inalienable right to party

May, 1979 Temporary Office for the rightful Minister of Magic, location classified.

The Auror department was an elite unit tasked with hunting down and capturing dark wizards and witches. Somewhere down the line they were also tasked with protecting high profile targets. But at one point someone had decided that their responsibilities were not that many, and they were now called in to any and all crime scenes. Of course after a while Alastor had given instructions that unless it was related to dark magic, the case was to be passed down to another office in the DMLE. Now Alastor spent his days trying to operate under the law, like a common criminal, to make sure they kept doing their job, they were now operating outside of the Ministry of Magic.

It was not a secret that Alastor did not care for the Ministry, it was full of people only looking for power, to how best to benefit themselves, sure there were a few exceptions, but the higher ups were all the same corrupt people. But they had been so close. With Millicent elected they had a chance, they could’ve made it all better. Alastor was proud to be loyal to Millicent, and he was going to keep doing what he could to ensure that the reign of terror ended. Even if that meant working with less than half of the staff, a handful of aurors really, and without some of his close friends. But this is what had to happen, so that they could know peace again. 

It was incredibly that just a few weeks ago they were marveling at the idea of having both Ministers be female. Time were changing, and it would only get better from there, except it didn’t. Alastor walked the hallway leading to Millicent’s office, this was probably the last thing she needed to worry about.

“Hey Millicent” he greeted her in his usual gruff voice, “did we ever contact the muggle minister?” he asked worrying it might be too late, “she has to know that she cannot trust Lestrange…”

                                                                              &&. @millicent-bagn0ld

Dealing with dark wizards did not directly fall under Millicent’s job description, but she was often asked for her opinion nonetheless. The Aurors were ones actually responsible for investigating and arrest dark wizards. She was simply briefed on the exceptional cases. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a separate department from the Minister for Magic’s department – in a sense. Every department answered to her, but the other departments all had heads for a reason – she could only handle so much. Millicent trusted (most of) the Ministry employees to be competent people.

If there were no war, Millicent would only communicate with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the most serious cases and occasional updates. Under current circumstances, she relied upon that department more than anyone else. This led to her spending more and more time with people like Alastor, with whom she also spent a considerable amount of time in the Order. She had gotten to know him rather well, and he had become someone she had admired. Millicent trusted Alastor implicitly, and though she was technically his superior at work, she felt the opposite was true. He had so much more experience than she, and she considered him a confidant of sorts.

“Hello, Alastor,” Millicent greeted him, smiling as he entered the room. His presence was always reassuring. Even if he felt unsure, he always exuded confidence and composure, which was something Millicent greatly valued. It helped keep her calm and it reminded her that she could not be a leader if she could not keep a level head. Millicent sighed at his question. How could she have overlooked something so important? “No,” she admitted. She buried her face in her hands for a moment, attempting to compose herself. ‘Sit up, pull yourself together’ she thought. She slowly straightened her back and ran her hands through her hair before continuing. “I was, however, in constant contact with MACUSA immediately after. They know about the coup. They’re willing to help, but I don’t know how much. I think the only thing that could get them to help in any way but hiding people is the threat of exposure.”

“What do you think we should do?” she asked after pausing for a moment. She’d made too many tough calls recently. Of course, she’d had people like Kingsley to ask for advice, but some of the calls she had made on her own. Given the circumstances, it was hard not to second-guess herself.

Standing in front of the minister and being looked at with a wary gaze almost made her recoil, just turn around and leave. She didn’t mean to look uncomfortable or get upset about the way many were suspicious – they had every right to be. Still this wasn’t what Cassandra wanted. To be a member of the Order didn’t feel right and she’d rather remain neutral, truly loyal only to herself and her friends. But there was something so powerful about Millicent Bagnold, about how she carried herself and everyone’s weight, not as a burden but rather as armor. With a smile she nodded after her question, glad she understood her intentions right away. “Exactly. I do not want be a part of the Order nor of any other organisation. I’ve gained my freedom by escaping the Dark Lord, now all I can do is redeeming myself. And I’m capable of keeping you safe. I’ve learned from the best,” she answered while her fingers played with one another and anxiety kept her on edge. 

Millicent facial expressions changed and she didn’t exactly know why. Surely suspicion played a part in all of this, but Cassandra had been honest all along. “I’ll never be loyal to the Order, even though I do have friends among your ranks, even family. I am not seeking shelter, I’m just seeking someone who can watch my back while I expose some of my former allies. I am a traitor, I’ve been accused of being a two-faced bitch, which I proudly am, I am a liar, a murderer with vast knowledge on how to kill, how to use dark magic and how to obtain some of the darkest artifacts you’ll ever see. I was born in darkness, riches and fame, but I do not desire to be a part of such madness, not anymore.” she stopped, jaw tensing immediately after she’d asked her why fight now – she didn’t really know, at least not momentarily. “I’ve been abused and molded into an assassin, a seductress. Everything I did was to serve my family and the Dark Lord. I never got a chance to prove myself, to have my own opinions or desires. And then I met someone who believed in me even before he knew me. He saved my life, promised me protection when I needed it.” naming him would probably make no difference, so she didn’t. “He saw me for who I wanted to be – a woman with an impact on others, who is powerful and can change everything if she only dared to speak up for herself, just like you do. As minister you’d be unstoppable. I might not be able to detect your enemy’s weaknesses, but I’ve been with them, laid with some of them – I know one or two things about both Rodolphus and Orion, the Dark Lord used to work for my grandfather. The Burke family has been the only family to see the Dark Lord’s talent and has seen him as a still sane wizard. Now he’s nothing but a silhouette and there’s nothing more I want than to show the world how powerful we can be, as women, as witches. There’s nothing more powerful than our sex. Believe me, I know. Others would doom themselves for me,” she said with all honesty. “I know, because I’ve been there.”

It seemed strange to Millicent that Cassandra was standing before her, asking for protection, when she wasn’t willing to offer loyalty. Although, Millicent was not sure what Cassandra’s loyalty was worth. If Cassandra was expecting an immediate answer, Millicent wasn’t sure she could give one to her. Millicent was not the only person in the Order. She held significant influence over the Order, but there were other senior members as well. Plus, she respected their opinions. She wanted to discuss the matter with Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Alastor. They trusted her, though, so if she was set on providing protection to Cassandra, the only person she would truly have to convince is Alastor. For the time being, however, Millicent remained unconvinced that this was the wisest decision. She would continue to listen to the girl and hear everything she had to say because otherwise her sense of justice would merely be a façade. If she didn’t truly listen to what her people asked of her as a leader, then she would be nothing more than a tyrant.

Millicent raised a brow as Cassandra spoke. If she were to be frank, the speech the girl was making caught her off guard. It was eloquent and lovely, but it did not exactly paint Cassandra in the best light. Millicent respected her honesty and willingness to admit that she may not be the best person, but the truth had consequences. Now Millicent was far less comfortable providing her protection to someone who admitted they were traitor and a murderer, among other things. “Is there someone within the Order who can speak on your behalf?” Millicent asked carefully. “It is perfectly okay if there is not, or if you don’t wish to name them. But I hope you understand that I must remain cautious.” Millicent was going to have to be adamant that she completely understood what Cassandra was asking for before agreeing to anything. The cost of her betrayal was too high, and Millicent feared that the girl would find Aversio or return to the Death Eaters and tell them what she had learned of the Order.

Leaning forward in her chair, Millicent folded her hands on the table as she looked at the girl. Her gaze never wavered, and her posture never tensed. In negotiations of any kind, confidence and patience were key. “If we protect you,” Millicent began slowly, carefully gauging the girl for her reaction. “what do you do for us? You said you could keep us safe. How? I have people depending on me, and if they die, their blood is on my hands. I must know what it is you intend to do to the Death Eaters and what you intend to do for us.” Millicent considered herself to be a reasonable woman. She based her decisions on logic and her sense of morality. So, while she had enjoyed the speech Cassandra had given, her opinion had not changed. She was still hesitant, and she could not commit fully to protecting Cassandra until she knew that the rest of the Order would be safe.

Marlene was not a bad person. That was, at least, what she told herself with blood pounding in her ears and voices screaming in her head. Maybe she was crazy, mad to a point of needing locked up should anyone ever realize just how much damage had truly been done to her, in that rickety shack, at the hand of a Black. Maybe she was dangerously impulsive, served little regard for her own safety, had become too reliant on starving until the last moment and drinking to excess. And maybe the voices in her head were growing louder by the day, a symphony of judgment and self deprecation. She was getting better at telling the difference, but at times it remained damn near impossible to tell. If her brain believed certain things to be true than maybe others did too.

The venomous screaming was encouraged by the shaking, petrifying fear fixating in her core now. It was the right thing to do, coming forward, that she firmly believed. It would be easier to simply phase herself away from Aversio, put her everything into backing the Order without the confessional…but that wasn’t right. Crazy bitch she might be, yes. A disgrace in the eyes of her mother, too. But, at the end of the day, Marlene McKinnon had to hope if nothing else she could stand by her morals in the end. Twisted and convoluted as they had become - as she - had become, she wanted to be brave. Coming forward was brave, it had to be.

Words of further explanation, pleas for understanding, were dissolved immediately as Millicent continued to speak. She had hoped to a point damn near embarrassing desperation that would listen, but the understanding and patience exhibited were almost alarming. She didn’t deserve this even if she wanted it. Something a particularly nasty voice was quick to point out, digging raw and bruised nail beds into the palm of her hand. The stress of coming forward would have been far worse had her nails been capable of leaving crescent shaped indents brimming crimson in her hands. Physical proof then, of the internal desolation that would torment Marlene would exist, as opposed to just the emotional. 

“I…” It wasn’t something that she’d really given herself the luxury of thinking about. A very large part of the female McKinnon had remained convinced that she would have been exiled. But if she was being honest, there was very little she wouldn’t do, if it meant she’d get a second chance. “I’ll answer whatever questions you see fit– about my involvement, or Aversio itself, best I can. Do the grunt work, go back to how I began in the Order, work my way back up as you and any else decide. I’ll take whatever supervisions you decide, be as transparent as needed to earn back trust.” She offered, grateful the words flowed easily enough, having nothing to go off. “Whatever you find me deserving of, Minister. I just – I want ta help end this war, do it the right way, if you’ll let me.” 

The worst part of being a more senior member of the Order, plus holding a position of such authority outside of the Wizarding World, was being asked to make decisions like this. Millicent was perfectly capable of making difficult decisions, but when it came to making a decision on the future of a young girl regarding her safety during war, she became much less comfortable. Millicent knew that her final opinion on the matter would hold sway over other Order members. Trying to discern peoples’ true intentions was difficult and dangerous, but it was the best way to make judgements. Asking people like Marlene to use veritaserum would set a dangerous precedent, and Millicent was aware of that, even if others weren’t.

Millicent liked to believe that Marlene had simply been swayed by the pathos of Aversio. It was difficult to for Millicent to believe anyone involved in the Order could be truly bad, even if they fraternized with Aversio. Aversio had promised they were going to take action – action that would be visible and prompt a reaction from others. Words of passion had won out over any semblance of logic. At times, thinking about that infuriated Millicent, but other times it filled her a panging sadness. Aversio had the same message as the Order, but to an extreme degree. All one had to do was glance in a history book to realize that extremism never worked. It was difficult to justify violent attacks against innocent people, and Millicent wondered how exactly the leaders of Aversio had done that if new members questioned the methods of the group.

Mostly, Millicent was curious. She was curious as to the structure of the organization. Was it very hierarchical or more structureless? Did they have a regular meeting schedule? What did they discuss during meetings? Did the members of Aversio usually agree with each decision – especially the more violent decisions? How many members were there? Millicent’s mind raced with all the possibilities about the mysterious Aversio. She knew so little about them, and she wanted to know so much more. They had been responsible for the murders of innocents, and they had helped in the coup that had resulted in her being in hiding. The Order could only guess their next move based on what little the Order already knew about their strategies and goals. It wasn’t enough.

Millicent was also curious as to what Marlene thought was an appropriate remedy for her transgressions. Passing down punishments wasn’t in her job description. She wasn’t a judge. She was more interested in working with Marlene to find a solution that suited everyone. It would make Marlene feel more comfortable while still resolving the issue. “I think we can reach a compromise that will leave everyone satisfied,” Millicent said gently. She smiled warmly at the girl. “I want you to decide your ‘punishment.’ I wouldn’t really consider it a punishment, though. We aren’t going to hurt you or lock you up. But I think we can both agree that we can’t exactly ignore what has happened.” She was purposefully leaving her questions open-ended. Marlene had come to her, and she wanted Marlene to maintain control of the conversation. It was unorthodox, but perhaps it would sit better with Marlene. Plus, the burden of what Marlene’s “punishment” should be was lifted from Millicent’s shoulders.

d&d alignments: LAWFUL GOOD [1/9]

          the ENEMIES are becoming STRONGER.         the BATTLES are becoming more INTENSE.    the sting of LOSS is becoming more PROMINENT. 

                         yet, here i stand.

      surviving               and fighting. 

The hug lasted longer than Millicent probably wanted, but she didn’t have much of a choice at the moment. Not when they all could have just died. Not when one of the main purposes of the Aversio and the Death Eaters invading was to take down Millicent. Millicent, who barely had time to make any real change in office. They hadn’t even given her a chance and now both Aversio and The Order were, well, fucked and The Death Eaters had taken over one of the most powerful offices in the Wizarding World. Kingsley was angry, but having

Millicent there put things in perspective. They were alive and here and ready to move forward. He hugged her a little tighter before finally letting go, laughing if only because she was. This was good though, Kingsley thought. If the others could see someone in a position of power, someone like Millicent and Kingsley laughing, well than not all hope was lost yet. “Held up? I even sent someone to pick you up. I don’t want to hear excuses Millicent.” He gave her a little pat on the shoulder before moving a few feet away to get back to business.

“Things are… Going as well as can be expected.” Kingsley sighed, putting a hand on his hip like someone who was very tired after a long day. Which was an extremely accurate description of how his day went. “I think mostly everyone is accounted for. I’ve got Greta on the head count. Molly and Hestia are in the middle of getting the castle set up - finding furniture and rooms, that sort of thing. We’re getting settled. People that are hurt are heading to St. Mungo’s and we’ll start from ground zero tomorrow after everything has settled. Getting people in place, keeping our ears up and the nose to the ground. Those sorts of things.”

He tapped his quill twice on the edge of the ink bottle before dipping it into the inkwell and quickly wrote some notes on the parchment in front of him. “Like I said, you’re late.” His humor was dry, but Millicent knew him well enough by this point to know he was being humorous. He smirked up at her before handing over some paperwork, knowing she would want to jump right in. “I think we all need some time to adjust though before really jumping into anything.”

Millicent wasn’t a huge hugger, but she couldn’t help but settle further into Kingsley’s embrace. Seeing someone she cared about was definitely helping ease her nerves. Now she knew at least one person who was safe and accounted for. What helped even more was that Millicent considered Kingsley such a good friend and he was so vital to the Order. Being with him after coming so close to the end lifted much of the weight from her shoulders. But they still had work to do.

Millicent rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I think the ongoing coup might have slowed down the rescue mission, Kings,” she said. It was nice to joke, even if it was about circumstances such as these. Some people did better when a sense of humor remained in the air. Millicent had never been one to cope with humor, but perhaps if she did she wouldn’t be so tightly-wound. She was able to joke with people like Kingsley in dark times, and yes, it did make her feel slightly better. But nothing compared to burying herself in her work to cope with unpleasant circumstances.

Millicent nodded and listened carefully to everything she had missed. It honestly seemed like Kingsley had everything under control, but she knew he would want a second opinion, much in the same way she preferred to get second opinions. She had never doubted him or his ability to lead the Order. In fact, it was rather nice to know that the Order had other members who were so capable. “Excellent,” she said. “We should send more people out to the castle if it will speed things up. I want to start using it as soon as possible.” Millicent felt like a sitting duck in England. Although she would likely feel that way anywhere, the closer she was to London, the more unsettled she felt. She assumed other people would feel the same way. The best thing they could do for morale was get everyone out of England and into the castle. While being stuck at a castle wasn’t ideal for morale, feeling safe would boost it to a far higher level than it could ever reach while in England.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the parchment from him. She allowed sarcasm to slip into her voice as she glanced over the notes. “But given that I’m never late, you could let me off this once.” Millicent considered his words carefully. She agreed, but she also wanted to take action. She knew it would be far more prudent to wait, however. And she was willing to do so. “I agree, but I really do think the sooner we can get into the castle the better. People can adjust there before we start making plans. But everyone will feel safer if we can get as far away from London as possible.”

Orion tried to pretend he didn’t know that Millicent was looking at the pictures, like he didn’t see that little smile on her face when he saw the ones of Sirius. Like she knew him. Sirius was like a bloody plague. Everyone seemed to know him and they all seemed so enchanted by his personality, as if he was some great wizard ahead of his time when he was nothing, but an ungrateful spoiled brat. He had opportunities kids his age would never have. Orion had given him the best of everything in life; the most magical toys, the fastest brooms, the finest clothes. And in repayment, Sirius left his family behind. It made Orion wonder, what else could he have done to save his first born son?

Orion was jarred out of his mind when he felt cold water run over his hand, muttering a swear as the kettle overflowed from the tap. He hoped Millicent didn’t notice and if she did, he chose to simply ignore what just happened and moved on. He sighed, dried his hands, and pulled out his wand to heat up the water in the kettle. It’s been a long time since something like his disgraced son was able to unsettle him so much and Orion knew better than to think it was just because of this meeting. There was so much to think about, so much to plan and to do. His days were long and nights even longer as his need for revenge grew each time he failed to find the leader of Aversio, or even a member, that much would do.

He knew the same could be said for Millicent. The Ministry was in their hands now and everything she had worked so hard for was gone. He knew better than to ask, but he desperately wanted to know- what was next for her? He didn’t think he’d get an answer, or at least an honest one, the one that would answer the true meaning behind his question. What was the Order going to do now? But that’s not why he had asked her here, if it was she probably wouldn’t be standing in the same room as him. In the embarrassing and simple truth, Orion needed to see Millicent alive. He would have heard of her death if she had died, but that wasn’t enough alone. And now that she was here and alive, he honestly didn’t know what to do next, so he did the only thing he could think of: make tea.

Orion tapped his wand against the teapot twice and watched as steam slowly rose out of the spout. He grabbed his little container full of ingredients and when he opened it, a laugh left his mouth, not very loud, but not quiet either. Orion couldn’t help, but look over his shoulder at Millicent, sighing as a little bit of tension slipped off of his shoulders, as well as the kitchen. He looked her up and down, just remind himself that she was alive, and smiled, small and nostalgic.

“You are probably right,” he said as he finished making the tea, carefully picking both cups up and carrying them over to her. “But if it was truly calming, it would be rum, not tea.” He gave her a bit of a smirk even if it was little hard to. Orion wanted her to know that he was trying to make things less awkward. It wasn’t often he was in a situation like this and if he was, he was domineering and to the point. Orion handed Millicent’s cup to her and, without really thinking, voiced the one question that wouldn’t go away since he first noticed it. “Do you know him?” he asked, gesturing to the picture of a young Sirius with his finger extended from his teacup. “When you saw his picture, you smiled. You must know him then, right?”

Millicent stood just past entrance, silently watching him, and taking it all in. She never imagined she would be at the Blacks’ summer home with Orion, about to have a cup of tea with him. Although Millicent could feel the tension, especially when the water spilled over, she chose not to say anything. Perhaps the silence was nicer, and the moment could stay surreal for longer, or perhaps she dreaded what was to come.

What surprised her more than the fact that she was there was the fact that she was happy to be there. Millicent was happy to be with Orion. It was almost as though she missed him. And a part of her had missed him. Theirs was a weird, dysfunctional relationship, but through the years, she had grown to care for him. He had proven to her that he was more than his supposed allegiance (which later were also proven true) by the small slivers of humanity that she saw in him when they had been coworkers.

A laugh was just as foreign to Millicent as jokes, especially a laugh coming from his lips, but with it came another trace of his humanity. Like a whisper, a ghost, saying that beneath the Dark Mark there was still a person there. It was a ghost that haunted Millicent, following her around. It reminded her that she was conflicted. The person she knew was not the person he was – at least not who he wholly was. Somehow Millicent had to rectify with herself that she only knew part of Orion. She knew the man who had given her advice when she had started her career (and throughout her career, really), and the frail main wo had taken his place when he escaped captivity. “I am usually right,” Millicent said. She moved further into the kitchen, so she could lean against the counter as he finished making the tea. “I thought that was an established fact."

“Not well, I’m afraid,” Millicent said before taking a sip of her tea. She knew him by name and had spoken to him on a few occasions. But she had also watched him grow up since he had graduated. The war had aged them all, even those who were fresh out of Hogwarts. Whenever she looked at the youngest members of the Order she saw old, haggard eyes mismatched with a youthful complexion. It was a juxtaposition that never went unnoticed and it deepened the sense of responsibility she felt for the younger members. She was the (rightful) Minister of Magic – a leader. They looked to her for direction. While it already felt personal when a member of the Order was hurt or killed, when it was a young member, the sting ran a little deeper. She should have been able to keep them safe from harm. “He just looked so carefree in the photos,” she explained. “It’s a look I’ve never really seen on him before.” War had a way of doing that to people. With each death and battle a piece of the person they used to be was stripped away from them.

“But I know you didn’t ask me here to talk about Sirius,” Millicent added gently, giving him an out if the topic proved too uncomfortable. Millicent had never heard Sirius talk about his family. He might mention them in a deflecting sort of way, but she’d never heard him talk about them. It was a heavy subject, and she did not know him well enough to be privy to that conversation. Millicent imagined it was similar with Orion as the breaking up of a family was not a pleasant topic. Furthermore, Sirius really wasn’t relevant when it came to the two of them. She could only produce so much small talk on the subject of his son before she would run out of information. “What was it you really wanted to talk about?”

No words could truly describe how Cassandra felt. The actual Minister of Magic, meeting the real deal – after being friends with Rodolphus and Orion, Millicent Bagnold had remained the missing piece. And now, heels clicking against stone as she approached the other woman, Cassandra felt a lot more intimidated by her presence than first anticipated. Maybe it was her beauty, maybe the fact, that both her and Cassandra shared a similar fate: exiled, maybe believed to be dead, maybe not – no one truly knew at this point. Cassandra turned around once, examined the two men closing the door behind them. She felt trapped again, immediately caged within glass walls, unable to escape. Even after months the pain and trauma lingered in her head, and only her head, but she still had a long way to go to recover from physical and psychological trauma. But enough from the past, not now, while she’d made the first step to a better future, among women of equal strength and charisma. While examining the other woman’s smile, Cassandra briefly wondered what she was trying to prove here. War took away their space to breathe, could quite literally drain them of all resources if someone would fine them – so Cassandra saw no other option in being completely honest, without fake smiles, mocking or being sassy in any way. Maybe, yes – maybe she was born to be a soldier, an Auror, perhaps. She definitely hit her target thanks to her extensive practice with Orion. Although she would’ve loved to find something fake about her at the moment, Cassandra couldn’t find anything – and hopefully her doubts were for nothing.

“I’m here to cooperate,” she answered abruptly, almost immediately after she’d voiced her question. Cassandra stood completely still, hands placed against her belly, something you’d see in old portraits of long deceased witches. A pureblood, after all – old habits did die hard – especially among higher ranked individuals, wizards she should respect, no matter what. “I have high expectations, that much I cannot hide. I also cannot hide my affiliation with both Orion Black and Rodolphus Lestrange – Orion as my former mentor and Rodolphus used to be a dear friend of mine. Your suspicions,” she stopped, arms gesturing forward “if you have any, are definitely expected and not received as impolite. And yet,” Cassandra walked closer towards Millicent, a slight smirk on her face “I have a request of my own. Let me fight for you. I’ve been pardoned already – all I need is some protection.”

Millicent was used to people coming to her when they wanted something. Before the coup, it had been things like proposed policies, her signature for something involving the oversight of a department, or someone asking her to exert her influence to push a trial forward. Now, it was members of the Order who came to her. They saw her as a leader. They asked for reassurance, wanted to go over defensive strategies, and looked to her to help plan the eventual overtaking of the new Ministry. Usually, it was reassurance she provided. They needed to gather themselves and get organized before they could begin to fight again. Quietly-offered words of support to people in private meetings, and words of inspiration at large gatherings. With the woman before her, Millicent struggled to figure out what it is she would want. Her knowledge of the woman was limited. She was so much younger than Millicent. Millicent had graduated and started at the Ministry by the time Cassandra put on the sorting hat.

Had Millicent not already been surprised by Cassandra’s desire to meet with her, then her proposition would have surely caught her off guard. The words about Orion and Rodolphus barely registered in her mind because she had narrowed her focus to Cassandra’s apparent desire to fight. “So, you wish to fight in exchange for protection? Not because you believe in the cause?” Millicent repeated after a moment. From what Millicent could gather, Cassandra’s wants were entirely selfish. Joining in exchange for protection was not completely understandable – Millicent believed each member of the Order, herself included, had joined for partly that reason. But they also believed in the cause. They believed that Voldemort was dangerous, and the pureblood ideology was wrong. Millicent grappled with the options in her head. On one hand, it might prove useful to allow Cassandra to fight for the Order. She might have insight into strategies and goals of the Death Eaters. But on the other hand, if she wasn’t convinced of the cause, she was a liability. Simply leaving the Death Eaters did not prove you didn’t subscribe to their ideals – it only proved you didn’t wish to act out on them violently and without abandon.

“Miss Burke,” Millicent began slowly, unsure of how exactly to translate her thoughts into words. It wasn’t Cassandra’s loyalty to the Death Eaters of which she was uncertain, it was her loyalty to the Order. “That is an intriguing proposition. But given your past, you understand my cautions,” Millicent said. She looked at the girl with a sincerity in her eyes. She believed that Cassandra wanted to fight, she did not question that. But she had to know the reasons why. Protection was not the best reason. If the Order was ever in a position where they were less capable of protecting her than the Death Eaters, what was stopping her from returning? “What prompted this desire? Why fight now?” Millicent asked. She would take her inquisition slowly. If it felt like a conversation, it would be easier for both sides to relax and for the necessary information to come out into the open.

Of all the people he could have been in a room with, Walden was surprised to find that it was Millicent Bagnold’s hiding place he had stumbled upon. He wondered if he was extremely lucky, or if she was extremely unlucky. Perhaps it was both, or vise verses. His healing spell had failed to be completed, and thus his bleeding continued. “Funny,” He drawled dryly. “In all my years as an Executioner, I’ve never seen the dead walk.” His mind yelled for his body to stand to be able to properly fend off an attack, yet even holding his wand steadily proved to be difficult in the moment. The ease with which she identified him stunned him, though it shouldn’t have. Knowing that his identity would ultimately be revealed, the man had retired his mask. It was for the progress of their cause that he sacrifice the secrecy of his alliance, which made the fight that much more personal. If they were to fail in gaining and maintaining control of the Ministry, he expected to spend quite a few years in an Azkaban cell. Worst yet, he would be out of a job. Generation after generation of Macnairs had occupied a position at the Ministry of Magic and unfortunately, it appeared as though that tradition may end with him. Without a son to pass the torch to, he supposed he always knew it would.

As she raised her wand, he twisted in his seat, and the resulting pain in his side brought him out of his thoughts and back to the scene before him. “Are we in a battle or on a playground? Certainly, you can do better than using my own insults against me, Bagnold. It’s not respectful,” He chided. “You’ll have to pardon my haste -“ He sucked in a sharp breath as he forced himself to his feet, painfully resisting the instinct to hold his wound. Once standing, he was able to fully face the woman, both wands at the ready. “My office was a bit of a far travel for what I needed. Would you care to share why you’re hiding in an office that does not belong to you?” He returned. If he could engage her in a battle of wits, he could buy himself some time. To do what, exactly, he had yet to decide. “As Minister of Magic, it’s a rather cowardly thing to do to hide while others die fighting for you. You’re a smart girl, Millicent. You know I’m right.”

He could kill her right then - she was standing so still, it’d be so easy. He could injure her, at least, or call out to expose her location to the others. “I could kill you,” He stated as if only to hear himself say it. There was no explanation to why he hadn’t already.

If the man before her was attempting to intimidate her by insinuating she would die tonight, then he had failed. Millicent was not cocky and was very aware of her own mortality, but she knew she was a talented witch. “And yet here I am,” Millicent said. She spread her arms, gesturing as to the space around them, as if she was an actress on stage about to curtsy. “I am here, and I am walking.” She paced forward a few steps, if only to prove a point. She stood tall, her shadow behind her looming over the dark room. She was Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic. Even if they were in the middle of an attempted coup, she was still his superior, and she was going to behave with the same dignity she always did.

               The man before her could tease her all he wanted. After a decade of working with people like him Millicent had developed an ability to ignore rude words said in kind or playful tones. They didn’t get under her skin because she refused to allow that. Once alone, the words, if the context had important enough, would bounce around in her mind. But while in the presence of others, Millicent was just as dignified as any pureblood would be.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to question your superiors?” she asked, head cocked to the side and her brow raised quizzically. “You would do well to remember that.” She ignored the demeaning use of “girl” for now. It was not as though she expected someone like him to be polite or have manners. It was no longer required of him to put on a show, now that he was part of an uprising. Perhaps after the coup, whether successful or not, he might return to behaving in the way purebloods did – acting as though they were above everyone around them yet disguising it through thinly-veiled threats and insults.

The silence was unnerving. It didn’t seem like Millicent, but Orion had to stop pretending like he knew her. He had to stop pretending like he and Millicent had some sort of connection, platonic or otherwise. There had been moments between the two of them; silences full of unspoken words; lingering touches Orion didn’t deserve; small smiles as if they were in on a joke together. He didn’t deserve those either.  Far and few in between they may have been, but Orion remembered every one. To think Millicent did too was laughable, near delusional. Everything he had ever thought about their tentative friendship -could he even call it that- was delusional. But maybe he was wrong. She did show up after all. And there he went again, blinded by what he kept telling himself was only a pretty face.

It wasn’t just the silence that he grew uncomfortable with. It was that expressionless face of hers. Orion had always seen her wearing some sort of emotion, whether it was a smirk from proving everyone wrong (again) or a laugh that would immediately draw Orion’s attention halfway across the room. He would rather her be angry, challenging him in ways no one else dared to, then this. He was suppose to be the cold unfeeling one, not her. Orion had thought -hoped- that maybe they could go back to normal, whatever that even was. It was the reason he even wrote her. He needed to see her. He had wrote that! Did she even read it? Did she even understand the meaning behind his words? Millicent was here to laugh in Orion’s face. Why would I want to see you, she would no doubt say. She would tell him to never contact her again, and he would listen. Does she know that too?

All he got was a nod whereas, like a bumbling fool, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he finally greeted her outside. Orion wanted to hate her. He so desperately wanted to be able to reach inside his coat pocket, take out his wand, incapacitate her, and bring her to the Dark Lord like the trophy she was. Instead, all he did was sigh and drop his gaze from her. He turned on his heel and started to walk back inside the cabin, waving a hand at her to follow.

“Well… come in then,” he mumbled leaving the screen door open for her, though he’d be surprised if she even heard him. Orion made his way to the kitchen, passing the many pictures of his family, including the ones with Sirius. He wasn’t lying when he had said it’d been ages since anyone’s been here. Feeling like he needed to do something, anything, Orion started pulling out chipped tea cups. “I made some tea. I met a young woman some time ago and…and I bought some tea off of her. Lavender. Grew it herself,” Orion sighed again and nearly slapped himself, gripping the edge of the counter. “…It’s suppose to be calming…” Stupid, stupid– what are you even saying? Why are you talking about TEA? 

Millicent did not particularly enjoy the silence the had settled between the two of them, but she was not sure of what else to say or do. She knew the man before her was a Death Eater, but he had also helped her throughout her career. Albeit, in small, little ways – but help nonetheless. Millicent didn’t know how to rectify the two Orions she knew, or the two Orions with which she was at least acquainted. Both were blood purists, and she was not sure he knew she was a half-blood. Her parents had both attended Hogwarts, so she had grown up in the magical world. But her parents were both muggleborns. This was not something she advertised. It had never come up, and she had never brought it up. If he knew that about her, would he see her differently? Would he have still given her advice as she had navigated the political world of the Ministry? Or would he have placed a target on her back earlier than the one she already carried? A half-blood attempting to climb the ranks of the Ministry could be seen as a threat.

This was stupid, Millicent chided herself silently. Wondering about the past would not change it. All that mattered was that regardless of circumstances, Millicent now held a very vibrant target on her back. It was probably also stupid of her to agree to meet with Orion in the first place, but she was only human. It had been too tempting to see the man with which she had once competed for the title of Minister. And now, here was in front of her, with his eyes locked in hers. He looked as ragged and tired as he had the last time she had seen him. She supposed he could say she looked ragged and tired now as well, which Millicent would attribute to spending her time trapped in a castle, desperately searching for a solution to the coup at the Ministry.

The staring between them ceased and suddenly Millicent was looking at his back retreating inside. Quickly realizing that she had been lost in her own mind, she followed him, stepping inside. He continued on his way through the house, but she took her time behind him, examining the photos on the wall as she walked. She noticed a younger Sirius in them and smiled. Sirius still looked like a child to her, but in these photos, he looked almost infantile.

Eventually the photos on the wall came to end, and she found herself in the kitchen with Orion. Even if the house had not been lived in for some time, in its dusty state it was still far nicer than the studio flat Millicent left behind in London. She had grown used to grandeur in the workplace, but she still felt out of place in the grandiose homes in which Ministry parties were often hosted. It seemed bizarre to her to want to live somewhere so large and ornate. They were beautiful, but Millicent wondered if they were comfortable enough to feel like a home. This house was nowhere near that level of opulent – but just knowing this was a second home, a getaway, for the Black family, gave it that same feeling.

She stood awkwardly in the kitchen with her hands by her side. The reason he knew he was at tense as she felt was because he was showing it in a much more obvious way than she was. “Oh, err, yes. Tea would be lovely,” she said after a moment. This was horrible, and Millicent figured he was not going to do anything to subdue the awkwardness – which meant she would have to be the one to end it. “If it’s calming then you should probably have two cups,” Millicent quipped quietly. It felt foreign to her, to joke like that. But it was little things like that she used to say to Orion, and she figured that maybe a sense of familiarity would help ease the tension between them.

Marlene often found herself thinking of what she would say, were she ever given the chance to face the child version of herself again. That little girl had been nothing but bright eyes and optimism, rebellious and often too impulsive for her own good. She wore the emblem of the badger as a sign of honor, spent much of her time alternating between utter insecurity and wholehearted obsession with the unique shade of her hair. Her dreams then had consisted only of someday earning her mother’s love and playing Quidditch for Ireland. That girl had been filled with nothing but youthful determination and thought that her recklessness and lust for life made her something special. 

The child version of Marlene McKinnon was, in many ways, lost. Too much had changed in the years that had come to pass. Growing up, she was often hearing adults speak of their children as objects; it was at Hogwarts, with Pomona Sprout, that she heard it other ways. Children were instead personifications of time passing; if you wanted a reminder that, regardless of whatever happened or was to come, time did not stand still you could only look at a child. Still, now, it was impossible to remember just how little time had passed. Only twenty, life had barely started. Yet so much - too much - had changed. If life moved the way it was meant to, without a damned blood war washing over England like a tsunami of carnage, she could be training for her team, have a team. If life pushed onward as she had once wanted, the nightmares that plagued every moment of Marlene’s mere existence would have never come to pass.   

Despite it all, she wanted to go back. That was wildly selfish, and for an abundance of reasons would never be allowed. For one, time turners were almost impossible to get without plausible cause, and for another, even if she were to face the thirteen version of herself, what would she do? Cry, probably. Try to give her the love that, so young, she had been desperate for. Promise she was perfect the way she was, that her hair should be worn like a crown, that in seven years time, Dirk Cresswell would still be her person just as much as he always had been before. She would tell herself to promise everything would be okay, but it would be a lie. And despite it all, Marlene would find herself incapable of altering the past; she still would have jumped head first into war, upon graduating. Still would have placed protecting Dirk far above her own sense of security. No amount of regret would change that, or change the fact that her best chance keeping him alive had for so long paralleled standing beside him.

She couldn’t do it anymore. Now, she had to hope that maybe saving herself would lead to saving Dirk. Even if it meant, sitting in this cold, crumbling castle, facing the rightful leader of their government. Even if it meant her inner cheek was quickly becoming a war zone, torn apart by raging anxieties manifesting in a nervous habit. The silence that followed her admission hung in the air, almost suffocating Marlene in her own fears. If she were to be discounted and marked a pariah, she would accept it. Instead, somehow, her Minister was willing to hear her out. Even if only for now.

“I…I was eighteen, and stupid. It sounds like a cheap answer, I know, but I was.” She began, drawing in a shaky breath. If Millicent was willing to listen, then Marlene would tell her everything. With or without the veritaserum that now weighed heavy in her pocket. “They approached me as I was leavin’ Hogwarts. When they were starting, I didn’t…I didn’t know what they would become. It was described to me as being rebellion to fight the Death Eaters an’ fight back. Someone I love very much, more than one actually- they have Muggle blood. And as I said, I was stupid. Desperate to protect ‘em, but I had only just graduated. There was only so much that the Order allowed me to do then, I wanted to protect them.” 

All resolve that Marlene had been so vehemently grasping onto began to fade, with the crack in her voice and fresh shine in her eyes sneaking through. “I was with my father when the plans were made that ended the late Minister’s life, by the time I found out it was too late for me to stop it. And then, I– was taken.” The words fell out, lamely, though the shake to her words was only growing worse. “I-I thought in the beginning that any side fighting Voldemort was right. Now I realize that it wasn’t, that I was mistaken. And I deeply regret it.”

Millicent prided herself on being reasonable. Whenever possible, the pros and cons of each decision needed to be weighed. She needed to discuss options with her peers (or advisers, now that she had no peers). On one hand, she could expel Marlene from the castle for her crimes. But on the other hand, Millicent recognized that despite her emotional investment in expunging Aversio from Britain, Marlene was a young girl and she likely failed to recognize the effect her actions had on the world until it was too late.

Emotions were something with which Millicent was no longer comfortable. Sometimes her veneer cracked enough to allow her sadness or fear to emerge, even if only for a second. Her passion was still there – somewhere. It had been buried deep within her and suppressed out of necessity. In order to survive the world of politics and come out on top in a time like this, she had had to make adjustments. It had happened so slowly that she had not even noticed. It was only now, when presented with a girl shakily explaining her crimes, that Millicent realized somewhere along the way to the top she had lost something. And as much as Millicent wanted to be firm and harsh towards the girl, her age prevented her from doing so. She was still a child. (Millicent knew that when she had been Marlene’s age she would have resented being called a child, but ten years had passed, and she had been given a new perspective). The young were easily swayed. Marlene had only seen the appeal of it. Aversio was going to help make a difference.

“It’s not a cheap answer,” Millicent said sincerely. And it wasn’t. At eighteen, Millicent had been wide-eyed and excited for her future. She had believed she could make a change. Over the years, that had turned into a steadfast determination to make a change. She knew Marlene had meant well when she had joined Aversio, but that didn’t mean that Aversio was good. No amount of good intentions could erase the havoc Aversio had wreaked since they emerged. Aversio could mean well, but when they kidnap innocent people and murder them, any good done is negated.Millicent listened intently to Marlene’s confession. The more she learned about why people joined Aversio, the more she understood. With more information came more potential solutions. It was the action that Aversio promised that seemed to draw people in – especially the youth. The appeal was the instant gratification that you had done something worthwhile – until you stepped back and realized you had murdered innocent people. Violence was sometimes necessary, but Millicent would always use the law and diplomacy whenever it was possible. She nodded sympathetically before speaking. “I don’t blame you for wanting to join or for joining. They made it sound attractive and you didn’t know any better,” she said.

And there it was. The mention of Harold. Millicent inhaled sharply. Hearing about him never seemed to get easier, especially when being reminded of him in the context of Aversio, rather than in the context of what an amazing man he had been. Marlene was not part of his death, and yet, Millicent almost wished she had been. It had been months and she still had no closure. She just wanted to see the person responsible face-to-face, if only to let out the feelings that had been bottled up for far too long. At the same time, it was relieving that Marlene was not involved. It would be much more difficult for Millicent to separate her emotions from the situation if she had been. “I appreciate you coming forward,” Millicent added, doing her best to be fair and understanding like him. “It took a great deal of courage to come forward, and I commend you for that. The question that remains is what can be done to rectify this error in judgement?” Millicent was not going to punish her, but she was curious to hear what Marlene felt she could do to help the cause. And if it was reasonable, Millicent saw nothing wrong with allowing her to do so. (With some supervision, of course).

order safe house may, 1979 @millicent-bagn0ld

It was a strange feeling to watch your home fall. In all honesty, Kingsley spent more time at the Ministry of Magic than he did at his flat in London and to see it become invaded by Aversio members and Death Eaters… Well, he hadn’t been able to mourn at the time - there was too much to do. Protocol had to be put into motion and he was the man in charge. One of the most important goals was to get Millicent Bagnold out and alive. He’d sent of his patronus, a Lynx, to Arthur Weasley and Benjy Fenwick with Orders to get her out alive before he’d set to work giving instructions to other Aurors and getting everyone out alive. He hadn’t thought of Millicent again until he was tucked away in the safe house attempting to get some order going before she arrived. Alive. Hopefully. 

Millicent could take care of herself, Kingsley knew that, but a part of him still worried for his Minister of Magic. Up until the point he saw the dark skinned, dark haired woman enter the Great Hall of their new safe castle. Their greeting wasn’t all hugs and cheers yet though. Instantly, he pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it at her. If she showed the slightest sign of not being Millicent, Kingsley would not hesitate to incapacitate her with a flick of his wrist.

“Safe word,” He demanded knowing that, if this truly was Millicent, she would return the statement with two words of her own - Fizzing Whizzbees. Only when did Millicent say those words, did Kingsley let out a deep breath in relief. It was their way of knowing each other and was rooted too far in the past for anyone to really know where it came from. On her first trip to Hogsmeade she’d attempted to buy some Fizzing Whizzbees at Honeydukes, only to be short the change. Kingsley had fronted her the money, not taking no for an answer, and the rest was history. 

Stepping forward, Kingsley swept her up into a hug, knowing she might protest, and just took a moment to relish in the fact they were both here and safe. “You’re late,” he teased.

Millicent wasn’t sure she would ever wrap her head around the fact that the Ministry of Magic had been invaded, and she had been overthrown. It had been a coup d’état. If the Death Eaters were Oliver Cromwell and his New Model Army, she was Charles II – the rightful ruler thrown into exile. And if history repeats itself, then Millicent would someday sit in her office again. For now, she was resigned to wait as patiently as she could. She would wait until the pieces fell together and the Order was ready to act. She would wait until the time was right to seize back control. But Millicent was also painfully aware that the longer they waited to act, the more innocent people would suffer and die.

The plotting could wait, though. Her immediate concern was getting the Order organized. The most pressing issue was getting everyone accounted for in a safe place. That safe place was an unimposing castle that had certainly seen better days. It was a shelter, though, and Millicent was not going to complain. She had escape with her life. She could be banished to a cave and she would still have her steely resolve.

As expected, greetings after the government was overthrown were not cheery. Nevertheless, Millicent nodded at her fellow Order members, her comrades, and she strode confidently into the Great Hall. Relief filled her body when she saw Kingsley. In a world of uncertainty, Kingsley Shacklebolt was reliability. He was someone Millicent knew she could trust and someone she did trust. He was predictable – his behavior having become familiar to her after a decade of friendship. And it was this predictability that allowed Millicent to simply smile at him while his wand was pointed at her chest. The safe word. Of course, it was the first thing he said to her. It was protocol, after all. “Fizzing whizzbees,” she said calmly, her eyes never drifting from his.

When he was satisfied, he did another thing that was so predictably Kingsley. Millicent was normally not one for hugs, but she relented the moment she saw his arms reach for her. His hugs were always comforting, and she could use some comfort in a time like this. She let her arms reach around him of their volition and inhaled deeply. Familiarity truly was a comforting smell and feeling. Pulling back, she laughed indignantly. “I got held up,” she said, rolling her eyes. “How have things been going here?”