HELLO! I honestly never thought we'd be here, but I found myself utterly unable to leave these characters partially through their journeys, because Adrian and Andrew and Marietta and all the others became so vivid in my mind. So, I present to you the prologue & first chapter of "Yet Still a Light Shines Through," which is fully mapped out, and about half-written.
7 August, 1996
BLACK'S RECORD WASHED WHITE: Sirius Black Proven Innocent, Peter Pettigrew the Real Rat
Sirius Black, long believed to be the right-hand man of You-Know-Who—a belief strengthened by his dramatic escape from Azkaban Prison—has been proven innocent following a lengthy trial which revealed that Peter Pettigrew, long considered dead, was the man behind Black's supposed misdeeds. Pettigrew, a school friend of Black, framed his former friend for the murder of a street full of Muggles by creating an explosion to serve as a distraction, after which he performed an illegal animagus transformation into a rat, a disguise he continued to use to conceal himself from Wizarding Authorities.
Black, after twelve years of wrongful imprisonment and three on the run, stated his intent to provide for his godson, Harry Potter (The Chosen One? See page 5 for more.). Black declined to comment on his case, stating only a belief that: "if the DMLE would actually check the facts of their bloody cases, none of this would have been a problem." The Ministry of Magic has paid Black a reparation fee for his years in Azkaban, as well as the price of his own Finder's Fee.
15 December, 1996
ATTACKS CONTINUE, MINISTRY RESPONSE LACKING
Attacks on witches and wizards across Britain have continued to increase in frequency since You-Know-Who publicly revealed himself as living. Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, elected in hopes of turning around the chaos facing our community, has continued to send the Aurors and Hit Wizards against these threats, offering a strong opposition to the Death Eaters. These actions, however, seem to have had little effect on the reign of terror the Death Eaters have been bringing down on witches and wizards across the country, some dying in their houses while still more have disappeared entirely. Leading authorities believe that these disappearances indicate the use of the Imperius Curse.
Minister Scrimgeour declined to comment on the involvement of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, etc., in the opposition effort, in spite of his predecessor's outspoken speeches against the Headmaster (Continued on page 2)
30 June, 1997
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DEAD; DARK MARK IN THE SKY OVER HOGWARTS
In news shocking to the entire Wizarding community, the death of Albus Dumbledore has been announced to the Ministry of Magic by Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore's death has been confirmed by Aurors Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, his cause of death ruled to be Death Eater activity within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—a fact not surprising to residents of Hogsmeade Village, who witnessed the appearance of You-Know-Who's mark in the sky during the late hours of 29 July. (For further information on Dumbledore's death, see page 2. Information about the funeral may be found on page 3.)
July, 1997
"Drink."
It was not a request, but Marietta still had the urge to draw away from the goblet in front of her, full of the steaming, silvery grey potion she'd spent the past few days perfecting. The goblet itself was a simple pewter, so the liquid almost blended into its sides. From within, though, she could see a glow which hadn't been there before. A rune, they'd told her, which would direct her path.
Making a conscious effort not to shake, she raised the goblet to her lips and began to sip.
"All of it," The cloaked man across from her reminded her. She wasn't sure who he was—awareness of anything but herself and the task in front of her might distract her from the ritual.
The potion sank in her stomach as though it really were made of metal, like the goblet, but she forced herself to continue until she reached the bottom. From there, she could see the glowing symbol: ᚨ, Ansuz—the rune of insight, advice, and communication.
The golden glow of the active rune captured her attention, and any thought of looking away from it left her mind. Reaching into the goblet, she traced it with a finger, and the light seeped into her hand, traveling up her arm as though it had somehow entered her veins. The light continued upward until it reached her eyes. For a moment, she felt a sharp pain. Then, as though her soul had been thrust from her body, Marietta found herself floating in the middle of the room, staring down at herself, illuminated by the golden light that now filled her eye sockets.
Just as suddenly, she felt a pull behind her navel, similar to the feeling of apparition, and her phantom body was being jerked through passageways, doors she had never seen opening for her and leading her to a place she had never seen before: a dark room, with orbs like planets floating around it. There seemed to be no ceiling or floor, but Marietta was sure they were there, though unseen.
As she looked at what seemed to be a replica of Jupiter, she sank into the darkness, and the next thing that she knew was the cold, hard metal of the interrogation room chair.
"Success?" The man across from her asked, sounding eager, the first emotion he'd shown since the ritual began.
"I think—" As she tried to speak, Marietta was suddenly aware of the dryness of her throat, but she managed to go on, her voice low and scratchy. "I saw a room, but not a room…it was like I was up in space, flying among the stars."
"The study of space has chosen you," the man said, flipping his hood down. "That's Brooke's division—not much I can tell you about it—but then, there's not much we know about any of this." He held out a hand and she took it, his shake firm. "Saul Croaker, head of the time division. Welcome to the Unspeakables, Miss Edgecombe."
/
"What was it like?" Alicia asked, pressing a mug of tea into Marietta's hands.
"Weird," Marietta replied, honestly unsure what else to say. "It was like I got shoved out of my own body for a minute, and I suddenly understood things—what division of the Department I belonged in, how to navigate its rooms—and then I was back there, like nothing had happened. And for them it isn't anything out of the ordinary, because the ordinary there is crazy, unheard of things that no one understands fully."
"I'll stick with Magical Law myself," Alicia said. "Though things aren't too pleasant on our end—every day, there's another Death Eater sighting and the Aurors are out and bringing people in on suspicion and tips, so we're drowning in defense of witches and wizards who looked at their neighbors the wrong way or accidentally let their children get hold of their wands and set something on fire—no major damage, but with everyone so jumpy, they get called in all the same. The floo hasn't stopped, and there are papers flying everywhere. It's chaos."
"Wishing you'd gone on to Portree with Angelina? She told you all last year they'd take you on."
"If I was going anywhere, it would be down to level seven to work reporting with Katie. But I'm not giving up on Magical Law after only a year."
Marietta set her mug on the side table and stood, stretching as she walked over to the window of their apartment to look at the perpetual line for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, across the way, then turning to look just a bit further down Diagon Alley to Wizeacre's, where she knew her father was.
"You could stop in and talk to him, Mari," Alicia told her. "It's not wrong to want to try again."
"I know," Marietta told her. "And I know they're just scared about what could happen to me—that they were before, too. But they didn't listen to me when my friend died, and then they tried to act like everything was alright, and it just…it just wasn't. Every time I see them, they tell me they want me to move home, so they know I'm safe. But I've told them and told them that nowhere is safe so long as he's out there. They just can't understand why I feel the need to try to help—to go against him."
"You sound like a Gryffindor," Alicia told her, and Marietta made a face.
"I've been spending too much time around your lot—and that's not about to change, seeing as Andrew and Corrie are gone for work now that the funeral's over." There was a pause, then Alicia responded reasonably:
"You'll have Kim and Cho."
"When Cho's on a weekend off I'll have her," Marietta replied, "and that's only so long as I'm not doing anything with Cedric anytime near then, so no guard meetings."
"She broke up with her school boyfriend—she'll get over it," Alicia responded, sounding unworried. "But you've got Lee, the twins and I anyway, if you can handle the Gryffindor. And everyone will be back for the meeting next week—even Jake's managed to make up some excuse to get here. But tonight, you're stuck with us, so get changed. The twins owled before you got home and asked us to drinks—Dumbledore's memory, you know."
As lighthearted as she was trying to be, Alicia grimaced as she said the words. It had been less than a week since the Hogwarts Headmaster had died, a few days since his funeral. The Wizarding World seemed to be in a state of shock over the death, and even Scrimgeour's public statement hadn't been reassuring. This was really the reason the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in such chaos: Voldemort felt like much more of a threat without Albus Dumbledore standing in his way.
Alicia, who had spent the last year outside of the bubble of safety that made up Hogwarts, felt the difference in a way she knew Marietta didn't. There were fewer people on the streets, fewer friendly conversations being had in the queues of shops. Nobody trusted one another, because trusting one another would be foolish, opening oneself and one's family up to danger. Marietta understood that much, but without something to compare it to, Alicia didn't think that she felt the weight as much.
"C'mon—don't be fooled by the line at the shop, they'll have Verity on the counter. They're scheduled to be over soon."
Marietta moved from the window.
"Alright, I'll get drinks," she agreed, and summoned her shoes, lacing them with a flick of her wand. "But I'm not changing for the Weasley twins or Lee Jordan—these are my most comfortable robes, no matter their style."
/
"Ismelda tells me you were requested to assist a Healer a few days ago."
"Well, that is our job, you know—assisting the Healers."
"Requested by the patient, not the Healer, and stop acting as if you've no idea what I mean—it's unbecoming," Lucina sniffed in disapproval, and Adrian let a small smile out.
"Yes, well, I'd seen her a few times before—basic stuff, what all the apprentices do. She probably just hoped for a familiar face. I mean, the engorgement charm had taken a horrific turn when mixed with the Tarentellegra, and it was tricky to undo. We almost sent her to Mungo's, to be honest, but we got there in the end."
"Yes, you did. But she's not the only one that they suggested should go to St. Mungo's, I gather?" Lucina had not turned her attention fully from the newspaper she was holding, and Adrian couldn't read her opinion in her tone.
"No," he said slowly, "Healer Potts also recommended I go with her, and stay there. She thinks I've outgrown Derwent's."
"And what are your intentions?"
"I'm staying, of course," Adrian said, brushing off her question easily. The thought of returning to London, of being near his mother again, made his stomach churn.
"And what good," Lucina said, folding the newspaper—Le Cri de la Gargouille, Adrian saw now—"will that do you?"
"The Healers at Derwent's are far more advanced than I am. Healer Potts means well, but just because I'm above the other students doesn't mean I'm finished learning from the Healers."
"Ismelda Potts does not hand out compliments lightly, as you well know," Lucina told him, "Nor does she make an effort to send away her best students. I will not stop you from staying there, or from remaining here. But do not act as though it is in your best interest educationally. St. Mungo's offers you what you need to become a Healer, and you offer them what they need: intelligence, an eagerness to learn, and compassion for others." Her eyes softened. "Adrian, don't let your fear of being back in London be a thief of your potential. And certainly don't let Arisca Pucey do it."
"The program at St. Mungo's—they only take the best." Lucina sniffed at this comment.
"Then they'd be glad to receive your application," she told him imperiously, raising herself out of her seat. "Incidentally, however, Ismelda dropped off letters of recommendation signed by all the Healers at Derwent's, as well as all of the important paperwork. And even if I do live in Wales, I've donated enough to St. Mungo's that they're sure to accept my letter as your character recommendation. The only thing that wasn't sure was you—though I must say, Tibb put up a good fight against it all. He seems to have become rather attached to you, and tells me you're much more helpful in the kitchen than I am. And that's nothing compared to Pepp—he sounded as if he might go with you."
Tibbins, Lockley, Pepp, and Isha had been Gamp elves their whole lives, and had been freed upon the death of Lucina's father, who did not agree with the Wizarding World's treatment of elves. Since they viewed the townhouse as their home as much as Lucina thought it hers, the five had formed an amicable partnership in its upkeep, but though the elves respected Lucina's cleaning charms and design choices, they would not let her near the kitchen.
"He's too attached to this place—and don't think I don't see what you're doing. I haven't even decided I'm going."
"Then decide. Are you going?" Lucina asked, stopping in the hallway and looking Adrian in the eyes.
"I…I don't…" Adrian paused, unsure. He knew what Lucina had said was true. St. Mungo's would be a better place for him to learn. But leaving Wales and returning to London…it wasn't just his mother that worried him. It was the memories that would come with seeing old classmates, the anger and fear that had pushed him and burst out of him during his seventh year at Hogwarts. The feeling of being out of control. Wales was different. Wales was safe. "I'm afraid to go," he admitted, and Lucina smiled at him, her brows drawn together. She reached out, and he felt the pressure of her fingertips on his arm for a moment.
"Pursuing your ambitions, setting your sights on something and determinedly not turning from it…these things always require you to face your fears. It's part of how you can identify the things that are most worth doing. You can turn away from them and live a good, happy life that you're satisfied with. But if you pursue them—that is where you find the extraordinary."