Summary: Merona Knowles, your ordinary graduate from Hogwarts. During the day she's a janitor for the Ministry of Magic. At night, she's a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. One night Merona is caught with some crucial information, she is submitted through all sorts of torture. Some mental abuse.
Last chapter has been submitted. Contains surprise twist...
Categories: Dark/Angsty Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Abuse
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 5
Completed: Yes
Word count: 14473
Read: 11848
Published: 03/09/05
Updated: 05/22/05
1. Prologue by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
2. Prisoner by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
3. An Interesting Proposal by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
4. The Candle of Hope is Lit by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
5. The Aftermath by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
Prologue by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
One step closer, just one tiny little step…
There! I had done it, I had reached the door without making a sound, sure I was wearing an invisibility cloak, but what was to keep them from hearing me? My heart was beating loud enough to alert anyone nearby.
Beads of sweat poured down my brow as I delicately pressed my ear to the keyhole. This was my first solo mission, the dangers were huge, but I was (or had been) willing to do my part.
Voices. Voices were floating to my ear, they were whispering, but I could just make out what they were saying.
“If we can make an entrance here…” muttered one voice.
“Yes, but what about the wizards guarding it? They’re more careful now.” A second voice input, slightly nervous.
“Yes, too true they are, but they were stupid enough to leave the dementors there to guard in the first place, so what’s to keep them from not expecting another attack?” Countered the first voice.
Dementors. They were talking about Azkaban! They were going to break free the Death Eaters inside. I know became fully aware of the dangers facing me. If I were caught, I would be killed, or more likely tortured into insanity like the Longbottoms were and then killed. I now knew why Dumbledore had looked so grave when he impressed upon me the dangers of spying on the Death Eaters. My heart pounded against my ribcage, I feared I wouldn’t be able to hear the Death Eaters over it’s noise.
“He will warn them,” objected the second. I pressed myself closer to the door in order to absorb all the noise possible.
“Dumbledore is not your concern,” a harsh voice spoke. “I will take care of him.”
“Yes master,” muttered the first, the second was quick to follow after.
Master. I slowly drew in a breath, there was only one Master amongst the Death Eaters, and that was You-Know-Who himself. I heard the Death Eaters get scuttling to leave; they had a ridiculous custom that they had to exit backwards, as though You-Know-Who were a monarch.
I realized that I needed to leave. Now. Otherwise I most definitely would be caught. I turned and slowly crept backwards to the hallway of the large manor. Turning slowly, I began to walk a little faster.
Hiss!
A snake over ten feet long was waiting at the end of the hallway. It was coiled and swaying menacingly at me. I remembered this snake, it smelled rather than saw, my cloak did absolutely nothing to protect me.
Creak
The door behind me was opening, I was caught. I spotted a door two feet in front of the snake. The Death Eaters behind me were moving quickly now.
When an animal is in danger, they have two natural instincts, to fight or flee. I, however, only knew the instinct of flight.
I dashed to the door and managed to get inside just as the snake lunged at me. Unfortunately, I also made a good deal of noise while I was at it.
“What was that?” I heard the first voice snap.
“I dunno, hey! There’s that snake, maybe that’s what did it!” replied the second.
“You fool!” cried the first, I heard a smack and a cry, as though the first had hit the second. “Snakes cannot open doors and make footsteps!”
Then I heard the sound of running feet, they were coming after me. The door I had darted through was actually a narrow hallway, all attempts at being silent abandoned me now, I ran a full tilt down the hallway, looking for a window to jump out, or another door to hide behind. I pulled out my wand, Apparating was no use in the Riddle manor, but I could still duel. Or (more likely) reflect any spells they threw at me.
“Accio cloak!”
My cloak flew off, leaving me in my faded blue robes, my shoulder length dark hair standing on end. I didn’t stop though, I kept running.
“Tarantellegra!” I called over my shoulder, I heard someone pause meaning my curse had affected one of them.
“Protego!” or maybe not, the curse flew back at me, hitting my legs and forcing me into an odd sort of tango. I was helpless, my arms wouldn’t even function properly and from my mouth an odd sort of song was emitting, paralyzing my abilities to duel.
I now saw the Death Eaters, they were in their black robes with faceless masks, one was very tall and slim, the other was shorter than me, which is quite a feat as I am only 5’2” and stout. The very sight of them struck terror in my heart. I tried to curl up into a protective ball, but failed miserably with my flailing legs. The tall Death Eater raised his wand and the next thing I knew I was slowly waking to the sounds of that cruel voice.
“Put her away for now, I will deal with her in the morning.”
Prisoner by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
I awoke to pitch black. It took me several minutes to re-orientate myself. Where was I?
Oh yeah, the Riddle Manor.
There had been people…Death Eaters…talking…a break out of Azkaban…a snake…getting caught…
Caught.
I sat bolt upright. I had no clue where I was, but I had a strong feeling that I didn’t want to be here long. The floor I had been laying on was hard. There was a distinct smell of mold in the air. Not a single ray of light found its way into my cell. I held my hand up in front of my face, I could see nothing.
On my hands and knees I crawled around, examining my surroundings. The walls were made of the same rough stone as the floor. Once or twice my hands hit a spider web or a patch of mildew. I quickly withdrew it, hating the feel. Then my blind fingers found a crack in the wall, I quickly felt all the way around it. There were no spider webs here. I found hinges. It was the door.
My only method of escape. There were no handles, and when I pressed my eyes and ears to the cracks, no noise or light came through. That must mean that it was spelled. I had read about wizard’s cells. This might not even be the real door, just a part of wall spelled to be a door.
I sat back down on the floor. My entire cell was about 6-by-6 feet (I could tell because I could lay down on and touch both walls with my hands and feet). There were no other items in here, not even a chamber pot. Which meant they had to let me out, to feed me as well. Unless…
Unless I was locked in here to die.
I quickly dismissed that thought; they would want to question me. I decided it would be best if I slept and built up my mental defenses for when they did come to question me. You see, I had been trained in the skill of Occlumency, and I could moderately throw off the Imperius curse. But who knows what torture methods the Death Eaters had newly developed. Actually, my future looked pretty bleak, no one who had been captured had ever survived. Sleep would be the best way to go. Even though the stone floor was hard, and the damp smell was giving me a headache, I found sleep very easily.
“Eh, Merona! C’mere!” Walt called me from inside our janitors’ closet. Inside it was very roomy. Because we had control of the basic layout of the Ministry of Magic, it was easy to take space (in small amounts, of course) from other offices and then add them to ours. The result was a large room complete with plush couches, a house elf and various posters in top quality condition.
Walt was sitting on a couch opposite a tall, bald black man. The dark man sat stiffly as though unused to such quarters. When I entered he turned and fixed me with a piercing stare, I noticed a gold ring in one of his ears.
“This ‘ere is Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Walt said, clearly enjoying demonstrating his superiority as Head Janitor. I had just acquired my job a month ago, it wasn’t my typical vocation, housekeeping.
“Hello, Mr. Shacklebolt,” I said somewhat nervously, I extended my hand. Shacklebolt looked at it, then looked back at me.
“Mr. Smithers has been telling me some interesting stories about you, Miss Knowles.” He stated in a grave voice.
My insides quivered, I shot Walt an angry look. About a week into my job, the Daily Prophet had begun producing headlines about Albus Dumbledore being a fool. Having just graduated from Hogwarts two years ago, I had vented to Tonks, one of my fellow classmates, about how unfairly they were treating him. Walt must have overheard.
“Was he really?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, “And what were those particular stories about?”
“It would be best if you would step outside with me, Miss Knowles.” He said, standing up. He must be over a foot taller than my 5’2”. I was very intimidated, nervously running my fingers through my dark hair; I followed him out the door. Walt looked very pleased with himself. He had wanted me fired ever since I had turned him down on his offer for a date.
“Are you Merona Knowles?” Mr. Shacklebolt questioned.
“Yes,” my voice came out as a squeak.
“Did you or did you not converse with Miss Nymphadora Tonks on the morn of June 25th?”
“Yes, but””
“And were you of the opinion that the Minister of Magic was wrong and that Albus Dumbledore is justified in spreading false rumors that could said the entire wizarding world in panic?”
“They are not false”” I protested, I mean, what had happened to freedom of press?
“Please remember that employees of the Ministry are to be of the same opinion as their noble Minister at all times.” Mr. Shacklebolt thundered on. While his voice sounded serious, his hand was clearly conveying another message, he handed me a small slip of paper.
“Wha”?”
Shacklebolt shook his head and continued, I unfolded the piece of parchment:
The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix are at number 12, Grimmauld Place.
“…I will let you off on a warning this time Miss Knowles, but in the future, please remember your duties to the Ministry.” Shacklebolt added in a hardly audible whisper, “Meet me at the visitors entrance at 6 p.m. tonight.”
Feeling very bewildered, I nodded and carefully pushed the piece of paper into my pocket, before returning to the janitor’s closet where Walt was wearing a triumphant smile on his face.
**********~***********
At 6 p.m. I hurried out of the janitors’ closet to the main hall. As usual, the golden fountain and sky blue ceiling raised my spirits with their bright colors and soft musical sounds. I turned to the oddly placed phone booth at one end and tentatively stepped in.
At once, the phone booth began to whirl and the next thing I knew I was out in London. A warm breeze greeted me as I stepped out, ruffling my hair.
“Merona!” I turned; it was Tonks, waving enthusiastically at me. Standing near her was the black man from my inquiry, Shacklebolt. Confused, I crossed over to them.
“See? I told you she’d come!” Tonks was informing Shacklebolt happily. Her hair was blue today, and shoulder-length.
“Yes, I came,” I interrupted impatiently, “but what am I here for?”
“You didn’t tell her, Kingsley?” Tonks asked bewildered, giving Shacklebolt an annoyed look, “Why you’re here to””
“Tonks, that is quite enough.” Shacklebolt thundered.
I smiled, despite myself; it was quite Tonks’s style to blurt out secrets that usually were best staying inside. I had learned that lesson the hard way at Hogwarts.
“Come, we haven’t got much time,” Shacklebolt added. He nodded at me, “You know how to Apparate, yes?”
“Of course she knows how to Apparate, you fool, who do you think was there to keep me from going to Turkey by accident during my test?”
“Tonks,” I beseeched her, she shut up, I turned to Shacklebolt, “Yes, I do know how to Apparate.”
“Good, then remember what was on that piece of paper I gave you this morning and Apparate there.” He told me, he tapped his wand and vanished.
Tonks gave me a goofy grin. “See you on the other side, Merona.” And she too vanished.
Against my better judgment, I thought of the words on the slip of parchment. Number 12 Grimmauld Place, I then tapped my wand.
At once I felt that rush of wind around my body, colors and sounds blurred together racing around me. Then it all gradually began to slow down.
My feet hit cold cement. My robes billowed in front of me in the warm wind. I was standing in front of an ordinary Muggle complex. I saw a street sign.
Grimmauld Place.
I searched the buildings. There was number 10, and number 11 and number 13 and”wait a minute, what had happened to number 12? I was about to voice a cry of frustration when I heard Shacklebolt speak again.
“Just think about what you read.”
I turned, he was standing behind me. Tonks was nowhere to be seen. Shacklebolt removed the slip of parchment from my hand and set it to fire with the tip of his wand.
“Precautions,” he explained, “now just do as I told you.”
What? I thought, Number 12 Grimmauld Place? Then behind me I heard a shifting, numbers 11 and 13 were moving, in between them was number 12. I gaped.
“Come in,” Shacklebolt said, leading the way. Nervously I followed.
“Up you get, missy, naptime’s over!” I was being kicked. Hands grabbed me and hoisted me up under my shoulders. I stirred, and licked my lips; they were moist and had a sweetly bitter taste.
“Tha’s right, you get on yer feet now.” The voice was rough. I opened my eyes. The walls of my cell had disappeared; instead I was standing in a brightly lit dungeon with two other Death Eaters, cloaked in black. Their faces were obscured to me by a filmy black cloth. A third Death Eater was lifting me up. After he saw I was somewhat awake, he let go.
I stumbled a little bit, blinking in the bright light. My mind was moving slowly. The Death Eater scuttled over to where the other two were standing. Then, as if they were one single organism, the three of them swept towards me. I felt very disoriented.
“What is your name?” asked the first Death Eater.
I felt as though I had to answer. A small voice inside told me I shouldn’t. I hesitated.
“Your name?” continued the first Death Eater.
Answer him urged one voice in my head.
Are you sure you want to? replied another, quieter.
ANSWER!
“Merona!” I gasped. My head hurt. The voice had screamed with such force.
“Very good, Merona what?”
No, wait”
ANSWER!
“Knowles!” I spat out. My head began to spin as the quiet voice berated me.
Don’t answer his questions, that’s what he wants you to do!
Why shouldn’t you do what he wants you to do? Its easier this way.
Easier for what?
“Splendid, well then, Ms. Knowles, what were you doing here?” continued the first Death Eater, as though my internal struggle were not occurring. Though he must have known, my nails were digging into my palms with such ferocity, blood was starting to seep through.
DON’T ANSWER! The warning signs were screaming in my head.
Answer him you fool. My head was really starting to hurt, I remained silent, biting my lip hard.
“It would be best if you answered our questions, Ms. Knowles.” Spoke the second Death Eater. “It’ll be less” painless” that way.”
DON’T GIVE IN! You’re stronger than them! Persisted one voice.
JUST ANSWER HIM! HOW HARD IS THAT?
“My head.” I mumbled, rubbing my temples. I then noticed that my robes were wrinkled, as though they had born worn for quite a while, and there was the fierce scent of mold in the air. The blood from my palms trickled down the sides of my face.
“Your head will feel a lot better once you answer our questions.” Replied the first Death Eater smoothly.
How had my robes collected so much mildew?
Don’t answer him! Remember Tonks! Remember Kingsley!
SHUT UP! ANSWER THE FREAKING QUESTION!
“My head!” I wailed, like a little child. I didn’t have any quiet to think. There was something I needed to be doing, I felt that nagging sensation, something I should be doing but I wasn’t.
“Answer us, and you’ll avoid insanity, Ms. Knowles.” The second Death Eater spoke. They were circling around me. I stopped, insanity? I wasn’t insane; I couldn’t be insane…could I?
“Yes, insanity Ms. Knowles, your mind is slowly crumbling.” Continued the second Death Eater. “That bitter taste on your lips?” Here I licked my lips again, and tasted that same foul taste. “It’s a potion prepared especially for you, I have the antidote in my robe right here.”
He pulled out a little blue vial and dangled it in front of my face. I stared at it, confused. “After about an hour, you mind splits into two arguing sides. You begin to doubt yourself. You are constantly bewildered; slowly your mind begins to tear apart your very cells. It will destroy you.”
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.” They continued to circle. The short Death Eater had taken to chanting. The sound of his gruff voice scratched my ears.
“Your voice,” I complained, feeling panic rising within me, “it’s so piercing.”
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.”
“Please. Please just stop.”
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.”
DON’T DO IT! YOU CAN LAST!
ANSWER HIM YOU FOOL! ANSWER THE QUESTION!
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.”
“Stop it, please, I’m begging you!” I cried out desperately. I closed my eyes and began rubbing my temples furiously. My long nails began scratching into my forehead, peeling away skin.
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.” Continued the squat Death Eater.
“Even your inner voices are urging you to take the simpler route.” Continued the first Death Eater. “It would be so much easier if you would just answer.”
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.”
I groaned.
ANSWER! ANSWER! ANSWER! ANSWER!
Don’t give in! You can’t answer! You can’t answer! You must protect the Order! You can’t answer!
ANSWER! ANSWER! ANSWER! ANSWER!
“Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer.”
Protect the Order! You can not answer!
“I-I-I” I sputtered, I felt so confused. The lights were so bright, I was still rather sleepy, and I couldn’t concentrate.
“Yes?” Asked the first Death Eater.
Don’t
ANSWER!
“I CAN’T!” The words exploded from my lips upon their own accord. My head felt a lot clearer as a result though, I suddenly remembered why I was here, and felt grateful that I hadn’t answered.
“You can’t answer?” The first Death Eater asked softly. The third had stopped chanting. They were surrounding me, the second pulled out a wand.
“We have easier methods of pulling our answers out of our prisoners.” He sneered. His wand tip touched my chin. I trembled and held my breath.
SLAM!
The second Death Eater turned to locate the noise, relieved, I took a step back and gulped in the fresh air. Then gazed at the source of my relief.
Another Death Eater, how many were there? He was striding forward. He had neglected to put his hood up, showing his scrawny face. One of his hands gleamed silver.
A silver hand.
I could almost hear it clicking in my brain. Wormtail. This was Wormtail, also known as Peter Pettigrew, stinky little traitor, he was now high in You-Know-Who’s regards.
“Mason, are you through yet?” His voice sounded young and high-pitched in comparison to my three tormentors.
“Wormtail,” began the first Death Eater nervously, “er-no.”
“No?” Wormtail asked, flexing his silver hand. “You have been interrogating her for three hours and you have not found out anything?”
Three hours? Had it really been that long? My head spun, I seemed to have lost all means of predicting time.
“W-we did find out her name!” Sputtered the third nervously.
“Ah really, and what would that be?” Asked Wormtail coolly, surveying me from head to toe. I became very self-conscious, which is rather silly in a predicament such as this, to worry about small vanities. But I did, my hair was dirty, I hadn’t bathed in days, I must have slept longer than I thought. My robes were dirty and my face was smudged with dirt and blood.
“Merona Knowles.” The second put in silkily, ill-disguised loathing for Wormtail in his voice.
“Merona Knowles?” Wormtail asked, giving me a curious look. “We’ll look into that.”
“In the meantime?” Asked the first.
“In the meantime sir,”Wormtail corrected, “you will return her to her cell, the Dark Lord may want to question her.”
For some reason, the thought of returning to that dark, airless room scared me more than the rest of the ordeal combined. To be locked up there, for countless days, for now I was sure it was far longer than a week. I don’t know how, but I just did. Perhaps it was because my hair wasn’t this limp after a day of not washing it.
My robes were dirty, I was overall filthy and babbling like a halfwit, tears sprouted to my eyes.
“Don’t put me back in there!” I pleaded to Wormtail. The second Death Eater had uncorked the antidote and cut off my cries by pouring it down my throat.
Wormtail paused, the other Death Eaters sucked in their breaths, while their loathing for him was clear, they did not wish to aggravate him. He turned and strode until he was face to face with me. I was pleased to see he was a bit shorter than me.
“You have trespassed private property and refused to be helpful to your captors!” He screamed, his voice resonating oddly in my ears. “Do not ask me for help!”
He turned to the three Death Eaters, “Be gone with her!” He said.
Maybe it was finally finding someone who was shorter than me or the antidote, but I had a miraculous confidence boost.
“I will never surrender information to scum like you!” I shrieked at Wormtail.
Two of the Death Eaters grabbed me by the shoulders and began escorting me away.
“Shortie, half-man! Shrew!!” I yelled at him. “Bastard! I’ll bet your mother threw away that bit of finger the Ministry sent her when you supposedly perished!”
Wormtail turned for a second time. The Death Eaters had also stopped. I could almost sense them eager for me to continue, to finally give the brat his worth.
“Repeat that.” Wormtail snarled menacingly.
“Which one?” I answered. “The fact that your mother was finally glad to be rid of a worthless burden such as yourself and have a nice shiny award in your place?”
Wormtail raised his silver hand. It gleamed in the bright lights. I spat at his face. He then slapped me. I immediately fell unconscious.
An Interesting Proposal by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
Past
“Do you, Merona Knowles, understand and agree to follow the rules of the Order of the Phoenix?” boomed Shacklebolt’s voice in the shabby kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
“I do,” I answered, my voice wobbling slightly. The kitchen was filled to burst. Seeing so many people there offset me a little bit. But after realizing both Tonks and Dumbledore were there, I knew I was doing the right thing. I had agreed immediately to join this group to protect the wizarding world oblivious to He-who-must-not-be-named’s return. Kingsley was reading me the initiation, to which I had just agreed. Now that I was done, he rolled up the scroll and beckoned me forward. This was the part I was queasy about; I had to sign my name in blood.
The pin broke through the skin in my finger, I let out a gasp and the blood bubbled up. Then, half closing my eyes, I pressed the finger to the paper and signed Merona Knowles in blotchy red blood.
Shacklebolt tapped his wand to my finger and it healed.
The kitchen audience, which had been holding their breaths up until now, suddenly broke into applause. I grinned sheepishly at them all.
“Butter beers for all!” cried a suspiciously familiar man with lank hair. I was sure I had seen him somewhere, but could not recall at the moment. However, it didn’t matter, I was eager to have fun, and to belong.
~*~
“I have an object of serious matter to bring to your attention,” Dumbledore began gravely, standing in the parlor of Number 12 a week after I had been inducted. His face was more serious than I had ever seen it before. “As you know, I have a strong suspicion of what Voldemort plans to do.”
We were all listening intently, hanging on to his every word. This was our first major task since we had been re-established. Many among us (myself included) shuddered as the name Voldemort was spoken.
“I believe that Voldemort,” Dumbledore continued, oblivious to the reactions rippling around the group every time he said that name, “will want to become even stronger than he previously was. To do so, he will need, what I believe to be the deadliest weapon of all.”
Here Dumbledore paused and let his eyes sweep around the circle, examining each and every member. When I had gone to Hogwarts, I had always known him with a twinkle or smile tucked away amongst his wrinkles. Now, I doubt I would be able to find them even if I took a chisel to his face. His eyes lingered upon mine for a minute and he gave the faintest ghost of a smile, almost as though he had known what I had been thinking.
“This weapon is not the kind you are accustomed to, it is not in a physical form of any sort. But in the wrong hands it could inflict much pain,” again he paused, the rest of the Order held it’s breath, “This weapon is knowledge.”
Nearly everyone in the circle looked puzzled, some exchanged glances and began to softly mutter amongst themselves. I was at loss for words, I looked hopelessly around the circle, most were looking quizzical, and I saw Remus Lupin in a corner, in deep thought.
Knowledge? What on earth could You-Know-Who do with that? How could that kill people? Unless… It was knowledge of where they lived…or even something as simple as whom they were.
Was the knowledge Dumbledore was talking about merely a matter of tracking down all the non-You-Know-Who supporters? Because that would be simple, the majority of the wizarding world hated him. But Dumbledore had said this was something You-Know-Who hadn’t previously owned. Which would mean he would have been unaware of it, which would it had happened shortly before he had disappeared. Which would mean…
“Potter,” Lupin breathed, more to himself, but it must have been louder than he’d expected. Heads snapped in his direction, many eyes concentrated onto him.
“Dumbledore talked about knowledge,” Lupin explained smoothly, his hand running over the stubble on his chin as he spoke, “The only knowledge You-Know-Who would be interested in right now would be how to prevent what happened to him the last time.”
People began to mutter amongst themselves again. Was it even possible to obtain such knowledge? I had always figured there had been a fluke with You-Know-Who’s wand. Then Dumbledore spoke.
“Lupin is right,” he gave a benevolent smile I had thought he had lost, “What Voldemort needs right now is the knowledge of how Harry stopped him, so as to keep it from happening again.”
“B-but Harry couldn’t be in that much danger, could he?” asked a worried, plump woman. I think her name was Mary, or maybe it was Molly. She and her family had recently arrived here.
“How did Harry stop it anyways?” queried Sirius Black. Yes that’s right, the convict that the Ministry has been chasing all these years. The alleged supporter of You-Know-Who. Well, he’s on our side. He also happens to be Potter’s godfather. At Sirius’s question, other began to voice their questions, until soon enough you couldn’t distinguish one question from the next.
“How did””
“How can””
“”help us?”
“-if we-”
“Silence,” Dumbledore said the word softly, but the entire room immediately ceased their chatter. All eyes focused to the front of the room again. “The information Voldemort wants is in the form of a prophecy.”
He held up his hand again, as many people had opened their mouths, “I cannot reveal the contents of the prophecy to you,” he said kindly.
“Well of course you can’t,” Shacklebolt scoffed. “You would need to have heard it.”
“Yes, thank you Kingsley,” Dumbledore inclined his head in Shacklebolt’s direction. “What we are going to do about this is set up guards to watch the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. That’s where the prophecy is being kept,” he explained.
“Right you are Dumbledore,” said Sirius, jumping to his feet. “I’ll set up a schedule for night shifts.”
“Thank you Sirius,” Dumbledore said. Almost at once people rushed to Sirius to volunteer their aid. They were clearly eager to finally do something. The crowd was so excited though, that it scared me. So I stayed back, sitting on my couch and looking wistfully at the crowd. Did I want to do this? It sounded safe enough, still I wasn’t about to plunge into a crowd full of people to do it.
“Er, perhaps people who have easiest access to the Ministry should volunteer first,” Sirius stated nervously glancing at the mob of helpful hands. He spotted me still sitting on the couch.
“Merona! How about I sign you up for Monday and Tuesday?” I nodded dumbly. “Would 7-12 work out?”
“Yes,” my voice came out as a squeak. I was always nervous in public situations. Even though I was getting more accustomed to hanging around Number 12 Grimmauld when there were small crowds, having the whole group situated there had brought back my anxiety. Sirius scribbled it down and then Shacklebolt stepped forward to volunteer.
Present
“Hello, you awake?” asked a kindly voice in my ear.
“Meh?” I mumbled sleepily, wondering whom it was. I was still in the pitch-blackness of the cell. I could feel someone kneeling near me. I couldn’t see them; it was too dark. I shifted to sit up, my whole body protested. I had become rusty from sleep, and my muscles complained as I pulled myself up.
“Who’s there?” I asked, trying not to feel too alarmed. But after my last ordeal I was nervous about what methods the Death Eaters would devise. They didn’t seem intent on physical harm, not if they could cause a lot of mental anguish. I still hadn’t forgotten what it was like to have my brain arguing against me. I shook my head and willed that memory away and tried to concentrate on the visitor’s answer.
“Here. Eat this,” I felt a bowl being placed in my hands. I was reluctant to take it though, it could be another potion. “It won’t kill you.”
At this precise moment my stomach growled. Feeling embarrassed about what a loud sound it had made, I lifted the bowl to my lips. I could smell the delicious broth with my nose; my mouth began to water. I opened my mouth to taste it…
Clank!
The bowl had been ripped from my hands. I heard it clatter against the unforgiving stone floor. Confused, I tried to pinpoint what had happened.
“Whoops, clumsy me,” malicious laughter followed that statement. I heard the person rise as their robes rustled. I caught a glimpse of them, as they got up to leave. I looked eagerly for a door. No light was apparent. Desperate, I snatched at the end of their robe. My hands held clothe for a few short seconds before they hit stonewall. I now became aware how very alone I was. My visitor had left, leaving me with robes stained with broth and my stomach emptier than ever. I curled up on my side and went back to sleep.
Past
My first night of watch duty was very dull. I just sat outside the door for five hours in my invisibility cloak trying not to breathe too loud. The biggest scare I got was when the night watch passed by the end of the hallway twice. Dull as it was though, I now understood why it was so important to guard. The watch for the Ministry was pitiful at best. I was part of an extra defense barrier the Death Eaters wouldn’t be expecting. Still, I was anxious the entire time I sat there.
Afterwards I would always stumble to my small flat for a few quick hours of sleep before returning to the Ministry to do my job. Janitorial duty had always seemed a dull profession, but now that I knew I could be working for the Order, it had become unbearable. At least the others were angling for a raise. It made things more interesting because they would enchant the windows to look like hurricanes. However, it wasn’t until a figure looking suspiciously like Cornelius Fudge tumbled past the windows that we finally got the desired raise.
At the Order, tension was rising. The papers continued to slander Dumbledore and Potter. We were on edge, unsure of what to do next. The Death Eaters weren’t making any sudden moves either. In fact the most exciting thing that had happened for the Order was a small party honoring the new prefects of Gryffindor who were staying at the headquarters at the time.
And so the months passed by, Christmas was nearly upon us and still all I had done was watch a stupid door two nights a week. I was aching to do more, but You-Know-Who and his supporters were laying low. Until one night, I finally got a job other than watch-duty.
I had been sitting in my janitor’s ‘closet’ picking through the Evening Prophet, trying to find an article that was not littered with side comments flaming Dumbledore. It was rather futile, but there was nothing else to do when you held the night shift at the Ministry of Magic.
“Merona!” a voice called to me. I started and turned, normally people didn’t hang around at the Ministry late at night, much less know me by name. There was no one in the doorway though.
“Over here you idiot!” snapped the voice impatiently. I turned once more and found a sallow faced wizard with short black bangs glaring at me from amidst some Quidditch players on one of our posters.
“Yes?” I asked tentatively, portraits sometimes go crazy and make odd demands from you. For example, at my maiden aunt’s house there’s one of a bloke who is more than willing to talk about making love. I think my aunt encourages him, but I never dare tell her that when she complains about him.
“Message from Dumbledore,” he said curtly. I unconsciously straightened, feeling my body began to tremor with worry. Dumbledore meant the Order and the Order meant something dangerous. It would be a change…but would it be a change I wanted?
“Yes?” I inquired, waiting for him to continue, quivering slightly.
“There’s been an attack,” he stated. He probably would have continued, but I interrupted him in my excitement.
“The Death Eaters have struck? Where?” I asked anxiously, “Is anyone hurt?”
“Calm down and let me finish the message. Look where it’s kept,” he meant where the prophecy was, the Department of Mysteries. “You’ll find one of ours covered,” that meant that someone from the Order was there, hidden by the invisibility cloak. “I’ll follow you as far as I can.”
Nervously I got out of my chair and crept out of the office to the corridor, the portrait egging me on occasionally to go faster. But fear was petrifying me; I had to keep pushing myself forward to make the next step.
At last I arrived at the long corridor. I had been worried I needed to feel around for the covered figure, but there was no need. A bright shiny stream of blood was visible. I rushed over to the source and tore off the invisibility cloak, my fear momentarily forgotten as adrenaline kicked in. A man with vivid red hair gasped for air. I couldn’t recall his name. Blood was gushing rapidly from his body, I couldn’t help it, I screamed.
“AIEEEEEE!”
“What? What happened?” A security guard came tearing around the corner moments later. He saw me, I just blubbered.
“I-I came here… and he was j-just lying there…”I babbled, I hadn’t really thought as to what to say. Why oh why had I had to scream? The guard saw Mr. Weasley, and he didn’t ask any more questions. He blew a small silver whistle. Two other guards arrived instantaneously. At first they looked irritated and confused, then they saw Weasley and they got straight to work. They conjured a stretcher and two of them walked off with him. I breathed a small sigh of relief; at least he would be safe.
I had not counted on the watchman who had stayed behind. He walked over to me, and began questioning me.
“When did you find him?” he questioned me with a solemn expression. I felt my insides curl under his gaze. For a minute all I could do was mumble.
“Uh, I uh…I came here because I found there was a spill…” I began.
“How did you know there was a spill?” he asked. I bit my lip; I had no clue. How should I know there was a spill? But he was looking at me, oh, he knew I was lying. I should just prostrate myself at his feet and confess immediately.
“Uh…th-there’s a spill detector, that’s right a spill that detects spells, I mean, a spell that detects spills in the Ministry,” I babbled, my entire body shaking and I was ready to cry under his intense gaze. It was a bloody terrible lie, why did I lie? Now they were going to find out I had lied and try me for treason…
Only they didn’t. Fortunately the guard took that a spill detector was common use with janitors and didn’t ask many more questions. It turned out his name was Weasley and somehow the full investigation had slipped through the cracks. When I had asked Tonks about it later she had smiled at me and said:
“I have very slippery fingers.”
Present
Bright lights. Outside my eyelids, my body felt tired, but the lights…so bright. I could feign sleep no longer. I slowly opened my eyes.
And shut them again. The light was too bright for me. Still, it had been enough to bring me to my senses, I became aware of voices around me.
“The Dark Lord is very interested in her,” I heard a high-pitched, nasally voice say.
“Well of course he is, she’s with Dumbledore,” retorted another voice. This one I recognized; the visitor. The one who had knocked the soup out of my hands. They knew I was collaborating with Dumbledore, but how? I hadn’t given them any information.
Except my name. I cursed myself for giving it to them. Then my brain hit another, more terrifying thought. If they knew I was with the Order, that would mean they would have some sort of sketch of the other members of the Order. And that could extend even to them knowing the headquarters…
My heartbeat began to race at that very thought. Why did I always make the stupid mistakes? There were no slippery fingers to save me this time! I tried to calm myself down, they could have spotted me earlier this year at the Ministry of Magic, they could just be assuming…
“She’s awake!” spat Wormtail. I heard him scuttle over to me. A cloth was being lifted from my face. Then I smelled the delicious scent of fresh baked bread.
“C’mon, get up, we know you’re awake,” teased the other in their rich voice. Gingerly I opened my eyes and frowned, pretending to be out of sorts and confused. Wormtail was leaning over me, clutching the cloth that had covered my face. I became very aware of how helpless I was, and I knew that this helplessness made him feel powerful. My innards curdled at the very thought of that leech having more power and security than me. I envied him at that moment, to be able to watch others be tortured instead of being tortured himself.
I was sitting on a plush couch in a cozy room. A merry fire was crackling to the side. Wormtail had scurried over and was tending to it. I frowned at the other Death Eater opposite me, sitting on an identical couch. I tensed, feeling very suspicious of her intentions. She smiled stiffly at me.
“Listen, Merona, it is Merona right? Not Merry or Meron-y…” she struggled to find abbreviations for my name.
All I could do was nod. Every fiber of my body was shaking with terror. What were they going to do to me this time?
“No need to be so closed, Merona,” she smiled, voice dripping with false kindness and teeth razor sharp. “It’s not good for conversation. Let’s go back to the introductions. I’m not sure if you know who I am. My name is Bellatrix Lestrange.”
She dropped her hands to pick up a simple straw basket. Its contents were covered in cloth, I held my breath, afraid of what it might contain. She unfolded the cloth gently to reveal…
…bread. In the basket was a fresh loaf of bread. A new waft of the delicious aroma filled me, I breathed in deeply, my stomach grumbled slightly. It was asking, no, demanding for that bread.
“You’re hungry,” she said, breaking off a piece of crust and popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the taste. My stomach growled at her jealously. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hoping to stifle the noise. The effort was futile. She opened her large eyes again. Their inky black depths mocked me.
Wormtail let out a mutter of discontent. Bellatrix broke off a larger piece of bread. At first she extended her hand in my direction. I thought she was going to give it to me. She held it there for an eternity. I tentatively extended my hand to grab the melting warm hunk of bread.
At the very last second Bellatrix tossed the rich bread to Wormtail, who eagerly gobbled it up. I stared at him, in disbelief. He looked like a rat, even though he was clearly in human form, but the way he devoured that bread, with that shifty look in his eyes at me, as though he were afraid I might steal it. And even though he looked like the worst slime, I wished I were he, so that I wouldn’t have food so close to my grasp and not get it. You should have expected this, I thought, she did it to you last time as well.
“Now that could end differently if you listen to my,” here Bellatrix paused for effect, “interesting proposal,” her large eyes raked me up and down critically, “I could help you greatly.”
I felt very self-conscious. This was the kind of woman who was at ease in her skin, unlike me. The angst from my teenage years had stayed with me. I think she had been chosen to make me more inclined to confide in her.
However it had the opposite effect on me. Bellatrix Lestrange resembled in every way the people who had bullied me when I had first entered Hogwarts. I was less inclined that ever before to do any divulging.
“W-wha-what kind of deal do you want to make?” I asked, willing my voice not to shake too much. She considered me thoughtfully before she spoke.
“The hard facts are that your life is at stake,” she began her rich voice filling the room. “While you stay loyal to Dumbledore, there’s no way you’ll survive.”
She paused to eat another bite of bread. I used the opportunity to speak, “So what’s your deal then? I’m dead, you might as well just kill me now,” I was a little taken aback at how boldly I was speaking. Normally I tried to blend into the background as much as possible. But that’s kind of hard to do when you’re the center of attention. Still, my last words had managed to squeak.
“I’m offering you another choice at life, a chance to join the most noble organization of all, to become one of us. A Death Eater. No, wait,” she held up her hand as I opened my mouth, “let me finish.”
I shut my mouth.
“Good, now, before you say no to this,” she paused, searching for a word adequate for her ‘noble’ proposal, “generous offer, think it through. You’ve spent the last year chasing around after Dumbledore, but for what? Everything will just go back to normal after this and everything you’ve done will amount to nothing.”
Become a Death Eater? Eat warm bread rather than watching the other slime eat it? Well if that’s what it was, then I would join for sure. I would gladly renounce my colors of old in favor of security and food.
But…Death Eaters weren’t always secure; they were constantly being killed by one another. Still…that bread, the fresh, warm scent of it…
Sure they killed Muggles and Mud-bloods. But what was that in comparison to food? Sure, I wasn’t a pureblood, but they were willing to feed me. Who was I to bite the hand that offered me food?
But what else had she said? Everything the Order has done will be for nothing? But it won’t, there was no way it could. The Order would still be around to chase of miscreants. And it’ll have grown more powerful. What could I possibly add to keep the Death Eaters from losing? What did I truly possess that they apparently so deeply desired?
Knowledge. My heart stopped cold, I could hear Dumbledore’s voice in my ear. Knowledge. I had the knowledge of the entire Order, it’s location, it’s members, it’s plans. It was all coming back, this was why I hadn’t given in before. So many people would die as a result of my fleeting fancy for food. Could I let that happen? Could I give into the weakness of my human body and let hundreds die merely because I was uncomfortable?
A few months ago the answer would have been yes. I could still say yes now. But after joining the Order, I had changed. I hadn’t realized that until now. I may still be nervous and scared but I had a purpose. I had responsibility. And while I may still quaver and tremble, I could endure it for at least a little bit longer. Bellatrix had said that that everything I’ve done would be for nothing. She was wrong, by standing up to her, by refusing that tempting golden bread, I would be saving people, not just myself.
“No it won’t,” I answered, voice wobbling and eyes fixed on the carpet. It was very worn; there were even a few threadbare patches in it. I could see bit of dirt and mud encrusted on parts. All of a sudden the room seemed less sumptuous. I guess it had only looked appealing after my sojourn in the dark cell.
“What was that?” Bellatrix snapped, a hint of anger marring her luxurious voice.
“It won’t,” I said, my voice stronger now though no louder than a whisper, “ It won’t be for nothing. We’ll have stopped your ‘noble organization’ and that will be enough.”
“Oh sure it will be,” she actually gave a little laugh at this, “you’ll lose a few dear friends along the way, but it will return to normal. For a while, at least. Sooner or later someone will come along and they’ll try to do the exact same thing, and it will all happen all over again. Only this time you’ll lose another couple of friends.”
She tore off a little bit more bread to emphasize her point. I hugged my knees tighter to myself, trying to block her words out; they were twisted half-truths she was speaking. But the truth was the part that was eating at me. I was doing this to save people, but what if they died anyways in battle?
“You must understand Merona,” Bellatrix spoke quietly, “one way or another we’ll get the information we need out of you. Just one side happens to benefit you a bit more.”
“You’ve done a lovely job getting the information out of me as it is!” I cried hysterically, sometimes I wished they’d just kill me instead of torturing me with all these false friendships and enemies. “So far all you know is my name. Well, why aren’t you feeding me more potions? Where is the Veritaserum?”
“Shut up, you stupid girl!” Bellatrix snapped at me, eyes flashing dangerously. “Do you really want those for yourself? You know what they do? They damage your brain. They can misconstrue the information you give us. They are not the safest mean to pry information from a source if the source can be used for other things!”
She didn’t look friendly at all now. I, become partners with her? No. I was not going to do that.
“Well then, you’re screwed,” I stood up, feeling braver than I ever had previously in my life, “because I refuse your offer.”
With that I marched towards the door. Shame, I wished my voice hadn’t gone up two octaves on the last word. It was a stupid thing to do; I’ll admit it willingly. But stupidity can bring on bravery. Unfortunately, that stupidity can also inspire others. I didn’t really think I would make it to the door, much less outside of it. However, I wasn’t really right in the head.
“STUPEFY!” cried out Wormtail. It was a little late though. I had been shaking so much that I had tripped over my own feet. I hadn’t paid much attention to him earlier, bread incident aside. Now I realized that he had been carefully noting down every word of our conversation with a quill. And my act of stupidity/bravery inspired him to stun me.
I was frozen. I was dead. They would kill me now. I couldn’t move, my body lay on the floor. Wormtail scurried over to me and conjured some ropes out of thin air. He then used them to bind me up.
“Well, seeing as you refuse,” Bellatrix purred. “We’ll have to do this the hard way.”
Wormtail used his wand to levitate me. The two of them carried me down the hall. The sojourn was completely silent. Finally they stopped in front of a large pair of oak doors, they were painted black and enchanted with a pattern that resembled slithering snakes. I could feel my entire body screaming in terror, I knew the Death Eaters felt it too. The indescribable force of fear and evil emanating from the room beyond the door.
“Well, Merona,” Bellatrix panted, beads of sweat trailing down her face, “be prepared to witness the last thing you’ll ever see. The Dark Lord would like to have a chat with you.”
As she spoke, the thick black doors slowly opened inwards. Heat gushed out, causing me to start to break out in cold sweat, inside it was all dark except for the fierce blaze of a fire. I was going in.
The Candle of Hope is Lit by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
I had developed my fear of fire as a young child. It had happened when I was three. I was at my cabin one summer and our family was gathered around the campfire roasting marshmallows. The flames, which looked so elegant, dancing around in the pit, dazzled me. It was like the magic my Da performed, only better. My marshmallow was slowing becoming the perfect shady of toasty golden brown.
I put it between two crackers with some chocolate. It was the most delicious treat my young mouth had ever experienced. Da and Ma and Auntie Carol were busy chatting away from the fire.
They paid no attention to me; after all, I was simply eating my s’more and staying quiet. Little did they know that I was actually hypnotized by the bonfire. Watching the sparks leap into the air as the melted marshmallow stuck to my hand.
When I had finished my sticky snack, I continued to gaze in the blaze. It was calling me, those dancing flames were asking me to dance with them. Silently, I stood up. The grown-ups took no notice. I gingerly stepped to the gorgeous inferno. A spark jumped at me, I tried to catch it. A stick fell out of the fire, and turned into glowing embers.
It was pleasant and warm so close to the fire pit, I watched the embers glittered on the burnt stick. They were so sparkly. I wanted to touch them, and maybe they would feel warm too. I picked up the stick, it gave off a pleasant glow in my hand, but a sudden gust of wind cooled it quickly. I stayed snug in my oversized sweatshirt.
Disappointed, I searched for another stick. Then I spotted one, in the middle of the fire, elegant and white, all its bark burnt off. It was incased in flames, it seemed like an eternally burning stick. I reached out to grab it”
-and the fire snagged the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The fabric was so bulky that I didn’t notice it at first. But my Da did, he rushed over to me and yanked me backwards. Screaming at me in words I barely understood, he tugged the sweatshirt off over my head.
But it was too late; the blaze had singed the flesh all up and down my right forearm. I screamed in pain as I looked at it, hot red. It hurt so much, so much. I passed out.
I awoke a few hours later, my arm in bandages (Ma had healed it with her wand) and snug on the couch. But there are still faint scars on it, and it’s weaker than my left arm. However, that experience has had a lasting effect on me, I shy away from candle flames, and flinch at the heat of ovens. The last time I was at a bonfire party, I nearly threw up, the fear made me so nauseous.
I later learned the correct term for my fear, pyrophobia.
As those doors opened, I felt my knees shake. Fire. I could smell it, the stench of smoke that fills the air and gets into your lungs. However, for once my fear was cast aside in favor of a stronger one.
Because mixed amongst the smoke was a stink of evil. I can’t really even describe it to you, but the very feeling vibrated in the bones of my body. Every organ in my body screamed a protest as Bellatrix and Wormtail dragged me forward.
They were leading my numb, stiff body down a black stone hall. Fire lined the walls. Black fire, it was the source of the sinister vibes. The entire place was dark as night, and yet somehow I could see. Surely it was not due to the fire, which gave off no light.
We stopped yet again at a thick pair of columns. Bellatrix and Wormtail dropped me to the cold, unforgiving black stone floor and fled. I heard the wooden door shut behind them.
Wondering if this was to be my new dungeon, I grudgingly pulled myself up. Only then did I examine the columns. They weren’t really columns, they were snakes.
Black snakes about 50 meters long and 2 meters wide. Their coils rippled in the fire. I stifled the urge to scream (barely) when an eye opened on one of them. Then the left column/snake’s entire head emerged. I wondered if it was going to swallow me whole, it was easily large enough too. Instead, it merely surveyed me with it’s flat red eyes before tucking itself back into it’s coils and it shifted again until the head was no longer in view.
I should have run, but I couldn’t. My heart was in my throat and the blood in my veins seemed to have frozen in horror. If you were to have pushed me, I would have tipped right over. My ears rang, as if I could hear voices that weren’t quite there. I tried to ignore them but they became more insistent, mere murmurings that I couldn’t really discern. It may have all been in my head, but my body wasn’t ready to accept it in such an ominous environment.
“Diducos!”
As the high, shrill voice cut through the air, the snakes began to move. It was so slow, so subtle, that at first I wasn’t even sure it had happened. But a rush of clean cool oxygen knocked my brain into functioning a little better.
As the coils slowly parted, the space beyond came into view. I saw that the enormous serpents had been resting in front of a flight of stairs. The steps were steep and narrow, much like those of the ancient Aztec pyramids.
Soon, the snakes had completely disappeared from view, except for their heads, which poked out of their niches in the wall, tongues flicking across the floor occasionally.
Nervously, every fiber in my body shaking from some unknown terror, I raised my head up to look beyond the vertical stairway. There was a large, flat area made of the same stone as the rest of the chamber. A large, spacious wooden chair sat against the far side of the platform. It looked rather stiff and uncomfortable. Adorning the walls were various tapestries depicting gruesome deaths, or declaring family lineage. There were also a few skeletons hanging from manacles; I tried to not look at those.
But what my eyes were avoiding most, even more than the skeletons and the dancing black flames was the figure standing on one side of the platform.
“Merona,” he addressed me, a faint hiss in his sharp voice.
I could avoid it no longer. I took a deep breath, in a failed attempt to calm myself, before turning to face him. He was tall and slim, looking more like a skeleton with the skin stretched across the bones and draped in black. But the face was the most unnatural part of his person. It wasn’t even human, more like a cross between human and snake. The eyes were flat and oval, set far apart on the sides of the face. And bright red. Nostrils barely even distinguishable, they lay so low. And his mouth was curled in a cruel grin. I was half-expecting him to flick out a serpent’s tongue.
It was Lord Voldemort.
“Merona,” Dumbledore began, surveying me gravely, “this is a mission of utmost importance.”
“Yes, I understand,” I nodded reluctantly, sitting on the edge of my chair and jostling my leg nervously. It was just after the beginning of summer holidays and I was sitting in Dumbledore’s office. He looked apphrehensive.
“There are Death Eaters in Azkaban, left over from the battle in the Department of Mysteries,” he continued. The memories of that battle were obviously still fresh in his mind. They were fresh in all of our minds.
“Why haven’t the Death Eaters freed them?” I queried. It had been the Death Eaters’ most predicted move, to spring their friends out of the wizarding prison. However, Voldemort had simply contented himself with attacking minor Muggle facilities and Wizarding Organizations.
“That’s what I want you to find out,” Dumbledore heaved a big sigh. “We really need you for this mission.”
“Sure, I’ll do it,” I insisted, I felt guilty about not having done any work for the order since guarding the Department of Mysteries had become obsolete. In the pit of my stomach, though, I knew I didn’t really want to do it.
“I believe you can accomplish it,” Dumbledore input, correctly interpreting my thoughts as he always seemed too. “This information is very vital. But the means of obtaining it are dangerous. You will need to go to the Riddle Manor. That is where my sources tell me Lord Voldemort is hiding.”
He proceeded to show me a map of the Riddle Manor and surrounding area. “It’s best you go the Muggle way,” he explained, “they may have ways to detect apparitions and portkeys set up.”
He handed me the Order’s invisibility cloak with a gentle smile on his face. “I wish you success,” he paused, “but should you fail in your mission…”
He let his voice trail off; at that point I truly realized the consequences of this mission. Should I fail, I could die. My heart paused for a few brief seconds at the thought. I did my best to regulate my breathing. Others in the Order did more dangerous things every day. Surely I could accomplish so simple a mission as this.
“I have a little charm that may or may not be able to help you,” Dumbledore pulled out a slim, purple candle, “if you light this, it will light this identical candle here in my study,” he indicated to another purple candle on his desk. “Then I will know that you are in trouble. Also, you will be able to communicate until the candle burns out. I’m giving you two, so that you can light one before you enter the Riddle Manor.”
“Thank you, Professor,” I took both the candles agitatedly. My anxiety about the mission chased away my fear of fire. As well as my knowledge of it. Had I remembered, perhaps Dumbledore would have been able to give me another method.
~*~
I stumbled out of Dumbledore’s office, feeling a bit dazed. I saw that Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting outside, looking imperious as ever.
“Well Merona?” he asked. “How did it go?”
“I got my first mission,” I explained nervously.
“Oh?” Kingsley raised one eyebrow. I nodded, feeling embarrassed under his high gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. I looked up at him expectantly.
“Y-you” Good luck!” he stuttered. Even though he had stumbled over his words, he didn’t flush like I did when that happened. He then quickly strode into Dumbledore’s office.
~*~
The traverse to the Riddle Manor had been as dull as my job. Only, I had been as jumpy as a baby bunny. I gave every Muggle that was in the same subway car as me the third degree. For instance, that lady over there with the muffler was not wearing the muffler to protect herself against the snow, but to hide her face from me. And the man wearing the tall top hat was obviously Lord Voldemort himself. By the end of the trip, I had convinced myself I was surrounded by Death Eaters.
I ran nearly the whole way to the Riddle Manor. When I got to the walls however, I realized I had forgotten to don my invisibility cloak. To avoid causing suspicion, I had ducked into a nearby pub to put it on.
The pub had been warm in crowded. Someone even offered to buy me a drink. I refused and hid in the nearest loo. Unfortunately for me, I had neglected to check as to whether it was a ladies or a man’s room. Knowing my luck, it turned out to be a man’s. Fortunately I was able to flee unseen thanks to my cloak.
Once at the Riddle Manor (now properly clad) I lit one of the candles Dumbledore had given me. It was a mistake. The candle burst into hot white flame. The flames reminded me so much of that fateful campfire that I screamed and put it out immediately.
I shook off the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me to forget the whole thing, that the candle was a bad omen. I entered the Riddle Manor with great trepidation.
“Crucio!”
I screamed, the pain was so intense, so insufferable; I wished I could just die. But I couldn’t give him the satisfaction, not yet. And yet, it felt as though I were in the heart of a fire and burning endlessly. I could almost smell the smoke on my own skin. All of a sudden, it was over.
“Did you like that?” he asked. I didn’t answer; it was an obvious trick question. He had administered the curse six times thusly. I was on all fours, panting for air.
“Look at me,” he commanded. I couldn’t do it though; I was too weak to raise my head.
“Crucio!”
Again, I was in the center of a fire, all my oxygen squeezed of my lungs as I burned. Just as quickly I found myself lying on the floor, it was graciously cold and sturdy.
“Tell me about the Order of the Phoenix,” Voldemort commanded calmly. I was still paralyzed in fear and pain; “You are going to wish you are dead after I’m done with you.”
Somehow, I managed to pull myself. I swayed a little bit, for I was still unbalanced. I blinked dully at Lord Voldemort, trying to see through the spots that had wormed their way into my vision after all those bouts of the Cruciatus Curse.
“I know naught about the Order,” I croaked. It was an obvious lie, but I didn’t care. The mistake I had made was looking Voldemort straight in the eye.
I now understood why the Death Eaters held such respect for Lord Voldemort. He was more than an insane evil genius. He was an insane evil genius with power. When he looked me straight in the eye, I knew he knew everything about me, and there was no hiding it. I felt as though he could smite me with his eyes alone.
He could have done that; it would have been merciful in comparison to what he actually did.
There is a trick that your brain does to block out traumatic moments. Anything too embarrassing is slowly forgotten overtime. Hidden in the recesses of your brain, until you mostly remember the comical and happy moments. Unfortunately those memories are still there, but it takes a lot to bring them back to the surface.
“Look at the scrawny first year,” sang a plump 4th year Ravenclaw girl with a smug grin on her face, “she looks like she could use some friends!” The word friends was dragged out to encompasses twice the tones and syllables the word normally needs.
“Giselle,” I breathed, my heart bounding up to my throat. The face of my tormentor throughout my first years in Hogwarts appeared right in my eyes, “No. No, go away! I’m done with you!”
“She not bad-looking for a Hufflepuff,” Scotty, a Ravenclaw 5th year stated, walking around my eleven year old self, “unfortunate about her house though.”
“What are you doing to me!” I cried out, squirming with the unhappiness I had felt ten years ago, “You’re supposed to leave me alone! Why won’t you leave me alone!”
“You should have joined my order, Merona,” Voldemort spoke from somewhere beyond these nightmares, an amused sound in his voice.
“Alright, Snufflepuff,” Giselle giggled at her witty twisting of my house name, “we don’t do this often, but I feel pity for you.”
“Yeah,” Scotty agreed, “you could have gone far. Shame about your house.”
“Do what?” my eleven year old self squeaked, feeling incredibly nervous.
“We’ll take you under our wing,” Giselle explained, as though I were a complete moron (I was), “you’ll be our…understudy.”
“Here, have a toast!” Scotty said, passing me a lit cigarette and patting me on the butt at the same time.
“No, please, make them go away!” I screamed, tugging at my hair. These people had bullied me ages ago, but seeing them still scared the crap out of me. While the scene itself wasn’t particularly scaring, the fact that I was in such a helpless position and my knowledge that our friendship had had such terrible consequences made my insides revolt obniouxiously.
“Perhaps we should move on to a different memory then?” Voldemort cackled ruthlessly. Somehow, he had some control as to how to control these horrors.
A first year boy lay in front of my third year self. He was twitching uncontrollably as the result of a curse Scotty had hit him with.
“Don’t tell anyone, y’hear me Knowles?” Scotty asked, ruffling his hair nervously. I could only stare helplessly at the little kid’s body.
“But, he’s twitching and…and I think he could be hurt!” I cried out hysterically. The kid was starting to foam at the mouth.
“Damn it Merona!” Scotty seized my shoulders and pushed me aggressively against the wall, “The kid is fine. And if he’s not…if he’s not, I’m gonna tell’em YOU did it!”
“But I didn’t!” I wailed. I had gotten in way over my head, and there was no turning back. I was so scared.
“Y’know what?” Scotty declared, leaving me to whimper by the wall so he could examine the hapless first year, “This kid deserved it! Smarting off to me like that,” he turned back to me, “and you’ll deserve worse if you tell.”
“Stop being such a pussy Knowles,” Giselle spoke from amidst her cloud of cigarette smoke, “what are ya, two years old?”
“Just stop it here!” I begged, tearing at my hands, my fingernails drawing blood as they dug into my palms. In real life, these events had been terrible, but now that they were replayed and drawn out…they were a hundred times worse.
I was three, being burned…I was six, wetting my pants because I was terrified to talk in public…I was 16, on my first date and had a piece of lettuce stuck in between my teeth…
The nightmares rushed in front of me, one right after the other. Every once in a while, Voldemort would pause to laugh at a particular one as I writhed in embarrassment and horror.
Fire…pain…embarrassment. People pointing…people laughing…Jeering…Mocking…
“No! Just make them stop!” I screamed.
“And now, ladies and g-gent-gentlemen,” my 19 year old self began nervously, “allow me to show you the prop-proper way t-to use the m-magical and m-marvelous cleaning s-s-solution…”
“There is no way to make them stop!” Lord Voldemort laughed, enjoying every moment of my pain, “You are going to relive every single moment of your life. In short, your life is passing before your eyes!”
“I don’t want it to! Just make it stop,” I was sobbing now, my spirit broken.
”Do you, Merona Knowles, agree to join the Order of the Phoenix?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked me seriously. I turned, gave a glance at all the people assembled in the kitchen…
“My, my, Dumbledore has been busy,” Lord Voldemort commented. I could see him taking note of each and every member in the Order. I then realized the full extent of what I had done.
“NO! Stop! You aren’t allowed to see that!” I cried frantically as I tore at my robes for a place to hide, thinking that if I could conceal myself, these nightmares would cease. Loose items fell out of pockets, lint, a quill, a candle, as I attempted to dissolve into myself.
A candle.
A slim, purple candle. Just like the one Dumbledore had given to me. It was the candle Dumbledore had give to me.
“A candle!” Voldemort laughed cruelly, “What an ironic touch! The person who fears fire carries a candle on her person!”
The memories had stopped, Voldemort had the information he needed. And he had discovered a new way to torment me. I was curled in the fetal position on the floor. The entire room was silent, you could have heard a pin drop. Tentatively, I uncurled myself. I saw Voldemort pointing his wand at me.
This is it, I thought,the end. I realized how futile my entire life had been. Just a bunch of embarrassments and failures. And now it was going to end with me betraying the only people I had ever really belonged with. I began to whimper again at my own patheticness.
“Accio candle!”
I sat up, clearly stunned that I was still alive. I saw Lord Voldemort, looking at the small candle in his hand with an expression of evil cunning on his face.
“Your greatest fear is fire,” he began, slowly descending to where I was crouched a slow grin spreading across his face, “you are going die by means of your greatest fear. I thank you for the information you gave me. I’ll make good use of it.”
With that he lit the candle using his wand.
“Also, you will be able to communicate until the candle burns out.”
My eyes watched the candle burst into flames; I found my lips moving without my own consent.
“Dumbledore!” I cried out, “I’m here! In the Riddle Manor! They’re springing the Death Eaters from Azkaban! Voldemort knows who is in the Order through the memory of my initiation!”
The Aftermath by d3pr3ss3dNhappy
BAM! My body hit the wall and crumpled to the floor. I felt a few bones crack somewhere inside. This can’t be good, I thought. My heart was pounding once again. And inside my head, I was chastising myself for my stupidity.
The last thing the Order needed was to go on another fruitless rescue mission. It had been on one before, and that had led to the person they were supposed to rescue dying. I became afraid for my friends as well as angry with myself. Why hadn’t I set up some alert? Why was I always the one making the mistakes?
“Now, what was the point in that?” Voldemort demanded, coming over to where I lay, bent and whimpering. “Were you really believing that you could survive my torture? I admire your rebellious spirit, I want to crush it.”
I flinched and curled into myself. However, when I tried to pull my knees to my chest, a piercing pain split in my middle. I cried out in anguish.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you now,” Voldemort informed, cruel amusement in his voice. “I’m going to wait until your lovely Order rescue party arrives.”
He gave me a kick on the back and walked out of the room. I tried to raise my head, but it felt to heavy. I realized I was bleeding from both my head and my middle. I tried to concentrate, tried to imagine what I could do, but the safety of unconsciousness was too strong, and I blacked out.
A tunnel, dark and mysterious and foreboding. I was being sucked in; I had no clue where I was going. I wanted to get out, I needed to get out. The tunnel went on forever it seemed. And then, to my left there was a light, I saw my world, my body lying crumpled on the stone floor. That was where I needed to go, where I needed to be. I fled through the opening.
I was still outside of my body, watching as the blood gushed out of the wounds in my heads and side. I could hear some fighting outside, and flames. Oddly enough, I couldn’t smell any of it. Then the great oak doors opened and I scrambled back to my body. But it wouldn’t let me in, panic began to rise in my throat, maybe I wasn’t doing it right. I lay on top of my mangled flesh and tried to duplicate the position.
Nothing.
I had never felt so afraid in my life, if this even was my life. I was gasping, ready to dissolve into tears. I pounded at my form, and waited to be re-accepted into it.
Two days later
The beige walls, the rough floor and chipped window frames. I knew them all so very well. This was my flat. I was back here again. What I did throughout the period between my rescue and now, I know not. But I was back in my homely, but familiar home. My fat, lazy cat Paisley was snoozing in the corner on her dilapidated pillow. I felt a sudden longing to pet her.
“Paisley,” I called out softly, extending my pale arms towards her. She barely stirred, I reached down to stroke her. As soon as my hand made contact with her fur, she woke up immediately, as though I had dumped a bucket of ice water upon her. She looked at me and hissed.
In all the years she had been my pet, she had never done that. I wanted to pick her up and scold her for doing that. But before I could, she raced away, showing agility that she had not possessed even as a kitten.
Frustrated at her, I tore out of my apartment.
At the Ministry
I don’t really know why I went to the Ministry next, it was obvious they wouldn’t give me back my job, not after I had been gone for so long. Still I meandered down the corridors towards my old office. No one stopped me, they just looked right through me, as they always had.
“Well Giselle, I’ll just leave you to it then.”
My ears perked at my old boss’s voice. Giselle? It couldn’t be the same one, could it? I peered through the crack in the door, hardly daring to believe it. Was it possible that my old tormentor from my school days had replaced me at my job?
Yes, there she was, plumper than ever. Her once gold hair was no longer as radiant, and she wore an excessive amount of make-up. When I saw her, I waited for the old feelings of resentment and anger to emerge.
But they weren’t there. She was no longer the glowing, mocking, smug school girl I had hated. Now she was just a pathetic, unloved janitor with no direction in life. I realized then that I forgave her.
“Giselle,” I whispered softly. She looked up, startled and somewhat frightened.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice quaking. I moved to the threshold.
“Y-you!” she gasped, terror written into every feature of her face. I couldn’t really understand why she was so scared. I felt pity for her.
“It’s alright,” I informed her, smiling, “I forgive you.”
Having said that, I departed, leaving her babbling to herself.
I then took the train out to my parent’s village, where I had grown up. Our village was a charming little set-up, with cozy cottages and a few old cobblestone streets. I wandered amongst the closed stores to my family’s teashop. It was now early Sunday morning, so they weren’t open yet. I peered through the window at the counter and the signs advertising different flavors inside. I smiled at the twists of flowers and herbs that appeared to be there for decorative purposes. But I knew they were actually potions ingredients for sale to fellow wizards and witches.
I walked past the town, to the hills. I loved the view that was provided, endless greenery, so beautiful in comparison to the sludge and drudgery that was London. The flowers were just beginning to wilt, their scent non-existent to my nose.
I wandered around until I arrived at the old churchyard. There was a group of people there for a funeral. It was probably for one of the old villages women. The ones who would always talk about the old days while they did their knitting.
My parents were probably part of the group, but I didn’t really feel like joining them. Instead I perched myself upon one of the grave stones and waited for everyone to disperse.
When the sun was high in the sky, everyone appeared to have left. I picked my way towards the newly dug grave, feeling curious and a bit apprehensive as to who’s name I should find upon it. The earth covering it was dark and moist. I stared at it for a long time. I didn’t want to look at the headstone. I couldn’t bring myself to face the name. I didn’t know why, but suddenly I was crying.
“Merona,” it was Dumbledore, I hadn’t noticed him before but here he was.
“Hello Headmaster,” I sniffed and tried to dry my eyes.
“I am very sorry for your losses,” he said softly, “I should never have sent you on that mission.”
“I’m sorry I gave the Order away,” my voice wobbled a little bit at the idea. I continued to stare at the black dirt. I could see a little worm making it’s way down into the fresh earth.
“But you didn’t.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked sharply looking at him. “Voldemort saw my initiation ceremony, he saw all the faces there.”
“No, no, you are wrong,” Dumbledore shook his head softly. “He believes he saw the entire Order, but I assure you there are still others that he does not know of. In fact, that memory was a bit of a blessing, because now he will be so concentrated on the people he did see that he won’t think to look at other suspicious characters. We will have alleviated suspicion from other members.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling a little bit happier. It hadn’t been a complete mistake after all. My life was not a total failure.
“Yes,” Dumbledore moved as though he were going to pat my shoulder then stopped himself. “Merona, there is something else I need to tell you.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I muttered rebelliously. I wasn’t quite sure, but it was as though some part of my body knew what he was going to say and refused to listen.
“As bad as the aftermath may seem to you,” Dumbledore continued, ignoring me. “You need to realize that you can accept it. You’ve said your good byes Merona, it is now time to move on.”
With that, he strode serenely away from the grave. My stomach was in knots, I knew now that I needed to look at the headstone of the grave. There was some part of the battle that had been too traumatic for me to deal with at the time. Now was the time for me to face it. To accept it. Deep down, I knew Dumbledore was right, I needed to move on.
I carefully raised my head to look at the grave marker. In an elegant script, it read:
Merona Eleanor Knowles
beloved daughter and friend
August 1976-August 1996
Her sacrifice will not be forgotten.
My struggle would not be forgotten. Later Voldemort would make the costly mistake of under-estimating the Order’s numbers and it would lead to his downfall. I knew that now, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone that.
The sun was setting now. I turned and spread my ghost arms out like a bird and let myself spirit dissolve into my beloved English country side.
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