The room was blanketed in darkness. Even the shadows had vanished. There was a dim light peering up at her, and her eyes strained to catch glimpses of its flickering movements. It gave a slight semblance of warmth as the dark figures near her fought to keep away from its purity.
"What the hell are we supposed to do with her now? I told you we should have thought this through!"
"Right. Blame me now. You weren't complaining an hour ago when you had your share of the fun."
The two bickering voices rang on either side of her. She tried placing them, but they moved too fast, eager to hide in the darkness.
"Silence, both of you." A commanding voice spoke behind her. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't move her body towards it. The voice dripped with a chill, and the light seemed to flicker even more as it spoke, reverberating through the black emptiness.
"The blow on her head was sufficient enough. It would be foolish and too suspicious to dispose of her permanently. She is too wounded to survive the night. If anyone ever finds her, by then it will be too late, and nature will have taken its course."
She heard mumbling before the darkness swallowed her whole.
Laila woke up with a start, her mouth full of dry cotton as she tried to breath through the lump in her throat. Rain pelted at her window, and the rumble of thunder pervaded throughout her room and blinded her senses as she tried to re-orientate herself. As she slowly came back to the real world, the blare of her alarm slammed into her ears. Cursing under her breath, her hands had to flick the switch to silence the alarm, the sweat making it harder to find purchase on the clock. She had just the right amount of time to get ready before the ringing began again. It took a second for Laila to realize the sound was coming from her phone.
Her father's name flashed across the screen, and for a second, she felt guilt settle like a pit at the bottom of her stomach. Laila always made an effort to try to call once a day or every other day to check up on him. But since coming to a completely different country, she couldn't get rid of the feeling of relief that the distance between her father was far enough. That if she got a call about him being drunk out of his mind in a bar, she wouldn't be obligated to travel across the ocean to fetch him. The moment the thought crossed her mind, the regret hit her full force.
Reluctantly, she answered the call and did her best to clear her throat of her morning sleepiness before speaking.
"Hi, Baba."
"Laila! Are you okay? Are you settling in fine?"
"Aziza?" Laila pulled her phone away to double check she had the right person on the line. "Why are you using Baba's phone to call me?"
There was silence on the other end, and it took a moment before Laila understood.
"How late was he out this time?" she sighed.
"Till 3 AM." Aziza's voice was tightly controlled, but Laila heard the unmistakable current of anger running underneath.
"And don't you dare defend him," Aziza added. "He stops for a while, but then just goes back to the same pattern. His wife died, leaving his daughters to raise themselves."
Laila winced. "He was talking about some support group that has been helping-"
"Stop it, Laila." Aziza's voice was firm on the other end. "It's not your job to take care of him anymore. For what it's worth, I'm glad you were assigned a partner with the Marriage Law ordeal you have going on in your magical world. At least it got out of the country. You need to live for yourself now and stop taking care of Baba."
Laila's mouth opened in a silent retort, but she gave in. A selfish part of her knew her sister was right. The memories of the past few years with her dad slipped through her mind like multiple reels in an old film. There were some good moments, when he was the father she used to remember, making her breakfast like he did the morning she left home, reading to her, taking her to the park. But even more were the memories of having to clean up after him, helping her sisters put him to bed after he was spent crying after their mother.
"Listen, I wanted to catch you before you left." Aziza's voice brought back Laila's attention to her phone.
"Good luck on your first day, you'll do great! And don't worry about anything here. I've got it."
Laila gave a weak smile, "Thanks, Didi.*"
As she disconnected the call, Laila allowed a small smile to slip on her face. It was time for her to make an impression.
The Ministry of Magic building was spacious. It was different from the modern unforgiving arches of MACUSA, but traces of medieval architectural influence still maintained a strong presence strengthened by the magic around it.
Unsure of where to go, Laila approached a desk close by the fireplaces where Ministry officials were flooing in. A kindly woman seated behind the desk closed her book.
"How can I help you, dearie?"
"Yes, I'm looking for the Minister of Magic's office, please."
The woman's face brightened slightly. "You're an American. My dearl Earl was one too, a Muggle from New York. He moved to England with me to get married. As I'm sure you must know, back then Muggles couldn't marry witches and wizards. But he willingly left his home to spend the rest of his life with me. And that's just what he did."
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before continuing. "Before I can let you go, I'm going to have to check your wand."
The transition from the personal story to asking for her wand was so quick that Laila stood slightly dumbfounded for a second before hastily searching her robes for her wand.
"I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?"
"Miranda, dear. And let's see, your wand is sycamore wood with unicorn hair core, 10 ¾'', and reasonably supple flexibility registered to a one Laila Vikander."
"Err, yes that's correct" Laila offered Miranda a smile she hoped didn't come across too strongly as a grimace.
"Here you are, then." Miranda handed Laila her wand before gently patting her hand. "If you ever run into any trouble or in need of advice, you know where to find me."
This time, the smile that slipped on Laila's face was much more genuine and full of relief. "Thank you. Is there-"
"Laila!"
She turned to catch a glimpse of Percy running towards her. Even while in a rush, his robes were clean and ironed, and not a single hair was out of place. Not even a speck of dust had landed on his glasses.
How the hell is that even possible?
"Laila," Percy grinned, and for a second Laila saw a glimpse of Fred in that smile.
"Sorry I'm a bit late," Percy continued, seeming not to take notice of Laila's lack of reply thus far. "I'm supposed to escort you to meet Minister Shacklebolt first before I take you to your office. I've been working under the Minister since the end of the war. He's brilliant, as I'm sure you've heard, and he's looking forward to meeting you. In the meantime, I think your assistant is finishing the final touches of settling down."
"Oh great, yes, that's wonderful, I," Laila stumbled her way through a few words before taking a second to compose herself. "Lead the way."
Percy smiled broadly and gestured for Laila to follow him.
"Your assistant, Peter. He's very…..interesting. You Americans certainly are very….lively. And he seems even more so given his preference for….the same sex."
Laila bit her lip to stop the laughter from bubbling out. Percy's description of Peter was the epitome of a cautious British description of a proud gay man from Michigan.
"Peter's great. He's been with me since I started as an intern, and he's one of the best paralegals I've had the fortune to work with. He's not really my assistant, but he's definitely my right hand man."
"So he's the man behind the phrase 'behind every great woman, there's a great man.'" Percy smiled.
"Exactly!" Laila laughed. "The perfect work husband."
Percy led her into the lift, and flicked his wand casually. Laila gripped the railing lining the wall tightly as the lift began scurrying in random directions. The ride lasted perhaps less than 30 seconds, but that was more than enough for Laila. When the lift doors opened, she let go of her tight grasp and scurried out.
"Not a fan of lifts, I'm guessing?" Percy gazed at her worriedly.
"Oh god no," Laila shook her head. "The elevators in the Muggle world only go up or down in direction. Those are bearable. But these magical ones are too much for me."
"Can you imagine?" she continued, laughing. "I wanted to play Quodpot, but I can barely last a few seconds on a broom just hovering, forget all the twists and turns that come later. Love to watch it though!"
"You Americans have made Quidditch into an abomination," Percy made a slight face as they continued walking down a long and narrow hallway. "And you renamed it to add more salt to the wound. The only country in the entire Wizarding world!"
"We did the same with soccer," Laila smiled.
"A Muggle sport," she clarified hastily
"Tell me one thing," Percy opened a door and ushered Laila through, "how can you stand doing all those spins in that Indian classical dance-Kathak I think-you're trained in, but not handle flying a broom from Point A to Point B?
Laila gaped at Percy, "How did you know-"
"Ah, Percy. Right on time as always."
Laila's question remained unanswered as she came face to face with the Minister of Magic.
To say Kingsley Shacklebolt was a tall man would be an underestimation. He exuded confidence and a collective sense of calm. A generally reserved man, he was confident in his own skin and not afraid to express it.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Miss Vikander." To Percy he stated, "Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I can take it from here."
Percy nodded, though to Laila it looked as if he were struggling not to bow to Kingsley. To be honest, she was struggling herself not to. He looked absolutely regal. Percy flashed her a quick smile before disappearing around the corner.
"This way, Miss Vikander." Kingsley led her into his spacious office and gestured to her to take a seat across from him.
"I'm sure you must be experiencing a myriad of emotions at this moment."
Laila gave a hesitant smile. It was her first day, and it would not be appropriate to show complete vulnerability to her boss and the Minister at that. But it would be foolish to not express some emotion either.
"In a way I am, but I am adjusting. I can adapt very easily, and the law at its core is the same regardless of where you go."
Kingsley smiled at her. "In that you are right. But you will have your own challenges to handle during these trials. You are a foreigner, and not just an American. But an American with Indian background. Most people will immediately place you in a category based entirely on your skin color, but I am sure I do not need to tell you that."
Laila smiled at his blunt approach. "No, sir. That you do not."
Kingsley continued. "To be very frank, Miss Vikander, you will face two sides here. There are those that will root for you as you are heading these trials. You are young, an American Muggleborn, and a woman of color. They will see you as bringing fresh light to many groups of people who have been hurt, murdered, and tortured during these past few years. On the other end, there are people who will view you with suspicion. They will question your involvement with judging their fellow countrymen when you are from across the pond. You are young, they will see your age as naivety and ignorance. Do not let either side get to you."
Kingsley leaned forward with purpose, steepling his fingers.
"Remember who you are here for. The thousands of those who cry out from their graves for justice. And the many more that survive on. All of them will rely on you to be the messenger of their stories. Your job is to carry out justice and to do it with the letter of the law. The defense in many of these cases will cross lines, but you must hold yourself to a higher standard."
Laila nodded with fervor. Kingsley's words had ignited a fire in her belly and reminded her of the reason she chose to dedicate her life to becoming a lawyer.
"Remember you are not alone. You have a team that includes me and many other capable advocates and aurors who are here to support you in carrying out this justice."
Kingsley leaned back slightly, his face taking on a thoughtful look.
"I am sure you are aware that I have read your file, including what you went through a few years ago."
Laila paused before responding. "I would be more surprised if you hadn't read my file, sir. And I imagine my history is one of the reasons you promoted me to come here."
Kingsley nodded. "You are not wrong there, Miss Vikander. Your strength in not giving in even when you were being violated is commendable. It takes a certain grit to survive an ordeal like that. And then to relive it in a courtroom to get justice."
Laila squared her shoulders. "I did it for my country, sir, and for our community. No one deserves to be tortured and killed for their blood status. I come from a long line of family members who served for their country, and I chose to do the same. The only difference is that I'm the first witch in my family."
"Well then," Kingsley extended his hand. "Welcome aboard."
It took her a little longer to find her office. She avoided the lifts till the last possible moment. Unfortunately, that approach only led Laila down several winding hallways with no end in sight. Finally, she gave in and controlled her nausea and she headed into the lift and found Peter behind a stack of papers.
"Laila!" He grinned. "Nice to see that you finally made it."
Laila grinned. It was a relief to see the familiar face of an old friend in a new setting. And to hear an accent she had been surrounded by her entire life except for the past few days.
Laila hugged Peter tightly. "I'm so glad to see you!"
She stepped back and perused her surroundings. "And I'm so happy that you have a better sense of direction than me because the office looks great. You set it up in the same amount of time it took me to get here. Please tell me that they gave you one of your own. I specifically double checked that they would."
"Relax, Laila," Peter laughed. "I'm just right across the corner from you. You're stuck with me."
She squeezed his hand and shot Peter a fond smile. "I'm so glad you decided to come with me here."
"Stop it already. We can be emotional later. It's time to get to work. I set up a space here for now so we won't be running back and forth all day."
Laila nodded, and they spent the better part of the day reviewing witness testimonials and other key pieces of evidence. There were still a few months to go before the trials would begin, but the bulk of the time would be taken up with preparation that would either make or break their case.
Lunch came and went, with both Peter and Laila inhaling through the sandwiches they had brought from home. It was tiring, but the work rejuvenated Laila. For a few hours, she could relax from the mess that was her personal life and instead focus on organizing her files. They worked in silence for the most part, with an occasional word here or there. Having known Peter for quite a while, Laila had developed a nonverbal rapport with him, and things got done a lot faster.
As the evening approached and most ministry officials began heading home, Laila and Peter wrapped up the last of their work for the day.
"Joanna should be stopping by later this week," Laila added, closing her binder. "I'm hoping she will testify, but I don't want to pressure her into doing anything she isn't ready for."
"You'll find the right balance between being encouraging and taking a step back when needed," Peter assured her. "Now I don't know about you, but I have a very lonely cat and boyfriend waiting for me back home. And you need to start getting an actual life here, like spending time with the guy you're getting married to."
Laila ignored the comment and shot Peter a playful glare.
"Yes thank you for reminding me. You're one of the many on the long train ride of people who have said this."
"If a majority of people are saying it, there must be some truth to it."
Laila jumped as Fred's voice rang in her office. He was leaning against her office door frame with a mischievous grin on her face. And there was just something in that smile that had her pausing and fumbling her words. Thankfully, Peter was never short of them.
"You must be Fred!"
And without warning he gave Fred an enormous hug and kiss on the cheek, leaving the latter rather stunned.
"Uhh nice to meet you…?"
"Peter!" he chirped brightly. "Aren't you absolutely adorable?"
Peter flashed Laila a grin. "I promised Armaan I would be home in time for dinner, so please eat. And you-"
Peter pointed his finger at Fred. "Make sure she gets something in her stomach. And please don't stop wooing her. She's only prickly because she hasn't gotten laid in some time."
"Oh for god's sake, Peter!" Laila sputtered out in horror. Fred's expressions morphed from surprise to shock to struggling to keep his laughter at bay in a very quick succession.
Luckily for Peter, he was smart enough to duck out before Laila had a chance to wring his neck. Unlucky for her, she was stuck in a room with Fred, and the only way out was conveniently being blocked by him.
He cleared his throat. "I thought we could grab some dinner and spend some time together. You left rather in a hurry yesterday."
The memory of her panic attack briefly seared Laila's memory as she began to gather her things.
"Yeah dinner sounds good. What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking of grabbing something at the Leaky Cauldron, but we can always go somewhere a bit more-"
"No, that's perfect! Greasy bar food sounds like heaven right now," Laily hastily jumped in as she began walking out of the office to apparate out, gesturing for Fred to walk with her.
"I'm sorry bar? I know you spent the entire day with another American, but I don't know if you realize that you're in Britain now. And we, my lady, say pubs."
"All right then," Laila smiled. "Off we go."
She apparated ahead of Fred and waited patiently for him to arrive a second later before they entered the pub and got settled in. As they got their food, their conversation was surface level at best, talking about their day and the mundane things of daily life.
Absent-mindedly, Laila reached into her bag and pulled out her mini hot sauce container, dumped rather a generous amount over her burger, and dove straight in. After savoring a few delicious bite, she looked up to see Fred gazing at her in slight horror.
"What? Is there something on my face that haven't noticed before?"
"Nope," Fred replied. "I just didn't realize how stereotypically Indian you are. I mean-" he laughed while gesturing at the hot sauce on the table.
Laila raised her eyebrows in mock anger. "First of all, I never denied that I wasn't stereotypical. Second, as good as the food is, it is really bland. Your definition of spicy barely crosses the threshold as mild for me. So if I want an extra kick, I bring hot sauce with me."
"That breakfast you made yesterday was mild for you."
Laila laughed, "Hell yes it was! I didn't want to completely eviscerate your tongue on spices the first time I cooked something in your kitchen."
Fred shook his head. "I will pray for your digestive system. And from henceforth, I vow to always bring an extra large container of hot sauce just for you."
Laila choked on her bite, hacking for a few seconds before she finally got back her ability to speak.
"Excuse me?" she responded to Fred's grin. "Are we practicing vows already?"
"Hey I got to get as much information about you as possible if we're going to make these vows sound legitimate in the short time we have before we tie the knot. I can't have you telling the world that Zonko's has far superior products than we do."
Laila snorted, "Of course not. If I plan on stealing your fortune that's not exactly the best way to go."
She sobered for a second. "Are you okay with just having a small ceremony with just our friends and family? I really don't want to put myself into lifelong debt."
Fred looked at her warily. "Depends on your definition of small. If we're talking Indian small, isn't 200 guests considered a small wedding in your culture. And it lasts something like two weeks?"
Laila grinned. "Something like that. Every ceremony has a different outfit. But honestly, I never really wanted that for myself. I love my culture, but it's kind of stupid to save so much money only to spend it on one ceremony. I want a marriage not a wedding."
Fred raised his drink to her. "Whelp, my dear. You are getting both."
Laila wrinkled her nose. "I never thought I would get an arranged marriage let alone one ordained by a law rather than my parents."
"Why is that still a thing?" Fred questioned. "I mean shouldn't marriage be based on love. Except in cases like ours where the government decides it needs to stick its pushy nose in our sex lives."
Laila shrugged. "Indian culture is deeply rooted in tradition and values. And no matter which corner of the world you're sitting in, it's hard to let go of that. Arranged doesn't necessarily mean 'forced'. It's mostly parents arranging dates for their kids to make it easier for them to find a suitable match."
"But honestly," she continued, "that's if you're in a position of privilege. Forced and child marriages are still very real in India, and not just in rural or 'uneducated' communities."
"Did you ever think about petitioning the Ministry to not have to go through with this? Being in a high position should mean you hopefully have some rights." Fred pondered thoughtfully.
"Nope," Laila snorted. "It just means if I'm more visible in my job, I'm the perfect scapegoat to set an example of how ideal this marriage law is. They probably would have just given me someone else instead if I rejected you."
"And besides," she added. "I doubt rejection is an option. And if it were, I would rather be stuck with you than a bloke who worshipped Voldemort."
Fred dramatically placed his hands on his chest. "I'm so touched. You actually used the word 'bloke' correctly in a sentence."
Laila took a sip of her drink and set it down. "Looks like those expensive English lessons are really paying off. Next up is learning how to eat properly with five different types of forks."
Fred laughed, and they continued the rest of the dinner in comfortable banter. When they stopped out of the Leaky Cauldron, the weather had cooled down considerably.
"That's one thing I'm definitely going to miss about home," Laila mused. "The snow."
Fred looked around curiously. "Good luck with that. We get some snow towards Christmas, but the rain loves London."
Laila sighed, "Well, I can live with that. I just need to remember to carry an umbrella with me."
Fred gazed at her, flabbergasted. "Did your brain run a short circuit or did you never realize you were a witch? If so, let me introduce you to that stick you carry in your robes. It can do many magical things."
"Shut up," Laila laughed and hit him in the shoulder. "That sounds so wrong."
"What the hell is it with you constantly smacking me around?" Fred rubbed his shoulder with exaggeration.
Laila smiled and on a whim, reached up and kissed his cheek. "Good night, Weasley."
She turned and apparated swiftly back to her flat. If she had stayed a moment longer, she would have noticed the look of surprise that flashed across Fred's face before being replaced by an enormous smile.
Author's Note:
Hi, everyone! Thank you guys so much for reading this story. It's the first fanfiction I've ever written, and I am completely open to any feedback and suggestions you may have! I'm sorry about the sporadic updates. I'm a medical student, so I write in any spare time I have, but I will definitely try my best for monthly updates!
*Didi=older sister in Hindi/Punjabi