Bedknobs and Broomsticks [HP fanfic; BNB Book 1]

From the Desk of Pius Thicknesse

Joel Mansfield was eying the wild-eyed man leering at him from the front page of his father's newspaper over the rim of his morning glass of pumpkin juice. "Does this mean I won't be allowed to go to the marsh with Vincent and look for grindylows?" he asked. "With Sirius Black having escaped and all?"

"I should think not," his father said, lowering his newspaper to look at the boy. "Even if it weren't for Black having escaped, you know I don't like you hanging around with that Crabbe boy."

"I don't understand why not," Joel said, frowning as he picked up a piece of toast and began to pick away at the burned edges. "You don't like any of my friends."

"It's because they aren't Gryffindors," his sister chimed in. "Dad'd like them if they were in his House, wouldn't you, Dad?"

Geoffrey sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his morning tea around in the bottom of the cup. They'd had this same conversation a dozen times before. "I've told you before, Joel, it has nothing to do with what House your friends are in -- your mother was a Slytherin when we were in school. It's their families. The Crabbes are no better than the Malfoys or the Rosiers. If the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had any concrete evidence, the lot of them would be thrown in Azkaban for supporting You-Know-Who before you could say Quidditch."

"But there isn't any concrete evidence, Dad! My friends aren't running around and blowing up streets full of Muggles! What makes you think they're bad? Just because their parents--"

"That's enough, Joel. Now go upstairs and get dressed so we can make it to Diagon Alley before noon."

The look his son threw him as he stormed out of the kitchen was identical to dozens of looks his wife had given him years before. Joel had the same dark hair and haughty features as Emilie, but his brown eyes and thin lips were clearly his father's. Geoffrey's daughter, on the other hand, was an almost perfect replication of her father, from her red hair down to her scrawny legs.

"So what do you reckon Sirius Black is going to do?" the girl asked. "Think he knows what happened to You-Know-Who and is trying to find him or something?"

Geoffrey flipped the newspaper back over so that Sirius's face was leering up at them again. He looked so different from the Sirius he had known at school. "I don't know, Sarah," he said. "None of us even knew he was on You-Know-Who's side until he killed Peter. That he'd betray Lily and James like he did... wasn't like him at all. Wonder what made him do it...." He trailed off absently, shaking his head. After a moment, he became aware his daughter was still watching him closely and returned to the present. "If you want that new owl today, you'd better go get dressed, too," he said. "Go on."

Sarah gave a delighted squeal and bounded up from her chair and out the doorway, leaving her father alone in the kitchen.

Sirius Black's hollow eyes stared up at him from the Daily Prophet, his mouth twisted into a scowl beneath his curtains of wild, dark hair. He had done the impossible; he had escaped Azkaban.

There was a tap on the window. An owl with a letter in its beak sat on the sill, waiting patiently. For a fleeting moment as he stood and crossed to open the window, Geoffrey entertained the notion that if Sirius could escape, perhaps Emilie--

He let the thought go as he took the letter from the owl and the bird flapped away. No one escaped Azkaban. Sirius was an exception to the rule. And even if Emilie did escape -- Geoffrey let his eyes wander back to the wild face on the front page of the Prophet as he sat back down in his chair -- would she be the same Emilie that had been arrested twelve years ago?

He lifted the heavy parchment flap of the envelope and unfolded the letter within.

Dear Mr. Mansfield,

I am sure by this time that you have heard news of the recent escape of notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black from Azkaban Prison. As the spouse of a current inmate of the prison, your presence is requested at 10 o'clock in the morning on the sixteenth of August in the office of Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, for questioning pertaining to any information linked to

There was a crash from upstairs and he heard Sarah yell something at her brother as two pairs of footsteps came thundering down the stairs.

"Dad, Joel was going through my things!"

"I was not! I saw Sheba crawl under her bed, and I was just trying--"

"Enough." Geoffrey waited for both of his children to fall silent. "Joel, get your crup out from under your sister's bed and take her outside. I told you I don't want her in the house. Sarah, you go back upstairs and finish getting ready. I want you both back down here and ready to go in ten minutes. Understand?"

His children nodded and hurried back upstairs, resuming their yelling as soon as they were out of the kitchen. Geoffrey shook his head, turning back to the letter.

for questioning pertaining to any information linked to the recent breakout. Please arrive at the Ministry of Magic no later than half an hour before your scheduled time.

Best wishes,

Pius Thicknesse

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ministry of Magic

"Best wishes, my ass," Geoffrey muttered, lowering the letter. He looked up as more footsteps thundered overhead, turning his eyes to the doorway in time to see red sparks shooting from the end of his son's wand in pursuit of his sister. "That -- is -- enough!" he bellowed. He held out a hand imperiously. "I don't know what has gotten into the two of you today, but I will not have it. Give me your wand, Joel. You know you aren't allowed to perform magic outside of school until you're seventeen."

"I don't see why not," Joel said, turning over his wand and folding his arms across his chest in a sulk. "It's not like the Ministry's gonna know. They'll just think it's you that's done it!"

"Then explain to me why I'm holding a letter from the Ministry right at this very moment, giving you a warning for performing underage magic." He brandished the heavy yellow parchment of the letter in his hand.

Joel's doubt was etched plainly on his face as he skeptically eyed the letter his father held in his hand. He trailed his eyes to the kitchen table where the envelope was laying and saw the broken wax seal bearing the letters M.O.M., and his eyes widened. "Sorry, Dad. But Sarah--"

"I don't want to hear it. Now, let's go and get your school things. If there's any more trouble -- from either of you -- we'll come straight home and you'll be home schooled this year until you learn some respect. Do I make myself clear?"

His children both muttered affirmations and shuffled toward the fireplace, reaching for the pot of Floo Powder sitting on the mantel. Geoffrey pushed his ginger hair away from his forehead and took a calming breath before joining his children at the fireplace and tossing his own fistful of Floo Powder into the grate.