AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 139 is here! OOF THE ANGST!
Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.
I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.
There's also another Ron story out that's really good so far! It's called 'There and Back Again', and it's written by Chuchi Otaku. Please, go check it out! I've certainly enjoyed reading it! Starway Man is a chad!
Fate
Chapter 139 – Identity
The Champion's POV
?
The Champion was falling, through the infinite stars and towards his blue, little planet. He couldn't see it just yet, given the vast expanse of space, but he knew which Solar System he was in thanks to Professor Sinistra's teachings. However, even as he tore past Saturn in the form of a golden comet, surrounded by endless beauty; his mind felt muddled by what it had just experienced.
Fate wasn't subtle this time around, not when he thought about it. She needed the Champion to be her instrument, an unfeeling killer willing to do anything to win, rather than Ronald Weasley, the foolish fuck who kept failing her. Despite his hatred of her, even the Champion could not bring himself to hold this decision against her, not after being rejected by all those Rons. They tried to take my Cycle from me, just like every other bastard who's tried to off me. Guess I'm no different-…
No, the Champion was different, that was the whole damn point! He wasn't petty, nor did he have personal delusions of finding happiness in an existence full of shit. He was a burning sword slicing through the darkness. He was an unbreakable shield defending those who couldn't defend themselves. The Champion was indestructible, because the Champion was an ideal. It was Ronald Weasley's purpose without any of that pesky, human greed attached to it. And if embracing that will set Ronald Weasley free, then I should do it… Because the Champion would protect those poor kids in there, no matter what… The Champion would even give up his own freedom for it, if need be.
He had tried so hard to keep fighting them all back, to keep resisting her, to stay true to who he was as a person, but he was utterly drained, now. There was no more strength left in him, no more will to go on.
No more reason.
He would bury Ronald Weasley, and as the Champion; he would finish what Ronald Weasley could not.
The Cycles were going to end with him, no matter the personal cost. I'll bear it all, so they don't have to. There's no other option, it's the only way I'll survive myself.
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (?)
The Champion paced about his spacious room, ignoring his comfortable bed and the stack of Tomes left at his disposal. The American Aurors had placed him in a rather comfortable setting, he even had a toilet rather than a chamber pot. They want something from me. That, or, they fucked up and took things too far. That gives me some leverage, I suppose, but it won't be enough.
The Champion studied his surrounding once again, still a bit groggy from having suddenly awoken in back in the real world. The walls looked to be roughly carved out of a jagged, obsidian stone, which led him to believe that he was deep underground. I'm in their dungeons, which means I'll need to travel upwards if I decide to break out. Being underground would also explain the lack of windows. Fuck, one minute I'm falling through the stars, and the next, I'm in Amycus Carrow's wet dream…
The Champion then turned his gaze towards the only exit, he would need to bring down a bunker-door built to withstand Blasting Curses just to start his escape. It must weigh a ton; I'll make a lot of noise if I go through it, I bet. His hollow eyes moved onto the strange, tinted glass beside the sealed door, he couldn't see what was on the other side, only his own distorted reflection. It's not a window, and it's a sorry replacement for a mirror… Something is not right about that glass panel, I wonder what's on the other side. Hm, breaking some glass won't make half as much noise as bringing down that door, though. I should keep that in mind.
Curse them for taking his wands, and his bloody Portkey; relying only on Wandless Magic was still his biggest issue, and beyond bringing down an Auror and stealing their wand, the Champion couldn't think of a solution. Not to mention that I'm vulnerable to boot. One well-placed Curse will still kill me if I'm not careful.
Looking down at himself, the Champion couldn't help but frown. They'd taken his suit away too, and replaced it with a white jumpsuit, marked 'Inmate 131718'. At least, it covers my arms, though my fucking hand is exposed. I bet they had a good laugh at what's left of me. Whoever clocked me over the head, I'm going to kill them. Plain and simple murder. I don't care that they're an Auror, if they did it to me then they must've done it to others as well.
Moving back to his bed, the Champion picked up a thin, perfectly-square diary from the top of a nearby stack, his frown quickly dying as he read the title. 'The Golden Hand: What is the secret to casting Magical China's OLDEST Healing Spell?!'. Intrigued, the Champion flipped through the scant few pages, slowly coming to the realization that the words and diagrams he was studying were legit. They've left me alone with Tomes filled with Wandless Magic? I couldn't possibly get this lucky-…
A loud bell suddenly rang out, interrupting his thoughts and putting him on edge once again. Tossing the Tome near his duck-feather pillow, the Champion moved to the centre of his 'cell', eager to speak with whoever was behind the assault on him and his companions. They've got balls, I'll give them that. Not much sense, though.
The bunker-door creaked as it swung open, revealing the dark silhouette of a witch. "…What the fuck…?"
The Champion cocked an eyebrow, and the witch swiftly moved into the room. You! He barely stopped himself from attacking her on sight, she was the Auror who had sprung the trap on him.
"You've got some explaining to do," the Champion grit out, studying her alarmed features. "Who are you?"
"Chief Lucia Bellator, the Bull…" she replied, not impressing the Champion in the slightest. "The Healers said your brain was fried…"
The raven-haired Chief Auror was wearing a slim-fitting Muggle suit, much like one of his own, though what really caught his eye was that she had most of her cleavage on display, with her black tie tucked safely in-between her sizable bosom. A distraction, keep your eyes on her face. Her tanned skin gave her a youthful appearance, but the Champion quickly determined that she was older than she looked. Despite her shocked expression, she still held herself well, her shoulders square and her dark eyes following his every movement. She looked experienced, and he couldn't forget that she had no doubt orchestrated his capture in the first place. Be careful, don't say or do anything that'll give her further reason to keep you here.
She suddenly took a few more steps forward, waving her hand in his face. "You're really awake, aren't you?! Oh, thank fuck! Do you have any idea how many people were shittin' themselves over you takin' that siesta?! Me included?!" Make sense, wretch!
"You hit me over the head," the Champion frowned, and she gave him a sheepish smile. "You understand that I have a brain injury, don't you-?"
"The Auror responsible for that has already been suspended," the Chief interjected, her tone softening. "Without pay. I made sure of it." Oh, without pay? Well, set me free so I can go buy you a fucking cake, eh?! Oh, wait, you're still holding me prisoner!
"Suspending that prick for a few days is not going to change anything," the Champion warned. "When I get out of here, I'm going tell the whole world about this-"
"Red, don't go down this road with us," she stopped him, producing a folded letter from her inner pocket. "This is a warrant for your immediate arrest, and force was permitted. Here, read it. It's all official, Judge Danvers signed off on it right after he found out that you had a bunch of birds shit all over American Aurors right in front of their children. Now, personally, I don't like Danvers much; he's an asshole and he's very much against foreigners, but he's still the Judge overseein' Massachusetts-"
"A Judge?" the Champion all but snatched the letter out of her hand, giving it a quick read. "Suspect is considered to be armed and dangerous, and is to be engaged with extreme caution and in high numbers." You've no idea how right you are, Danvers.
"You have your Wizengamot, whereas we've got Courts set up in each State," she shrugged, doing a slow circle around him as he finished reading the warrant. This Judge… He's making a bit of shit sound like the Killing Curse itself! What a cunt. "You should lie down; I'll have some food brought in for you-"
"You can't hold me in here," the Champion interrupted, tossing the warrant to the floor. A bit of parchment gives you no power over Us.
"Actually, we can," she sighed out, Wandlessly summoning the discarded warrant back to her hand. "We found an Untraceable Wand on your person, Mr. Weasley, as well as an unregistered Portkey." Fuck! "That alone gives us the power to launch a formal investigation into you and your recent activities. Is that somethin' you want? For us to start lookin' into you?" No… That's a headache I'd rather avoid, but you're not giving me any choice. "Come on, take a seat and let me get the Healers in here to check up on you. And while they're doin' their good work, I'll go up to the Auror's kitchen and make you somethin' to eat. You like waffles? One of the recruits brought her waffle iron from home, it's a lifesaver-"
"I don't want your fucking waffles," the Champion all but snarled at her, but she didn't look particularly intimidated. "I want to leave, now-"
"That's not happenin', Red," the Chief shut him down, rather firmly in fact. "Like I said, you were carryin' an illegal wand and an unregistered Portkey… You're in a lot of trouble, and I'm not sure that you appreciate that just yet." You're in a lot of trouble, whereas We are endlessly patient!
The Champion drew in a deep breath, calming his growing nerves. Don't make mistakes, just relax and think everything through… Right now, I don't even know where to go if I do break out of here. Plus, having the American Aurors against me in the future is… Well, it's not ideal. We're natural allies, and I should be focusing on recruiting them for the war.
The Chief stopped in front of him, reaching forward to turn his head as she continued her inspection. However, the Champion swiftly caught her by the wrist, but she only cocked an eyebrow in response. Don't touch me!
"Puttin' hands on an Auror can get you ten years, at the bare minimum," she told him plainly. "You're not in Britain anymore, Red, so I suggest you start usin' that brain of yours. I hear it's quite impressive, when it's not malfunctionin', of course." Bitch… What do you know about anything?
"I don't like to be touched," he let go of her wrist, taking a step back. "I want to speak to the Head of your Department-"
"Oh, you will," she interjected, sounding almost sorry for him. "Now, go lie down for a bit, while I send in some Healers-"
"I don't need Healers," the Champion scoffed, not moving from his spot. I feel like shit, but I'll be damned before I let any of you pricks touch me again.
"You don't really get a say, Red," the Chief shrugged, turning to leave. "Don't make this worse for yourself, or, for your 'mentor'." Lord Greengrass?! She hurt him; I saw her!
"Where is he?! And what have you done to him?!" Ron demanded, forgetting himself for a moment. "If you've harmed him-!"
"I just don't get it," she suddenly turned around, shooting him quite the judgemental glare. Get what? "You're one of us, aren't you? I mean, even we've heard of the Weasley Family; the notorious Blood-Traitors. Some of the us were genuinely excited to come support you at that Tournament, before you showed us how little you think of us. I suppose your Death-Eater mentor's been whisperin' in your ears, huh? Has he really gotten to you, Red? Aren't you a fuckin' genius, or, somethin'? Whatever shit comes out of his mouth, you can't forget what he is-"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" the Champion cut in, his patience snapping in the face of her ridiculous presumptions. "I don't let grown fucking men whisper in my ears, all right? Not all of us are two-bit slags like you." The Champion then eyed her cleavage with utter contempt, while she looked downright offended. "And more importantly, I do whatever the fuck pleases me. I had those birds shit on your Aurors because I fucking can, you get that? No 'Lord' was whispering in my ears at the time. I thought it'd be fucking hilarious, and that's why I did it. Now, piss off. I'll wait for the one in charge, because that's who I deal with, you fucking lackey."
With that, the Champion moved over to his bed, sitting down with his back straight, his pale eyes digging into her dark ones. You're definitely going to die, just you fucking wait. We saw you kick him, and We're going to tear that leg right out of its socket as recompense.
"You really are a piece of shit, aren't you?" she shook her head in disbelief, and then her contempt began to match his own. A piece of shit who's here to save your fucking country. You're welcome.
"Yes, I am," the Champion admitted bitterly. "You fucking cunts."
Draco Malfoy's POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (Tonks Abode – Midday)
Draco's curtains were viciously cast aside, allowing the scorching sunlight to invade his humble room. Groaning, he turned his head back and glared at the witch responsible for this outrage; his maternal cousin, Nymphadora Tonks.
"Wotcher, Draco," Tonks grinned from ear to ear, her hair blonde this time around. Bloody ridiculous. Pick a colour and stick with it like the rest of us.
"Why are you in my room?" Draco groaned more loudly, making his displeasure known, only to be met with giggles. Ugh… I envy Tracey her coma…
He frowned to himself as he turned his head back to face the beige wall, ashamed that such thoughts were simply in his nature. Maybe they're all right to hate me-?
"What's wrong, Draco?" Tonks asked softly, making her way over and planting herself on the edge of his bed. "You didn't come out for dinner last night, and today, you've gone and skipped breakfast as well. Aside from hurting my parents, you're beginning to worry them." No one is asking your parents to take care of me… I'm supposed to be with my Godfather, but even he can't stand me, not after what my parents did to him… I'm beginning to question why I even exist…
He suddenly felt a hand over his blanket, rubbing his arm encouragingly. "I'm worried too, if you were wondering."
"I wasn't," he assured her. "And I'm not hungry-"
"Nonsense, when did you eat last?" she asked, unfazed by his words. "Come out for lunch, at least. Mum and dad have gone to work-"
"Why haven't you?" Draco interjected, looking back through squinting, bloodshot eyes.
She had the decency to not comment on his state, nor on the state of his tear-soaked pillow. Keep looking, I don't care… Fuck all of you…
"I go on assignment tomorrow," Tonks replied eventually. "Today, I'm looking after you-"
"You mean you're my jailor for the day," Draco fought the urge to start crying into his pillow again. Stop acting so benevolent, you've all ruined my life! "Just leave me alone… I don't want to be near you people… The Order, the Death-Eaters… I don't care about it, okay?" I miss my room so much… Why am I stuck in this fucking stranger's room?! What did I do to deserve all this?! It's just not fair…
Tonks gave him a sorry look, forcing him to fight back the urge to lash out. She's even taking pity on me?! What the fuck?! You're with the people responsible for all of this!
"Draco, I'm really sorry that you have to go through this so young," Tonks whispered, jarring him a little with her warm eyes. "It's not right… You're a good kid, I believe, just a bit mislead, but still good at heart. So… Today, I'll take you to see your mother, but only if you wash up and eat something. Deal?" She… She'll let me see mother?!
Draco sat up and wiped the goop out of his stinging eyes, her offer was too tempting to scoff at. "You'll take me to her? Why? What's in it for you?" It doesn't matter, just pay the price! "I'll do it! Whatever you want-!"
"Easy!" she looked uncomfortable, and then she let out a long breath. "I just want you to stop starving yourself, and this is my only bargaining chip. So, do we have a deal?"
Draco just stared at her, speechless for a change. I need to thank her, before she changes her mind.
"…Thanks…" Draco murmured, promptly clearing his throat. "I'll come down, but give me some privacy. I need to change."
Tonks smiled a little, ruffling his hair, much to his displeasure. "Everything will be all right, Draco, I promise. I've got your back, now. We're kin by blood, you know? We ought to stick together."
Again, he was speechless. What do I even say to that? I can't even take her seriously, if I'm being honest with myself. The fact that I want to believe her is stupid enough, but knowing that she's lying right off the bat? That just hurts… Nothing's going to be all right ever again…
Pansy Parkinson's POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (Parkinson Manor – Midday)
Pansy finished off her look with a black, leather jacket, smirking and doing a quick spin in front of her large mirror. The leather pants are a bit too form fitting, the older Ladies will definitely frown upon me… Yay!
Pleased with how Muggle her current look was, Pansy made her bob haircut look a bit wilder by ruffling it with her fingers. Now, that's better! It needs to look like I woke up looking this gorgeous! Blaise should be here by now! I shouldn't have slept in but I couldn't help it, I've never felt so at peace in that-… my… bed before.
Deciding to see what would come next in her brilliant new life, Pansy left her room and began her journey out of the western wing, the largest wing of her manor. Woah, the Elves must've been at work all night. It doesn't even look like the same wing anymore! The walls were no longer black and covered with sneering or smug Parkinsons, instead, as per her instructions, the western wing now supported a Slytherin scheme. There were no paintings to enjoy along the way, however, but Pansy would soon see to that. I want portraits of Slytherin's finest! Oh, and the Founders, I want them to look after this wing! It's not possible to find Moving Portraits of them, but I'm certain I can commission the finest artist in Britain, whoever they are, to paint me portraits which feel lifelike, at the very least.
Descending into the central wing, Pansy stopped halfway when she finally came across the majority of her staff. The terrifyingly active Elves were still dancing to the very same song that she had played on a loop all throughout their 'celebration' last night, a new hit by the Weird Sisters, 'A Moonlit Dance with my Vampire Bride'. I don't blame them, it's a great song!
Unable to resist the upbeat tune, Pansy danced her way down the stairs, beaming at her Elves. "Good morning, everyone!"
"Mistress!"
"Mistress is awake!"
"Mistress! You're finally here!"
"Good afternoon, Mistress!"
By the time she had finished her little jig down the steps, Pansy was surrounded by her merry housemates. I can already see the yellow and black drapes going up! The centre should definitely be Hufflepuff, and it needs to feel like a warm, welcoming home. That's what's most important. When my future guests step through the greeting room, I want them to feel like they've stepped into their childhoods.
"Mistress' clothes are very Muggle!" one of the younger Elves scanned Pansy with her large eyes, smiling a toothy smile. "Mistress is most stylish!" I am, aren't I?
"Well, thank you!" Pansy's smile only grew wider, giggling embarrassingly in the face of the positive attention she had always craved. "Did any of you even sleep?! The western wing looks amazing, by the way! Good job, all of you!"
The Elves cheered for themselves, patting each other on the backs and standing up straighter. They're adorable! I don't really know any of them, though… They were kept out of sight by mother and father, on account of them being our slaves. Hm… Slaves…
Thinking of Marty and Ron's close bond, and of Ron's outspoken stance against slavery, Pansy's bright smile turned sly. My parents didn't know anything about anything, and what better way to join Ron's alliance than by following his example?
"You're all going to take a break today," Pansy suddenly announced, surprising her Elves silent with her contradictory commands. "Because you'll be moving out of the southern wing, and into the western wing-"
"The western wing is for wizards and witches, Mistress!" one of her Elves gasped. "Elves have no place amongst such hallowed company-!"
"Ahem," Pansy cleared her throat, while the other Elves shushed their self-deprecating comrade for interrupting her. "This is now my manor, and I want us all to stay together. In one wing. So, by nightfall, I want each and every one of you settled in. Five Elves a room should do, but leave the more spacious ones for our guests. Okay?" No! Don't say 'Okay' at the very end like an ingrate… My vocabulary is definitely getting worse the more I read Witch Weekly, I won't refute that.
"Rooms?" one of the Elves squeaked, while the rest looked visibly bewildered. Are they that used to being crammed near the cellars? "We get rooms?"
"Yes!" Pansy said confidently, pulling at the sides of her leather jacket. "And you'll get new beds too, and uniforms! I want actual uniforms, not these dirty sheets!"
"Clothes?!" they all grew panicked.
"NO!"
"Mistress, please-!"
"Calm yourselves! Circe's tits…" Pansy groaned, sounding so unladylike that one of the older Elves almost fainted, being caught just in time by her friends. "Carbey will hand out the new uniforms. I'm not planning to send any of you away, I promise! And if your bond to my Bloodline does break, I'll write up a new contract myself. How does that sound?"
The relief that washed over them was honestly jarring, and so very touching… Had anyone ever wanted to stay by her side so desperately before? No, I always get left behind. Speaking of which…
"Has Blaise Zabini arrived, yet?" Pansy asked, putting on a happy smile. Don't be bothered, Pans. Shape your new life as you see fit, no one can tell you how to feel, or, what to do, anymore.
"No, Mistress," the nearest Elf stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Larky kept watch in the greeting room, just as Mistress had ordered. However, Master Zabini never arrived." Okay, time to be bothered…
"He never arrived?" Pansy blinked, something in the back of her mind was already screaming. "He said he'd be here first thing in the morning!"
The Elves exchanged sorry looks; they had no answers for their Mistress. That bitch! If she's hurt him, I'll never forget nor-… Carbey! I need Carbey right now! I need to stop wasting time!
"Carbey! I need help!" Pansy called out, and within a heartbeat, the Elf was standing beside her, having Apparated into the hall without making as much as a popping sound.
"Mistress called Carbey-…" he stopped his greeting abruptly, staring at her latest outfit. "No, Mistress." No? For what? "Absolutely not!"
"Carbey, we have a real problem to tackle, first, you can always lecture me after," Pansy stopped him from going on another rant. "Blaise never arrived in the morning? He said he'd be here at dawn!"
"Yes, Carbey is aware, Mistress," Carbey frowned at her displayed midriff, clearly not happy with her white crop-top either. "Is Mistress attempting to ruin her good name at the mere age of thirteen?"
"I'm almost fourteen, July isn't that far off!" she huffed defiantly. "And my clothes aren't the problem, my missing friend is! Focus, Carbey!"
"Of course, Mistress," Carbey bowed respectfully, and then he looked to the other Elves. "Return to your work, for within this home, an idle Elf is a dead Elf." Um… Most definitely not! I'll need to talk to him in private, though. I can't disrespect him in front of his charges, it'll be counterproductive.
They all bowed and rushed off, not eager to displease the Head Elf. "Carbey, that was horribly mean of you… You don't have to speak that way anymore-"
"With all due respect, Mistress, Carbey will kill those who are lax in their duties," Carbey stopped her, taking her aback with his alarming conviction. "It is the Parkinson way-"
"Not anymore," Pansy cut him off, putting her foot down. "I am the Parkinson way, now. Whatever that means. You can punish them, but if you seriously hurt anyone under my roof, I'll… I'll be very cross with you…" she trailed off, he was just peering right into her soul, wasn't he? C'mon, Pansy, don't let those empty eyes win-…
"A good heart will not protect Mistress, Carbey will," the Elf said, turning to leave. "Carbey will find Master Zabini for Mistress, be assured. None shall stand in Carbey's way." Merlin, is he going to start a war with Clementine Zabini?! Not that I'd mind, of course… She has it coming, but being rash is for Gryffindors. I'd rather talk, first.
"I'm coming with you," Pansy declared, leading the way towards the greeting room. "I'm Lady Parkinson, after all. It'd be weak if I didn't come looking for my friend on my own."
"Under normal circumstances, Carbey would agree with Mistress," Carbey followed after her. "However, as Lady Zabini is no ordinary witch, Carbey would caution restraint. Mistress should remain here, where it is safe-"
Pansy stopped, Blaise's comment about her being beneath Clementine Zabini ringing in her ears. "Carbey… I told you what Blaise said to me on the train home, when we were at having a bonfire last night. Remember?" She then turned to face the Elf, who was once again just staring at her. "I can't have you doubting me too, I… I want someone to be in my corner, always, and that's supposed to be you…" It was supposed to be my parents, but fat load of good they were.
Carbey's sharp features softened a little, and he lowered his gaze. "Carbey meant no offence, Mistress. It… It would simply kill Carbey to lose Mistress as well. That is all." As well? Even though my parents were wretched, he still misses them? Elves are… very loyal… Inhumanely loyal, even. I've never really noticed till now… I should reassure him that I plan to be smart. I'm not losing everything I've just gained.
"I'm here to stay, Carbey," Pansy promised, leaning down and tapping his pointy chin. "You'll just need to work harder with me, so I think I'll apologize in advance for that. I'm sorry, but… I don't want to be held back anymore. In anything! I've never been in charge of my life until now, Carbey, and I had no idea what I was missing… I mean, I did, but I didn't. So, you're stuck with me, okay? Make your peace with it."
Carbey gave a nod, not showing any further emotion. "As long as Mistress is careful, then that is enough for Carbey." Circe, he's the silent type, isn't he?
"Then, let's go together," Pansy turned around and marched into the greeting room, which was also under construction. That fireplace is still lit, I assume the Elves kept it open for floo jumps. "We're not going there to start a fight, okay? We just speak to her, ask her where Blaise is. If she tries to be coy and doesn't tell us what we want to know, we'll excuse ourselves and leave-"
"Leave?" Carbey asked.
"I hear she frequents The Pond, whenever she's in Magical Britain, that is," Pansy elaborated. "If she's hurt him in any shape or form, we'll give her a taste of her own medicine."
"Is that so, Mistress?" Carbey asked, doubting her again.
"What? I'd do it, to protect Blaise, I would," she blurted out, looking back to him. I'd do anything for my friends!
"Has Mistress taken a life before?" Carbey asked her plainly, giving her reason to pause and think rationally for a moment.
"Well, no…"
"It is a dark deed, Mistress," Carbey told her, speaking from experience. "Banish such thoughts, for Carbey exists to have them, instead. And Carbey does not believe that Lady Zabini would openly harm young Master Zabini. It would work to undo Lady Zabini's prominent climb, as the Aurors are always searching for reasons to investigate the rumours surrounding Lady Zabini. Carbey has informants embedded within the Ministry itself, and it seems that the new Minister is taking a stance against the Pure. Amelia Bones will need to be dealt with, eventually." I'm just going to ignore his treason… For all of our sakes.
"You have informants? Like spies? Even within the Ministry?" Pansy's eyes sparkled in awe of her Elf. Who are you?! "Can they search for Blaise? If he's missing?"
"Carbey will see to it, Mistress," the Elf bowed, but his head quickly shot up. What-?
The fireplace roared to life, spooking one of the Elves working near it. A tall, deathly-pale, wild-haired man stepped into her home; a bone-chilling grin plastered on his face. Merlin, his teeth! They're so sharp! Carbey moved in front of Pansy as the man looked to her, eyeing her with a puzzled expression. He then chuckled to himself before shaking his head, approaching them with a casual strut.
"Pretty home," he spoke in a raspy voice, revealing his needle-sharp teeth once again.
Pansy shuddered, shrinking a little on instinct. Who is he…? And why is he here uninvited? Straighten up, Pans! This is your kingdom!
"Name yourself, stranger," Pansy straightened her back, puffing out her developing bust as she eyed his dark apparel. A trench-coat? What are you hiding in there? And you really need a haircut!
"Jürgen," he replied simply enough. "Lady Greengrass' man, she sent me with this." He works for Lady Greengrass? Since when does she deal with men such as this?!
The stranger began reaching into his robes, but Carbey suddenly snapped his fingers, conjuring a ring of Cursed Fire around the stranger. The other Elves in the room gasped in unison, swiftly Apparating away out of sheer fear. As for Pansy, she yelped and shot back, suddenly feeling the temperature rise around her, the back of her neck breaking out into goosebumps. Carbey? What are you doing?!
"Carbey will reward treachery with annihilation, stranger," Carbey warned, snapping his fingers again and banishing the flames, not even a scorch mark was left behind. "Carbey's hounds hunger for man-flesh, and Carbey does very much enjoy spoiling them. Know this truth, and act accordingly within these walls." Man-flesh? Gods, Carbey… What did you do for my parents, exactly? Did you know about those dreadful orgies? Did you help them?!
Pansy felt her tongue grow heavy with dread, and she couldn't even imagine how the stranger felt. Though, when she looked to him, she was alarmed to find him grinning at Carbey, unfazed. They're all mad… I'm surrounded by the mentally deranged!
"Not here for a fight, Elf, though I'm sure I'd enjoy our dance," 'Jürgen' chuckled, pulling out a letter with an unbroken Greengrass Seal on it. "For you, Lady Parkinson. My Lady wishes to see you urgently-"
"Urgently?" Pansy blinked, while Carbey summoned the letter to himself. "Did Blaise go to Daphne, instead?!"
Jürgen cocked an eyebrow, while Pansy quickly masked her hurt. Why? He said he'd come to mine… What's that say about what he thinks of me?
"Blaise Zabini is not with my Lady," Jürgen replied eventually, which didn't help her feel any better. So, he's still missing… Fuck… What do I do? I don't have any time to waste, then. Blaise comes first.
"I can't come with you, sorry," Pansy told Jürgen, while Carbey read through the letter. "My friend is missing, and I need to go search for him. Tell Lady Greengrass that I'll visit her tonight, after I find Blaise."
"The boy is missing?" Jürgen looked to Carbey, who gave a silent nod. "I'm not returning to my Lady without results, so I'll find him for you. Will you go see her if I do?" Um… Yes? I have no reason to refuse that offer.
"Where will we look?" Pansy asked.
"Mistress should go see Lady Greengrass," Carbey suddenly spoke up, handing her the letter. "Lady Greengrass wishes to adopt Mistress as a Ward…" HUH?!
Pansy took the letter quickly, going wide-eyed the more she read it. 'I've known you most of your life, and I've always been good to you. I promise to continue being good to you, Pansy, but as more than merely your friend's mother.'…
Pansy already knew what her response was to this particular offer. No, thank you. I just got my freedom, and I'm not trading it in to become the third-wheel amongst your daughters. She tucked the letter into her jacket, right next to her wand. Refusing this offer by letter would be distasteful, and Pansy saw no need to do that, as Lady Greengrass had indeed been good to her in their scant interactions. I'll explain my feelings to her. I'm sure she'll understand, but if she doesn't, then that'll be her problem. She can't force me into anything I don't want.
"Carbey, go with Jürgen here… Did I say that right?" Pansy looked to the intimidating stranger.
"Close enough," he shrugged. "You will go to my Lady, then?"
"Yes, but you and Carbey are to search for my friend in the meantime," Pansy said, not caring that she sounded a little bossy. "Don't go to Clementine Zabini, Carbey, I want to be there for that. Instead, start within Diagon Alley. I hear The Leaky Cauldron rents rooms and honours privacy. Oh, and get your 'friends' onto this too, okay?"
"As Mistress commands," the Elf gave a humble nod. "And what of Lady Greengrass' offer?"
"I'm flattered," Pansy started, looking to Jürgen. "But it's not necessary. Sorry, I'm going to have to respectfully-"
"I don't care, I'm just delivering the message," Jürgen all but laughed in her face, much to Carbey's annoyance. "Say what you have to say to my Lady. I promise you that my opinion means very little to her, despite us being countrymen." He's from Germany as well? "Let's go, Elf. I have a busy schedule, and missing boys tend to turn up dead in this foul country."
"Carbey agrees…" the Elf snarled, shooting Pansy a withering look. Just don't kill him, please. "If Mistress needs Carbey, call."
"When you find him, come to me immediately."
"I've left the floo open," Jürgen stepped aside, as Carbey prepared to Apparate them.
"Thank you," Pansy mustered up some politeness, boldly marching past Jürgen. So, Lady Greengrass wants to adopt me? Where did that even come from? We've spoken before, sure, but only ever in passing. I don't like this offer, and I hope she'll understand that. I don't need parents, end of story. What I need is to go find Blaise!
Drawing in a sharp breath, Pansy went through the flames without breaking her stride, entering the familiar Greengrass greeting room. It was grander than her own, of course, but Pansy felt that it lacked character. There's not enough colour in here, and it's just too posh for current times.
Nearing the exit leading into the central hall, Pansy spotted Spinny waiting for her with a bright smile. Is Daphne here? I should tell her about Blaise immediately. She'll want to help, that much I can count on.
"Lady Parkinson, you have arrived-" Spinny began greeting her, but stopped short when she fully absorbed Pansy's scandalous outfit. "Ye Gods…" I know, they've blessed me.
"Afternoon, Spinny," Pansy shot the Elf a smirk, confidently moving on. I need to show Lady Greengrass that I don't need her help from the get-go. For now, I'll just have to trust Carbey and that Jürgen fellow to find Blaise.
"Lady Parkinson's sense of fashion is most… tasteful…" Spinny chased after Pansy, putting on a cringy smile. Tasteful?
"What do you like most about it, then?" Pansy asked, and when Spinny stumbled over her words, Pansy's smirk grew. This is strangely empowering. I like it. "Never mind, Spinny, just tell me where I can find Lady Greengrass."
"Overlooking the gardens, and enjoying tea with Mistress Astoria," Spinny replied. Not Daphne? She's not here? Or, is she still upset? "Is Lady Parkinson hungry? Spinny will have more refreshments prepared." I am hungry, and I haven't had breakfast yet… But no, I need to get back to looking for Blaise. I'll eat after I find him.
"There is no need, Spinny, I ate before I came," she lied. "You may return to your duties; I know the rest of the way."
"Very well, Lady Parkinson," Spinny stopped and bowed, before promptly cracking away.
Pansy picked up her pace, ignoring the strange wands-for-hire patrolling the manor, but making sure to count how many she saw along the way. Three wizards, and four witches. This manor is a fortress, now, isn't it? I should follow Lord Greengrass' example, given men like Yaxley have already approached me. Ugh… That creep… I should've let Carbey blast him to pieces, as, at the very least, it would have brought a smile to Ron's face.
Exiting the manor, Pansy found Lady Greengrass and Astoria sitting out on the balcony overlooking their grand gardens, laughing and speaking to each other animatedly in German. Pansy was stopped by the happy atmosphere, smiling at mother and daughter, but feeling a growing ache in her chest the more she looked on. I can't picture mother with a smile, now that I think about it. She always had that sneer on her face, as if she were being forced to drag herself through garbage.
"Pansy!" Astoria called out, breaking Pansy out of her thoughts.
"Tori!" Pansy beamed and opened her arms, catching the smallest Greengrass just in time. "Oh, you're getting a bit heavy!" She's growing, slowly, but she still looks so frail. This is… strange… Doesn't she eat?
"I love your clothes!" Tori kissed her cheek, finding her feet again. "Your pants! Oh, I adore them! They're from the 'Bad Girl' catalogue, aren't they?!" Yes!
"They are!" Pansy couldn't help but be infected by the younger witch's energy. "What do you think? They're a bit tight right now, I'm hoping to break them in during the day-"
"Pansy, dearest, what are you wearing?" Lady Greengrass had calmly strode over, her hands neatly joined beneath her breasts.
Her long, flowing, emerald dress certainly invoked envy within Pansy, though why Lady Greengrass would waste such a fine dress on a random day was beyond her. It's Lady Greengrass… Her closet must be littered with dresses most of us could only dream of pulling off.
"It's a Muggle outfit, I found it in Witch Weekly," Pansy struck a slight pose, glad to receive the reaction she had desired. "Do you like it, my Lady?" Or, is it too unbecoming for a woman to wear? Too risqué?
"I had hoped that most young girls would ignore that particular issue," Lady Greengrass smiled warmly, looking Pansy over. "But yes, it fits you quite nicely. You have a very modern sense of fashion, Pansy, though this does not surprise me." Oh… Okay, then…
"Your arse definitely looks bigger in these pants, Pansy," Tori commented, snorting. Merlin, did she really just say that?! "Aren't you worried about that?" No, that's the whole point! Gods, Tori, where's your filter?!
Pansy bit the insides of cheeks, keeping her eyes on the now dull-eyed Lady Greengrass. She definitely has more patience than my mother, I would've been struck multiple times by now.
"Astoria, excuse us," Lady Greengrass sighed out, patting Tori's back gently. "Pansy and I need to discuss matters of import, and you've just given up your right to be here for that. Your sister would never speak in such a manner." Um… Not near you, but some of things she's confessed to me would make you question your assessment of your eldest.
Pansy remained quiet, however, waiting for Tori to stop her groaning and moaning, before ultimately leaving in a huff. This left Pansy alone with the wealthiest woman in the land, who was already giving Pansy another warm smile. She might not be smiling like that soon… This is going to be awkward.
"Come, sit with me," Lady Greengrass turned around and led the way, not giving Pansy much of a choice but to follow and take a seat. "Honeyed water?"
"Thank you," Pansy accepted the offer, relaxing in her chair and crossing her legs. "It's a lovely day today, isn't it?"
"Certainly," Lady Greengrass poured Pansy a cold glass.
"Where's Daphne, my Lady? I'm sure she'd enjoy this sun," Pansy said casually, meeting Lady Greengrass' gaze. "Is she still upset?" I'll go check up on her before I leave, maybe hearing about Blaise will bring her back a little-…
"No, she is no longer feeling troubled, I believe," Lady Greengrass spoke from behind her glass, her dark, blue eyes seemed to contain some hidden meaning behind them.
"She… isn't?" Pansy blinked, a bit shocked. "But when I last saw her, she was…" she trailed off. Don't be rude, Pans. "Forgive me, Lady Greengrass-"
"There is nothing to forgive, my dear," Lady Greengrass said pleasantly. "She has mentioned some of what she said to you, to all of you, and for that, I will apologize on her behalf."
"Oh, well, it's nothing, honestly," Pansy admitted, she couldn't bring herself to hold a grudge against Daphne. One of us was going to explode sooner or later, I'm just sorry I didn't realize sooner that she was feeling so pressured and overwhelmed. "We understand, and we just want her to get better. Is she in her room?"
"No, she is at St. Mungo's, visiting Tracey," Lady Greengrass replied, freezing Pansy in her spot. Trace… So, Daphne's still going there? Why…?
"That's… nice to hear," Pansy wasn't sure how she really felt, so she quietly took a long sip from her glass.
Lady Greengrass' smile grew a bit, however, despite the unspoken tension, much to Pansy's confusion.
"There has been a change in Tracey's condition, Pansy," Lady Greengrass said, further jarring Pansy. What…? When?! "The Healers are keeping it quiet, on account of the Daily Prophet, but I can safely inform you that they are hopeful."
"Hopeful for what…?" Pansy managed, her throat dry once again.
"They are hopeful that she will wake up soon," Lady Greengrass' smile only continued to grow, the relief in her voice was unmistakable. "Circe help me, but it's as though an evil cloud has finally dissipated! I cannot bring myself to stop smiling!" This isn't some foul joke…?
Pansy shot out of her seat, unable to process what she needed to do next. Blaise, first! Then, we both go see Tracey! Oh, Gods! OH, GODS! Tracey's going to wake up!
"I-I-I… I need to go right now, sorry," Pansy moved back and forth in her spot, before her legs suddenly moved in the right direction. "I'll come back later, my Lady-!"
"Pansy, wait!" Lady Greengrass called, stopping her. Wait?! I can't! "There is still the matter of my letter." Right…
Pansy tensed, making sure to fix her features before she turned to face Lady Greengrass. "My Lady, I must respectfully decline your offer, even as compassionate and generous as it is."
"I see…" Lady Greengrass looked slightly taken aback. "Forgive me, Pansy, I did not mean to overstep-"
"And you haven't!" Pansy quickly assured her, not realizing that she was smiling from ear-to-ear. "You've just given me the most wonderful news! I'm grateful that you chose to reach out to me, I truly am! It's just that…" she paused. "It's just that I don't want a new parent… Or, any parent, for that matter. I want to be my own person, and that is my final decision."
Whatever was going through Lady Greengrass' mind, Pansy could not tell, as the older witch simply continued to study Pansy in silence. She doesn't look cross, nor offended. That's a good sign, at least… When I tell Daphne about this, her head will explode.
"You can still be your own person, Pansy, even as my Ward," Lady Greengrass tried.
"Would your Lord Husband allow me to dress however I please within his domain?" Pansy asked in response, and Lady Greengrass' lips twitched upwards.
"No, he would not," she confessed. "And neither would I." Then, there's your answer. I don't need anyone telling me what to do. "Very well, I understand that you wish to exercise your newfound independence, and I will respect your decision. However, my offer will continue to stand, if you do change your mind one day."
"Thank you, Lady Greengrass," Pansy bowed her head. "For your offer, and for respecting my decision." It's more than they ever did, so thank you.
Pansy then turned to leave, only to stop herself once again. Actually, now that I'm already here… She spun on her heel, putting on her best smile for Lady Greengrass.
"Have you forgotten something, my dear?" Lady Greengrass asked.
"My Lady, I hear that you're a part of Ron's up-and-coming alliance," Pansy started, and something flashed behind Lady Greengrass' eyes. "An integral part, as a matter of fact."
"I play my role, same as everyone else," Lady Greengrass chuckled, her voice had always been sweet to Pansy's ears. "But yes, Pansy, I take part in all meetings, and Ron occasionally listens to what I have to say." I bet he's listening less and less, like he's doing with us.
"I will not waste your time, then, my Lady," Pansy smiled back. "I wish to join, but I don't want Ron to be the one to invite me. The rest will expect him to, given my new status as Lady Parkinson, but I would much rather join on my own terms."
Lady Greengrass' smile became fonder at hearing that, making Pansy's cheeks flush. Well? Did she catch my meaning?
"You wish for me to invite you, personally," Lady Greengrass had indeed caught on. "I have yet to invite anyone to join our ranks, and doing so with you would most certainly set you apart." It'll help give me a fair footing. I don't anyone saying that I got in simply because of Ron. "Very well, I will send you a letter before our next meeting, listing a place and time."
"Thank you, Lady Greengrass," Pansy bowed her head once again, unable to help her mile-long smile. "And forgive my rush, but I need to go-"
"I understand," Lady Greengrass said. "Go on, I will join you at St. Mungo's shortly. Astoria has dance lessons today, it's the only class I can get her to take seriously." Lessons? On the first day of the Break? Not having parents really is the way to go, isn't it?
"Goodbye, my Lady, and thank you… Thank you for everything!" Tracey, I can't wait to hug you to death! I can't wait!
Blaise Zabini's POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (Upper Diagon Alley – Afternoon)
Blaise stared at the sign, reading it over and over again as his stomach grumbled for a meal. Just go to Pansy's manor, Blaise… What are you doing here…?
He stood at the entrance of Martin's Fine Works, staring at the sponsorship sign sitting next to the door. Sponsored by the Greengrass and Bulstrode Families. Pansy told me herself that her parents sponsor this jeweller as well, but I suppose Egbert Parkinson's name isn't worth shit anymore.
Steeling his resolve, mostly as not to add to Pansy's problems, Blaise pushed himself into the shop. He had come here often, sometimes at his mother's heel, but generally to indulge himself. The Fates must be laughing at me right now. I just hope Martin accepts his old craft, and pays me enough to eat and find shelter for two weeks.
"Master Zabini!" Martin greeted from behind the counter, smiling shyly from behind his shaggy hair. The nervous jeweller, that's what mother and her friends called him. Mother found him 'cute'… Ugh…
Shaking his head clear, Blaise silently pulled his trunk along as he approached the counter, coming to a stop and reaching into his pockets. "Hello, Martin. How are you?" My Signet Ring should be enough, I'm not a Zabini anymore… I won't need it. I'll take stock of the rest when I find a place to sleep. I'm exhausted… and hungry…
"Master Zabini?" Martin waved in his face, bringing some life back to Blaise's empty eyes. "Sir, you are terribly pale… Are you um… unwell?" I'm nothing, mate… Nothing…
"I'm fine…" Blaise heard himself say. "I'm not here to buy this time, Martin… Do you accept…?" he trailed off, feeling pummelled by shame. "Here… How much would this be worth… to you…?"
Blaise placed his ring on the countertop, staring blankly at the socketed emerald with a golden 'Z' engraved into it. Everything she stands for in one piece of finery… Gold, gems, and her own Name. It was never a ring; it was always a leash.
"You wish to sell this to me?" Martin squeaked, recognizing the commission. "Mistre-… Lady Zabini, she had it made for you, specifically." Ha… Mistress? I fucked up already… "Sir, I cannot accept this… It is too fine a piece." He'll tell her what I'm up to, won't he?
Blaise drew in a sharp breath, remembering his mother's advice. Use your brain and not your fists, and you'll live. Okay… If I stun him, I could end up in a lot of trouble, or worse, lose my right to practise Magic altogether. Plus, I don't know anything about Memory Charms, so he'll still alert her eventually. I should just leave, pawn off the ring to someone in those camps. It'll fetch me a pittance, but that's still better than nothing.
He placed the ring back into his pocket, turning around and heading straight for the door. I'm so fucking stupid. Of course, she's fucked him too. She bought this ring with her body, just like everything else. I'm just so fucking stupid-…
"Master Zabini, wait!" Martin called out, jarring Blaise into stopping. "Sorry… Didn't mean to yell, but um… Please, come back for a moment…"
Blaise turned back around, slowly returning to the counter with a wary expression. "You'll take it?"
"I…" Martin's eyes darted towards the trunk, and then to Blaise's baggy eyes. "… Yes… I can always reuse the gem, and fashion something new with the band." Martin then reached under his counter, pulling out a sizable bag that clanked loudly when he placed it on the table. "A hundred Galleons." A hundred?! That's too much… The emerald isn't even that big, and the platinum band can't be worth all that either.
"That's too much, isn't it?" Blaise foolishly pointed out, his better judgement weakened by hunger and lack of sleep.
"I made it this morning… A gentleman bought his lover a ruby neck-… I digress, please hand over the ring," Martin finished quickly.
Blaise did as he was told, and as Martin swiftly hid the ring under the counter, Blaise snatched up the satisfyingly weighty pouch. I'll keep it in my trunk, not on my person. In a hurry, Blaise kneeled down and opened his trunk, his fine clothes still neatly packed away. He tossed the pouch inside, his mouth watering at the prospect of finally eating a hot meal. I need a few coins for that, actually.
Once he had five Galleons in his pocket, Blaise rose back up with his trunk in tow. Martin was just staring at him, a sorry look on his face. "What…?" Why are you staring?
"Nothing, Sir," Martin shook his head, his hair waving about. "It's just… I know what that's like…" That?
Blaise followed the young man's gaze to his trunk, realizing what he meant. Oh…
"… Thank you, Martin…" Blaise didn't know what else to say, but Martin was quick to save him, raising his hands.
"No need to thank me, honestly, Sir… Just don't stay near the camps, there are thieves everywhere, I hear," Martin spoke so fast that Blaise barely kept up. "Go to Tom at The Leaky Cauldron, he's a nice man… And he never judges, especially lately. He'll give you a room and watch out for you, he does that for all his customers." Tom the Bartender, everyone knows of him at Hogwarts. Okay, this is a good plan.
"Thank you," Blaise repeated, bowing his head a bit. "And I'm sorry for causing you trouble…"
Martin said nothing, simply giving Blaise another sorry smile and a parting nod. Don't waste time, just go get some food. Something heavy, to help you sleep. Once he was out of the store, Blaise began rushing towards The Leaky Cauldron. Just being within the Upper District was driving him mad, as his mother was a generous patron of the many high-end shops found here. This part of my life… It's over… And I need to focus on moving on, and I need to focus on looking out for myself.
Finally reaching Diagon Alley safely, however, did little to change how nervous he was feeling, as coming across a wave of beggars and broken families was equally as daunting. He didn't want to be robbed of his recently-acquired second chance, nor did he want to face those who he might end up joining on the side of the curb soon enough. Gods… I'm going to cry… My life is over!
His eyes stinging out of sheer fear, Blaise rushed past the blurry crowds. He pushed aside anyone who approached him for spare Knuts, his fine clothes were attracting the attention of anyone with an empty stomach; he couldn't afford to be charitable anymore. However, as he neared his destination, a strange sight fixed him into place. By the entrance of The Pond, his favourite restaurant, sat a mother and son, huddled together under a thin blanket. How do people end up like that…? Did she run away from home too?
The boy was small enough to be mistaken for an Elf, whereas the mother, though weak, still had enough strength to keep the young boy secure by her side, the mistrust with which she glared at passing strangers was honestly terrifying. Why did I stop, though? It's just another pair of poor sods dying out here. Not my problem… So, why am I staring at them? Blaise's eyes travelled to the weak boy, he was definitely burdening his mother with his existence, just as Blaise burdened his own. And yet, his mother is holding him like he's her entire world, whereas mine… Fuck… I meant nothing to mine.
Wiping his eyes clear, Blaise inhaled sharply. This must be what real love looks like, I can see it, now. My mother would've drowned me in the fucking gutter if we were in their shoes. This is just… wrong… My murderous mother should be the one on the street, not this woman and her child…
Before he could change his mind, Blaise approached the pair, slowing considerably when her sharp gaze fell on him. "Hello."
"What do you want?" she all but hissed, her lips twisting into a frown as she studied his clothes.
"To give you this, for him," Blaise pulled out the five Galleons from his pocket, offering them to her. "It's not much, I know, but it's all I can give."
She stared at his closed fist for several moments, blinking repeatedly. And then, she slowly raised her palm, her mask of motherly ferocity cracking in the process of accepting his charity.
"… Thank you…" her voice came out as a mere whimper this time, pulling her son closer to herself as she began whispering to the sleeping boy. "Lorian, wake up, love. Are you hungry?" I should go…
Feeling strangely… warm… at having done the right thing for the first time in his life, Blaise began to depart, but his passing eyes found the boy's grey ones, and the sheer hatred with which the boy was staring at him froze Blaise in place. Merlin… What's he doing? Why's he glaring murder at me?
"Lorian?" his mother continued to whisper, and the boy eventually looked away from Blaise, sending a shiver up the older boy's spine. "Do you want pies?"
"…Will you eat too, today…? I don't want any if you won't, mummy…" the boy replied, bitterness dripping from each syllable.
"Don't be angry, Lorian, please? For mum? We'll both eat, okay?" she whispered and kissed his head, already forgetting that Blaise was there. "Come, come… We'll buy you proper shoes too, just like the ones we lost in the fire. How's that sound?"
Blaise said nothing, watching them depart, and swallowing thickly when the young boy suddenly shot a murderous glare back in his direction, his burning gaze scorching Blaise's soul one last time before both mother and son vanished into the crowd. Gods… What a strange child… He's going to grow up and become a problem for someone, I can feel it in my gut…
Deciding to be on his way, Blaise made his way into The Leaky Cauldron, frowning slightly at how packed it was. I should've brought a hood, but it's too late to turn back now. Shrinking without realizing, Blaise made his way past the drunken patrons and the silent Ministry Officials enjoying their lunchbreaks. More than a few eyes darted in his direction, but none lingered for too long. I really hope this Tom bloke is as good as Martin said.
Just as he stopped at the bar, a strong hand fell on his shoulder, rooting him in place. "Found you, my sneaky little Lordling." NO!
Blaise turned around viciously, shoving the man as hard as he could, but much to Blaise's horror, his hands sunk deep into the man's chest, his face simultaneously being splashed with cold water. What…? It's… water… My hands are submerged in water?! His chest is made of water?!
"Caught you too, now," the man laughed, his needle-sharp teeth made Blaise feel faint. It's a Water Devil, they really exist… And one's going to eat me…
"OI!" Tom barked across the bar. "Let go of the boy, damn you!"
Still scared out of his mind, Blaise made weak attempts to pull his hands out of the man's chest, tugging him back and forth as he kept laughing like some deranged lunatic. More voices of outrage joined Tom's, with one witch threatening to castrate the stranger if he didn't 'stop ruining the mood, at once'.
"Let Master Zabini go, Hydromancer," came a familiar voice, harsh and to the point, and all too Elflike to mistake. Carbey?! Hydromancer?!
Blaise pulled back again, only this time his hands came free, sending him tumbling back. The stranger grabbed Blaise by the shoulder again, steadying him. "Easy, you look like Death just squeezed you out five minutes ago."
"Return to drinking, peasants," Carbey ordered the tavern, his cold gaze travelling the room.
"What do you want with him?" some man asked. "Kid, you know these two?"
"Say something before I have to kill everyone," the man leaned in and whispered, making Blaise tremble. "I'll fucking do it, you little-"
"I know the Elf…" Blaise managed, looking to Carbey for help. "Carbey, who is this?"
"Carbey will not ask again, Hydromancer," Carbey looked to the stranger's back, his fingers ready to snap. "Step away from Master Zabini." It's just Blaise, now…
The stranger let him go, and Blaise quickly moved to Carbey's side. The rest of the tavern slowly returned to their business as Carbey shielded Blaise with his tiny body, though many were now watching the three of them from the corners of their eyes. Did Pansy send some lunatic to hunt me down? What's the matter with her?!
"Easy, Elf," the Hydromancer raised his hands in surrender. "It was my idea to keep an eye in here, don't forget that. You wanted to go looking for him out on the streets, like some fool."
"Carbey will honour the bet, but do not push Carbey," the Elf snarled. Merlin, I've never liked him… Only ever saw him as a boy, and he was always threatening his staff. Pansy mentioned that he's her Guardian, now. In a manner of speaking.
"Keep the bottle, we'll share it sometime," the stranger smirked, revealing his grotesque teeth once again. I want to leave… Why can't anything go right for me?!
He wanted to start throwing a tantrum, to dash his own head against the counter until he woke up from this nightmare. I could always just give up… Roll over and die-…
"Master Zabini, come with Carbey," Pansy's Elf offered his arm to Blaise, and he already had Blaise's trunk in hand.
"Bye bye, Carbey," the stranger laughed, waving at a frowning Tom. "Oh, come on… Money is money, isn't it?"
"Nuisance," Carbey grumbled, and then he looked to Blaise. "Arm, now."
"…Right…"
One Hour Later
Blaise wiped his eyes with his napkin first, before moving onto his mouth. He had somehow managed to sob his way through the longest meal of his life, pouring his wounded heart out to Pansy in the process. She had listened with a sorry look, encouraging him to keep eating whenever he dropped his golden utensils to hide his face in shame.
Blaise had told her everything… From how his mother had tormented him under the threat of a potential poisoning, to every single, soul-crushing word that had spilled out of her mouth, and finally about how he was now an orphan, but unlike her; he only had ninety-five Galleons, his wand, and a handful of trinkets worth selling. I'm so tired… I want to sleep through this Break, and then return to Hogwarts. I want to be near the Professors… I don't know why, but I just do…
"Blaise, I'm so sorry that you went through this…" Pansy croaked, wiping at her eyes with her leather sleeve. "Oh, Gods… I'm going to cry…"
"Please, don't…" Blaise croaked back, sniffling. "I don't know what to do, Pansy… I'm so fucked…"
"No, stay here!" Pansy shifted her seat towards him, scraping the floor. "Blaise, just rent from me, you're being too proud! For Merlin's sake, I'm hiring security! I want men like that Jürgen fellow around! Clementine Zabini… What a rotten bitch!" She's becoming hysterical.
"Pansy, stop, I'm not putting you in danger-"
"I joined Ron's alliance!" she reached forward and took his hand, nearly crushing it. GODS! Why?! "Don't you see?! I can protect us even better, now! Look at me!" She scooted closer, eyes blood-shot and her grip becoming tighter. "Blaise… Don't be stupid, please. It could get you killed. You can give me, let's say… two Galleons! Two Galleons, and you can stay with me-!"
"Stop!" Blaise pulled his hand away from her, cringing as soon as her knuckles slammed against the table.
The sound she made was even worse, her affronted hand darting into the safety of her stomach, making Blaise jump a bit. "My hand! Blaise!"
"Pansy, I'm so sorry!" Blaise reached for her hand, only to get smacked by the other.
"You spastic prat!" Pansy bit out, much to his shock. Um… Pans…? "I mean, sorry, but ow! Blaise, you hit me!"
"No, no! I didn't-!"
"It really hurts!" she whined, bending over as her pain overtook anger.
Stumbling over himself, with guilt and a strange new sense of self-loathing, Blaise pulled out his wand. "Give me your hand, I can heal it."
Still whining, she did as she was told, wincing as he cast 'Episkey' on her reddening knuckles. "Why did you do that…?"
"You were hurting my hand…" Blaise sniffled, feeling even worse somehow. "I'm sorry, though, that's no excuse… Is that better? Should I call Car-?"
"Don't finish that sentence, he'll murder you," Pansy finished with a hiccup, wiping at her eyes again. "I just want to help, but you… Why do you look down at me…?" What?!
"Pansy, I don't-"
"You'd trust Daphne, or, Ron, or, even Theo!" Pansy accused, letting out one of her signature screeches, before piping down again. My ears… "… Fine… Go to one of them, but please, don't go back to some tavern… Where she can find you without any trouble." Okay, I can start, now.
"Pansy, I don't look down at you," Blaise repeated, squeezing her hand. "I just don't want her to hurt you, she threatened all of my friends… I'm a burden-"
"I don't think that!" Pansy's pitch went up again. "Doesn't my opinion count in this?! I'm just supposed to let you leave?! After everything you've just told me?!"
"Please, don't yell at me…" Blaise felt his forehead throb, and his lips quiver. "I don't look down at you, but you're making it sound like I do…"
"You're asking me to standby while you kill yourself," Pansy countered, wiping at her eyes harshly. "You're the unfair one here, not me!" How mature… "You're not the first Pureblood teenager to run away from home, Blaise, the only difference is that you still have people to turn to. If you can't see that… then she really has gotten to you… She's isolated you, and now, she can have some thug murder you in the streets, and it'll be your own damn fault." Oh… Oh, Gods! She… She played me? This whole time? And Martin… He's risked his neck for nothing…
"Pansy, I… didn't think of that…" Blaise moved away from her, letting go of her hand and feeling a cold shiver run up his spine. What if I'd died today…?
"You're not thinking straight," Pansy stressed, trying to catch his eyes. "Please, just look at me, okay?" Reluctantly, he did so. "Stay here, with me. My Elves and I will be in the same wing as you, we can be neighbours, even. You'll be safe."
"What will people say…?" Blaise rasped. "I'll just add to your problems by being here."
"I don't care about what people say, I care about you," Pansy reached forward and retook his hand. "You're my friend… What will I say to myself if I let you do this? Please, don't leave when we're so close…" she trailed off. So close? Close to what?
"What? Pans?" Blaise asked tiredly. "Go on…"
"Okay… I'm going to tell you something, and it's going to change your mind… It has to," Pansy shifted in her seat, drawing in a deep breath. "It's Tracey, Blaise… Lady Greengrass told me that she's beginning to recover, and that the Healers are feeling hopeful. That's the word she used. Hopeful!"
The words had blown past Blaise, and only after a few silent moments did he truly comprehend them. Tracey's… going to wake up?
"She's coming back…?" Blaise muttered, his throat closing up again.
Pansy nodded fervently, her eyes welling up, but this time, from tears of joy. She's coming back! It can't be! How?!
"You have to stay, now, okay?" she squeezed his hand, and he nodded dumbly, too lost in his thoughts of reuniting with Tracey. We're going to be together, again… All seven of us… "Come on, let's go wash up. I've waited long enough, we both have! I want to be there when she wakes up!" Me too. Merlin, I've never wanted anything more!
Draco Malfoy's POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (Twelve Grimmauld Place – Late Afternoon)
Entering Sirius Black's Ancestral House after Tonks, Draco came to a quick halt when he found said Lord feasting with his friends within the living room. On the modern coffee table was a large, silver platter, hosting the stripped carcass of a small pig.
Draco's stomach twisted into a painful knot of jealousy the he saw Potter laughing with some rosy cheeked witch, a juicy rib in his greedy, little fist. Living like a king, eh, Potter? Why am I not surprised?
"Tonks!" Black shot out of his chair, arms extended to the side, a rib in each hand. "Cousin, come join us! Kurt, offer her a plate, mate!"
"Afternoon, Auror Tonks," the weedy wizard named Kurt greeted bashfully, but didn't do as he was told.
"Wotcher, Kurt!" Tonks grinned, shooting the overly excited Potter a wink right after. "Harry! Come here!"
Draco nearly gagged as Potter awkwardly made his way over, only to stop when he laid eyes on the platinum blonde wizard behind Tonks. "Malfoy?! What are you doing here?!" Watching you enjoy the easy road, as always… Fucking bastard…
Draco kept his mouth shut and his eyes down, offending the Boy-Who-Lived would be a one-way ticket back to his tolerable prison cell, and Draco only wanted one thing from this entire damn Break, anyway… He wanted to see if his mother was being looked after properly, and once that was done, he'd gladly go back to hiding from the world in his books. I'm utterly powerless, and even more pathetic…
"Well, the more the merrier!" Black announced after an awkward silence. "Draco, why don't you come sit with me, and try some of this pig-!"
"Sorry, Sirius, but I'm here to take Draco up," Tonks cut in, much to Draco's relief.
"Up?" the raven-haired witch blinked, and then, her eyes widened. "No, Tonks! That's not allowed!" I knew it, I fucking knew it-!
"It's just five minutes, and I'll be in the room," Tonks was quick to explain. "Five minutes, I'll keep track-!"
"Sorry, Tonks…" Black sighed out, dropping back down onto the sofa. "Dumbledore's orders and all…" Damn that old tyrant! "Draco is not allowed near her-"
"She's my mother! Please, just five minutes!" Draco had had enough, and unable to control himself, despite being in Potter's presence; he stooped to the only bargaining chip he had left; begging. Not even five minutes… And I'm supposed to believe that they care? Fucking monsters… "All I want is five minutes, just to hug her once… Please! Why are you being so-?"
"I'm sorry, Draco, but you can't," Black tried, having lost all steam. "It's not that we don't trust you, it's her that we need to watch out for." What…? What even gives you the right?! You're not Aurors!
"… What could she possibly say to me in five minutes…?" Draco muttered, he could only stare on as Sirius fucking Black, a damn ex-convict, decided what Draco could, or, couldn't do. "… You have no right…"
"Sirius," Tonks tried, a look of disbelief on her face. "You have to be joking…"
"What?!" Black suddenly snapped, making everyone but Tonks jump. "You think I want to say no to him?! I don't! But it's not you who has to answer to Moody and Dumbledore, I do! Because it's my house!" Black then threw the meaty ribs in his hands to the table, not caring that one went flying past its intended mark. "Don't give me that look, Tonks… This isn't coming from me-"
"You're the one who's yelling at me, not Moody," Tonks sighed out, seemingly prepared for Black's temper. "Sirius, I'm not blaming you for Draco's situation, but I am asking you to let him have five bloody minutes with his mother… It's not an impossible ask, it really isn't."
Draco remained silent, but his loyalty to Tonks was steadily growing, as she was showing him just how loyal to her word she was. She and Black continued their back and forth, with Black becoming loud once again, while Draco just stood in silence and stared at his feet, knowing full well that Potter was staring at him. Judging me, no doubt.
It was humiliating, to be put on display in front of his once-rival, but Draco just didn't care anymore. What am I supposed to do, exactly? I have to see mother, and Potter lives here… And it's not like I have a reputation to lose, or, friends who'll be embarrassed by me. I lose nothing this way, and I may get to see-…
"Come, Draco, we're leaving," Tonks huffed, breaking him out of his thoughts. "We're going to the Headmaster himself!" We are?!
"Tonks, for Merlin's sake!" Black complained. "What's gotten into you lately?!"
"It's just five minutes, Sirius," Potter spoke up, his voice bringing silence to the room. What…?
"Not you too, Harry…" Black groaned, while Draco shot Potter a subtle glance.
The bespectacled Chosen One had a stern look on his face, his startlingly green eyes fixed on his Godfather. It took only a moment for Draco to realize what was going on… St. Potter was taking pity on him as well, now. This definitely made him feel the sting of humiliation, unlike before. If they let me see her because of him… Then I'll just-…
"See? Harry's with me on this," Tonks said challengingly.
"Harry, you don't really get what's going on here-" Black started.
"Tonks said she'd be in the room, and if it's just five minutes, then what's the harm?" Potter questioned. "You can be in the room too, if she's really as bad as you say." They make her sound as sinful as the devil himself… While they take matters into their own hands and are all but keeping us hostage…
"If it's just for five minutes…" the raven-haired witch looked convinced, giving Potter a nod. No… No way…
"You really ought to listen to Harry," Tonks repeated, giving Black a meaningful look. Why? What's Potter done that he needs to be listened to? He's a below average wizard at best, my grades overshadow his without effort!
Keeping his bitterness within himself, letting it poison him instead it poisoning his chances of seeing his mother. Getting her away from the Order should be my only focus. I don't care what happens after, I just don't want these bastards to have complete power over our lives! We're still Malfoys!
"… Fine… But I need to go to Dumbledore, first…" Black sighed out, giving Potter a resigned look. So, it's really Potter who decides if I can see my mother? What a joke… What a horrible fucking joke…
Thirty Minutes Later
"You should try some, it's really quite good," Tonks offered him some meat and vegetables, but Draco didn't even look in the plate's direction.
No, his thoughts were still burning with hatred for the Order and the Death-Eaters alike; the two warring factions responsible for his torn and lonely life. And all because father wanted to be the second-best… If I survive this damn war, I'm going to take mother and run away from this godsforsaken country. If father wants to join us, he may, but he won't be bringing the Dark Lord with him… Nothing could've been worth what's happened to our Family, not even our own beliefs…
"What's taking them so long?" Draco whispered to his feet.
"The Headmaster can be a hard man to pin down, sometimes," Tonks chuckled nervously. He's at Hogwarts, stop lying. "I'm sure Sirius is already on his way back-"
"They're going to say no, aren't they?" Draco finally looked up, hollow eyes staring into her dark, twinkling ones. "They want me to lose interest in seeing her by wasting my time…" It's not going to work, though. That's my mother, and if they can't understand that, then Dumbledore is as deranged as the Dark Lord himself.
Draco already knew that his mother was going to take issue with his new outlook on life, she was just as faithful as her husband when it came to their shared beliefs, but Draco couldn't bring himself to worry about being rejected just yet. He had no intention of throwing his opinions in her face, of course; she was his mother and he would not disrespect her, but he was not going to buy whatever lie she told him either. The fact is that she still betrayed Godfather, one of her own, in order to save her own skin. I may despise the Order, but at least I know they wouldn't betray their own-
"I'm back…" came Black's tired voice, and Draco looked to see the man stumble into the kitchen. "Sorry, kid, I tried for nearly half-an-hour, but the old man-"
"He said no?" Tonks looked shocked, whereas Draco couldn't help the cold laugh that escaped his throat. "Draco?"
"I knew it… Not even a five-minute visit is allowed, and yet, I'm supposed to believe that I'm not your prisoner-" Draco started, but Sirius raised his hand, stopping him.
"Your resentful Godfather is the reason why Dumbledore won't change his mind, so go talk to him before you blame this on me as well," Black's tone was a lot harsher he had intended, judging by how annoyed he looked with himself right after. "I was having a good day with my… You fucking pricks, you couldn't wait one fucking day? The Break just started!" Black then rubbed his forehead, shooting Tonks a rather dark frown. "And why the hell are you making promises before speaking with the other Order members, huh? Did I fall into a coma and wake up in a future where you, the recruit, runs things around here?"
"I… I just thought that five minutes would be…" Tonks trailed off, frowning a bit in return. "Sirius, what are we doing here?! I didn't join the Order so I could separate children from their parents-!"
"Just be grateful that she's still alive, because if it were up to me, she wouldn't be… Grow up a little, Tonks, you're an Auror, aren't you?" Black turned to leave, while Draco's heart clenched out of equal pain and anger. "And kid, if you really want to see her, go talk to Snape… I just got called all manner of shite from that fucking snak-… No, no, I'm above this, now…"
"Godfather convinced Dumbledore not to let me see her?" Draco felt betrayed. "Why?!"
"Because she fucking betrayed him, and then she left him to die in her dungeons," Black turned back around, looking deep into Draco's widening eyes. "You love your mother, but that's not our problem, all right? She has spent the better part of her life degrading others and putting them down to prop herself up… Your Godfather was just her latest victim, understand? He was never her friend, a fact that he's not going to forget or forgive any time soon, and I don't bloody blame him! It's so hard to forgive those who turn their backs…" he trailed off, shaking his head while Tonks shifted about uncomfortably. "People like your parents, Draco, they don't have friends, only bodies they can use until there's nothing left to exploit. We're not keeping you from her because we have something against you, we're doing it because she's our prisoner… All right, she is a fucking prisoner, there I admitted it to you. Now, what? It won't change the fact that she's living like a damn queen, eating Kreacher's fine meals and wearing soft clothes out of my fucking pocket-"
"Sirius, stop-" Tonks realized that Draco had tears welling up in his eyes the more he listened.
"Don't tell me to stop," Black threatened, making Tonks swallow thickly. "Not in my own bloody house… Just take him and go, and don't go around making promises you can't keep. I took the blame this time, told them it was my stupid idea… But next time, I'll let Snape have at you both."
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (St. Mungo's – Late Afternoon)
"Blaise, I don't know what to say…" Daphne muttered, feeling utterly helpless. "Your mother… I'm sorry, no one deserves to be spoken to like that. I hope she'll realize what's she lost one day, and that it burns her heart out."
"She doesn't care about me, so I doubt that'll happen," Blaise muttered, it was awfully sweet that he was holding Tracey's hand. "I just hope she doesn't come after me, or, any of you… Sorry about that, in advance…"
"She can try," Pansy said sharply. "I'll stick Carbey onto her, then we'll see if she's so dangerous." Carbey? Her Head Elf? What's he going to do?
"We should stay clear of her, especially you," Daphne advised, looking at Blaise. "I'm going to tell my father about this-"
"No, you can't," Blaise's eyes came to life with fear, jarring Daphne. "Don't do that, Daphne!"
"Blaise… I have to, for myself and my Family," Daphne said slowly. "And he can protect you as well, our manor is now a fortress-"
"I've already set Carbey to task, we'll have twice your men by the end of tomorrow," Pansy suddenly cut in, her tone rather confrontational. Um… Okay… "Blaise is staying with me, he's already decided."
Daphne cocked an eyebrow at that, studying her friend in excessive leather. Don't you have a boyfriend? How's Longbottom going to feel about this?
"Your boyfriend might not like that very much, Pans," Daphne said calmly, ignoring how Pansy was looking at her.
"Neville will understand, I'll tell him-"
"Why are you both sharing my problems with strangers?" Blaise asked, dropping Tracey's limp hand. "This is exactly why I don't tell you anything in the first place, at least Ron respects a man's privacy. Actually, I'm going to him-"
"No," Daphne shut that idea down, cold as ice. "You're not putting your problems on his shoulders, Blaise. I'm sorry, but Ron's off-limits."
"You don't own him, and you don't order me around," Blaise told her plainly, his guard was back up, and wouldn't go down any time soon.
"I'm with Daphne on this, he just ran away from Hogwarts, Blaise," Pansy frowned at him. "I won't tell Neville, fine, but don't make Ron's life harder. That's not fair, especially not when you consider what he's already been through…" Thank you. Some sense is still in there, I see. "I don't want Clementine Zabini to target him, like my mother did…"
Blaise's features softened a bit at hearing that, surprising Daphne further. He's definitely not feeling himself. He even gave me a hug once they got past the Auror Minister Bones sent over. If it really bothers him so much, then perhaps I shouldn't inform my father, after all? I'll need to think about this. The only thing I know for certain is that Ron wants a break from his pain, and I'm going to make sure that he gets to have it. And if he ever needs my help, then I'll do my best to keep up with him-…
"Daphne, are you there?" Pansy called, bringing her back.
"Sorry, I was… lost in thought," Daphne shook her head clear, she had to get Ron's grinning face out of her head. He's been in there all day! But whenever I look at Trace, I can't help it… He brought her back! And he did it when no one else could! He stuck by his promise to always look out for us, and I'll never forget that! Not ever!
Daphne smiled at Tracey's gaunt face, the comatose witch was no longer deathly pale, but rather, her cheeks were flushed. Occasionally, one of her limbs would even twitch, and every single time, a nurse would burst in, record the twitch, and then leave with a defeated look.
"She's still lost," Blaise said, and Daphne turned her smile in his direction. This could be a second chance for us, so I can't let us keep fighting each other. "What? Why are you smiling at me…?"
"I won't tell my father, but if I ever feel that me and my own are in danger, I'll have no choice," Daphne promised. "Is that fair? I'm sorry, Blaise, but the thought of her hurting Astoria…" she trailed off. I'd kill myself right after, I really would…
"Right, that's fair, I don't want that either," Blaise sighed out, rubbing his forehead.
Daphne gave him a grateful nod, looking back to Tracey. How long, now? I'm not going to sleep tonight, even if I promised Mrs. Davis I would. I'll just take watch with her, and I'll keep drinking coffee.
"I still don't get it…" Pansy said, studying Tracey with a hopeful glint in her eye. "This seems so… random…" It's not, she just has a really loyal friend, same as you and me. "What exactly changed? Last I heard, she was…" Pansy trailed off. I can't tell them of what Ron did, the truth could get everyone involved into a lot of trouble, but I'll make sure that Tracey knows, at least. They both saved each other, and that's so beautiful!
Daphne's smile only grew, was she feeling smitten with Ron, again? I need to get a hold on myself, complicating his life with my feelings would go against helping him-…
"Daphne, are you there? Merlin!" Pansy was shocked beyond words. "Blaise, can you call a Healer-?"
"I'm fine," Daphne promised, actually laughing for no reason in a long time. "I swear, Pans, I… I'm just very excited about Tracey, that's all. I can't stop smiling, even!"
Blaise gave a tired smile at that, while Pansy beamed, both of them swept up by her glowing aura.
"I definitely prefer it when you smile," the raven-haired witch winked, and Daphne giggled. "I've missed that too-"
"What the fuck is that?" came Blaise's startled voice, surprising the girls.
"Blaise?" they both looked to him, but he was staring intensely at crook of Tracey's neck.
Daphne and Pansy quickly moved over to his side, following his gaze. "Do you see it as well?! It's there!"
Daphne and Pansy just stared wide-eyed, one of the larger veins in Tracey's neck was pulsating beneath the skin, but that wasn't even the strange part… No, it looked as though the blood within that particular vein was pitch-black, entirely unnatural. Is that from the leaf?! What is that?!
The black sludge suddenly shot upwards, getting stuck again near the lower, left half of her jaw, before once again shooting upwards, vanishing entirely up past her ear. GODS! What was that?!
"I'm calling for help-" Pansy began to bolt, frantic already, but stopped as soon as Tracey began to shake, as if having a seizure.
"Tracey-!" Daphne started to scream, but much to her shock, her best friend's eyes shot open at the sound of her name, and instead, it was Tracey who began screaming.
Her voice was torn, as if a cat was being skinned alive, and she clutched rabidly at her throat as she thrashed about. The horrifying sight froze Daphne and Pansy, Tracey looked more like a dying animal than the laughing witch they lived with.
"Help!" Blaise yelled, already running for a Healer. "Help us! She's awake, but something's wrong-!"
The thick-bearded Auror, Tiberius McLaggen, came bursting into the room, followed quickly by a Medi-Witch and her nurses. "Move the children aside!"
Daphne, scared out of her mind, ran to a nearby corner, as to not be dragged away. Tracey! What's wrong?! Her best friend was still screaming, or, at least, trying her hardest to, and it took four nurses to hold her down before the Auror ensnared her in pink, fuzzy binds. What the fuck?!
"Auror McLaggen, for the love of Merlin, I know that Charm!" the Medi-witch all but barked, rushing over to Tracey's side and aiming her wand at the brunette's steadied head. "Shame on you!"
"Rope burns are a real issue with the thrashers, I was just-! Oh, bollocks! My sincerest apologies!" McLaggen quickly turned on his heel, before hurrying out of the room.
"Come with me, we need space," one of the nurses came for Daphne, but with her slightly faster reflexes, she was able to skirt around the nurse without being touched.
"Tracey, you're back! You're finally back!" Daphne sobbed and laughed all at once, stopping by Tracey's bedside. "It's me! Daphne! You're back! I love you so-!"
The nurse managed to grab her around the waist this time, lifting her up and carrying her towards the couches, where Blaise, Pansy, and a recently-awake Mrs. Davis were being herded. "Sorry, little miss, but we really can't afford to make any mistakes." I can still look!
Daphne turned her head, just to catch one last glimpse of Tracey before the Medi-Witch summoned the white curtains with a flick of her spare hand. She's awake! She's definitely awake! Ron, you really did it!
"Dear, was she okay?!" Mrs. Davis pulled her into a hug as soon as the nurse put Daphne down. "Was Tracey really awake?! They didn't let me see!"
"She was! She was!" Daphne exclaimed, losing all sense of decorum.
Two bodies suddenly clashed into her from behind, and then all four were shouting in triumph and jumping, until a pair of angered nurses dragged them out of the room entirely.
Tracey Davis' POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (St. Mungo's – Evening)
Tracey was so drowsy, but she could not bring herself to close her eyes.
Not even for a second. I died-… Almost died… Where's Theo?
"Tracey, only two tests left, all right?" Medi-Witch Aurora said, fixing her squire glasses into place. "Now, look at the tip of my wand, and follow the movements without turning your head. Understand? Only use your eyes."
Tracey gave a lethargic nod, there was a constant, dull pain in her neck. Ron? Did he live too? My head feels so… messy… Aurora raised her wand, the tip glowing faintly. She moved it to the right first, and Tracey tracked the slow motion easily enough. Then the wand moved to the left, and then up, and then down, and then right again, and each time, Tracey's emerald eyes followed along. She said I was in a coma…?
"Very good," Aurora smiled, her sharp features shifting into a motherly look. "You're still a bit disorientated from the looks of it, but given how long-"
"… How… long…?" Tracey rasped, her voice barely leaving her throat. "It… still hurts…"
"Here, drink some more water," Aurora waved her hand, sending the glass on Tracey's bedside table floating over.
Tracey took the glass within her trembling fingers, but found that she could hold it once her fingers clamped down. She took long gulps; the lukewarm water didn't hurt her throat as much. I'm cold…
"I have to admit…" Aurora started, taking more notes. "Your motor skills are remarkably… Well, let's just say that you had some of us worried, given how much weight you've lost." She said that before too.
"Mir…ror…?" Tracey rasped; the pain was still there. "Ow…"
For a moment, the Medi-Witch looked troubled, her eyes darting towards Tracey's neck. "Lean back for me, please."
Tracey shook her head; she didn't want to sleep.
"Mirror…" Tracey managed, finally giving up on talking altogether. I'll wait until I'm not sick anymore… I want soup-…
"I need to check something first, and then, I'll bring you a mirror," Aurora bargained, and Tracey closed her eyes and did as instructed. "Thank you. This might feel a bit cold, but that's normal."
Tracey felt the tip of the wand press against her neck, before an icy sensation made her entire body shiver. So cold… I need more blankets, mum…
"Damn…" Aurora muttered, slowly shifting back. "It's okay, now, Tracey. I'm done."
Tracey opened her eyes, but couldn't bring her head to part with the pillow.
"How is the pain around your neck? Is it unbearable? Or, dull but hard to ignore?" Aurora asked, and Tracey nodded at the second option. "Dull but hard to ignore?"
Tracey nodded again, weaker this time around. It won't stop hurting. Everything feels so blurry… What happened to me?
"I see…" Aurora looked discouraged, but only for a heartbeat. "We'll keep you under observation for the next few days, hopefully the pain will dissipate with time. However, I must also tell you that the Curse you were attacked with was incredibly Dark in nature, meant for the sole purpose of murdering its intended target… Dark Magic such as that can leave behind a permanent echo of the original suffering-"
"Perma…nent…?" Tracey felt her heart clench out of fear, and she began struggling to sit up. "No-! Agh! God… Please… make it stop-"
Aurora moved back to her side, easily propping Tracey up before taking her hands. "We're going to do everything we can to help you, that's a promise. For now, I'm going to apply a small amount of Numbing Balm to the sore region. We can't use too much, or, your neck won't be able to support your head, but it should take the edge off."
Aurora then reached into her white robes, while Tracey began silently weeping again; terrified, confused, and in constant pain. Aurora pulled out a small tube and a bandage from one of her many pockets, quickly coating said bandage with a dab of the Numbing Balm. With soft whispers of comfort, and a gentle touch, Aurora applied the cool, soothing balm to right side of Tracey's neck. Ohhh…
"Is that better?" Aurora asked as she continued her good work, and Tracey nodded as best she could. "There, that should be plenty. Try moving your head around for me."
Slowly, Tracey tried her best, her head bobbing slightly. Looking to the left didn't hurt anymore, but when she looked to her right, she felt the dull ache return.
"It… hurt a bit…" she rasped, looking back ahead. "Just then…"
"What about now?"
"No, doesn't… hurt," Tracey gave a trembling smile, her teary eyes moving about the foreign room. Ron had a room like this one… Why do I feel like he was here? And others too! Watching over me, and crying-…
"Tracey?" Aurora whispered, gently rubbing her arm.
"I remember… voices… Crying…" her voice felt strangled, as if her throat itself had been sealed with glue. "My… voice… What's wrong…?"
The Medi-Witch swallowed thickly, squeezing Tracey's arm gently. "The Curse damaged your Larynx, Tracey… Especially your vocal cords. We undid what damage we could, you should be able to breathe and swallow without much issue-."
"I… can't talk…" Tracey tried, clutching at her own throat. "It won't come… out… Please…"
Aurora's gaze fell at that, much to Tracey's growing horror. What about my Magic…? I need a voice to cast Spells…
"I'm sorry to say that nothing can be done about that, Tracey," Aurora sighed out. "You will have to go on with your speech impaired. And… It'll only get harder to speak the more Numbing Balm you apply to ease your pain, as high quantities will also numb your Larynx. Be very mindful of how much you apply each time, please. In my professional, and personal…" she trailed off, her sorry eyes meeting Tracey's. "In my professional opinion, you should reserve your voice for emergencies only."
The Medi-Witch's words hit like an iron-clad punch, leaving Tracey winded and hopeless. What was she going to do without her voice? She certainly couldn't attend Hogwarts, nor could she practise Magic as her friends did. I'll never tell another joke, ever again… I won't even be able to talk to anyone I care about…
Losing her will to stay awake, Tracey let herself fall back onto her pillow, hot tears escaping as her eyes scrunched up. She tried to cry out the growing pain in her chest, but a high-pitched whine was all she could manage. I wish I'd died! I don't want to live like this! I can't!
Daphne Greengrass' POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (St. Mungo's – Night)
"She'll never get to talk again…?" Daphne heard herself cry, joining Mrs. Davis and Pansy in mourning. "But she loves to sing, and she loves laughing from her gut… And she loves to make other people laugh with her…"
How was this fair? How could the Gods return her, but keep her voice? Had they truly grown so fond of it so quickly? Give it back…
"We had to wait to be certain, however, we always maintained that there would be complications," Director Reid said calmly, the bone-white wizard was tall and possessed four awfully sharp canines. "I am sorry that this miraculous event has been tarnished by such terrible news. We will leave you with her, but please, do not disturb her slumber. She needs rest, but most of all, a private setting to grieve. I will personally see to keeping the Daily Prophet out of this building; however, I must also warn you that word has already spread far beyond these walls."
"Thank you, Director Reid," Mrs. Davis wiped her eyes with a damp tissue. "I'm sorry, I am grateful, truly… But… Please, I'd like to be left alone with my daughter…"
"Say no more, Madam, I will take my leave," the handsome, well-mannered Director bowed his head, promptly departing without hesitation.
Once the door closed behind him, Pansy let out a gut-wrenching sob, her face vanishing within the crook of her elbow. "Oh, Gods! This is so wrong!"
Blaise rubbed Pansy's heaving back absentmindedly, his distant eyes had been fixed on the coffee table from the moment he had sat down. Daphne found herself moving to Mrs. Davis shrinking side, holding onto the woman as if she were her own mother.
What was Daphne supposed to feel? She couldn't be happier, and yet, it felt as though her heart had been ripped out. Tracey's woken up into a nightmare… Merlin, I can't even imagine how dreadful this must be for her! Her heart must be broken into a million pieces!
Daphne fought the urge to go against Director Reid's instructions, she wanted to hold Tracey until she was fully mended and back to her happy-self. But that'll never happen, because the real world doesn't care. Ron was right whenever he told me of how indifferent the world felt to him at times, how pointlessly unfair. I get it, now, more than ever-…
"We need to tell them," Blaise suddenly spoke up, his voice hoarse. Tell them about what? "We need to tell them about what we three saw, Daph…"
Daphne suddenly remembered the black sludge that had travelled up into Tracey's head before she had come screaming to life, and it made the hairs on the back of Daphne's neck prop up. It had to be something from the leaf, and if that's the case, then we can't tell any of the St. Mungo's staff! I need to go get Professor Snape, instead! He'll know what to do!
Her grief momentarily forgotten because of purpose, Daphne looked to Mrs. Davis, who was too lost in her sobbing to have heard Blaise. No, I shouldn't bring getting Professor Snape involved up to her, she deserves to just cry as much as she needs to. Looking to Blaise, instead, who was now studying her with his blood-shot, chocolate eyes, Daphne slowly rose from the sofa.
"… Daphne?" Mrs. Davis looked up; her entire face blotchy.
"I'm going to fetch Professor Snape," Daphne gave her a meaningful look, clearing her eyes with her sleeve. "There's something he needs to know; I'll be right back. Pansy, can you stay with Mrs. Davis?"
"Okay," Pansy moved to take her previous spot, while Daphne rushed towards the door. I can't stay in here a moment longer, my heart's going to break!
Unbeknownst to her, Blaise followed after her from a distance, and it wasn't until she was nearing the fireplaces that he jumped into her way, bringing her to a jarring stop. "Blaise? Are you following me?"
"Where are you going? Why is there an Auror posted at Tracey's door?" Blaise blurted out, looking jumpier than ever. "And what was that black goop inside her vein?!"
"Blaise, not so loud," Daphne shushed, looking around the spacious room. "I don't know what it was, which is why I'm fetching Professor Snape-"
"There are a dozen Healers here, Daphne, what are you hiding?" Blaise didn't look like he was calming down. "Whatever we saw, it wasn't natural-!"
"I can't tell you, because I was told not to," Daphne shushed him again, putting her hand over his mouth. "Please, just be quiet-"
His eyes widened, and she felt him trying to speak against her palm.
"No, be quiet," Daphne looked around again, glad that they were mostly alone, and that no one cared enough to watch them. "You'll get your answers, I promise, but just let me do this, all right? I have to." It's all I can do to help her, fetch someone who's competent and willing…
Blaise had gone still, but he gave a weak nod when she finished. Okay, I'm going to remove my hand. Daphne pulled her hand back, and Blaise quickly wiped at his lips.
"Why is there an Auror-?" he started, frowning a bit.
"I don't know, but word got out that Tracey was starting to recover… Workers talk, that's what father always says," Daphne began. "It must've reached all the way to the top, however, because Minister Bones sent over that Auror for Tracey's protection. I think it's meant to be a kind gesture to both Ron and Tracey, but mostly Ron."
"Because of the trial…" Blaise muttered, nodding along. "She's trying to kiss his arse."
"Or, she's trying to win him over because they've been fighting over Knockturn Alley," Daphne remembered Ron's occasional jabs at the newly appointed Minister. "Ron mentioned that she's giving him a lot of headaches recently, and that he wants to focus more on-"
"You've seen him?" Blaise blinked, stopping Daphne. "Why haven't you mentioned this until now?! Pansy and I have been here for most of the day!"
"Because I didn't want to upset you, and I definitely didn't want to upset Pansy," Daphne admitted, not sorry for sparing them the hurt she'd faced alone. "He's fallen apart, Blaise, and he's not coming back… He told me so himself; he's done with Hogwarts. And not even Tracey coming back to us will change his mind. Nothing will…"
Blaise just continued to stare at her, his tired eyes welling up again until they were filled to bursting. He didn't cry, however… Somehow, he managed to keep his features steady for the most part, and yet, it looked as though he had accepted a truth he'd known all along. I'm sorry, but I have to go… Tracey needs help right now. I'm sorry for everything, Blaise.
"I'll see you when I get back, I promise," Daphne whispered, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "Tell Pansy what I told you, tell her not to bring up what we saw to anyone. Ever."
"Okay…"
Daphne kissed his cheek again, and then she rushed to the nearest fireplace. I can't forget that we're all still alive, and that in itself is a victory, given these past few months. We still have a chance to be together, even if it won't ever be the same…
Albus Dumbledore's POV
Monday 22nd March, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Night)
Albus paced back and forth, stroking his beard as he wondered where Ronald could've disappeared off to. Word from Ilvermorny had finally reached him, however, instead of being showered with tales of Ronald's triumphs, Albus had been informed that Ronald had missed the very first day of the Tournament, and had been promptly disqualified on account of five consecutive forfeits. He would never miss it! Never! It is simply not his nature to be this self-destructive-… Oh, no… It is, isn't it? But… What changed? What did I miss?! May the Gods Curse me-!
The fireplace suddenly roared to life, and Fawkes let out a shriek to warn Albus of the uninvited guest, Daphne Greengrass. What is she doing here? And why does she look troubled?
Drawing in a calming breath, Albus put on a smile and moved to the edge of the steps, peering down at Daphne. "Miss. Greengrass, welcome! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Professor Snape's not in his lab…" the girl panted; her long, blonde hair dishevelled. "Where is he, Headmaster? I have to see him!"
"Severus has returned home, I'm afraid," Albus started, disturbingly proud of the fact that his grim friend was taking the time to prepare his home for Draco. "Is it Miss. Davis? Has she returned to us, at long last?"
"… Yes, she just woke up, Sir," Daphne replied distantly, before her entire expression collapsed and she broke into tears.
"I can't even find another person to help her!" Dear Heavens, what has happened, my girl?!
Albus rushed down the steps, gently taking Daphne by her shoulders. "Daphne, why the tears if Tracey is indeed awake? This is joyous news, is it not?"
"She can't even speak," the hysterical girl coughed out, burying her face in his beard. "It's not fair! She doesn't deserve this, Sir! She doesn't!"
Albus' expression slowly hardened, his eyes turning cold. I see, then she's been returned to us at a cost… Why can't it be easy? Just once, why can't we simply win? Albus pulled Daphne closer, patting the girl's head paternally, but not saying anything. Fawkes hummed sadly, his eyes fixed on the girl who kept crying louder and louder, in hopes that the most powerful wizard in the world wasn't as powerless as her. I'm so sorry, dear girl, so sorry.
Tuesday 23nd March, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Past Midnight)
The roar of his fireplace brought him back to the waking world, his old bones aching terribly as a result of falling asleep in his chair once again. "Severus? Is that you, my boy? What took so long?"
"I stopped by their cafeteria," Severus limped up the steps and took his usual seat, sending a packed sandwich floating in Albus' direction. For me? "Eat, old man, I will not have you expire just yet."
Albus gave a grateful nod, opening the packet and taking a bite of the tuna sandwich. Ah, it's staler than I am. Perfection.
"How is she, Severus?" Albus asked tiredly. "Be honest, as always. What of this 'black sludge'?" It sounds an awful lot like the congealed Basilisk Venom within the leaf.
"Her blood contains trace amounts of Basilisk Venom," Severus started, as Albus paled. "It's not poisoning her, it's what brought her back. I was right, it's the venom that's acting as the Healing Agent within those leaves, we just need to discover how it got there, now." These Sages would know.
"What of Tracey?" Albus asked. "How was she when you left?"
"She is resting, and both Poppy and I checked her over before we left," Severus started, aging a decade. "The Medi-Witch, Aurora Dagny, was correct in her assessment. The girl's vocal cords are damaged beyond repair, the Curse still lingers upon the region like an open wound. She'll be mute, and in quite some pain, for the rest of her life." He can't even say her name, can he? Why do the Gods take such pleasure in torturing children?!
The walls around them suddenly cracked, while the bookshelves violently caved in, sending several old tomes hurtling across the room. Severus nearly shot out of his seat; his widening eye fixed on Albus, the culprit. Calm down, Albus, you've frightened him. Anger won't change anything, look to honouring Tracey's sacrifice, instead.
"Forgive me…" Albus said, his timeworn hands shaking, even a measly sandwich felt heavy in them right now. "I forget myself, in my old age."
"You've still a century left in you," Severus said, eventually.
"Another century of war?" Albus asked, and Severus drew in a sharp breath. "Ronald is missing…"
"What?" Severus blinked, looking taken aback. "What was that?"
"Ronald is missing, he never showed up at the Tournament," Albus clarified, causing Severus to pinch the bridge of his hooked nose. "I need to go see Asmodeus, will you join me?"
"You think the Headmaster of Ilvermorny has abducted him?" Severus asked.
"No, Asmodeus is a good man, I've known him most of his life," Albus replied. "He might have changed in the last decade, but not enough to hurt children. Never that." Do I really believe that? Not all good men are above becoming monsters; I've seen it too many times to doubt it.
"What of the American Aurors, then?" Severus asked, and Albus cocked an eyebrow. "If Harkin is such a bloody saint?"
"Aurors?"
"He antagonized them, didn't he? Ron?"
"Yes, but what do they gain from arresting Ronald Weasley?" Albus countered. "The boy is a national treasure, our people would clammer for open war if the Americans have taken him captive over such a minimal offence."
"Some people are just petty, they don't need another reason beyond self-satisfaction, and with how weak Magical Britain is as of late, everyone wants their pound of flesh," Severus argued. "If Ron wanted into the States, legally, he'd have to go through their Magical Congress, through their Portkey Offices. A perfect place for a trap, wouldn't you agree?" I would…
"Whatever the truth…" Albus rose from his chair, his eyes twinkling as Fawkes flew onto his shoulder. "The United States of Magical America will learn of my wrath if he has been brought to harm! Beginning with Ilvermorny Castle!"
"What of the Order?" Severus rose up, groaning a bit as pain shot up his leg. "Should I begin rounding them up?"
"Not yet, first we must speak with Asmodeus, discover a lead worth investigating," Albus moved around the table, offering Severus his arm. What secret could have twisted you into this? What has Ilvermorny done to you, my friend?!
The Champion's POV
?
The Champion drew in several deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the centre of his palm as he pictured a blooming Lotus Flower, its pink petals separating to reveal its golden core. In his mind's eye, as per the Tome's instructions, the Champion reached out for the core, taking it in the centre of his palm. It felt warm, despite how cold his cell had become as of the last hour. Focus on the warmth, now, let it pass through your entire hand. Don't think of the cold, think of how warm your own core is.
The Champion reopened his eyes, grinning to himself when his hand flashed golden for a heartbeat, the feeling of pins and needles running up his entire arm. It works… It works! I mean, I couldn't hold it for even a second, but it's a genuine Spell!
The Champion shot a look back at the bunker-door, keeping his hand hidden from the glass panel's line of sight. They're mental! Giving me these books to read in here! Do they want me to escape-?! No… No, this is a trap. They want me to arm myself, to get delusional and try to escape. Then, my charges will be ten times worse. Oh, I see how it is!
The Champion chuckled to himself, his right, naked hand yanking at his overgrown bangs as he eyeballed the bumps behind the fingers of his left hand. No Healers showed up, in the end. No food, either… My stomach hurts… I'm so hungry, but I'll be damned if I ask them for any sort of help!
The bell from before suddenly rang out again, and the bunker-door began to creak open. The Champion turned on his arse, sitting up straight as he watched an older, tan-skinned wizard step into his room. Who's this cunt?
"Mr. Weasley, forgive me for making you wait all day," the man spoke in a polite, clipped voice. His accent is a bit like that Chief's. Same skin tone as well. Where are they from? "My name is Heitor Reyes, I am the Head of the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation."
"That's quite the mouthful, isn't it?" the Champion cut in, but the man didn't break his stride. He's carrying a briefcase. What's inside, I wonder.
"We go by F. B. C. V. N. O, as well," Reyes said, waving his right hand and summoning a chair for himself. "May I?"
"It's your dungeon," the Champion shrugged, hiding his anger. He said I've been here all day long… The Tournament-…
"I'm afraid I have some terrible news, first," Reyes placed his briefcase on his lap, clicking it open and pulling out a letter. "From the International League of Wizard's Chess Club, they have disqualified you on account of your absence from the first five games. However, they have also taken the liberty of informing me that you are still invited to watch, if you so wish it." Told him? He's seen them personally?
The Champion hid it well, but despite his fierce new conviction; his heart felt the wound most grievously. Chess was mine, but my own ilk ended up taking that away… The Entity took my soul, Fate took my freedom, and my own took my reasons to live… They tore Ronald Weasley apart, and now, I'm just his undertaker. The will carrying on, even after the body's broken down. A fucking dead man…
He took the letter, and placed it by his side, unable to bear its presence.
"People will start looking for me, eventually," the Champion said simply, his pale eyes staring into Reyes' black ones.
"Well, they won't have to look far," Reyes pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, it read 'Emergency: Boy-Wonder Missing? Or, Another Ploy for Attention?!' on the front cover. "I have spoken to the media about your collapse, we even invited Miss. Skeeter to do a special within the States-"
"Collapse?! Skeeter?!" the Champion was honestly insulted, while Reyes ran his right hand through his long, slicked-back hair, a long silver streak ran right down the middle. "I didn't collapse… Your people-"
"Yes, Sir, your collapse," Reyes said calmly, looking even a little surprised by the Champion's outburst. "We've taken you in, and are caring for you out of our own pocket. The President was most adamant about providing you with the very best of care. Soon, this paper will reach the British branch of the Daily Prophet, after which no one will need to look for you, as they'll know you're with us. And of course, once you are able to stand on your own two feet, you will be allowed to leave in peace. We'll even toss Judge Danvers' warrant out, as if it never happened in the first place." Is this cunt a clown? Because I really want to start laughing in his fucking face.
"This is a joke… What of my companions? Did they also collapse?" the Champion challenged.
"They are wilfully staying by your side and will be allowed to leave whenever they choose to, same as you," Reyes replied, handing the Champion the Daily Prophet. "You may read it; everything is in there. I gave the interview myself."
"I don't know what game you're playing at…" the Champion started, feeling his blood boil. "But you're not going to get away with this."
Reyes continued to stare at the Champion, the man was entirely unreadable. He's at least over forty, so I can safely assume that he's powerful, given where he is in life. What are these Aurors up to?!
"So, I can just leave?" the Champion scoffed. "Just like that?"
"Well, no," Reyes replied, something shifting behind his eyes. "I do have some important questions that I need to ask you, before I let you go. Is that all right?"
"Oh, by all means, go ahead," the Champion said dully.
"Why did you murder Amycus and Alecto Carrow, along with all of their guests on the nineteenth of February?" Reyes asked, casual as fucking anything. What…? How did they-? No, it's a trick. Relax your mind, and think before you speak.
"I was just in the fucking neighbourhood, really, thought I'd pop in and say hello," the Champion smirked, not confessing to anything in particular.
"Mr. Weasley, this will go faster if you simply elect to tell the truth," Reyes sighed out, looking deep into his eyes. "I am here to help you; I've even paved the way for you to walk out of this room unharmed. Don't give me your attitude, I'm a very busy man. From what little Chief Bellator told me of her conversation with you this morning, you've gone out of your way to insult my friends twice now. It's time to appreciate the gravity of your situation, Mr. Weasley. I am not here to play games with you. I want answers, and I'm going to get them."
"Then, come get them," the Champion challenged.
Reyes gave a nod, pulling out a long piece of parchment from his black briefcase and promptly handing it over to the Champion. Wait a second… His left hand… The Champion's eyes widened for a heartbeat in recognition, Heitor Reyes was missing two digits on his left hand, his ring finger and his smallest finger. Same as Harkin, same as all those other Headmasters and Headmistresses. Same as Isolt Sayre herself, down to the very knuckle.
The Champion took the parchment, his eyes slowly finding the title of the document, 'Slaves hired for party'. Slaves?! Whoever had written the document was most likely an ingrate, their handwriting made even the Champion's own stand out as genuine art. No spelling mistakes, at least. Small mercies.
"What is this?" the Champion asked, trying his hardest not to look at Reyes' hand again. What's fucking happening in this country?! Why is this motherfucker missing fingers as well? Is some sick fuck just going around slicing off unsuspecting fingers? Is that who I'm here to stop? What a clusterfuck…
"That, is a list of Elves who were employed by Amycus and Alecto Carrow, they helped organise that orgy and were also found dead on the premises," Reyes started, and the Champion's blood froze in his veins. No… How is this even…? "All of them except for one, that is. An Elf named Marty, who was never accounted for. You'll find his name at the bottom, go on."
The Champion's eyes moved slowly, not giving anything away. I'm fucked! I'm fucked! I'm fucking fucked, now!
And there it was, in all of its ugly glory; laughing in Ron's face. Oh, Marty… I've put you in so much danger-…
"We know you have an Elf named Marty under your employ, Mr. Weasley, and we had him picked up in Diagon Alley this afternoon, during his side-job as an employee of Hogwarts, where he serves as your spy," Reyes continued, and Ron could only listen. They have him… They took Marty?! "Unlike you, he broke quickly-"
"I'll kill you…" Ron hissed, his eyes burning to the point of making his hands crush the parchment. "If you fucking hurt my friend, like you hurt Lord Greengrass, I'll kill all of you-"
"Sorry, I lied, I don't have him," Reyes stopped Ron, jarring the redhead further when he quickly wrote down something inside his briefcase. "In truth, he slipped my men, it was most impressive to see an Elf who's so attuned to his surroundings. But thank you, now I can get a warrant to break down Hogwarts' front door and drag him here for questioning." No… Marty, I… What have I done…? FUCK!
The Champion felt bitterness climb up his throat, an absolute contempt for himself and everything he was. Bury Ronald Weasley…
"I must admit, it's surprising to see you react this way, given what you're capable of," Reyes said, tossing the Champion his black handkerchief. "I apologize, but in my line of work, choosing to do wrong can sometimes help save lives. And, even as I sit a mere two feet away from you, it is not lost on me that you are one of the most dangerous men I've ever encountered. A ruthless killer and an unapologetic manipulator, both at the young age of fourteen, no less. I doubt there's anyone else like you out there, you're entirely unique." Good… You're smarter than most!
"If I'm so dangerous, then why are you paving the way out? Especially if you think you've already dug my grave?" the Champion asked, returning to his icy demeanour, not bothering to wipe away his traitorous tears. They're not mine…
"Because good men have to terrible things, so brilliant men can write history," Reyes replied cryptically. "The truth is that we already knew about the Carrow Twins and their grim celebrations, we were in the middle of gathering the names of some of the most prominent Lords and Ladies from across the Wizarding World, but then you came along and undid a decade worth of work. Now, the Lords and Ladies who got lucky and refused this one time have all gone into hiding, we're all left with our dicks in our hands. Those of who knew of this operation are rightly upset with you, but not me. What I see is a potential for murder, but for my side-"
"You're trying to recruit me?" the Champion blinked, and then, he started laughing. And here I was, thinking I'd be punished for killing over forty 'human beings'?! Ha! They want to reward me! Fucking humans… All the good I've done, and never once did I hear of these bastards… But as soon as I commit a small genocide, I have the powerful lining up to become my friends.
"Is something amusing you, Mr. Weasley?" Reyes asked, cocking a thick eyebrow.
"I'm not saying that I did what you're accusing me of, but if I did, then is setting me free really in your best interest?" the Champion asked, somehow pulling himself back together. We're a disease, not a civilisation… This is what I've given everything up for?
"I've studied your profile," Reyes started.
"My what-?"
"You help a lot of people, Mr. Weasley, but they all share one common trait; they are all powerless to change the cruel hand Fate has dealt them in life," Reyes went on. "And just before, you teared up for your Elf, whom you referred to as your friend, rather than your servant. That was quite endearing to me, as I too consider some Elves to be my friends rather than my employees, a viewpoint which has garnered me much ridicule amongst my peers. We are alike, you and I, but unlike me, you're mentally unstable. You're dying, and judging by the damage we've seen for ourselves; you're dying fast. I can only assume that it is your inhumane will that is keeping you tethered to this mortal realm, which only makes me fear you doubly so. Fear you, and want you."
"Oh, hold the fucking line-" the Champion hissed.
"You want resources, I'll give them to you," Reyes said, stopping the Champion. "You want eyes, my network has no equal in this world. You want weapons? I'll send you crates full of our latest designs, straight from our personal Goblin-Smith, Mr. Svarog. Invisibility Cloaks? Portkeys? The P-13 Auror Trainer prototype?" There's a P-13 prototype? "I have a friend in the company which mass produces them, one word from me and they'll send their latest model here for our Aurors to put through the ring."
"You want me to become an Auror?" the Champion asked, some childish part of him had always dreamed of this. Becoming an Auror is… honestly beneath me, as I'm bigger than any lawman could ever hope to be. Much fucking bigger. "Look, I think you've lost it, I'm not some murderer like you think I am… I'll forget this ever happened, and even that you made me this crazy offer, but you need to let me go-"
"Do you believe yourself, when you lie so convincingly?" Reyes asked, studying the Champion. "I think some part of you does, which is how you've tricked an entire nation into putting you on a pedestal." Reyes then closed his briefcase, rising and fixing his creaseless, but mostly plain, robes into place. "You can keep those; we've got extra copies just in case. Have a good look at them as you enjoy your supper."
"Supper?"
Reyes looked back and snapped his fingers, and once again, that fucking bell went off, vexing the Champion down to his core. I'm going to destroy that thing before I leave, I swear it. The bunker-door creaked open, and Chief Bellator strode in with a trolly covered with a white cloth, hosting silver cloche.
She stopped in front of his bed, sneering down at him as she removed the cloche to reveal a juicy porterhouse steak with a hefty side of steaming mash potatoes and salted, fried asparagus.
"Don't I get a glass of milk?" the Champion smirked at her. You're still going to die, as is your cunt boss. We'll just keep adding names to Our list, and then We'll take whatever We want regardless.
"You'll get my shoe up your-" she started.
"Lucia, come, let him enjoy his meal in peace," Reyes said, turning to leave.
"I don't want it," the Champion lied, ignoring his pleading stomach. You won't poison me so easily-…
"You should eat, gather your strength," Reyes said. "Tonight, two known Death-Eaters and three Snatchers from the Great War will be let into your room. Prove your worth by dispatching them, and you can leave right after, if that's what you desire. I'll even bring your illegal Portkey; we've kept it sealed away for you, alongside your wands." Is… Is he serious?
"You can't do this," the Champion put on his best 'scared' voice. "Please!"
"You've been given the easy road, Mr. Weasley, and I suggest you take it," Reyes began to walk away, and Bellator followed after him. "Your mentor, on the other hand; he's walking the hard road. My right-hand man has him sweating with the same information I've just handed you; he'll break and confess to a crime you've committed if you don't stop 'playing'. We both know how much he loves you. Time to decide, Mr. Weasley. Which side are you on?" You fucking cocksuckers… You'll all regret this so much one day, We promise you!
?
The Champion stared at the steak knife sitting at the centre of his empty plate, Cursing Ravenclaw Ron for abandoning him in his hour of need. My head is starting to hurt… They haven't given me my Nutrition Potions, and I doubt that's by accident.
The Champion moved off of his bed, clutching the knife in his right hand as he paced his room. Two known Death-Eaters and three Snatchers… It's a thoughtful gift, I have to admit that. And if Reyes is telling the truth, then maybe-… No, I can't just trust him. What I need to do is find out why he's missing those bloody fingers!
Deciding to play along, for now, as he had no real choice in the matter, the Champion vowed to have his vengeance upon the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Before I die, I'll come back to this country and kill every single Auror in every single State. Just as a lesson to those who would challenge the Champion's authority over his own fucking planet! I'll get the last laugh, no matter what!
And the fact that they would try to use Lord Greengrass against him… Oh, they'll regret that too. Reyes lied about having Marty, so he could be lying about sweating Lord Greengrass as well. And who's his right-hand man? And how the fuck did they get a list of the Elves under the Carrow Family's employ?! Gods damn it all!
Pacing faster, his stress driving him madder and madder, the Champion could feel his bloodlust growing, a cloud of red was already washing over his eyes. Always getting kicked, always trying to climb back up… Always being hurt! ENOUGH!
The bell went off again, and with it went the last of the Champion's sanity. Dead flesh approaches…
Without a word, he turned to face the swinging bunker-door. It only opened a fraction of the way, and one-by-one, five slender bodies were thrown in before it was sealed again.
Two women and three men, all of them visibly scarred and carrying metal batons. Really? Five on one, and each of them carrying long batons? And I get a fucking steak knife? How's this fair on them?!
"That's him? We kill him and we go free?" one of the women aimed her baton at him. This one first, for certain. She's too eager, and she's bound to make rush in without her friends. Wingardium Leviosa.
The knife in his palm began to float up, until the Champion aimed it straight for her face with his index finger. Her eyes widened, and with a crazed scream, she charged him with her baton over her head.
It only took a fast flick, and the steak knife found itself embedded into her face, cracking through her right cheek and breaching the back of her skull with its gleaming tip. The other woman screamed and rushed for the door as soon as her comrade plopped forward, clawing at it and screaming to be let out, while the three men stared wide-eyed at the spasming corpse just a few meters ahead of them.
And then, they all looked to the boy past that corpse, smiling at them. One.
All three of them howled like maniacs as they charged him, while the Champion aimed both his palms forward. Brachium Colubrum! A sea of ghostly serpents shot forth from his sleeves, capturing the tallest man and dragging him off toward the bunker door, while the other two were sent barrelling through the air upon impact. Holding the tall man above the screaming woman, the Champion grinned as his yanked his arms in the opposite directions, tearing the man in two and showering the poor wretch beneath in blood and gore. Two.
Slowly moving towards the huddled woman, sneering at her pathetic, cowering form, the Champion aimed his right palm at the man closest to him. Incendio! Depulso!
Just as the man managed to climb to his knees, a jet of fire washed over him, engulfing his screaming form entirely. The Champion hissed as he focused on raising the intensity of the flames, leaving nothing behind but charred flesh and crackling bones. Three.
Sensing a rise in errant Magic to his left, the Champion saw the last man stumbling towards him, swinging his baton about wildly. "I killed one fucking bitch, and they take my life away? Fuck you, you little monster! I'm walking out of here-!"
A whip of Cursed Fire suddenly swung through the air, lighting the room red and wrapping itself around the man's torso. The screams that tore out of him nearly deafened the Champion, whilst silencing the weeping woman by the exit. Continuing his stride towards freedom, the Champion pulled at the whip, hearing one final cry for mercy before the smell of cooked meat and burning shit filled the room. Four.
"NO! PLEASE!" the woman begged, struggling to stand up amidst the gore, slipping and falling all over herself. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Please, just take me back to my cell! I didn't know-!"
"You were a Death-Eater, weren't you?" the Champion asked, and she immediately froze, her guilty eyes shooting up and silently begging for mercy. Oh, no! Are you about to get a taste of your own medicine?! Oh, the horror! The injustice!
"A… A good man would… show mercy! I know, I never did! But you! I've read about you! Show mercy, Blood-Traitor! Please, I beg you!" she prostrated herself, crawling over and clutching at his feet. "I'm unarmed! I can't even fight back! And… I'm a woman! I'm an unarmed woman!" Did that thought ever occur to you, when you were torturing and murdering terrified and confused Muggles? Men? Women? Children?!
"A good man would indeed show mercy…" the Champion whispered, his burnt and mangled hand patting down her bloodied hair. "But there are no good men here, only monsters."
"No-!" she tried to bolt towards the door again, but the Champion grabbed her by her strawy hair and yanked her back. Cutis Terra!
She kicked and screamed, but with the Champion's enhanced strength, he dragged her towards the bunker-door with an ever-darkening look. This is for every innocent life that you helped destroy! Taste death, Death-Eater!
Slipping his left hand down her back, and taking a hold of her trousers' waistline, the Champion lifted her screaming form into the air like a battering ram. LET US OUT!
Letting his madness come out completely, the Champion charged at the impregnable door, swinging the woman and smashing her face against the massive slab of steel. There was a sickening crunch that echoed throughout the room, and the Champion found himself covered in her blood from head-to-toe. Looking down, he saw that her torso had all but folded, her spine shattered in multiple places and jaggedly sticking out of her back.
And as for her face… Well, there was nothing left but broken bones, a few shards of teeth, and blood-soaked chunks of meat. Five.
The Champion tossed her aside, chuckling to himself as he made his way over to his bed. I'm taking these fucking Tomes with me! Least they can do for wasting my time with this lot!
The bell went off again, but this time, the Champion grinned to himself. If they decide to lock me up because of this, then I'll just keep going… I won't stop until everyone in this country is dead!
"I told you, wasting talent like that would be a damn shame," came Reyes' voice, and when the Champion turned around, he found himself staring at a group of wizards and witches.
They were headed by a smirking Reyes, and man with starkingly blue eyes which moved about the carnage without a hint of sympathy.
"Dear God…" one of the men in the back muttered, looking about the room before gagging and rushing out.
"You win, Heitor," the man at the forefront said, he looked to be around the same age as Reyes, but was pale and wore scars all over his face. Those are Curse Burns… He must be the Head of the Department of Magical Law, and defintely a former Auror. He's the man in charge of it all. "Give him back his things, and debrief him. And get someone to clean up this damn mess, the President can't hear of this. Am I clear?"
"On it, Sir," the Chief said, signalling the remaining figures to get to work.
The Champion's grin widened when their eyes met, even if she looked more impressed with him than scared of him. One of us, she said… Ha! Now, I get it!
"I want my gauntlets back too, you cunts," the Champion sneered, earning a dark look from the man in the middle. Don't eyeball me, I just need your name, and then you'll be on my list too. If you really want to help me, then I'll see where it goes, because in the end, it doesn't even matter... You've all signed your death warrants already. I'll just kill you when you trust me completely, it'll make my life a lot easier.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Weasley," Reyes gave him a nod, and the Champion returned it. How will you react when you realize you've just killed all your precious friends? We can't wait!
"I want to see my mentor after I get my things back, and then, me and mine are leaving."
Author's Notes: There it is, some mad twists in there I hope! Also, TRACEY!
I want to do one more update this month, so I'm gonna work hard and get that done, meanwhile, you guys focus on keeping your genitals clean. It's important to me...
See you!