Worlds can be shattered in an instant. Children go from experiencing new things in blissful innocence, to adults facing the harshness of ever-changing existence in the span of a single moment. Those who see the truths of the world are presented with...
The kettle shrieked, breaking Artemis from her thoughts. She'd been staring out at the thick mist that hid the turbulent waters behind the fossil flats.
"I still don't understand why you make it like that," Lee grunted. His dreadlocks were askew as if he'd been running his hands through them repeatedly. Artemis assumed he'd been holed up in his room producing another Potterwatch broadcast. She didn't envy him for his job.
"It's just habit," Artemis shrugged, pouring the water into the teapot she'd already deposited bags into. The bloody house still didn't have coffee, despite how many times she'd asked Kingsley about it. She placed the lid on the pot and glanced over her shoulder at him again, "what'd I miss during my mighty slumber?"
Lee cringed and reached for a digestive biscuit to fiddle with in his hands. He puffed out a breath, then reached into the junk drawer, pulling out a copy of the Daily Prophet, "There were nine casualties. Two allies. The rest were just Muggle-born refugees."
Artemis took the paper from his hand, her eyes bugging out at the headline.
MANCHESTER MASSACRE: Undesirable No. 1's Latest Act of Terrorism!
"Bloody fuck is this!" Artemis squinted as she skimmed the article, "Rita fucking Skeeter, of course. The death of seven Muggles - Muggles!? - seems to be the latest collateral damage in a string of violent attacks headed by Harry Potter and his terrorist organization: The Order of the Phoenix. Blah blah blah, Harry Potter is a terrorist, blah blah I suck the Dark Lord's skinny prick. Christ, I want to strangle that woman."
Artemis tossed the paper onto the counter, her mood thunderous. Her stomach was turning at the vile words and the horrible picture on the front page. She rubbed at her arms, suddenly chilled. The worst part of the article had been the gruesome picture splashed across the front page, eerily motionless for a wizarding photograph. The bodies had been strung up in a copse of trees like broken dolls, too disfigured to be recognizable. Artemis would bet her life that it was the work of Bellatrix Lestrange in one of her famous rages.
"They were angry when Harry got away. It's a loud and clear message to anyone who sides with Harry," Lee spoke on an exhale, blinking and turning his gaze up to the ceiling. He looked close to tears simply talking about it.
Artemis's throat felt tight. She placed her hand over the picture, "That's why we're still fighting, Lee."
He nodded but didn't meet her eyes, "Kingsley is having an Order meeting tonight for inner circle members. I think you should attend."
Artemis opened her mouth, a protest on the tip of her tongue. She'd been avoiding committing fully to the Order for months. It was easier to lie to herself and pretend she wasn't blatantly going against her father's wishes when she turned a blind eye to the Order's inner workings. She sighed and rubbed at her neck, "midnight?"
"Always."
"I'll sit in."
Lee nodded but didn't prod her further. The two of them stood at the counter and gazed out at the tumultuous spring weather while sipping tea. After they'd finished, Artemis pointed her wand at the issue of the Prophet and incinerated it.
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