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.