come sooner instead of later.
Maybe she could drop that bomb after finishing Hogwarts if she ever want to go through with the plan to leave the country and assume a new identity.
This was the train of thought that churned about Marie's mind as Mrs. Weasley and Sirius shouted at each other about she should be told. Or shouldn't be told, in the case of Mrs. Weasley who seemed to forget that she was currently questioning the mental stability of the owner of the house she was currently running as it were her own, who also happened to be Marie's godfather — the only person she was obligated to listen to — and also that Marie was sitting right there, growing more irritated every passing second they sat there arguing about her like she wasn't there.
They had been going at it since Marie had come down for dinner — ignoring the space near her friends — and Sirius had asked about her lack of questions concerning what was going on. Marie would have readily laid that assumption to rest if it hadn't been for the Weasley matriarch cutting in, claiming Marie to young to know anything.
"She's only fifteen!" the red-haired matron had exclaimed, as if someone's age mattered when there was an insane terrorist on the loose, aiming to kill them.
Marie said out loud exactly what she had thought. Suffice to say, it didn't go over well.
They went back and forth about 'needing to know' and 'right to know' and all sorts of other tosh that basically boiled down to a few facts; Mrs. Weasley was overprotective though she meant well, and apparently thought that the knowledge that Voldemort was doing anything was too much for Marie's poor mental health to cope with, while Sirius was not at full adult maturity because of his time in jail, and he thought Marie had every right to know what was going on, though he might have being too carefree since Marie really wasn't an adult yet.
"Dumbledore has his reasons for not wanting Marie to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Marie's best interests at heart —"
"Mrs. Weasley, please," Marie said, cutting in, tired of the back and forth nonsense. She leaned into Sirius' arm and curled around it comfortingly, feeling him trembling from anger, and patted his hand soothingly. "If someone has concrete reasons to not tell me something I have a right to know, I would need to know those reasons at the very least. Until someone gives me an actually good reason not to know what's going on — like possibly putting someone's life in danger — I want to know everything I can. I don't see how being kept ignorant would help me in this case."
"Dumbledore said you —"
"Dumbledore isn't exactly in my good books at the moment," Marie said, her eyes narrowing. From the tenseness in Sirius' jaw when the headmaster had previously been mentioned, she could tell he wasn't at all happy with the older man either. "Quite frankly, while I appreciate him going through so much trouble to keep an eye on me — though I wish someone had told me about that too — he is not my father and has no right to make decisions for me!"
That statement had gone over as well as her comment about being plenty old enough for people to try to kill her.
In the end, after being called 'obviously too immature to understand the situation' and 'too childish,' Marie had been allowed to ask her questions and get at least some answers. Mrs. Weasley had kicked up another fuss about her children knowing anything — even Fred and George though they were already of age — and had almost forcefully removed them from the room when Mr. Weasley came to the twins' rescue saying they really couldn't make the two leave since they were already of age.
That had resulted in Mrs. Weasley forcing Ron and Ginny out of the room at wand-point when they begged to stay as well. Ron tried to argue that it wasn't fair that Marie got to stay when he had to leave, and that Marie would tell him all about it later even if he did leave, but Marie had been made to agree not to tell the youngest Weasleys anything at all. While a part of her was vindicated by them being kept in the dark as she had been, there was also the matter of Mrs. Weasley being their mother and having full right to tell her kids what to do; she was arguing for her rights, she was not about to be a hypocrite and encroach on another person's.
So, when the two youngest Weasleys were escorted back to their rooms, Marie, the twins, and Hermione got their questions answered. Through quick thinking on her own part, Hermione managed to argue that her parents let her come over with their full permission and expected her to to take care of herself, therefore, since she was allowed to do as she pleased, she also was within her rights to stay. Mrs. Weasley turned tomato red at that.
Now Marie was sitting in the bedroom cleaned out for her, staring blankly at sleeping portrait in front of her bed, trying to make sense of what she had heard. Hermione and Ginny were sleeping in the room next to hers and Ron and the twins were across the hall. No doubt Ginny had stayed away to grill Hermione about what was said and — her sharp ears picked up the sound of a faint pop — the twins had apparated into Ron's room to inform him as well. Marie was absently amused by the fact that Mrs. Weasley had forgotten to make the other three swear not to tell the youngest of her brood anything.
Voldemort was laying low to recruit followers while Fudge was doing his damnedest to discredit Dumbledore for saying the Dark Lord was back. The Ministry stood in firm opposition against those that wanted to start preparing for attacks while the evil bastard was supposedly preparing some super weapon that the Order feared was worse than what he had the last war.
Not much to work with but at least it was something.
Marie should probably expect to be slammed by her association with Dumbledore as well as being the person that first claimed that Voldemort was back. She idly wondered if she should have paid attention to more than just the front page of the Prophet. If Skeeters disgusting farce of reporting news was the standard all reporters of wizarding Britain stuck to, it was likely she was being slandered left and right.
Those shameless arse-lickers.
She wondered how Diggory was holding up and if he was being verbally attacked as well, she didn't know him as well as others but she didn't really take him as the sort to be used to dangerous fiascos and near-death experiences. Was he okay after almost getting hit with that Killing Curse? Was he being sneered at as well? Maybe she should send him a letter.
Marie sighed and climbed out of bed, digging through her things to find the thing that would let her talk to Sally-Anne.
Sally-Anne Perks, while an excellent friend and admirable person in many ways, was obsessed with trends and gadgets. She was subscribed to fashion magazines and celebrity gossip rags, and swore by her owl-order catalogs that she had sent in from the States. Marie had an expanded jewelry box full of shiny things that caught Sally-Anne's eye, beauty products she wasn't even sure how to apply, and dozens of gadgets that Annie had forced on her because they were the magical equivalent of muggle technology that 'she just had to have.' Marie wasn't certain exactly when in her life she would ever need a charm bracelet that stored a shrunken, self-inflating inflatable raft and a set of oars, but it looked cute and casual enough that she didn't mind wearing it.
Those daffy Americans and their inventions.
Digging pass her music-marble player, a camera thingy, and her giant bottle of mood-colour nail polish, Marie pulled out a communication mirror that could disguise itself as a mobile phone. This was something she could see the use of, especially if they were trying to blend in out with the muggles. The only down side was that it couldn't make phone calls as well, so it was basically a walkie talkie for those linked together. Sally-Anne had has shoved the mirror down her throat when it was obvious they were going to be good friends and that it was likely to be months before they could talk in person again when Marie went back to Hogwarts.
"Sally-Anne Perks," Marie said, taking care not to be too loud. The image in the mirror clouded over and churned like someone waving their hand through smoke. Marie waited as the smoke thickened and darkened. A guttural groan reached her ears as the mirror turned completely shadowed, though she could make out the faintest of silhouettes.
"Ma-arie?" Sally-Anne asked in a croaky voice, a yawning breaking in between syllables. The silhouette changed shape a bit before Sally-Anne became visible, having just turned on a lamp. The strawberry-blonde was still slack-faced from sleep and was rubbing at her eyes. She peering through slitted eyes out at Marie as her mouth turned down in a frown. "The fuck, you crazy bitch? Do you know what time it is?" She made a show of turning to the clock on her bedside table and scowled even more heavily. "It's tomorrow. The hell do you want?"
"Seriously? Shit, I'm sorry. I forgot that it was late."
"'Forgot that it was late'?" Sally-Anne echoed, waking up more. She blinked blearily. "The sodding hell have you been doing that the movements of the earth and moon were deemed irrelevant?"
Marie sighed and climbed back on the bed. "Buckle down, bimbo, 'cos this is a mo-fo of a story."
Marie scowled at her reflection. The damned thing was one of those moving ones and it was flutter about, preening, and being such a right twit that Marie was insulted by it sharing her likeness.
"It's been so long since someone's used me," it told her. "And the last one was a proper dog of a woman. I never talked to her more than I had to."
"Lucky me," Marie muttered sarcastically, trying to figure out of her hair really did look like that or the mirror was just distorting the image. "Stop fooling around and let me have a proper look at myself or I'll move you to an empty room!"
The mirror looked horrified and immediately did as she said.
Today was the day of her hearing and she couldn't wait to give that Mafalda Hopkirk bint a piece of her mind. Trying to expel her for fighting for her life! In what twisted world was that acceptable? What idiot made that a law? If they tried to push that on the public back when magicals still lived among the muggles, there wouldn't be any magicals left today. Stupid ministry. Why was it that governments in general seemed to suck so much?
Marie turned a bit to check her profile and was pleased to note that her outfit was perfectly fit to wear among wizards and muggles. She twirled a bit. The shirt she was wearing was really flattering.
Alice, Sally-Anne's neighbour and the one that warned her about not taking care of her hair, had a closet full to bursting of clothes, many of which she had either grown out of or didn't fit her in the first place. Alice's parents were divorced and her father was a well-to-do business man that tried to make up for not spending much time with her by buying her all the clothes she wanted. Alice was not the sort to be bribed so she got a bit of her own back by being completely ridiculous in her spending. When Sally-Anne dragged Marie over to Alice's house to borrow cooler clothes for Knuckle Bones' music videos, Marie had ended up being given more clothes than she had ever had in her life, ones that actually fit and looked brilliant on her.
She was wearing an outfit Sally-Anne had picked out for her the night before, some fluttery skirted, pretty bloused, gypsy-styled job that she could easily prance through a field of flowers in. She even had one of those flower headbands on to keep her hair in a facade of order and her fringe from flying up and revealing her scar. She looked like she was ready to hug a tree.
"And not at all like someone who would break the law," Sally-Anne had added. "Put on a wide-eyed, dreamy expression and you'd look like a flower child training to become a druidess. Or that you've been smoking some really good weed."
Jokes aside, Marie was hoping to come off as an innocent girl that had been dreadfully wrong by the system. She hoped to maintain that cover and leave the hearing, cleared of her charges before she exploded at the useless toss-pots and started flinging hexes at them with her new wand.
Speaking of her new wand, the occupants of Grimmauld Place had been horrified to learn that her wand had been broken. There had been a great hullabaloo during which Mundungus Fletcher had been turned into a jellyfish, Tonks had tripped over her chair and yank Elphias Doge down with her by his beard, and Marie was cuddled by Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and three other women because of the trauma of having a broken wand. She thought it was all rather excessive since Ron had broken his wand back in second year and no one tried to console him with death by boobs.
It was Sirius that had ended up being the voice of reason (Remus was not in that day), suggesting that Marie use one of the wands in the attic until they could take her out to get a new one. Marie could tell Mrs. Weasley was about to protest her using any of the wands that used to belong members of a known dark family and she quickly agreed before another word could be said.
Marie carried a twelve inch oak wand that looked like it had been sharpened to stab people with for a total of a three days before the war they were waging against the decrepit old house —'cleaning' Snape had called it — was put on a pause and she was escorted by four Order members on top of being disguised as a boy to Ollivander's. Marie was mildly surprised Moody only came up withtwo escape plans in case Death Eaters had transfigured themselves into wands and were lying in wait just in case Marie showed up.
After getting a butternut and phoenix feather wand (Ollivander had taken out the old core and put it into a fourteen inch butternut blank after giving her a heavily curious look. "A wand for those that shape their own lives; a gambler's wand," he'd said. "And a willow handle to help you better channel that tempestuous magic, I think.") Marie was fully immersed in the cleaning of the Black house. She was tempted to feign a migraine just to get a proper break, but held back on the idea since it felt too dishonest and she really did need an appropriately mind-numbing distraction from worrying over the hearing.
There was a knock at her. "Marie?" came Ron's voice. "Mum says you need to come have breakfast before you go."
She gave herself a final once-over and went to open the door. She gave Ron smile. They were no longer at odds after he had saved her from the murderous ghoul that had haunted the upstairs toilet. "I'm ready. Oh, wait —" She doubled back and snatched up the bag Sally-Anne had given her for her birthday. "Okay, now I'm ready."
When Marie first joined Knuckle Bones, she thought all she would have to do was sing back up, act sexy when the song called for at, and maybe smack on a tambourine (that was how it was on the TV when Dudley was veggie out for the night.). Instead, she was taught a variety of vocal techniques from different genres of music — Knuckle Bones did covers of all sorts of music — and she was explicitly told that to stay in the band, she had to own the stage. Not the sort to back down when things got tough, Marie threw herself into what they wanted her to be able to do.
Former female vocalists that still hung out taught her how to dance; Marie copied and practiced moves so passionately, she had no time to embarrassed about dancing in public. She would never be a ballerina but she could certainly shake her arse and rock out. Alex, the bassist who was also their main screamer, taught her how to let one rumble right from the back of the throat, and Marie wasn't sure there had ever been anything that made her feel as satisfied and right as throwing all her frustration in to a proper growl. She actually took to beat-boxing faster than the rest, having spent years avoiding bullies and entertaining herself by making music with her mouth. A few video tutorials and she was set.
The first time they had performed live, she had been terrified right up until the moment they got on stage. Then she channeled the courage that had her facing down possessed teachers, giant monster, and the judgment of those that expected things from her, the courage that made her worthy of Gryffindor. Needless to say, she didn't falter, and followed through. Hair flying about, limbs stretching and pulling, the room echoing with her voice, Marie had never felt more alive, more in the moment, just more. She was so completely, utterly Marie that wasn't sure how she could have been hiding so long.
With a posse of hanger-ons cheering them on in real life while viewers praised them and begged for more online, was it any wonder Marie had come out of that shell and never wanted to go back? Marie took Alex's words to heart as a motto to live by; if you want to be a certain way, you have to take a hold of it and make it your own.
Those words of wisdom came back to her as she walked into Courtroom Ten alone, far earlier than was originally scheduled. She took in the imposing size of the room — it was the place she had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, where she had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban — she acknowledged the rows upon rows of robed ministry workers seated in the elevated jury box, and she took note of the poorly concealed look of disdain on the face of the Minister, the person that was the judge presiding over this hearing based on where he stood. It was not at all like the small trial with Madame Bones that she was originally supposed to have.
It was obvious that her hopes of appearing harmless to aid her chances of being cleared would be useless so she discarded that plan before even trying it. Her face stiffened in it's stoniness. She was obviously being set up to lose.
Well, she sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight. She settled herself in the mentality she always had when facing down monsters that meant to take her out. If this trial was to go as she wanted, she had to own it.
The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of her, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low
voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Marie, an ominous silence fell.
A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. "You're late."
Oh, they wanted to play it that way?
"I came over two hours earlier than was originally scheduled by muggle transport, so didn't receive the owl sent half an hour ago, re-scheduling at the last minute." She sent an unimpressed look in the direction the voice had come. "Twenty minutes notice is pushing it if you want someone to arrive on time."
Bring it, bureaucrats.
"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice reproachfully.
"Oh, I'm sure."
She could almost feel the man's displeasure. "Take your seat."
Marie dropped her gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. She had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. Her shoulders set. If they meant to frighten her into submission, they would need to bring out something better than a chair. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she walked across the stone floor. When she sat herself fully on the seat and made herself comfortable, the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind her. These bastards had some nerve.
There were about fifty of them, all, as far as she could see, wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left-hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at her, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.
In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, though today he had dispensed with it; he had dispensed too with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Marie. Showing his true colours at last. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.
At last, Fudge said in a ringing voice, "Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," and Percy (the traitor) began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Marie Lilith Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percival Ignatius Weasley —"
"— Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Marie, who nearly jumped from her seat in shock. She turned in her seat and looked on disbelievingly.
Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. His long silver beard and hair gleamed in the torchlight as he drew level with Marie and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.
The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. All eyes were now on Dumbledore. A few looked annoyed, others slightly frightened; two elderly witches in the back row, however, raised their hands and waved in welcome.
Marie felt a tangled knot of emotions at seeing Dumbledore. She couldn't help but feel more hopeful with him there even though she wanted to stomp up to him and give him proper punch in the gut as well. As it was, she could only stare with a slightly unhappy look on her face. Let the spectators make of that as they wanted.
Dumbledore then proceeded say the most bewildering things and behave as if they were all just sitting down for nice tea, thoroughly discombobulating the Minister until he could barely finish a sentence.
When he finally managed to pull himself together, Fudge shuffled his notes and said, "Yes. Well, then. So. The charges. Yes."
He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, "The charges against the accused are as follows: That she did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy.
"You are Marie Lilith Potter, of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Marie over the top of his parchment.
"Yes," she said. Why the bloody hell else would she be there if she wasn't?
"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"
"Yes, but —"
"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.
"Yes," said Marie, "but —"
"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"
"Yes, sir, but —"
"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"
"Yes —"
"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?"
"Yes," Marie confirmed, some of her irritation leaking through. She wanted to strangle him! Couldn't he shut up long enough for someone else to get a sodding word in edgewise? "but I only used it because we were —"
The witch with the monocle on Fudge's left cut across him in a booming voice. "You produced a fully fledged Patronus?"
"Yes," said Marie, "because —"
"A corporeal Patronus?"
The fuck was wrong with these people? "Yes, ma'am, I did."
"Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?"
"Yes," said Marie, feeling extremely impatient. "it's a stag, it's always a stag."
"Always?" boomed Madam Bones. "You have produced a Patronus before now?"
"Yes," said Marie, "I've been doing it for over a year —"
"And you are fifteen years old?"
"Yes, and —"
"You learned this at school?"
Sodding. Bleeding. Motherfucking. Cuntmunching. Hell. She completely stilled her face so her fury would not be painted across her face. "Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the —"
"Impressive," said Madam Bones, staring down at her, "a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed."
ARGH! She hated these people!
Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.
"It's not a question of how impressive the magic was," said Fudge in a testy voice. "In fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the girl did it in plain view of a Muggle!"
"I did it because of the dementors!" she said loudly, before anyone could interrupt her again. "Why in Merlin's name else would I do it?"
She had expected more muttering, but the silence that fell seemed to be somehow denser than before.
"Dementors?" said Madam Bones after a moment, raising her thick eyebrows so that her monocle looked in danger of falling out. "What do you mean, girl?"
"I mean there were two dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin!"
"Ah," said Fudge again, smirking unpleasantly as he looked around at the Wizengamot, as though inviting them to share the joke. "Yes. Yes, I thought we'd be hearing something like this."
"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madam Bones said in tones of great surprise. "I don't understand —"
"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. She's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, girl? Highly convenient, highly convenient . . . so it's just your word and no witnesses —"
She completely had it with this man. "Excuse me, sir. I'm not very familiar with the justice system here, but where I'm from, we generally allow the accused to give their side of the story without interruption before we go passing judgment on the situation. I would have thought you would want to know my reasons for casting the magic that you say I did, especially since this is supposedly a trial for my breaking the Reasonable Restriction ofUnderage Sorcery."
The mutters rose up again but Marie would not be cowed. She fixed her most disapproving look on her face and continued. "There were two of them, coming from opposite ends of the alley, everything went dark and cold and my cousin ran for it —"
"Enough, enough!" said Fudge with a very supercilious look on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story —"
"Sir, I'm not sure what you think I do with my life, but let me assure you, not once have I ever thought to myself, 'Gee, I wonder what I should do next to get myself in expulsion-worthy trouble? Oh, I know! I should do something illegal and then I'll come up with an outrageous lie just for shits and giggles.'" More mutters at her language. Marie painted an expression that obviously questioned his intelligence. "There are better things to do, sir, like watch grass grow. If wanted to lie to your face and get away with it, I wouldn't choose 'I got attacked by dementors' as my line. I would say 'that lime-green hat you always wear certainly looks fetching on you, sir.'"
Fudge was struck mute by outrage that he could only gape at her. Marie eyeballed him for a few seconds before turning to Madam Bones. "May I assume that you, Madam, will listen to the entire account before making judgment?"
Madam Bones wore an expression of amusement mixed with disapproval. "I suppose I will have to before you offend more Wizengamot members than you already have."
"Thank you, ma'am. But before I start, I was wondering if you could tell me why I'm having a hearing at all. I was told that I would get one after my second offense, but if you count this one, it would only be my first."
Fudge came back to life at this. He snatched up a page from his notes at waved it at her furiously. "I have right here the confirmation that you produced a Hover Charm three years ago, also in the presence of muggles! Are you trying to worm your way out of that as well?"
"I want to clear myself of that charge as well, yes, I do, sir."
"This is highly irregular," Madam Bones said, readjusting her monocle. "But if this was the standard hearing I normally host in my office, I would allow it. I see no reason why it shouldn't be allowed now."
The Minister spluttered at Madam Bones for a moment before, glaring back down at Marie. "Well, then, if you're so set on telling your tall tale, let's hear it then!"
Marie leaned back in her chair and started talking. "I got a letter before my second year about a Hover Charm in the presence of muggles, but I'll tell you right now that wasn't me. A house elf came to me, telling me about a plot to kill me and how it wanted me to stay away from Hogwarts —"
"What nonsense is this?" Fudge cut it, a derisive sneer on his face.
"I'll swear an oath that I'm telling the truth!" Marie countered. "Right here, right now, on my magic! I'll do it!"
There was a heavy silence before everyone started talking all that once. Madam Bones banged her gavel, looking aggrieved, and cried, "Order in the court!" She looked seriously down at where Marie sat with her arms crossed. "Do you understand the severity of what you're offering? If you misspeak while under oath, you'll be left less than a squib."
"I understand perfectly and I'm not bothered in the least bit because I'm not lying." The last bit was directed at the puffed up minister. The two engaged in a brief stare-down before Madam Bones coughed to get their attention and nodded at Marie to continue.
"May I swear the oath now?"
"As you please."
Marie pulled out her wand and pointed it at the ceiling. "I swear on my magic that what I will say today in front of this assembly will be what I know and believe to be true. So mote it be." She pointed the wand down at the ground but kept it in her hand as she continued. "As I was saying, a house elf came and tried to keep me away from school and it got upset when I said that I wasn't going to stay away. The little beast then told me that it would make me stay away and then ran downstairs to terrorize my muggle relatives and their guests. It somehow knew that any magic it did would be taken as my fault, and it was absolutely right."
Marie pointed the wand up again and whispered, "Lumos."
The light's existence spoke plainly for itself.
There was an awkward silence in which anyone that tried to speak against her knew perfectly well that to do so was to folly. Minister Fudge turned red in embarrassment and frustration.
Seeing the look on the minister's face brought to mind the only other thing he could try to pin on her, and she quickly spoke to cut that route off from him as well.
"The only other time I can think of that might've been taken as me breaking the Restriction was that time after Sirius Black broke out of prison." She pasted a saccharine smile on her face. "You remember, right, Minister? You were there at the Cauldron to meet me when I got there. I had accidentally inflated my aunt like a balloon, but that had somehow been taken as underage magic by you, though you generously offered to over look it.."
"Accidentally inflated your aunt," Madam Bones echoed, a look of bewilderment on her face. "This was back two years ago when Black escaped? You were thirteen, weren't you? That's a rather old for accidental magic."
Marie shrugged. "I never really grew out of it. I gave my uncle a rather fierce shock a few weeks ago when he grabbed my shoulder suddenly. Any ways, blowing up my aunt. I didn't have my wand in my hand when it happened — didn't have my wand on me the time with the time house elf either — nor did I mean for it to happen, so wouldn't that be accidental magic?"
She paused to scan the jury and was encouraged by the faces she saw that looked sympathetic and in agreement with her. Looked like she had won over some supporters with her oath. She smiled a small but sincere small, getting a few back.
"So, by my reckoning," Marie said to Madam Bones. "I'll have to say that this would be my first offense — that is, if it wasn't perfectly reasonable for me to defend myself since both my cousin and I were being attacked, and if not for the fact that my wand was broken before the magic I'm being accused of using happened."
"Start from the beginning," the older lady said sharply, interest evident in her eyes.
"My cousin and I had been walking home from the park," said Marie. "It was sometime in the evening and the streetlamps had already come on. We were passing through a tunnel when everything went dark and it started getting cold. My cousin and I don't usually get along so he thought I was doing it, so he pushed me and tried to run away. I didn't see how far he got before the dementor caught him, but I'm pretty sure he actually ran right at it.
"He knock my wand from my hand when he pushed me so I was freaking out. I didn't know what else to do so I called out a light-making spell. Shockingly, my wand lit up, and I was about to run to pick it up when Dudley ran at the light and managed to break my wand when he fell on it."
"Your wand lit even though you were not touching it?" Madam Bones asked her to confirm when Marie paused to take a breath.
"Yes, ma'am. It was at least five feet away."
"Irregular," the woman muttered. "Continue."
"Well, with my wand broken, there wasn't much I could do when the second dementor came at me. I was kicking and flailing about a bit since I've always been sensitive dementors before I figured since I managed to light my wand without it in my hand, I might as well try a Patronus Charm.
"I was keyed up so I suppose adrenaline had something to do with it but I managed a whisp that made the dementor slow. I was overjoyed that it had actually worked and it only took my third attempt at it for my usual full Patronus to manifest. It took care of the dementor right on top of me while I went to see to Dudley.
"I wasn't thinking straight," Marie admitted, letting a bit of chagrin leak into her tone and she smiled sheepishly up at the jury. "I saw the thing had pried Dudley's arms away from his face — I had warned him earlier that he needed to keep his mouth shut — and that his face was already blurring so I — well, my Patronus was still caught up with the other dementor so I charged at the one on top of my cousin and tackled it to the ground."
"You . . . you tackled a dementor?" Madam Bones echoed incredulously.
"I didn't have any other way of getting it away from Dudley," Marie said. shrugging a bit. "I think it tried to Kiss me as well — there was this weird pulling and it hurt like hell — but I gave it a couple punches to the face so it didn't get the chance. My Patronus came then and it finally chased off the bloody monster."
There was a moment of disbelieving silence. "Ms. Potter," Madam Bones finally said, plucking the monocle from her eye and cleaning it. "Never have I heard such a fantastical tale. If it weren't for your oath, I'm not sure if I would believe you."
"Why should we believe it?" said another voice suddenly. The woman that had previously been sitting in the shadows next to the Minister leaned forward. She was an unattractive woman, her face too wide and square as well as unpleasantly plump. "The girl swore that what she tells us is what she knows and believes to be true, but it's possible that she's mistaken in her beliefs.
"After all," she added in a simpering tone. "Dementors are under Ministry control; why would they be out in Muggle England? Isn't it more likely that the girl mistook some muggle hooligans as dementors and over-reacted?"
"That's right!" Fudge agreed. He glared nastily at Marie. "Who's to say they weren't just muggles in costumes? We have only your word and no witnesses —"
The Minister fell silent when Dumbledore cleared his throat. Marie felt irritated at the sound. She had thought he had come to be moral support or whatever since he hadn't said a word since he got there. If he was actually there to help why hadn't he said anything sooner?
"We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of dementors in that alleyway," he said without looking at Marie. "Other than Dudley Dursley, I mean."
It was then that Mrs. Figg was brought in and Marie was further bothered by the fact that the woman proved to be a shoddy witness even though she had seen most of it. She could have at least remembered to something other than house slippers when she came to testify. And her description! Marie didn't think she had a way with words or anything but 'big and wearing cloaks' didn't at all discourage the toad woman's comment of the dementors possibly being local thugs.
It was only through Madam Bones' uncompromising fairness that Mrs. Figg wasn't dismissed entirely as a witness.
"Big and wearing cloaks." The monocled woman repeated coolly as Fudge snorted derisively. "I see. Anything else?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Figg. "I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer's night, mark you. And I felt . . . as though all happiness had gone from the world . . . and I remembered . . . dreadful things. . . ."
Praise the powers the be, at least she didn't end up sounding ever more ridiculous than she had. She finished up with a summary of the attack that mirrored what Marie had said, sounding just as incredulous as she had before when she confirmed that Marie had physically attacked the monster that was on Dudley.
It was almost word for word exactly what Marie had described and it was obvious that Fudge was no longer sure of his position nor was he happy about it.
"But it's ridiculous!" He complained. "They are under Ministry control; why would dementors go to Little Whinging? It's simply impossible!"
Impossible. Exactly as he had said when she had told him that Voldemort had returned. This was the sort of man that would deny a person dying right in front of him if the death would inconvenience him.
"Impossible, you say?" Marie said with a derisive frown on her face. "Tell that to my cousin who almost got Kissed! I'm sure he'd love to hear all about how it's simply impossible that his soul was almost stolen because dementors are under Ministry control!" A thought occurred to her and her eyes narrowed. Would they —? Maybe they would; Fudge was proving himself to be a man that had thing dealt with privately and then swept under the rug.
Marie continued. "Since you insist that they wouldn't do anything with Ministry approval, maybe I should ask then why the Ministry sent a pair of dementors to a muggle area that I just so happen to live in? To the exact street I just so happen to live on?"
Fudge looked alarmed and then nervous by the contemplative looks sent his way. "Here now, girl, there's need to start making outlandish claims!"
"I'm making outlandish claims? I am not the one that accused someone of faking a dementor attack to get attention."
"While Marie may be phrasing it indelicately," Dumbledore said, adding onto the conversation. "If it is true that the dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that two dementors attacked Marie and her cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks." His tone was pure levity. "Of course, these particular dementors may have been outside Ministry control —"
"There are no dementors outside Ministry control!" snapped Fudge, who had turned brick red.
Dumbledore inclined his head in a little bow. "Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization."
"It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Dumbledore!" snapped Fudge, now a shade of magenta of which Uncle Vernon would have been proud. the
Dear lord, the grandstanding was getting old. Who was he trying to impress?
"Of course it isn't," said Dumbledore mildly. "I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated."
He glanced at Madam Bones, who readjusted her monocle and stared back at him, frowning slightly.
"I would remind everybody that the behavior of these dementors, if indeed they are not figments of this girl's imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!" said Fudge. "We are here to examine Marie Potter's offenses under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!"
"I'd say the fact that I needed to perform underage magic to fight of those dementors makes them a perfect topic for this hearing," Marie said, leaning forward in her seat. "And since fighting off a deadly threat is within the limits of using underage magic, I'd say that I haven't violated the Decree, so no laws were broken."
Fudge lost it then. It seemed being stood up to by a teenage girl was too much for him. An ink bottle was knocked over when he leaned over his podium violently. He snarled savagely at her, "Laws can be changed!"
"But should they be changed?" Marie shot back. "Are you saying that you're willing to change laws that have proven to be effective and fair just to suit your own purposes? What of they people you're meant to be representing? Serve and protect and all that."
Dumbledore laid a pacifying hand on her shoulder. Marie let him ease her back into her seat as he began talking his way to finish up the hearing and in her favour. Suffice to say only Fudge and his ilk voted against her.
As Dumbledore swept out of the room as soon as the vote was finished, Marie stood and surveyed the jury, paying especial attention to those that had voted against her. She made to leave but couldn't help but let fly a parting shot.
"Is it common for the entire Wizengamot to be called together for a case of underage magic? You would think that the supreme judicial body that presides over our country would be too busy with more important matters — you know, like serial killers or organized crime — to clear their schedules for such a small thing. It's a wonder anything gets done if every little trial get the attention of the full body. You all must be terribly efficient at your jobs."