6th January 1996
It can't have happened. It cannot be. This mustn't be happening. And yet it goes on.
The worst news since Voldemort's return, and I have received this news sitting at the kitchen table at home, surrounded by tea and jam. At first I began this day unaware completely unaware that everything I had was in jeopardy. My diary, my sister, Adelaide- my own life. This is more than terrible, and I feel my mortality more than ever. How can I be safe now? I cannot ever be. Mayhap he is coming for me now, to return me to my mother's arms.
Not when my father, my murderous, cruel father is alive, on the loose- with nine others. This is too catastrophic to put in words, but I'll try. I look at the pictures on the front cover of the Prophet and I know, I truly know, that my days are numbered, possibly getting even to single digits.
MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT"
FOR OLD DEATH EATERS
Fourteen words, and all is lost; my life is changed. When people see me, in the street (having never travelled by car) will they see a dead girl? Who knows how long I have left? Every day could be my last.
This is no longer the diary of a young girl. It's the diary of someone who has had a Last Will and Testament prepared since the age of eight. Ten chief Death Eaters free from imprisonment will not just "blow over." It'll cost lives to put them back in gaol. Maybe my life too.
But to ordinary witches and wizards, will their fear be as great? Maybe they'll sit and worry and pace up and down, crying in hysterics as their death warrant is put into print, or perhaps they will wrap it around hot chips, not even look at it, sip their pumpkin juice and never let it bother them. They'll live longer and never know.
People say I should be glad that the news is even out. That I can even know that my father is on the loose and he isn't content with the murder of his own wife, three of his own children when they were infants, or the mindless massacre of an entire Muggle village.
Because nobody lives in Ruttenham on Sea anymore.
And then, tucked at the bottom of the paper, is a piece of news that will add Broderick Bode to my list of sleepless nights of the people I have killed, lost or failed to save.
Murdered. Strangled to death, by his own pot plant. I didn't technically take his life, but my inaction condemned him.
But I must carry on, as if this is nothing, a woman of stone and not a girl of glass.
I don't think for one moment that it was Strout. The look in her eyes was genuine confusion and concern for the patients. If I am called to defend her, I will.
Dumbledore intends me to go to the merpeople, and try to get something good out of all this. Just in time, as Umbridge is steadily turning against Dumbledore. The best season for conferencing will come soon; I have consulted the stars, predicted through my vague arts the best time to make my bid for their support. With them on our side, we will control the rivers and seas. Judging by Hagrid's not entirely positive reception, we need to get as many people on our side as possible.
I must do this.
9th January 1996
My bid for reinforcements. I have prepared myself, and I am ready to ply my trade for sweet talking.
Joanie pins a brooch; a silver bird with a pearl pinched in its beak, over the loose blue silk that falls leaving my cold shoulder exposed. She feels me shiver at an unknown cold and she looks in my eyes.
"Go forth, Marion," she said. "I'm with you."
I run to her, and cling to her as tender and vulnerable as Adelaide. She is a woman of fire, a woman of earth and stability. I am a girl of water and air, one insubstantial and as fragile as porcelain china.
Drop me, and I'll break.
It was dusk when I Apparated to the Lake District, the most concentrated Merpeople population in all of England. There are many at the Hogwarts Lake, but I can't risk it while Umbridge is there. The shock of seeing me, her despised colleague, might prove to be much for her, and she may drop dead from the strain. And as much as that would personally please me, it may not be in Albus' favour.
And also, I can tell by the uncomfortable emptiness on my person; that I have deliberately left my wand at home. No Death Eater would ever be caught with a wand, and it will give me a diplomatic advantage if I am seen to trust the Merpeople enough to approach them defenceless.
And worse comes to the worse, there's some magic I can do without a wand.
Carefully, I slide into the lake with the most light reflecting off it that I can see, and wade through until I am up to my heart. My skirts, wild blue in the water, feel much like a mermaid's tail. It's freezing cold in the water, but I have the feeling that you can have where you feel so cold it's almost as if you can't get any colder.
And slowly, tentative in the crisp air, I begin to sing.
My loved one's in danger
I am forced to flee
But I want to be safe
And I want to be free
I take my solace
In the deep green waves
Is there safety, ever?
From villains or knaves?
Drown me, glistening waters
My love has gone from me
And I will not be safe
If I cannot be free
Lay me in the oozy bed
Take all life from me
For I would far rather be dead
And then I will be free
I sing it once, twice, three times. I end the fourth verse of my fourth repetition with a high fluting note that echoes through the hills.
I wait. And then they come for me, as prophetic as my song, glistening as they rise, silently and majestically towards me. They may not be the superficiality that the Ministry calls "beauty" but I think they are. They are wild, untamed, and unanswerable. I have chosen a formidable ally. How can one ever look powerful with these haunting sirens? I do not think of such things, but I have created my own violence. It's what comes with being a duellist. And maybe the throwing knives that I use to capture or injure. Maybe that also is slightly intimidating.
I lick my lips and recite, as best I can, the ten-minute Mermish speech that Albus taught me. I am a little shaky in the pronunciation, and I am praying that Mermish does not have any awkward words with double meanings, like in English or other human languages. But the Merpeople seem reasonably impressed that a witch should take it upon herself to learn (but a little) of their tongue. They look me up and down, as one would a fine trout or plump haddock. One, the mermaid on the left of the leader of the gathering, prods me with one long finger and I can tell, by the expressions, that they know that I am unarmed. It seems that my appearance and choice of words have given me some standing. The leader peers into my face as if she would figure me out, like a puzzle.
The merpeople talk amongst themselves, and I wish I could know what they are saying. I shift from foot to foot; though I am accustomed to waiting for long periods it doesn't mean I like to; and my toes are going numb.
The leader looks at me more thoroughly this time, after the advice of her fellows, and she points to my throat.
Speak.
So I do. As easily as if I was a fairground machine, and she had slotted in a penny. I try to explain, as best I can, how I feel. And after a long while; of mime, infrequent Mermish phrases and praying that it will all work, I feel that at least it may have been worth it.
The leader looks on me more kindly, and raises her hand. A scroll of a strange rough paper, and a heron's feather quill. She signs her name with a flourish and hands it to me.
"Dumbledore" she rasps. And that's one word we all understand.
I promise it to take it to him, and she nods.
The last thing she did, before she vanished under the water- she pointed at me. At my brooch, the bird with the pearl, and she said something strange. I couldn't catch it, but the pearl glowed with a strange bright light. I'll have to ask Dumbledore what she did, because before I could, she was gone and I was left alone with the letter and some fervent hope of a friendship.
I walked through a forest a good distance away, as I heard it was called the New Forest, and there are so many things I would like to make anew.
Tired, but not sleepy, I perched at the base of a chestnut tree that sent a swarm of nuts cluttering onto my cranium at regular intervals, a strange but nonchalant frequency.
I couldn't be sure, at first, what the creature was, with its lovely head bowed humble over the soft ground, its hooves remaining- for a moment only, before fading away. It was fresh, and bright, and I would but have stayed there forever, content merely to behold such a creature. It was a thing of beauty; a stunning creature. A turn of the head- a silvery horn.
A unicorn. I have only heard of it in fanciful books. I have thought of them well, but never before have I seen one. They won't exaggerate when they spoke of such beauty. Timeless elegance and it pangs me to think of someone slaying this wonderful animal- to drink its blood! How could anybody do such a thing? For such a pure, clean thing – no matter how much you want immortality, would you really go that for? I would not. For I may have eternity, but I would not have it spent mourning how I got there, or what I had to do. A half-life, just that.
I hold out my hand, a chestnut cradled in the palm. I feel rather standoffish, just sitting here, an arm raised to one side-
But he comes to me, his strong neck outstretched, bidding me to feed him the chestnut. Then he yawns, and without a hesitance lays his head in my lap. I stroke his mane of gossamer fine hair and learn to sleep, without fear of discovery or danger, with my head dangling over my sleeping unicorn.
The following day
Albus seemed pleased to see the letter, remarking it to be: "most splendid". Even more so when I show him my brooch. He positively beamed.
"Excellent," He said, with a mutual satisfaction present.
"That pearl has a particularly Mermish charm on it. You will be able to know immediately when there is a fight or where your help would be appreciated. Through this you can command armies."
I cupped the little brooch in my hand, unable to speak. This is barely worth a Galleon, but the power bestowed upon it- somewhat unexpected on my part, is unimaginable.
If the Merpeople are truly on our side, then perhaps I have achieved something; in my own little way. Maybe reason can triumph, even in these brutal times. I have gained something for the Order: safe passage through the rivers and waterways from John O'Groats to Land's End.
But once I have captured the fortress, I must keep it.