BROKEN MIRROR
Or The World That Never Was
Chapter Three: The Elevated Prominence Of The Formerly Ignored
The sunlight had stubbornly decided to shoot its rays through the thick layers of curtains cushioning the windows in the elegant bedroom scattered with paperwork. The drapes on the four-poster bed were drawn, but they fell under the siege of the sun and lost the battle with it. James opened his sore eyes to a bright morning even as he rubbed sleep out of them. He had been up almost the entire night working on the documents needed for the transfer of power, and finally managed to get through all of the required procedures. He recalled stumbling along into his room, and collapsing on the bed after leaving his glasses on the side table. There was a soft weight on his chest, and he wondered if he had reverted to his old habit of clutching at pillows to hug.
He looked down to find a mass of auburn curls scattered across his chest, and the owner lying with her hand over his waist. They were tangled together in the bed sheets, and his desperate attempts to extricate himself turned out useless. His arm was still around her waist and he found he quite liked the position he was currently in. Last night had been the most wonderful sleep he had ever had, with the warm comfort of another against his body. She looked as lovely as ever even when asleep, her features peaceful and relaxed. The only bad thing was that her brilliant green eyes were obscured from view by her eyelids, but that gave him a chance to observe her long eyelashes which tickled his neck from time to time when she moved. He could not help but retract his remark of her looking like an angel the previous day - she was probably their queen. He stroked her hair gently, not wanting to wake her from slumber. It was probably one of his only chances to gawk at her openly.
His cheeks reddened as he realized what she was wearing. The elf had probably thought she was truly his mistress, and left her a particularly provocative white nightdress that was nearly entirely sheer, leaving only some parts of her to the imagination. He quickly covered her with the blanket, and ordered his eyes to focus on the canopy above instead. He could not resist thinking that she was very well formed indeed, her body curvy and slender. His comment the other day had been correct; she would have been snatched away if he had not gotten to her first. He was already beginning to regret agreeing to send her home; it would be nice to have someone to talk to who was not a Death Eater or a superior. But he would have to keep his promise. His heart leapt in his ribcage as he realized she was stirring. He gulped and prepared for an explosion or an ear-splitting scream. At least, that was what happened to Evan when he had accidentally bedded a woman after too many drinks once at the Leaky Cauldron. He could not help but liken the feeling in his throat to that of impending doom.
*
Lily had been understandably scandalized at the apparel that the house elf had brought for the night, and had told the house elf so, but grudgingly accepted it after he brought out one identical dress in red. The few fiction books that she had been allowed were better than any other she had ever read. Despite the wizards' dislike of Muggles, they seemed to have no qualms about reading the books they wrote. She had buried herself in Jane Eyre, dreaming as always of a love as great as the one Rochester and Jane shared. Before long, she had drifted to sleep and forgotten about all sleeping arrangements. Now, as the sunlight threatened to burn her eyelids open, she sleepily blinked the last vestiges of slumber away and opened her eyes. There was a soft caress against her hand, and a warm weight at her waist. An arm was reaching over her face to touch her hair; one draped in striped blue and white pajamas, she realized. The pillow pulsed beneath her, as warm as ever and she bolted upright, bowing her head as the horrified look filled her eyes.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir!" she mumbled, realizing where she was at last. The last thing she ever believed she could have done was to fall asleep on her protector late in the night. And in what she was wearing, too! Her face burned a bright red, and she tried to hide from Ja - Potter's penetrating gaze as best as she could. The shock was bad enough, but interrogation would make it even worse. She wondered what punishment she would get for this transgression.
"Oh, it's…okay," she could almost feel his smile in the warmth of the morning. He crawled from the bed and stretched himself as she watched silently, wondering what she was going to do for the rest of the day. He was clad in blue and white pajamas which made him look like a little boy. She could not help but chuckle softly. He directed a mock glare at her. "They're strangely comfortable…I've been wearing them since I was seventeen." He was about to make a move to remove his shirt when he remembered she was in the room. "I'm sorry," he muttered, an embarrassed look on his face as he grabbed his clothes and rushed out of the room, presumably to change into more appropriate clothes.
Lily sighed. Her shabby dress of the night before had been removed and likely burnt, and she was not about to leave in this terrible mockery of a dress. As though the house elf had heard her thoughts, he appeared abruptly in front of her, bowing and then handing a pretty summer dress which was in a forget-me-not blue shade to her. She gaped at the clothing with wonder - she had never had anything this extravagant before. It had no holes, was clean and smelled lightly of flowers and was the prettiest frock she had ever seen. She held it up to her carefully as though the dress was made of delicate glass. It looked as though it would fit her perfectly. Cautiously, she slipped out of the nightgown and into the dress. It was sleeveless and fell to just above her knees. She twirled once or twice to get used to the unfamiliar feeling of the cloth against her skin. The elf had left shoes; blue sandals with moderately high heels that she put on carefully, not wanting to ruin the first pretty clothes she had ever gotten. She edged closer to the mirror at the side of the room to examine her visage more closely.
"Looking pretty, miss! Though a little makeup would brighten up those wan cheeks of yours…" the mirror began to chatter vibrantly as Lily's mouth fell open. Was there anything about wizards that she still did not know? Mirrors talked, house elves disappeared into thin air, brooms flew…
"I'll agree with that mirror," Ja- Potter's voice came from behind her. She was almost embarrassed to look at him, and mumbled a soft Thank You. He grabbed her hand quickly, and pulled out his wand. "Well, we had better be getting to the place you live. Just think of it." She nodded, and thought of the rickety entrance to the forbidding building she lived in, recalling the matron and her sister. There was a strange jerk at her consciousness like the day she had been taken back to the Potter home, and then she was standing in front of the orphanage like she had never left it at all.
"You live here?" Potter said incredulously behind her. He had one warm hand on her right shoulder, and she turned to look at him with slight shame.
"It's been my home since I was six," she muttered, bowing her head. Why was it that just a few days ago she had wanted to be proud of what she was, and now she was feeling embarrassed just because a certain high-and-mighty Death Eater, who was probably born from the generation who had imprisoned her kind, had seen what kind of cell-like squalor she lived in?
"It doesn't look like a home to me," his attempt to joke was refuted with a sigh from her which effectively shut him up. "Let's go in."
"In?" Lily gaped. "You're not serious, are you…"
"Don't you want to go home?" James replied patiently. She stared at him, deliberating whether to face the matron with her new elevated status or to chicken out. She had never been a coward, and she would not start today. She nodded, and he understood her meaning as he held her hand and led her into the familiar corridor, its white-washed corridor decorated with wizard paint and vandalism that comprised of some basic spells they had seen the wizards use. It only made others see more clearly that they wanted to be 'normal', like all the others who were not imprisoned and forbidden to vote or speak freely. The air felt somewhat fresher now that she knew she was on some degree, more free. Or from another point of view, trapped in the false identity Potter had conjured for her.
"It's never really been home to me," she mumbled quietly as she felt his reassuring squeeze that sent warmth through her. They paced slowly towards to the sallow receptionist sitting at a old wooden desk, her grey uniform helping her blend into the atmosphere of the place. The orphanage was a drab place devoid of colours and brightness. Even the lights were restricted to white. She still remembered her mother's laughing face, singing and humming as she cooked and cleaned, her father rushing home with paperwork but still making time for her and her sister. She recalled the legends and stories that her father had made up to entertain her and her sister, like the story that they were both princesses, trapped in the red and yellow and orange of the room that was made into a palace of fire, guarded by a dragon. One day they had all been dragged out of the house when the Death Eaters went on their regular 'raids', or as the Muggles called it, death marches, her parents convicted of insubordination and executed. They had been sent to the orphanage. There were no half-bloods there, only Muggle-borns who were homeless. The matron made sure to drill them full of rules and their inferiority, reminding them that it was the Lord's kindness that kept them fed and clothed. She gulped and continued, feeling his patience but not wishing to offend. "They were killed when I was six and my sister and I were brought here. We've lived here ever since."
"In the future this orphanage will be under my governing control," James said, not knowing what else he could do to comfort her. War was war, and her parents had been killed, probably because they were either lower class or were allying with the Rebellion. Perhaps they should have thought of the consequences their actions would have on their children. "No one will ever dare to harm you." He would protect her, even though he knew no reason why he was doing this.
"Thank you," she whispered softly and smiled shyly at him. He could not help but return it with a bright grin of his own as they reached the worn desk where the sallow receptionist sat. James cleared his throat and tapped the table lightly, sending clouds of dust into the air. The receptionist looked up from her work swiftly, her head jerking to attention as she jumped up from her moth-eaten seat to salute James.
"How rare to see you here, Mr. Potter!" she said pleasantly, frantically adjusting her uniform and the badge on her blouse that indicated her name. Monica Pettigrew was a worker at the orphanage who had come only months ago after her husband had been murdered in a Rebellion raid, though Lily doubted it. It was more likely that he had been tortured to death in a prison cell by the Death Eaters. She was mean, sharp and stood in for the matron whenever she needed to report to the Lord. No one liked her, nor her son whom she had brought together with her. They spelled her name as "Petty-grew" as she was known to scrimp on rations and give them as little food as possible. Considering the food was very scarce in the first place, that left them with hunger pangs throughout the day. Lily was surprised to see her saccharine attitude towards Potter. "It's really an honour for you to visit our humble orphanage…"
"Not really," James replied, waving his hand in a dismissive way. The action only diverted Pettigrew's attention to Lily, who stared at the ground, attempting to perhaps stay hidden. "I am sending her home, and will visit from time to time." Pettigrew gaped at Lily, her mouth as wide as it probably could go. She took in her new clothes, clean hair (which the house elf had cleaned with a charm the day) and most importantly, her position at the side of the governor of the towns the orphanage was in.
"E- Miss Lily!" she said sweetly, the syrupy tone of her voice almost making Lily gag. James only smiled proudly, before pushing her slightly forward to the table. A somewhat motherly, loving expression appeared on Pettigrew's face as she edged closer to Lily, and she tried to shy away to no avail. Lily tried to resist a giggle as she contrasted Pettigrew's attitude towards her before today and her boot-licking one today. It was as different as night and day.
"You will take care of her, and any damage will be reflected tenfold on you," James said evenly, fingering his wand subtly to indicate his seriousness. Pettigrew gulped visibly, shrinking back and trying not to touch Lily. Lily resisted the urge to glare at Potter. He had effectively drawn a plague circle around her now. But it stemmed from a sense of justice to protect her, didn't it? She jerked herself from her thoughts, sending reminders to her mind that no Death Eaters ever did good things for anything other than profit.
"I'll see you," he murmured softly beside her ear, and Lily could not help but feel it was very intimate. Of course, it felt entirely platonic to her. Potter, as horrible as the other Muggles in the orphanage made him out to be, was actually quite a kind person, even going to extremes to convince the others that they truly were lov- involved. It certainly had convinced Pettigrew, who was standing stupefied in front of them as he smiled at her then left, black cloak billowing behind him.
"Lily dear!" Lily's eyes widened as she heard the syrupy voice that Pettigrew had adopted as she unwillingly turned around from where she had been watching Potter leave. She gulped as Pettigrew advanced towards her. For a moment she almost wished she had never met James Potter that fateful night, but quickly retracted the thought as she broke into a jog back towards the cramped hovel she shared with her sister.
*
"Greenwich, the editor wants you," Houston yelled from across the room over the noise of typewriters clinking away as their owners punched busily at them, the ink staining the paper in neat rows and lines of letters that would soon take the form of a newspaper article. This was the headquarters of the Daily Prophet, information and newspaper giant of the wizarding world, and propaganda machine for Lord Voldemort. There were hardly any female reporters here, for the editor was naturally biased towards the fairer sex. However, the few who were here were some of the best.
"Tell him I'm coming!" Molly Greenwich bellowed in reply, waving in her hand a sheaf of paper that was her newest article on the ball at Reginald Malfoy's home, which also featured the up-and-coming new authority figure, James Potter. It was difficult to keep this particular job because of the sexist ideals the editor had, but she was an excellent reporter, and she knew it. "I have to finish this article first for tomorrow's press!"
"He says immediately, witch!" Molly scowled as the workplace began to almost rumble with laughter at the stupid joke. It had been a running source of teasing for her as she was female.
"Sod off, wanker, and go get laid if you have nothing better to do!" she retaliated viciously, elbowing her way roughly through the tables and chairs that were cramped together in the headquarters. The editor's office was at the very end of the office, and was obscured from all the noise of the typewriters by a special glass door that blocked out noise with a Silencing Charm. She pushed open the door quickly with some bruises on her arms in her hurry to get to the door. As usual, Jennings sat in his comfortable leather chair, his hair slickly gelled down with the wizard version of the Muggle invention. He thought it made him look like a dangerous wizard, but it gave him a pretty boy look that she always wanted to laugh at.
"What's the matter?" she asked rudely, irritated from her disruption from her article. It was due in by today and she had racked her brains for days before coming up with a suitable article that would not offend and yet hid meanings in the words. It was very difficult, but she had done it many times before. She would do it again. "If there's nothing I'm going to go finish up my article."
"Greenwich," the editor said in a warning tone that only made him seem even more like a poor imitation of the Death Eaters. He had been delegated here only because he did not fit the calibre - threatening, evil, violent, sadistic (perhaps she could rethink that point) and so on. "You have a new assignment."
"Well, get on with it. I've got articles to type," she stood stiffly in front of the editor, her ruffled attitude plain for all to see. She was rebellious, bad-tempered and said what she liked to - the only reason she was still here was because she was the cream of the crop in the heavily over-worked Daily Prophet. She knew it, and she would exploit it in whatever way she could.
"The Lord has appointed us to find a way to plunge the Ministry into scandal so that it can be closed down," Jennings was always very much to the point. Unfortunately, he probably had only this one good point. "It is all that remains of the old government, and the few old fogeys working there may prove to be useful for the Rebellion. We must get rid of them."
"So I go undercover, report about the corruption, and then close them down," Molly said frankly, an irritated expression on her face. She perched her hands on the wooden desk, then pulled the editor towards her by the cuff of his robes. "What do you think I am? This bloody mission is too simple!" She almost spat out the word 'simple'.
"The Lord wanted the best. You are the best reporter here…" he trailed off as Molly pointed a finger straight at him, glaring into his eyes. It was very terrifying, and he abruptly understood why it was never good to antagonize Molly Greenwich.
"You mean, best expendable female reporter!" Molly hissed, pushing him roughly back. "You obviously want me to get mired in some scandal or something and announce that the Ministry is corrupt, then get executed with all of them!"
"Greenwich…" Jennings tried to explain himself, but Molly was a much better strategist than he was, and saw through all his tricks most of the time. If the four houses still existed at the houses, she would have been a crafty Slytherin. She conveniently picked up a glass on his table and threw liquor over his face, glowering at him.
"I am not going to fail, you idiot. You'll see," she threatened dangerously before pushing open the door and leaving. The rest of her colleagues were supposedly gathered around their own work, but she knew they had been listening to the newest scuffle between THE female reporter and the editor. There had even been a scandal once that they were having an affair, but one punch and a good beating to the appropriate person had managed to cease all rumours from going around.
"Get out of my sight," she spat poisonously, and that dispersed the crowd that had mobbed to ask what was the newest issue. "I'm going to send an owl."
"To where, Greenwich? Boyfriend?" Williams teased, sitting down with a frightened look after she directed a glower at her, and focusing his attention back to his typewriter.
"To the Ministry," she gritted. The peals of laughter behind her could not be ignored. The Ministry was the last vestiges of how the continent had been before the Lord had taken over - it could not be dispersed or dismissed. That would mean loss of hope for the Rebellion, she mused, furrowing her eyebrows. She sighed - she would have to risk sending Dumbledore an owl.
*
"Good evening, Mr. Rosier," the clipped, professional voice that Evan heard as his world began to come back into focus was not the one that he had expected to hear. It was the calm voice of the Lord. He immediately knelt in front of him, prostrating himself in front of the absolute ruler.
"My respects to you, m'lord," he whispered fervently, not daring to meet the man's eyes. The Lord was sacred among the Death Eaters, and only the senior members were granted allowance to look at him directly. The rest had to bow their heads, and some knelt until their knees were sore. It was due reverence to the great Lord who had saved them from the foolish ideals of the Rebellion, anyway. It was a great honour to be summoned for an audience, and he had heard of the mysterious ways of summoning the Lord used when he did not want anyone else to know about it.
"I have a mission for you," he was very frank, Evan thought. The next moment, he was being dragged up by burly guards armed with two wands on each arm. He saw the Lord motion for him to come closer, and then the guards were ordered out of the room.
"I would do my best to complete your orders, m'lord," he said resolutely, bowing again.
"I take that as a vow, Rosier, and you shall be punished if the mission does not succeed," the Lord warned, his tone almost inciting him to see the various terrible endings for Death Eaters who had failed him once. Some had been cut into a thousand pieces and exploded to the ends of the earth, others driven into the portal which led to where the Lord's Basilisk slept, and so on. He shivered as he recalled the states of death the families of the punished had found them in, then belatedly remembered he was not to show fear in the presence of the Lord, only blind obedience. Then he spoke again, his chilling voice sending more trembles down his spine. "This is a dangerous mission."
"I will accomplish it, m'lord. I have no fear in your service," Evan said calmly, even though foreshadowing was ramming itself against his skull. The Lord laughed, the sounds echoing around the dark dungeon that Evan only now realized he was in. He could almost hear the hissing sounds that the Basilisk made. This was the Lord's secret meeting room - the Chamber of Secrets, hidden deep inside Hogwarts. For a moment he thought he heard a scream, but decided it was just imagination.
"You will join the Rebellion, and seek out the Phoenix," the Lord commanded, the cold emitting from his body only serving to make Evan drip cold sweat. No one could face the Lord and be truly unafraid. "Even now, James Potter is unconsciously looking for the Phoenix. He can feel the characters and thoughts of people…It is a very useful gift." Evan gulped. So that was why James had been promoted so swiftly - his ability to tell people's feelings and characters had always astonished him and Cleantra. James was very strongly empathic, but there was no name for the gift that allowed him to feel people's auras. Still, he did not know who, or what was meant by the Phoenix.
"M'lord," he began hesitantly, trying to hide his apprehension. What if he was displeased? He tried not to think of the consequences. "What is the Phoenix?"
"The Phoenix was predicted to have been born in this century, and he or she hides a rare gift that will aid me in my ruling," the Lord replied coldly. "You will know her when you find her. Now be gone."
"Yes, m'lord," Evan bowed and Disapparated to his home, preparing to find a Rebellion stronghold as soon as possible. Remus would know - he was one of the best intelligence agents in the Werewolf Squad, and some said, the possible successor to aging Reylon. He had been part of their gang at Hogwarts - together with James, Cleantra, and Sev- He tried not to think of that name. Snape was a traitor. He did not deserve to be saved.
Yet he would soon meet him, if he was truly a member of the Rebellion. Evan sat down heavily, gripping his head in his hands. The disappointment they had all felt when Severus had been sentenced was still strong in his heart. It had felt terrible, the betrayal of one of his best friends - and now to know that he would be around…
It was a mission. Purely professional, Evan decided. He called his owl in with a whistle and began to draft a letter to Remus, who was probably working his pelt off as usual. Commanders, even though they were part of the higher level officers in the squad, were still given normal missions only that some were much more dangerous. There was no class system in the Werewolf Squad - they thrived on equality; the only authority figure was the Squad Leader - Reylon. He was rarely obeyed, and would likely be ousted soon. Old and sickly, he was no longer even fit to hunt. Remus was wildly popular, Evan recalled. The last time he had visited the headquarters and asked for Commander Lupin, more than fifty werewolf women were swarming around him, asking him how Lupin was like, was he good in the - he stopped his thoughts, trying to keep them away from things as disturbing as that. The letter was being repeatedly smudged and he creased it into a ball, his irritation taking his mind over.
Seeing Severus. Seeing the traitor. He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Remus would probably do that with a few well-chosen words and a cup of hot chocolate, he thought. He would look him up personally. But first, he would write a letter to James and inquire about that Muggle girl he picked up.
*
Nothing. Padfoot growled in a frustrated tone. There was no use being the Potters' family dog and being subjected to patting from the atrocious elder Potters and not being able to collect any valuable information. He had dug out three bones; carried seven copies of the Daily Prophet back to the house, chased after three dog toys, and still had not gotten anything useful. He had had to resist transforming for the past few hours just to do something else other than act like a dog. Perhaps he could visit the kitchens for some food - the Potters had given him authority to go to the kitchen for as much food as he liked. He padded quietly towards the colossal room that had been stretched by magic at the back of the house. He eased back slightly as he realized there were a few house elves there.
And they were talking. Padfoot sniffed around slightly and listened intently to the conversation, hoping to glean some information from it. It was already suspicious enough that they could speak, knowing that Geraldine Potter 'treated' every elf in the house. But they said that elves had powerful magic - perhaps they undid it themselves?
"Remmy, you is a silly elf!" there were two male elves and one female, and the female was screeching angrily at one of them - the one clad in dragging bedclothes with dirt all over and bright apologetic blue eyes. Their faces were notably stained with kitchen grease and some grime here and there, the only thing standing out being their sparkling, over-large eyes. "Mistress says we cannot take off the Silencing Charm!"
"This is important, Fanny! Very important it is!" Remmy, the one with blue eyes, whined, throwing his hands up in the air helplessly.
"How important?" Fanny squeaked, leaning in closer to hear his answer. "Reverse the spell later!"
"The girl Young Master brings home! She is magical!" Remmy whispered cautiously, looking around to check for any eavesdroppers. "She is a witch!"
"Witch? But she is Muggle-born! You is lying!" Fanny shrieked, then lowered her volume quickly. The third elf only looked helpless between the two arguing elves, wondering what he could do.
"She feels like fire! Very hot! She is a witch!" Remmy persisted, glaring at Fanny. Padfoot rested on his haunches. Every wizard and witch emitted a certain magical aura, and those particularly sensitive to it were magical creatures such as unicorns, centaurs and most importantly, house elves. Lily Evans had a aura they described as hot. Only the most powerful had fire-like auras - he would have to find a way to check if she had emitted the aura - or had it been James?
"Show me!" Fanny demanded angrily, perching her hands on her hips.
"Master brings the girl back to her home! The girl is gone!" Padfoot barked happily, dispersing the house elves immediately. Lily was back at the orphanage, where Severus had ways to pass her anything. He looked like and was an orphan anyway, so he could easily fit in.
Somehow, he knew that Lily played a powerful part in the future - whether it was Voldemort's regime or Dumbledore's government. He could feel it. Animal instincts were hardly ever wrong. At least in his case. He began digging in the ground for the device McGonagall had invented to transport spoken messages in what the Muggles called a tape recorder.
*
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in Harry Potter and all others belong to the great J.K. Rowling, creator of the universe we like to mess around in.
Author's Note: Peter appears soon. I don't like him, and that's why I don't plan to give him a large role…Pivotal, yes, large, no. *grin*