The gift we all received for Christmas the next morning was each other's company, as obviously no one was getting any physical presents this year. We all had breakfast together, then spent the morning huddled in the drawing room beside the large tree Sirius and Emily had brought in to decorate the week before, warming our hands around mugs of hot chocolate.
I snuggled into Fred and George as I squeezed myself in between them, and the twins slung their arms around my shoulders, drawing me in closer. Even though it really wasn't the warmest in that big room, I felt my body heat up as the two hot boys casually leaned against me.
"Listen, Softpaw, don't fret." Terry was saying, gesturing with his mug, and I eyed it cautiously as the dark liquid within came dangerously close to sloshing out. "Honestly. You have your Grace, if you practised you could be just as, if not more, powerful than with your wand."
"Yeah, okay, but it refuses to help me lately." I said. "It just won't come out. I tried to use it against the snake -"
"Yeah, but that's because you're cautious of it." Terry said impatiently. "You're always so careful with it lately, in case you hurt anyone - what's with that, anyway, you need to get over it if you're going to have any chance of defeating him."
I knew who Terry was referring to without needing to hear his name. I sighed.
"Amy was killed because Riddle wanted my Grace..." I murmured. "I guess... subconsciously... my body wants to avoid using it to avoid anyone else I love getting hurt."
"Well, that's stupid." Terry said, and I snorted.
"He's right." Sirius leaned over, his mug half full of Firewhiskey instead of hot chocolate. "You really do need to learn to get over that, sweetheart, because it wasn't your fault that your friend died, and you have to defend yourself."
"If you can't use your abilities, and Riddle has your wand, you're powerless against him." Emily said quietly. "Trust me, Daisy. My mother has had experience in this, back when they were involved he'd take her wand so she'd have no way to defend herself when he was angry with her..."
Emily trailed off, and I gaped at her. "What? He abu-"
"No, no." Emily laughed nervously, her fingers shifting around her mug. "He wouldn't torture her or anything when she didn't have her wand, he liked the challenge. No, he'd use her wandless-ness to control her. Make sure she couldn't leave the house without him and his wand, make sure she couldn't do the things she usually could, make him the only one in the relationship able to do certain things... and if he ever scared her and she ran off, he'd always be able to bring her back..."
Emily looked haunted; Sirius laid a comforting hand on her thigh, and I felt the urge to do the same.
"Anyway," Emily shook herself out of her daze, giving another nervous laugh, "I never experienced any of this personally, guys, don't worry. I didn't grow up with him. Everything I know about him I learned from my mum and my grandparents."
"Does he know you're his kid?" Ron asked, awed.
The brunette smiled wryly, and it was then that I noticed the similarities to Riddle in her features. Her hair was the exact same shade and softness, their noses were identical, and that smile... that smile was the same one I received when I was sent to Riddle's quarters for misbehaving in class.
"Yeah, he knows."
"How come he's trying to get Softpaw pregnant so much, then?" Fred spoke up, the indignation in his voice barely present but still there. "I mean, I know it's because she's an angel and he wants to father a half-angel kid to corrupt, but surely he could've just corrupted you when you were younger and then made you steal Softpaw's powers?"
"Well, firstly because he didn't know about Daisy back then, because she didn't exist yet." Emily said with an eye roll, and Fred grinned. "But to be real, he just didn't see the value in corrupting his offspring then. Obviously now he does, but it's too late to corrupt me. I'm grown. And - I'm sorry, Daze - but when you were only a baby, I came face to face with him for one of the few times in my lifetime, and he did try to recruit me, but I shouted at him that he should just shut up and listen to his little prophecy, and maybe you were listed as his mortal enemy for a reason; you were powerful, and he should have been trying to recruit you and corrupt you from a young age instead."
I blinked; woah.
"It wasn't my proudest moment." Emily admitted. "I instantly regretted it the second he was gone. I actually fully expected him to kill your family and kidnap you, I was so terrified I went straight to Dumbledore and told him everything. And of course as everyone knows, a few days later the news came of James and Lily, and that you two had survived the Killing Curse. But strangely, Dumbledore told me what I had done was 'both good and bad,' and said something weird, what was it...?"
She trailed off again, her eyes searching the ceiling, before turning back to me.
"Yeah, he said that I'd planted an idea in Riddle's head, and that your connection with him was stronger as a result, Daisy. Y'know, that weird connection you guys have, the scar and the visions... well, your connection is stronger than Harry's because of Riddle's belief that you were special and could be turned onto his side, even though he tried to kill you."
"And that's good because now he's not trying to kill her, because he realises the connection he has with her?" George asked.
"Sort of. As the years have went on, the connection became stronger, or so Dumbledore told me before he died." Emily said. "Well, now it's so strong that he's in love with her. So I guess the butterfly effect of what I did all those years ago was good after all; he's definitely not going to kill you now, Daisy."
"What a relief." I said sarcastically, and the room laughed.
The rest of the day was spent hanging out together and eating warm food, pulling the occasional cracker and just generally having a good time. But the subject of my missing wand and Riddle's connection with me was in the back of my mind all day, so much so that my friends had much more difficulty than usual pulling me out of the love potion later on.
"Fuckin' hell, Softpaw," Fred panted as Terry slammed the lid shut on the Boggart, him and George pinning me down on George's bed, "you're wild."
"Yeah, why'd you have to nearly ride him right in front of me." George grumbled.
"She already did that to me." Terry said with a poker face. The twins turned to him, their jaws dropping. "Yeah. As an alternative to the Cruciatus Curse. Mr Tommy thought it would be funny to make her ride him right in front of me and forced me to watch. Let's just say," he wrinkled his nose, "that I'm a hundred percent sure that I am very gay."
"Lol." I said.
"No offence, Softpaw." Terry said. "You're gorgeous. Remember I once made myself believe I was into you because you're so beautiful."
"Aw." I said, making a face up at him from where I was still pinned down. "Love you, king."
"Love you, queen."
"Guys, shut up."
"Okay."
Later that night, I lay in my own bed, feeling the silver band on my ring finger, thinking about my husband. His handsome face, his dark hair that, the last time I'd seen him, was starting to need a trim; little curls had been starting to form at the back of his neck and were slightly framing his face, his defined face, with the high cheekbones and sharp jawline, his dark red eyes...
Thoughts of what my life could look like if I stayed married to Riddle and lived with him crept into my head. A fat, chuckling baby, with green eyes and smooth dark hair... a pram in the corner of the drawing room, Riddle walking past it with our baby in his arms... date nights in exclusive restaurants across from the Eiffel Tower, Riddle in a handsomely fitted tuxedo, smiling charmingly at me as he holds out a rose to me... me, pregnant with our second child, curled into his side as he plays with our oldest, who has neatly combed hair and a mini-Riddle smile... sending our children off to Hogwarts, waving and smiling as I lay my head on his shoulder, then returning to our little cottage in the countryside, where we'd cuddle by the fire, make love, then retire to bed early.
The fantasies made my chest ache.
And more real thoughts started to creep in as my scar started prickling - the last time we'd fucked, where I'd been in my right state of mind; no love potion, no Stockholm Syndrome, just pure attraction and desire. I'd let it happen, and once he was inside me, I'd had no objections, I hadn't resisted at all. I had WANTED it.
And the wedding... the emotion in Riddle's eyes as the flames of the Vow sank into our hands, leaving that scar that was still burned into my wrist... his tongue tracing over the heart scars that still littered my chest... him confessing his love for me as he made love to me, his eyes turning back to their natural colour as he uttered it, sounding so heavenly but so sinful at the same time as he groaned out my name...
And the honeymoon... it made my eyes sting with tears as I remembered, my chest aching with an emotion I refused to let myself have, trying to quash it down as my scar seared, visions of us slow dancing, laughing, laying beside each other and gazing into each other's eyes forcing their way into the forefront of my mind, even as I tried my hardest to not think at all. For a split second the ceiling I was gazing up at was not mine; I blinked and came back to my own.
And then I realised; my scar, the forced memories, the ceiling... Riddle was currently thinking of our time together. And he was missing me.
Whether the tears falling from my cheeks were caused by Riddle's reminiscing or by my rather reluctant longing for him, I didn't know. I tried to blink them away, but instead I was now gazing at a moving photograph of me, framed in a little golden rectangle, and my long pale thumb swiped slowly, affectionately, over my small laughing face...
I didn't know when I slipped into a deep sleep, and nor did I know how I came to wake up cradling Hufflepuff's cup in my arms like a teddy bear the next morning. I must have taken it from the drawing room in the middle of the night, though I had absolutely no recollection of it at all. I wiped the fresh tears from my face before I hastily stowed the cup in Terry's bottomless bag, hoping that nobody saw.
The day was spent with Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Emily, and Lee detailing the plan to break into the Ministry to take Slytherin's locket from Umbridge to me, Terry, and Kylie. They'd been studying and learning the Ministry workers' habits for months, but their focus had been on helping me get out of Hogwarts. And now that I was back, we could go ahead with the plan.
Nobody thought that it was wise to let me Polyjuice into a Ministry worker when I didn't have a wand, so I was to go under the Invisibility Cloak while Fred, George, Terry, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Kylie changed into workers.
"Is it really necessary for this many of you to go?" Emily rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, and why can't I go?" Sirius folded his arms huffily, reminding me forcefully of a stroppy child.
"Because the twins and Terry are Daisy's pack, and Ron, Hermione, and I are Harry's." Kylie said. "They need us."
"Am I not needed?" Sirius said accusingly.
"That's not what I -" Kylie said hastily, but my godfather grinned.
"I know. You lot do what you need to do. But if you need me to come along, do just say."
~~~
"You look terrible." Was Terry's greeting as he woke me by shaking me the morning of the mission.
"Thanks." I said, yawning. I tried to bury the guilt that was rising up inside of me; it had been another night spent remembering my wedding day and catching glimpses of Riddle's quarters, caressing my photographed face, and, in the later half of the night, catching glimpses of Riddle's long-fingered hand jerking off as his memories of fucking me, me giving him a lap dance, and me sucking him off swirled around my brain.
And as I had found myself with my hand down my damp pants while everyone else in the room slept, I wondered if Riddle was showing me his nighttime masturbation on purpose.
We all got dressed and found Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Kylie downstairs in the kitchen. Hermione was being served coffee and hot rolls by Kreacher and wearing the slightly manic expression that I associated with exam review.
"Suits," She said under her breath, acknowledging our presence with a nervous nod and continuing to poke around in her beaded bag, "Polyjuice Potion... Invisibility Cloak... Decoy Detonators... You should each take a couple just in case... Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat, Extendable Ears..."
And so, after a hurried breakfast where Harry barely ate anything and I scoffed half the food on the table, as per usual, we Apparated to the deserted alleyway where the first phase of our plan was to take place. The Ministry workers were Stunned without much trouble, piled in the empty theatre that the others had scouted before we'd went, and the Polyjuice Potion taken.
We all stepped out of the alleyway together, me under the Cloak. Fifty yards along the crowded pavement there were spiked black railings flanking two flights of stairs, one labeled GENTLEMEN, the other LADIES.
"See you in a moment, then." Hermione said nervously, and she and Kylie tottered off down the steps to LADIES. Fred grabbed my arm under the Cloak, steering me next to him, and he, George, Terry, Harry, and Ron joined a number of oddly dressed men descending into what appeared to be an ordinary underground public toilet, tiled in grimy black and white.
"Morning, Reg!" A wizard in navy blue called as he let himself into a cubicle by inserting a golden token into a slot in the door. "Blooming pain in the ass, this, eh? Forcing us all to get to work this way! Who are they expecting to turn up, Daisy Potter?"
The wizard roared with laughter at his own wit. Fred, George, and Terry joined him, Terry buckling over as tears appeared in his eyes.
"Yeah!" Ron grinned. "Stupid, isn't it?"
And Fred let us into a cubicle.
To our left and right came the sound of flushing. I crouched down and peered through the gap at the bottom of the cubicle, just in time to see a pair of booted feet climbing into the toilet next door. I looked left and saw Harry blinking at me.
"We have to fucking flush ourselves in?" I whispered.
"Looks like it." Harry whispered back; his voice came out deep and gravelly.
We both stood up. Fred gestured me into the toilet, and I glared at his smirking face as I stepped in.
I knew at once that I had done the right thing; though I appeared to be standing in water, my shoes, feet, and skinny jeans remained quite dry. I reached up, pulled the chain, and next moment had zoomed down a short chute, emerging out of a fireplace into the Ministry of Magic.
The great Atrium seemed darker than I remembered it. Previously a golden fountain had filled the centre of the hall, casting shimmering spots of light over the polished wooden floor and walls. Now a gigantic statue of black stone dominated the scene. It was rather frightening, this vast sculpture of a witch and a wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones, looking down at the Ministry workers toppling out of fireplaces below them. Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words MAGIC IS MIGHT.
I received a heavy blow on the back of the legs. Fred, as a tall skinny blond man, had just flown out of the fireplace behind me.
"Sorry, baby." He said, then winced as several witches and wizards around us looked at him strangely. They couldn't see me, and even though Fred knew I was there, it looked like he was talking to himself.
"Psst!" A voice said, and I looked around to see a strange assortment of old and young witches and wizards gesturing to Fred from over beside the statue. Fred and I hastened to join them.
"You got in alright, then?" Hermione whispered to us.
"No, they're still stuck in the bog." Kylie said.
"Oh, very funny... it's horrible, isn't it?" Hermione said to Harry, who was staring up at the statue. "Have you seen what they're sitting on?"
I looked more closely and realised that what I had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.
"Muggles." Hermione whispered. "In their rightful place. Come on, let's get going."
We joined the stream of witches and wizards moving toward the golden gates at the end of the hall, looking around as surreptitiously as possible, but there was no sign of the distinctive figure of Dolores Umbridge. We all got onto a lift, each of us splitting off onto a different floor to search for Umbridge's office.
Eventually, it was my turn, and I scuttled along a very quiet corridor, lowkey glad that I had the Cloak draped over me, as I had no idea what I would even say as someone else if questioned.
Now paying attention to the names on the doors, I turned a corner. Halfway along the next corridor I emerged into a wide, open space where a dozen witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks not unlike school desks, though much more highly polished and free from graffiti. I paused to watch them, for the effect was quite mesmerising. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of coloured paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a few seconds, I realised that there was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern and after a few more seconds I realised what I was watching was the creation of pamphlets - that the paper squares were pages, which, when assembled, folded and magicked into place, fell into neat stacks beside each witch or wizard.
I crept closer, although the workers were so intent on what they were doing that I doubted they would notice a carpet-muffled footstep, and I slid a completed pamphlet from the pile beside a young witch. I examined it beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Its pink cover was emblazoned with a golden title:
'Mudbloods and the Dangers they Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society'
Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl. There was no author's name upon the pamphlet, but again, the scars on the back of my right hand seemed to tingle as I examined it. Then the young witch beside me confirmed my suspicion as she said, still waving and twirling her wand, "Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?"
"Careful." The wizard beside her said, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor.
"What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now?"
The witch glanced toward the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers; I looked too, and the rage reared in me like a snake. Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue inherit had been set into the wood - an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody.
For a split second I forgot where I was and what I was doing there: I even forgot that I was invisible. I strode straight over to the door to examine the eye. It wasn't moving. It gazed blindly upward, frozen. The plaque beneath it read:
'Dolores Umbridge
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister'
Below that a slightly shinier new plaque read:
'Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission'
I looked back at the dozen pamphlet-makers: though they were intent upon their work, I could hardly suppose that they wouldn't notice if the door of an empty office opened in front of them. I therefore withdrew from an inner pocket an odd object with little waving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body. Crouching down beneath the Cloak, I placed the Decoy Detonator on the ground.
It scuttled away at once through the legs of the witches and wizards in front of me. A few moments later, during which I waited with my hand upon the doorknob, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid smoke billowed from a corner. The young witch in the front row shrieked: pink pages flew everywhere as she and her fellows jumped up, looking around for the source of the commotion. I turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridge's office, and closed the door behind me.
I felt I had stepped back in time. The room was exactly like Umbridge's office at Hogwarts: lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered every surface. The walls bore the same ornamental plates, each featuring a highly coloured, beribboned kitten, gambolling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth. Behind Mad-Eye's mad eye, a telescopic attachment enabled Umbridge to spy on the workers on the other side of the door. I took a look through it and saw that they were all still gathered around the Decoy Detonator. I wrenched the telescope out of the door, leaving a hole behind, pulled the magical eyeball out of it, and placed it in my pocket.
I hurried behind Umbridge's desk and began pulling open all the drawers. I saw quills and notebooks and Spellotape; enchanted paper clips that coiled snakelike from their drawer and had to be beaten back; a fussy little lace box full of spare hair bows and clips; but no sign of a locket.
There was a filing cabinet behind the desk: I set to searching it. Like Filch's filing cabinet at Hogwarts, it was full of folders, each labeled with a name. It was not until I reached the bottommost drawer that I saw something to distract me from the search: Mr Weasley's file.
I pulled it out and opened it.
'Arthur Weasley
Blood Status:
Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro-Muggle leanings. Known member of the Order of the Phoenix.
Family:
Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. NB: Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors have confirmed.
Security Status:
TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable No. 1 will contact (is dating one of his sons)'
"Undesirable Number One." I muttered under my breath as I replaced Mr Weasley's folder and shut the drawer. I had an idea I knew who that was, and sure enough, as I straightened up and glanced around the office for fresh hiding places I saw a poster of myself grinning cheekily on the wall, with the words UNDESIRABLE NO. 1 emblazoned across my chest. A little pink note was stuck to it with a picture of a kitten in the corner. I moved across to read it and saw that Umbridge had written, "To be punished."
"Bitch!" I growled.
Angrier than ever, I proceeded to grope in the bottoms of the vases and baskets of dried flowers, but was not at all surprised that the locket wasn't there. I gave the office one last sweeping look, and started as I caught a glimpse of a file lying on Umbridge's desk. My name was written in block letters across the front, and I moved across to skim the first page.
Words and phrases such as 'marriage to the Dark Lord,' 'intimate sexual relationship,' and 'pregnancy' leapt out at me, and I forced myself to look away before I became more angry. The locket wasn't here, that was confirmed. But that young witch had also said that Umbridge was interrogating people; I had an idea where that was.
I darted out of the office and made my way down to the Atrium, where we'd all agreed to meet once we'd scoured the place, and joined the others as they stared dejectedly up at the statue.
"Guys." I panted, and they all jumped, gazing around for me. "Guys, it's me, I'm still under the Cloak. Listen, she's down in the courtrooms. C'mon!"
Fred, George, Terry, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Kylie followed me as I sped towards the lifts, and we all crammed into one, heading down. We got off at the Department of Mysteries, but turned left down the courtroom corridor, passing a line of solemn-looking people who were being watched by a group of Dementors. Shuddering, I realised that I didn't have my wand to cast any Patronuses.
A name was called and a woman got up, turning the corner; Fred, George, Terry, and I followed, the boys swiftly transforming into their Animagus forms once they were around the corner, and I gestured them underneath my Cloak; as the door began to swing closed behind her, we all slipped into the courtroom behind her.
It wasn't the same room in which I had once been interrogated for improper use of magic. This one was much smaller, though the ceiling was quite as high; it gave the claustrophobic sense of being stuck at the bottom of a deep well.
There were more Dementors in here, casting their freezing aura over the place; they stood like faceless sentinels in the corners farthest from the high, raised platform. Here, behind a balustrade, sat Umbridge, with a Death Eater I knew to be Yaxley on one side of her. At the foot of the platform, a bright silver, long-haired cat prowled up and down, up and down, and I realised that it was there to protect the prosecutors from the despair that emanated from the Dementors: that was for the accused to feel, not the accusers.
I felt the boys transforming back under the Cloak, making it slide off them. Fred raised his wand, not even troubling to keep it concealed beneath the Invisibility Cloak, and said, "Stupefy!"
There was a flash of red light; Umbridge crumpled and her forehead hit the edge of the balustrade: papers slid off her lap onto the floor and, down below, the prowling silver cat vanished. Ice-cold air hit us like an oncoming wind: Yaxley, confused, looked around for the source of the trouble, but too late: "Stupefy!"
Yaxley slid to the ground to lie curled on the floor.
"Shit!"
I whirled around, throwing off the Invisibility Cloak; the Dementors had moved out of their corners; they were gliding toward the woman in the chair: whether because the Patronus had vanished or because they sensed that their masters were no longer in control, they seemed to have abandoned restraint. The woman that had entered before us let out a terrible scream of fear as a slimy, scabbed hand grasped her chin and forced her face back.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The boys were preoccupied with trying to save the woman from her fate, sending two squirrels and a bunny sweeping towards the Dementors; I stumbled backwards as two approached me, reaching out for me; fear pulsed through me as I held my hands up in front of my face, remembering that I had no wand, no way to protect myself -
"Softpaw, USE YOUR FUCKING GRACE!" Terry bellowed at me, trapped behind a row of Dementors as his bunny bounded between them.
Shaking like a leaf, I extended my hands. The dread was starting to set in... terrible, awful memories were flooding my brain, of Floppy on top of me, his tongue down my throat, of Riddle tipping love potion into my mouth in Floppy's manor, of me on my knees, shuddering in pain as the Cruciatus Curse wracked through me, of Amy falling to the ground, her eyes empty...
And now Fred, George, and Terry were going to be bested by the Dementors... my three best friends were going to have their souls sucked out of them forever, I was going to lose them...
"No... NO!" I yelled, and a bright white light shone from my hands. A great, long snake soared from my palms and slithered toward the Dementors, which fell back and melted into the dark shadows again. The snake's light, more powerful and more warming than the cat's protection, filled the whole dungeon as it slid around the room. I felt my cheeks flushing; I closed one of my palms in a desperate attempt to make the snake go away, and it faded, instead leaving the Patronus light glowing from my hands.
I glanced around at my friends, and thankfully none of them appeared to have seen the snake. George darted over to Umbridge, snatching a heavy golden locket from around her neck. The woman in the chair was trembling, gazing up at us all, confused.
"I don't understand." She whispered.
"You're going to leave here with us." I said, as Fred pulled her to her feet. "Go home, grab your children if you've got any, and get out, get out of the country. Disguise yourselves and run. You've seen how it is, you won't get anything like a fair hearing here."
"Softpaw," Fred said, "how are we going to get out of here with all those Dementors outside the door?"
"We'll just have to use our Patronuses." I said, raising my still-glowing hands. "C'mon." I led the way to the door.
When the Patronuses glided out of the dungeon there were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. I looked around; the Dementors were falling back on both sides of us, melding into the darkness, scattering before the silver creatures.
And the people's faces were turned to me, wide-eyed and awed.
"Is that Daisy Potter?"
"Holy shit, that's Daisy Potter!"
"Yeah, I'm Daisy Potter." I said, placing a glowing hand on my hip. "And I'm going to help you get out of here."