Never Moaning Maddy

Into the Last Good Fight

LOCATION: House of Bones / Ministry of Magic DATE: May 2, 1982 @moaningmaddy​

Marlene had come to the House of Bones to look for Remus Lupin – not that she was expecting to find him there (but maybe he would be, with the wolves now in the woods; was he staying with them now? It was odd to not know) but she was sure she would be able to find someone who could direct her on to wherever it was he was…and, admittedly, she was hoping that the someone she was going to find from whom to beg further direction would be Edgar. It would help, she thought, to talk to Edgar first. He could bolster her spirits for the trial ahead – and she was sure it would be a trial, clawing her way through her own still-bruised feelings to find Remus’s pain on the other side, and try (hope) that there were enough tattered threads of friendship left to reweave their bond…

She hadn’t expected a different sort of trial to rear its head instead.

Marlene was just preparing herself a cup on the go (of all the many things she’d learned from Edgar, that was one of her favorites) when a patronus burst onto the scene. She thought it was Lily’s at first, that familiar silvery doe who’d so often brought news of a family in trouble or a chance to smuggle someone to safety – but the voice that came out was not Lily’s. It was Severus, and he was in trouble – they were all in trouble.

But he was the first one lost today.

Marlene stumbled back against the nearest table, trying to catch her breath as her head spun and everyone around her began to babble. They had to make plans – there was no time to make plans! Voldemort was already at the Ministry – the battle had begun.

She forced herself to push the loss of her friend for later – later, if they lived, they could mourn the lost – and focus. “Apparition Wars are down on the Atrium – hurry!” Severus had said, and while she didn’t think that exactly qualified as a last wishes statement, Marlene was inclined to honor the command nonetheless. Which meant she had to pull herself together enough to focus, enough to Apparate – and to help those who couldn’t. Always, always, to help those who needed it; Marlene had been a big sister for too long to ever think to do anything else.

She looked for Edgar, knowing that Apparition wasn’t his strong suit to begin with (knowing that she’d never not feel a pang in her heart when she thought of what Spinching had cost him already) but there were too many people rushing hither and yon; she couldn’t spot him. She wasn’t sure if he’d even been there, or if the House of Bones was empty today of those whose bones called it home. She did see Maddy, though – Madaléina Warren, new and young and beautifully bright-eyed, now looking shaken.

Marlene put down her teacup (maybe she was the one shaking; the china clattered in her hand, the light sound oddly sharp and loud against her ears despite the tumult that filled the Order’s headquarters as they hustled to war) and drew her wand. With her other hand, she reached towards the young witch. “You want to Side-Along?” she offered. Then, not wanting it to sound like she was trying to baby Maddy, she added, “It’s safer to go in pairs when we don’t know what will be waiting on the other end – or, I suppose, in this case when we do know, and know it won’t be good. Come on – if you’re coming?”

It wasn’t untrue. They would be safer going in ready to watch one another’s backs, or as much “safer” as it was possible to be when one was getting ready to trade hexes with Death Eaters and their vile leader. Maybe if Severus had had someone with him, someone else there hidden in among the silver masks on whom he could rely, he would be…

But that was for later. Now there was the fight. And Maddy’s hand, tight against her own, and the tighter press of the air around them as they spun away with a CRACK and stepped forward against the tide of death.

Maddy had been in the phone room at the House of Bones, specially set up for Mister Maurice, but which she’d newly begun to use for something other than those who called in for the radio show: to scout for locations. The Task Force was having more and more difficulties to get the Muggleborns overseas, with news travelling fast, people telling on each other, and ‘this young Muggleborn was asking if I knew someone overseas’ at risk of becoming common knowledge all too fast. So Maddy had suggested to simply telephone people overseas. Telephone agencies and ask for places opening up, or ask for Muggleborns if they knew other Muggleborns who had enough space for one or two new family members. The suggestion had been accepted and she’d been set on phone duty.

It was a strange contrast. Helping Muggleborns flee the country and this sudden call for action. 

She stumbled out into the main hall, watching people talk and scurry with tense energies hanging in the air. She listened in to some conversations as she made her way to find Alice Longbottom and understood, bit by bit, what had happened. A chill ran down her spine -- though it was not entirely negative. Why she was looking for Mrs Longbottom, she wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps because she had chaperoned her during the last attack, so perhaps she’d do it now again? It wasn’t a very clear thought, just an instinct, as Maddy ran through the hall. 

When, instead, it was Marlene McKinnon who she ran in to, she therefore didn’t pause long to accept. “I am,” she nodded. This felt strange, too. To go into battle by someone’s side who she’d admired for so many years. Admired for totally different reasons. “Do you think we’re going to die?” she asked, non-chalantly, genuinely curious, as she hastily took off her scarf, gloves and cape for better agility out there. “Because it sure feels a bit strange to leave with you, but not being sure if it’s with you I’m going to come back.” Then she took her hand and was ready to leave.

She’d rarely been to the Ministry, so she had no idea where Marlene was apparating them to. Not that she had much time to figure out. The battle was already growling and spitting fire like an angered dragon, and Maddy thought about what Miss Branwen had taught her: don’t hesitate. And thus she didn’t. 

She didn’t even know how much time was passing, only that somehow, she was there to witness it passing, still there, still fighting, still following Marlene until suddenly she wasn’t anymore.

Suddenly they’d been torn apart and she stood with her back against a wall, literally inside a chimney, not entirely sure how she’d gotten herself in there, but quite sure that with that wand pointing straight at her face, she wasn’t going to get out of there anymore.

Her smile could brighten a room. He remembered that about her - from before. It was something that had drawn him to her in the first place, despite being in separate houses. She was so damn kind and, for a long time, she’d been one of the first to believe in him. He hadn’t seen her smile in a while, though. Not the real one - this one, the drew him in. “No, no,” he tried reassuring her when she stumbled over an apology for coming so soon. “I’m glad you’re here!”

She looked disappointed, for just a moment, after she realized what he was saying, though. But then she put on another smile for him. It wasn’t the smile, however. He could tell the difference. Still, she was trying - so he could try, too. “Yeah, it’s always been Hogwarts, here, or my mom’s place, ya know?” he said. “I dunno about it being a man cave place, though.” He laughed at the joke. “Since it’s her place, too. But, yeah, I guess I’m excited. I was more… before. But…” He trailed off, shrugging.

“I’m glad I won’t have to keep makin’ excuses to my parents. That’s the biggest reason I wanted to move out, really. That and… well… privacy.” She bounded up the stairs before him and he followed at a slower pace behind. From her position, her backside was right in his line of vision and he tried averting his eyes the best he could as they talked. 

“Well, I’ve got two rooms, right?” he said. “One here and one at Mom’s. My sister has her own room in both houses, too, so I’m just sort of taking what I need. I’ll probably take more from here just ‘cause it’s smaller and then my dads might be able to have some extra room. But I’ll keep the bed at my mom’s in case I wanna go over there or something. She might wanna clean it out eventually, I don’t really care either way.” 

As they get to his room, he moves forward as quick as possible to open the door for her, allowing her in. “The place we got in Diagon isn’t very big. It’s right above Dorcas’ parents shoppe.”

//

Maddy helped Benjy pack until the sun went down and she had to go back home. They talked about everything important that had happened to them in the past few years since she’d walked out of the hospital wing, and about all the nothingness that had made life enjoyable despite it all. There was anger and frustration at the situation they were in, as well as belly laughter at the moments in between that helped that helped them to go on anyway.

Over the next few weeks, they met regularly, for hot cocoas and tea and walks and just to talk, and after a while it didn’t feel like much time had passed at all. They had changed, both of them, but somehow their friendship managed to bring back the parts of them they’d tried to bury, helped to keep it alive.

Whether Benjy ever told @untamedmeadowes​ that he’d reacquainted himself with Maddy, she never learnt, but she also never asked. In a way it didn’t matter, or perhaps it mattered too much, and so it was fine. She never went to his new place, but she listened to his stories about it, and this too was fine. Dorcas and her never talked, and their rivalry was reduced to eye-rolls and tusks at Order meetings whenever one said something the other disagreed with.

It was already late April, early May, when Maddy finally admitted something to Benjy that she’d never admitted to anyone else: the case of her father’s death. She couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten there, but suddenly she was talking about it, about how there was a war, in the Muggle World, that had cost already many lives, and that her father had not just died like she’d always told everyone, but that he’d been killed, alongside many other men, for fighting in this war. She told him she’d seen what wars could do since she was little, and that was why she was in this war the way she was, unwilling to kill or demonize the other side, too well aware that bloodshed only led to more bloodshed, and that compromise and friendship, education and fraternity were the only way to erect and maintain peace for a long time. But that all this was also the reason why she wasn’t afraid to die. To fight until the very end, because she could not bear the idea to one day lose a husband and the father to her kids to a conflict that could’ve been ended years ago if people had only understood all this.

Benjy was packing. He knew Maddy would be coming, though he didn’t exactly know when, but that didn’t stop him from needing to get things done. Since he and Dorcas had decided to find a place together, it wasn’t as though it was a top priority. But, if he’d learned anything in the past week, it was that he needed the space. Needed to get out from under the roof of his parents, who it felt were trusting him less and less with his secrets.

Knowing Maddy would see him packing and realize that he was, once again, pushing himself even closer to Dorcas filled him with his overarching sense of anxiety that had been returning to his bones on and off since he pulled a bleeding Emmeline from the wreckage. But she would learn eventually and it was better sooner than later - better coming from him than Dorcas. It would be hard, trying to maintain a relationship with them both when the two witches practically hated one another, but he’d vowed to try. He didn’t want to lose Dorcas. And he wouldn’t lose Maddy.

Not again.

When there was a knock at the door, he bustled down the steps as quickly as his leg allowed. He was, thankfully, home alone. He didn’t want to try and explain to either of his dads why his former best friend was showing up at their home again - because the reasoning behind his and Maddy’s reconciliation would be a lie. And he’d done enough lying in the past week.

“Hey,” he said with a breathless smile as he opened the door and saw her standing, windswept curls, on the other side. “Come on in.” He scuffed his toe against the ground, a bit shy, and looked at her, trying to decide if he should come right out and tell her what he’d been doing before she got here or not. In the end, he decided that, yes, he should be honest during the times he could. They couldn’t move forward with anything less than that. 

“I, uh, I’ve been packing,” he started, looking almost guilty at her. “Dorcas and I got a flat together. We decided this before the attack,” he added the ending quickly, as though trying to justify it, even though he shouldn’t have to. “You can come upstairs with me, if you want.”

When the door opened, Maddy couldn’t quite help it, this smile on her lips, small yet bright. It was part the sheer politeness (to smile when you greeted someone, whoever they were) part actual happiness to see him. Happiness and relief, that he was, well, at least better than the last times she’d seen him. “Hi,” she replied. “I’m sorry if this is very sudden, I just thought since you sent me your address right away-...” But Benjy didn’t seem to mind her being here. He just opened the door wider and let her in. “Thank you.”

Her gaze was wondering around the foyer, taking in the sight of what she knew was at least one half of Benjy’s home. Strange to think that to her, everything around her was perfectly new, but to him so familiar that it was all a part of who he was. “Oh?” she asked, looking back at him when he spoke, and found herself confused by the guilty look on his face. The explanation followed soon. “Oh.” She felt her shoulders slump, ever so slightly, without knowing why. Was it for the same reason that Benjy felt guilty? She almost wanted to ask, then. Be her blunt and fearless self, but something held her back. Maybe it was the thought that, well, if she didn’t know the answer to her disappointment, maybe Benjy didn’t know the answer to his guilt either. So, instead, she tried to focus on the information at hand. An information which, in any other case, was a great source of joy: “Congratulations!” she therefore grinned, because it did call for that. No matter how it made her feel personally, it was a big step for Benjy, and she had no right to put a downer on it. “Is that your first apartment away from your old ones? Your first real man … cave … place..? I’m sure there’s better words for it but you know what I mean. Are you excited?”

“Eh, no, not really,” Mundungus shook his head at her question. “Most wix wouldn’t be able to grasp the idea of being forced to wear just one colour at work despite the fact that some of them seems to think black is the only one there is out there, not to mention manual work. But I guess ya could say there are ‘scuzzy hands’ instead of blue collars.” Goblins, squibs, house elves and giants were the second-class citizen of the wixen world, to name a few, and they were all without wands.

His eyes widened a little, looking almost incredulously at Maddy’s antics. There was something beautifully dramatic about it that made her look like a young child, with the perfect mix of cute and annoying. So, of course, he gave in enough to whisper into her ear, “knowledge comes with a price. Ya drink the whole pint and I’ll tell ya.” 

It would surely prove an entertaining sight as it was watching her drink down her first shot of firewhiskey. It was almost like being back with actors, naturally making a show of every little thing, only with much less ego involved—it felt nice, familiar even despite this being their first encounter. Mundungus was also proud that she wasn’t spitting her firewhiskey out and that she had even gone for one of the eggs with no hesitation. He clapped at that, and he took an egg for himself, too. Chewing around it, he asked, “Who are ya saying sorry to, anyway?” amusingly confused by that. “I ain’t shy about cursing, y’know, and I certaintly ain’t gonna scold ya for it.”

Maddy’s eyes widened ever so slightly as Lava Lamp spoke, her green full of wonder and pensiveness. So Lava Lamp knew what blue collar jobs were. This could either mean it was a common concept to Wix, or he wasn’t just a Wix. And when the cultural translation followed, Maddy wanted to believe it was the latter. “Scuzzy hands,” she replied, letting the word linger on her tongue. “Tell me more about those jobs, please.”

Maddy was almost vibrating with excitement when Lava Lamp waved her closer to whisper into her ear -- and it resulted in the biggest groan of disappointment when the words he said registered. “Fine!” she concluded quite quickly anyway. “This whole pint,” she pointed at it to specify the terms of the agreement, “and when it’s empty to a point that you can see the ground, you’ll tell me. The truth.” And no, she didn’t pick up the pint right away to gobble away on the beer, because nothing in the agreement said she had to drink it in one go, and she wasn’t about to get drunk all at once before having some potatoes in her. She was perhaps a little green when it came to alcohol, but she wasn’t stupid.

Warren said that like Mary was supposed to have Diggle’s entire schedule tattooed on her arse and it was almost impressive how quickly it made her lose interest. “Yeah, looking real great,” she said instead, eyeing the rubble. Then again, she couldn’t say she’d have called it ‘pretty’ before the attack either so maybe some people were just into that. Now, the talk about the attack itself was much more interesting on the other hand. Mary raised an eyebrow. “You realise three on one isn’t that bad, right? Hell, it’s as fair as it gets with those fucks. And of course it wouldn’t happen with Alice; she knows what she’s doing.”

But fuck, was Warren a nag. ‘Foul magic.’ Mary didn’t bother stifling her snort. “Uh huh. Right. So what if you had no other option? You’d let them go just so you don’t have to kill ‘em? Which you don’t need magic for, by the way. Come on, Warren, there’s gotta be at least some brain under all that hair, use it.”

Nothing. Not even an empty offer to help! Mary just stood there and watched Maddy clear the street from the rabble and talking like none of this was her business. Of course not. It was just like Hestia had said. Some people in the Order only cared about destruction. About death. They didn’t care about fixing afterwards what had been broken, about making long-term plans to figure out what would happen after. No. It was only about the Now. About the enemy right in front of them. Like children and a lack of object permanence. “What do you want from me, Mary?” Maddy asked, stopping in her track when yet another line of condescending questions came her way. “Like, what’s your end-goal here? Do you want me to say, ‘oh no! Are you saying I might face more than three enemies at the same time one day? Well, golly, I better quit all this then and prepare my husband some dinner before he comes home from work’?” Her voice was pushed a little higher, but her accent shifted completely from the rough Irish to a crystal clear, upper-class English. “Do you want me to prove to you that I’m not scared of more people coming my way? Shrug it off and be like ‘oh don’t worry, I can handle it’. Because, obviously, I can’t. I still need to learn, which is what I’m doing right now, am I not? What else do you want me to do? And what on earth are you trying to do? I didn’t get killed. I stunned some Death Eaters. What else do you want? Do you want to scold me for getting myself in danger? Because you’re not my Mum!” A laugh escaped her, the image rather comical to her. “And I tell you, even my Mum would be pretty amused by what you’re doing here. Running after me like I’m a toddler who needs his nappy changed?” She shook her head, grinning now from ear to ear at how ridiculous it was now that she was highlighting it. “What’s next, Mummy? Are you gonna make a spoon-plane fly into my mouth? Are you gonna check if I did my homeworks? Mummy, am I allowed on the TV tonight, please?” Laughing to herself she’d come back, picking up a rather large piece of rabble now.

“I expect there’s some truth to that, yeah,” he agreed. Of course Maddy didn’t have anything to go off, any prior experience. At least she’d found an advantage to that. “You’ll be more prepared next time. Hopefully all of us will be.”

Maurice nearly had to take a step back with the force of the hug, but he stood his ground. He wasn’t used to hugging, but Maddy hadn’t given him much choice. It was her explanation that finally made him soften, made him chuckle. “That’s what I like to hear.” He wrapped his arms around her in return. “A better reason than most. And it worked!” He was quite proud by the admission actually, he was smiling brighter than he had in days. “It may not feel like you won, not while we’re standing in the wreckage, but every time we rile them up and they don’t destroy us, it’s a victory.”

It was easy to empathise with her. He was currently rebuilding his radio show from the ground up, and it infuriating. More than once the thought had appeared, that it would be easier to let it die. But no sooner had the thought appeared did he squash it. He couldn’t let thoughts like that flower. As soon as he did they had won. As Bran had impressed upon him, he couldn’t let them make him a victim. “Only a bad workman blames his tools.” He said, though his voice was soft and missing any of the harsh admonition it might usually have carried. “Your store was important, but you’re the indispensable part of this equation, and you’re still standing.” He cleared his throat a little. “Well, just about.” A small squeeze, a small smile. Only while she couldn’t see his face to prove it.

She nodded and decided to believe him. Sh realised, then, that she’d never hugged an older boy for comfort, except her brothers, and it was hard to imagine Maurice as her brothers. Too spikey. That was, too willing to fight and capable to see the positive in an attack like that. She nodded into his chest and held on tight. The problem was, with him saying that her reason was a good one, a valid one, he did admit that it had been her fault. All this. Or at least the destruction of Diggle’s Delights. And guilt, she knew it already, was going to settle in deep within her.

“Ah! Happy to know we’re that famous,” Mundungus teased her, but she was right, the barkeep had spoken to him in a different language. “Yes. It is another language,” he said, speaking the last line in Gobbledegook before switching back to English, “but it’s better not to speak it too much and too loudly in these parts of Diagon Alley. What with a lot of right aunts,” which was his own Cockney way to say a rhyming word that started with a ‘c’, “roaming around. Usually they turn their nose up and clutch their pearls when hearing it.” Which Maddy had not done.

Mundungus gave a nod of thanks to the bartender while also showing him two fingers for their comment. His cigarette stayed between his lips, nestled in the corner, as he spoke around it. “To Kit Kats and that old bint of Lady Fortuna” he toasted to, raising his shot glass and bringing to clink against Maddy’s, meeting her gaze with his own as he did so. He drank the firewhiskey in one go, pulling down the empty glass on the table and looking at Maddy to see how she was faring. “Good, innit? Now chase it with an egg,” he advised her, opening the jar and picking an egg for her. It sat on a plate he pushed towards her, looking ready to glow in the dark, and that green juice? He was now pouring it in the empty shot glass. “This is the best part.”

“Infamous, really, but you know how it is. Blue collar sticks together.” Did Wix know the concept of blue collar work? She’d never asked anyone, so obviously the question came out quickly: “Is ‘blue collar work’ something known to the Wizarding World, by the way?” It was obvious that Wix had a class system and different types of jobs, but none of them really qualified as blue collar, seeing how no one ever really worked with their hands. Right?

Her ears perked up, along with her eyebrows, as Lava Lamp switched right back into the other language, her face lightening up. “Come ooooon,” she whined -- half-laughing, “tell meeee! What language is it?!” And no, she did not at all catch the Cockney way of answering it. “You can write it down if you want? Or whisper it into my ear?” And she offered said ear, leaning over the table and the bright green sauce on the table. 

When Maddy had laughed, Lucinda bristled slightly. She didn’t have to go and laugh at her. It was her silly tradition. But, she was even more paused when she called her nice. She fixed her face quickly and shuffled her feet.

“Just a formality, Warren. No need for the compliment.”

Really, she just realized how not nice she’d been this entire interaction. She was happy to have gotten away with it, but was she really so stuck in her ways that she couldn’t be genuine with Warren even under circumstances like these? Weren’t they supposed to be adults now? 

She regretted her line of questioning regarding Mr. Diggle almost immediately. Warren’s eyes began to well up, and Lucinda was not remotely equipped to handle it.

“Oh, please don’t. No, no, no need. Umm, uhhh, who knows! He may not have even been on Diagon Alley that day! Perhaps he took the day off! Hell, he might not even have been in the country for all either of us know! Just please, oh Merlin, stop crying.”

Lucinda flicked her head back and forth down the Alley, helplessly looking for anything that might pacify her. She spotted Sugarplum’s Sweets Shoppe down the road and her mouth moved faster than her mind.

“Oh, look, sweets! How lovely! Would you care to join me?”

Her voice betrayed her chirpy word choice, sounding strained and desperate. But, if Maddy could mistake her past ribbing with being “nice,” perhaps she could forgive her the desperate attempt to make her stop crying.

“No a compliment,” Maddy replied with a hint of a playful pout. But she knew Lucinda well enough. Knew how she bristled against genuine expressions of love, so she didn’t insist or try to explain. 

“Welsh?!?!” The cigarette almost fell from Mundungus’ lips. He had been called many things in his thirty years, most of which were not even remotely nice, but Welsh had never been one of them. “I ain’t Welsh, luv, and ya better not have anyone heard ya say I am.” His accent only thickening at the insinuation. “Cockney born and bred,” he said, like it was some other country engulfed into the United Kingdom. "He was just been funny in its own way,” he added, waving away the exchange with the barkeep, and finally lighting his cigarette to take that much needed puff of smoke.

Mundungus replied to Maddy’s question and grin with a little smirk of his own. He was a coward, and he was not also aware of it but proud. Cowards tended to live longer lives, according to his experience, and he looked forward to his own. It was good deeds that always brought him trouble, and he didn’t want Maddy to convince him to have even more good thoughts. 

“So picture Paris: nice city, delicious bread, shitty people,” he started, and he could almost feel himself be back to a place where the sun actually shone for more than five minutes a day. “The parties aren’t bad either, especially if ya know which ones to get into. And there everyone is after the latest fashion and looking like a million galleons, indulging every possible vice. So, it’s easy to sweet talk them into sharing a bit of their wealth with a mate.” Of course, Mundungus did more than talk and it usually wasn’t very sweet of him, not to mention he was hardly anyone’s mate. “I’m there, having a marvellous time… drinking Champagne, having a laugh, possibly me hand slipped and I got a wix’s priceless heirloom in me grasp. Details!” said as if those were not at all important. “I end up in a bit of a pickle and—”

Mundungus’ tale was cute short by a loud snort, “we are you not,” the barkeep said, mockingly, as he set down the two pints, four shots, a jar full of eggs swimming in a fluorescent green juice filled with herbs and flowers, and a plate of mash. “Enjoy.”

Maddy laughed. “You’re dumb. I know that your accent’s from London. Even before moving here I knew how cockney sounded.” She hoped Lava Lamp’s reaction wasn’t a proof of him thinking her naive like everyone else. “But you were speaking another language right now. With him. That was another language, right?”

Mary’s nose scrunched. “In time for what?” If anything, some shops seemed to be milking the hell out of this attack, and those were exactly pureblood shops like Diggle’s too. With how many ‘charity’ lunches and dinners they were planning, Mary wasn’t surprised. Even the rich wanted more money, it seemed. What a shocker.

She was almost offended, however, that Warren could even assume she hadn’t been at the debriefing. “Course I was. Where else would I be.” But she listened. Even to the unimportant bits – including the cup of tea for 'Mister Maurice’s dry throat, which Mary made a mental note to give him crap about, throw in a quip how the show was essentially a recruitment process for personal waitresses. “Okay, first off. You nearly got Stunned. Why? Was it the surprise? Are you a shit duelist? Either way, you should be going to Bran’s training if you’re not already. Second…” She hesitated for a moment. She wanted to ask about Alice, if she’d been acting like herself, like she usually would in a situation like that, but Warren wouldn’t know that, would she? Perks of being the new girl. “Second… you didn’t kill any of them, did you.” It wasn’t a question, but Mary’s tone wasn’t as harsh as it usually was either. She was only curious. “Would you have? If you’d had to?”

Maddy gave her an indignant look. “Before Mister Dedalus comes back, of course.” With that, she began moving again, picking up rabble and throwing it into a big trash container she’d organised. “It’s going to be just like he left it, yep yep, if not prettier, and he’s going to be really happy about it.”

Maurice shook his head. “Not in my experience. Most of the time we have some kind of plan, even if it goes awry.” He thought about the engagement party, the orb heist, the Ministry explosion. Yes, they didn’t have a particularly good track record for things going to plan, but at least on those missions, they’d been somewhere prepared for things to go wrong. They hadn’t prepared for this at all. Though perhaps they should have been.

Just like Maurice probably should have been prepared for the crying. His grip on her shoulder softened, not so much out of care but out of an instinct to let go and put some distance between them. But the instinct was pushed down. “Well- well that’s exactly the point.” He was a bit more flustered now, not sure what Maddy needed from him. “You should have the choice to exist wherever you like.” That was pretty much at the core of everything Maurice was fighting for, that golden choice. “I can’t say why here of all places, with Dedalus of all people.” It came out in a bit of a huff to cover whatever emotion and denial accompanied those words. “But I suspect it’s because it made you happy, excited? It was convenient? Cheaper? You thought you could do the most good here.”

He paused and swallowed, not sure he was doing this exactly right. He suspected warmer people might have hugged Maddy by now, but it felt like he’d missed his opportunity. Instead, he caught one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “Wherever you choose, you make it better just by being there.” That was a nice kind thing to say, that felt right. Not that it wasn’t also true. “Don’t let those idiots in masks make you believe otherwise.”

His face fell a bit more with a sigh. “Please don’t give up just yet. We were just getting started.” Maurice very rarely pleaded. He stated the facts, he made arguments, he didn’t beg. But Maddy had been such a beacon of everything he was trying to prove, and she had been bright and fearless, seeing her like this scared him.

Maddy thought about this for a moment, her lips pursed tightly. “So if I felt unprepared today, you all felt so much more unprepared.” Was this the reason why she’d not been scared? Because she didn’t yet know how it was to fight with a plan?

When the grip softened, Maddy pushed forward and buried herself deep into Maurice -- trying not to get distracted by the fact that he didn’t smell at all like she’d imagined it -- and tried not to cry. But the harder she cried, the more tears bubbled out, big and full of guilt. His last words made it worse, because she knew why she’d chosen here. That her choice hadn’t been made on convenience or price, but because she had an agenda. “Because I want to make them uncomfortable.” And she had succeeded, and repercussions had come instantly. 

Lily grinned at the kid’s enthusiasm. She was right - people tend to focus on the thing at hand and not what happens next, which often created more problems - but it was also unrealistic to expect so much. It was hard enough not to die right now - hard enough not to wallow in her misery over a love lost and a life that could’ve been - and some things took priority. “Maybe we can talk ideas another time,” she responded calmly. “Figure out a way to address it. But you’ll soon realize that the Order becomes your life. It’s hard to see what happens next when you’re worried there might not even be a next.”

Lily smirked. Nice. That was her thing, right? Oh, Lily Evans? She’s so nice. Do you know the Muggleborn girl? She’s nice, right?! Never… that Lily Evans, so smart, so capable. But Lily wouldn’t hold it against Maddy. Her intentions were clearly pure. “That’s what they tell me,” she quipped, leaving it at that and not going into the mysterious they. She laughed, then, when Maddy “introduced” herself again. “It’s very nice to meet you, Maddy,” Lily played along. “The Order is lucky to have you.”

And it wasn’t a life. The Order needed life - and Maddy breathed it.

“Well, I wouldn’t say _no_ to being the one. It feels… part of me,” she explained. “In a way I can’t explain. Maybe because he wanted me to join him. Me - not for blood - just for power. And… can you imagine, Maddy? A Muggleborn killing someone like him? The irony! James would’ve loved it!” She laughed at that, realizing for a moment that this was the most she’s laughed in weeks. Maddy’d done that. Lily was glad the girl was here.

“Must be,” she breathed out an agreement, just as they reached the threshold of the door.

Lily essentially dismissed Maddy. Her questions, her ideas, and while Maddy felt her shoulders slump at it, she didn’t insist. She didn’t entirely understand why the Order becoming your life stood in opposition to fixing the system of Wizarding Britain, but again, she suffocated the question and kept silent. “All right. Sure! Another time.”

“It’s good to be nice. Can save lives, I’ve found.” Make even the most horrid of people want to spare yours, was what she meant. She gave Lily a smile at the jokingly belated introduction-phrase. 

Without you The ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows Without you The seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play, the stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly Without you Without you The breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves Without you The tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash, the crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry Without you

The world revives. Colors renew.

But I know blue, only blue, lonely blue, within me blue

“Great,” she echoed, beaming. Balancing work and Order was a task that often left her completely drained. While it sounded paradoxal to add another element, Hestia figured that the best solution was to go out and be social. Constantly bouncing between stressors… No, she needed something else. And curling up with friends, just listening to the radio – that sounded perfect. It took her right back to study breaks at Hogwarts. She accepted the note with the address on it, putting it in her pocket after giving it a quick glance. “No preference! Although a game of cards afterwards sounds fun – it’s been ages since I’ve played.”

Hestia gave a sigh. It was easy to let a sigh escape when the topic of Dorcas and her trio came up. “I don’t know – nobody’s pointed any fingers, or announced anything as far as I’ve heard, which means that either it’s being handled privately or it’s being forgotten about.” 

“Taking over, one cup of coffee fetched at the time,” Hestia laughed. Saying that she was a long way from taking over implied that it was where she was headed; for now Hestia was just concerned with getting a full-time job. And fixing up some dearly neglected and outdated laws. “Well, that depends on what you consider inside knowledge. If you can work with information about minor settlements or how much of a car you can enchant before it’s legally declared magical, I’m happy to be bribed!” 

Hestia laughed in agreement. She’d missed Maddy more than she’d realised. It was like eating and suddenly figuring that you’d been hungry all day, only becoming aware of it after the fact. Order meetings were looking a lot better going forward. Listening to Maddy talk about her plans, it felt like no time had passed at all. Like they weren’t waiting for a secret, illegal meeting to start, but rather had run into each other at Hogwarts.  

“Some light advertisement I can do! Merlin knows I burn through pens at an alarming change. Most of the people working are old-guard, sneering at anything but quills, but the younger ones can be swayed!” Hestia added reforming the office’s view of pens on her to do list. She tilted her head, veering into a subject she knew little about. “Like clientele, marketing and all that. Oh, do you have a name yet? Maddy’s Muggle….” She faltered, trying to think of a last M word. “Markers?”

“Unacceptable!” Maddy thundered -- playfully. “Going ages without a card game is forbidden by the law, you should know better, Miss Hestia Jones!” Though this reminded her of something. “Are you living alone, then?”

Maddy huffed out air through her nose, angrily. “Typical. She’s getting away with it again. Why is she always getting away with everything?!” Some students would never do anything wrong, only once they’d slip up, and bam, full punishment and lots of yelling. But Dorcas? Dorcas would never, ever behave, but people would just shrug and go: Oh, well, you know our Dorcas, that’s just how it is. Maddy hated it.

Maddy blinked. Then understood. And laughed.  “It’s all just the introduction period. Before you know it, you’re going to wear Justice Bones’ cape and solve all the crimes!” She really had no idea how the magical law system worked… “Besides, I’m sure the Order can really make use of you being in there, aye?  Especially if you’re just a coffee-fetcher for now. People probably don’t think too much of you and that way you can listen in on all sorts of secret information!” Like how janitors were always the best spies.

Oh, that was exciting. Maddy did a grand gesture, plunged her hands into her pockets, bowed deeply and then swooshed back up with three ball pens sticking out from her fist. “Tadaaaa!” she said, because she’d always loved (friendly-) mocking Muggle magic tricks. The ball pens were of a rather good quality, sturdy and the black ink inside long lasting, but their shell was of a pretty sparkly light blue colour. “I also have pink if you prefer, but I assumed that at the workspace, you want to appear a little more serious.” 

Mundungus’ instinct was to save the table, because saving the table meant to save himself from the owner’s wrath if anything were to be broken, or too much of a mess was made. “Easy there,” he said to Maddy, checking last if she was fine. 

She seemed to be, since she had not lost her cheer. And in turn, that was amusing to watch. It had been long since Mundungus had been wowed by something like The White Wyvern, and it was nice to relive through that feeling by watching Maddy’s reactions no matter how little they lasted. 

“I’m having two shots of Firewhiskey and a pint of Steaming Stout,” he said, failing to add ‘to start with’, starting to look for his cigarettes. This time it didn’t take him long to find it, and he already had one between his lips but the time he added, “and the house’ oldest pickled eggs. Do ya see an ashtray?” he asked her, right a second before a voice boomed next to them.

“Ya better use it right, this time,” the barkeep said, leaving one on the table between the two of them, “or I’ll make ya scrub the floor with a toothbrush.” The ashtray was made of polished white bone, but to which creature it had belonged to it was hard to say. Of course, the wildest rumours whispered they were pieces of the people who had gotten on the owner’s bad side. “So, the usual? What for the little miss?”

“The usual and make it for two, luv,” Mundungus replied, with broad smile on his lips, winking at them. Only to receive a nod and a huff in return, and yet still looking smug about something as he focused back on Maddy. 

“Now, now, we ain’t even a little tiddly. That’s a properly sloshed kind of question,” he explained, as if there was a kind of etiquette to being drunk and sharing private thoughts. He pulled the ashtray towards himself ready to light his cigarette. “Also since they are good thoughts, they are mostly boring… I thought ya wanted to hear a story. Changed your mind? Or do ya want a story where me good thoughts,” and deed, “got me intro trouble?” He could think of recent one, too. One that had brought him back from Paris.

“I’m having the same then!” Maddy said, and she was just naive enough to believe that two shots weren’t that much. They were small glasses and she had -- hadn’t had food yet, but she would. “And some mash.” And this she managed to say with confidence, because she had had mashed potatoes before at a pub and thus knew it was a common order, and thus felt self-assured in it. It felt good to be sure about something she said. It lasted just long enough to get her through the suddenly foreign languaged conversation Lava Lamp was now having with the barkeep. What language was that! Her eyes were wide and curious and, again, the confidence lasted just long enough for her to call: “And some mash!” 

“What language was that?!” she asked, the moment they were alone again. “Are you Welsh?” he looked Welsh.

What if happy was a channel we could choose? What if music ever made it past the blues? What if god was just a bloke who drives a bus? What if you and me we spoke and turned to us?

What if love was sold in shops upon the shelfs? And politicians cared much less about themselves? What if Adam tried and failed to get the girl? And what if mice are here to take over the world?

There's a thing called life and it's killing me But there's nowhere else I would rather be.

What if living in the past was made illegal? If the world was square and everyone was equal? What if radio played songs about our lives? And television shone a light into our eyes?

Cause i don't know where we went wrong but it's alright Just keep listening to the songs inside your mind ...

... Cause I've been waiting by the window and I've been staring out the door and I still don't know what on earth we're here for.

Self-made, ~ 7inches,  Centaur-hair core, unknown wood

Age 11

Coming from a poor family who didn’t even fully believe Maddy was a Witch at first, they had no interest in spending a lot of money on a wand. Not only did they not really understand the importance of a wand -- knowing wands only from children birthday party wizards -- but they also had no means to pay for a new one, even if they had wanted to. So Maddy got a second hand wand from Ollivander’s. It was made of Blackthorn and combusted in Maddy’s first year. Just. Set itself on fire.

Age 12

Maddy was lent one from a friend in school. “I’ll just ask my family if they have any left-over wands, don’t worry! You can give it back to me once you can afford your own!” The wand didn’t suit Maddy but she made do, grateful to even have one at all. With each year that passed, the wand became less stubborn and in Maddy’s fifth year at Hogwarts, the two had almost become friends. Only that that was also the year she started to play Quidditch... During her third match, she was knocked out by a bludger, waking up in the hospital with a broken leg to her south and a broken wand to her north.

Age 16

At this point, Maddy had already made some money with her little trinkets shop, and decided to finally buy herself a real wand. She was terribly proud of it. Not too long, not too bendy, of a handsome dark wood -- it was stolen three weeks into her new term. She blamed herself for having bragged about it (really, she hadn’t bragged, only told people joyfully about her investment) and never accused anyone of the crime. In a way, she understood why they had done it, after all...

The school lent her another wand, and much like the school broom which she flew for Quidditch, it was useful only for the bare minimum. It was neither very fast nor very powerful not very eager to help Maddy with her trinkets, but Maddy made do, as she always did. She passed her NEWTs with it, and while her grades were anything but bad, deep down she wondered if perhaps she could’ve gotten even better results had she had a wand made for her.

Age 18

Right after graduating Hogwarts and right before leaving with the train for the last time, she went into the Forbidden Forest and approached the colony of centaurs. Her bow was deep, her demeanor eager and apologetic, and her language so profusely respectful that the centaurs let her come closer, join her for tea. It was around a fire that Maddy explained that she needed a wand that was hers. Really hers. That she finally wanted to fit in, but that she needed to fit in her own way, and that for this, she wanted to ask if perhaps one of them could grant her a hair. The centaur laughed: “From my head or tail?” And because Maddy blushed so terribly, the centaur gave her two of each, wishing her luck with her endeavours. 

Maddy needed two attempts and by the third she didn’t know which hair it was that she ended up using -- but the endeavours were successful indeed, and that was what mattered. She had placed the hair into a wooden pencil, weaving it around the lead inside, then locked the pencil close again and sealing everything securely with wand-awakening spells. To her biggest surprise, it worked, and it’s the wand she’s been using ever since.