The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

Speaker's Corner

"In 1692 the Statute of Secrecy was brought into law. The magical community forced into hiding and silence. Forced to keep our magic quiet and private! Because we make the muggles uncomfortable!" Barty had shouted these words, eyes wild, his tongue darting out of the corners of his mouth, wetting his lips nearly constantly, nervous energy pouring from his every word. "But why? Why did we go into hiding. Because we were being BURNED." He spat the word as though he were breathing the very fire he spoke of and everyone jumped a bit in surprise at the sharpness of his tone. He looked around, eyes glowing.

"Crazy nutter," muttered a few people 'round the edges of Speaker's Corner. "What sort of rubbish is this, going on like a bleedin' crazy person. Magic and wizards!"

"Yeah, we're meant to be talking serious politics 'round here!" cried a man as he turned and walked away from the Corner. "Like what about the bleedin' polls what's takin' place right down the street."

"Let's talk about that Thatcher woman iffen it's a witch yer wantin' to be talkin' about!"

Barty seemed not to hear any of it, but continued on twitchy as he was when he started. "BURNED for helping the muggles. Once, the wizarding community was integral! Relied upon by Kings and Queens, Knights and the common people. It was to us that they brought their sicknesses and their woes and to us they commended praises of thanksgiving and appreciation because we could do what they could not... until... they sought our power for themselves. No longer contented with accepting our help, trusting our wisdom, our benevolence was paid back with violence!"

"Get off your soap box, lad!"

"WIZARDS SAVED MUGGLE LIVES AND WERE REPAID BY BEING PUT TO DEATH!" Barty pressed on, "MURDERED BRUTALLY, BURNED ALIVE, DROWNED, THROWN INTO PITS TO STARVE AND DEHYDRATE, LEFT IN SHACKLES, TORTURED, GUILLOTINED, MUTATED... AND FOR WHAT? FOR CARING ABOUT MUGGLES?"

"The kiddie school is down the street, you can go and tell your fairytales there!"

Barty's face was red, "There are whole parties of political thought in the wizarding world founded on the idea that wizards ought to  show their faces to protect the muggles from themselves and there are political powers rising that think we should reveal to protect... and there are parties rising that think that we should reveal to destroy... to destroy them as they tried to do to us... wipe the slate clean... start over..." Barty paused. "Such a small difference, such a small difference in our reasonings, really, between a follower of Grindelwald and a follower of Voldemort..."

Here, you could see the split as clear as day - the people who knew these names compared to the ones who did not was written on the faces that looked at Barty. Shock and horror compared to complacency and amusement, mockery... Peter looked at Oni and her eyes were wild and wide.

"He's a nazi," someone cried.

"He's a nutzi!" the heckler who had accused Barty of fairytales shouted, and he laughed, "What kind of wanky name is Voldemort? Sounds like someone who needs a good blowy to release some tension."

Laughter rippled through the people gathered about.

And it seemed they appeared out of no where. The flowing, wild black hair of Bellatrix Lestrange and her deranged husband, Rudolphus. They were suddenly there among the people and Peter gasped and reached for Oni's arm, knowing the moment the wild curly head appeared at they needed to get out, and he pulled her off the bench and 'round the bushes to duck behind the stone wall lining the corner as Bellatrix walked sternly up behind the heckling bloke. Oni and Peter dropped to their knees and ducked down and Peter leaned over Oni, who covered her ears and eyes with her hands, sobbing as people screamed in surprise.

Belltatrix walked like a teacher hurrying across the school yard to an unruly bully child, but instead of a stern talking to, she grabbed the man from behind, snaking her arm about his chest almost seductively, her wand to his throat, and pulling him back into her by the grip of her fingers knotted in his hair. She held him like a cello across her chest as her wand's tip indented against his throat and her cold black eyes sparkled with sick amusement as she stared into the man's eyes and she hissed, "None mock the Lord Voldemort! Avada Kedavra!"