KTostada
Morose
Scrawl Banditta
Neziul
Blizz
Forsythe
BlueSky44
Achronum
Simply Not Real
Hey Im Jordan
Mia Dubois
Mia sat against a wall in a basement. She wasn’t clear on where said basement was. In fact if asked she’d be able to say that the basement was cold, slightly damp, and somewhere in Europe. The possibilities from there were endless. Mia also knew that the basement was part of a larger house, and that house belonged to a family of stout supporters of You-Know-Who. That was more than enough information for Mia.
It had been a day, maybe two since Mia woken up in the basement. She couldn’t be certain as there was no source of light in the basement other than a small square from the door’s window. The door didn’t lead outside so that was not a good source of information or time keeping. She supposed that would be another descriptor for the basement - Dark. Just like the hearts of those who owned the basement.
It had, Mia was sure, been several hours since she had last seen the daughter of the house, and apparently only child of one Mark McCarthy. Maggie McCarthy. Mia had no idea what Maggie was short for, she didn’t even consider the idea that it might be short for anything. Mia wasn’t short for anything, unless she had decided at that time to be too short to reach the top shelf. Right now, Mia had made herself small. Not entirely on purpose, but in an attempt to get as far away from Maggie as she could. Mia had not since then gone into the appearance she found most comfortable. The one she called her ‘normal face’. This was for a simple reason. Mia had learned at an early age that certain appearances made her feel certain ways. She had also learned that those appearances could feel different if something happened to change her association with them. Mia had no desire to lose the association of comfort she had with her normal face and thus was not reverting to it.
There was a click of boot against cement. That was the harbinger of Maggie. Mia pulled her resolve back around her. Maggie had been attempting to use Imperious on Mia. For some magical reason Mia could not fathom it had not been effective. Mia had been able to keep most of her identity secret. Her name was still her own, and to Maggie, Mia had only spoken in French. There was a second set of footsteps and Mia heard Maggie speak.
“I doubt she’s important enough to call the Dark Lord, but she is a Metamorphmagus.” Mia felt a bit of relief wash over her. They had not called You-Know-Who, yet. She was safe for now. If this could at all be considered safe.
That relief disappeared as the second person responded to Maggie. “Didn’t the last one turn out to be a part of the Order? History could be repeating itself – especially if you feel the need to send a Killing Curse at her.” A muffled chuckle followed.
The door opened to reveal Maggie standing there with the other voice. The other voice belonged to a blond man, long and lanky and particularly unhealthy looking, like he hadn’t had enough sleep in weeks. Despite peering into the darkness of the basement, perhaps in morbid curiosity, he avoided looking directly at Mia, instead surveying the dank conditions with a frown.
Mia resisted the urge to stoutly announce she was in fact not part of the Order. Not that the order was around anymore. She had never considered herself part of the Order, and definitely not part of the Ashes. Both groups were too violent for her pacifistic nature.
“Que voulez-vous? Qui êtes-vous? (1)” Mia asked. She didn’t expect an answer. In fact she hoped she wouldn’t get an answer. Mia had figured out Maggie didn’t know French, but if this other person did in fact speak French, there went that method of keeping silent.
Maggie glared at Mia. She hated the small woman. As much as Maggie was capable of hate, which to be quite honest is not a lot. What irritated Maggie was the girl wouldn’t speak in English, and for whatever reason had been quite capable of resisting her attempts at controlling her. So far Crucio had been very effective in that Maggie had learned the girl was a Metamorphmagus. The girl had been unable to control her form while Maggie had tortured her.
“So, opinion?” Maggie asked the man. Mia could hear the disdain for asking the question roll off of Maggie. The man seemed fairly unaware of that. Mia wondered which of them ranked higher in You-Know-Who’s army. She had a sneaking suspicion it was the man, and that Maggie hated that.
“She’s French,” the man said dryly, definitely oblivious to Maggie’s ill-temper as he smiled at her. He rubbed at his chin theatrically as he considered the question. “I say we wait, and ask around for someone who can speak it. I for one want to know who she works for, and I’m sure it’ll make for a great report to the Dark Lord if I tell him, ‘Yes, we captured a witch, but she was tortured into insanity long before we could get anything out of her.’”
“I’ve been gentle.” Maggie huffed. If the lighting were better Mia would have sworn she had seen Maggie roll her eyes even. Mia wondered if that was gentle what un-gentle looked like. Mia could not repress that shiver of horror. A flick of Maggie's wand and an unspoken word brought pain to Mia’s body. Every nerve in Mia felt like it was on fire. Mia let out a scream and it was dispelled. “Well gentle-ish.” Maggie said shrugging. Maggie took a step out of the dungeon.
The man exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if there was an itch there from Maggie’s use of Dark Magic. “Very kind of you, Mags. Surprised you aren’t Inner Circle yet, with that viciousness.” Shaking his head, he followed her out, studiously looking at the ceiling. “Excuse me for a few minutes, right? I’m going to hunt down a Frenchy. I think Cunningham can speak it.”
“That works.” Maggie said her shoulders tense at the long hated nickname. Mia wondered as the door shut how Maggie hadn’t completely snapped. It seemed the man picked at Maggie’s weakness, but for some reason Maggie put up with it.
Luther had barely been home for a minute - he had just gotten back from the raid on Mr. Keiper’s home - when there was an impatient knocking on the door. What could she possibly want now? He went and opened the door, and was surprised to see Alistair was his visitor, and not Bellatrix. “Hello, Alistair. What brings you here?” Luther greeted, as he stepped aside to let him in.
“We’ve captured a Half-blood, and we think she might have been in the Order,” Alistair answered in a genial tone as if he was talking about the weather. With a sly smirk, he continued, “Oh, and did I mention? She’s a Metamorphmagus. Just to put the icing on the cake.”
Luther closed the door behind him, then replied, “Okay… so why does this information interest me?”
Alistair chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “She’s French, refuses to speak in anything but French, and we need a translator-slash-interrogator who can actually understand what she’s saying. It’s you, mate.”
Luther paused for a moment, then nodded. “Well, the Dark Lord won’t be wanting to hear about a prisoner who we know nothing about, now, will he?”
“Right. And best make it quick, too, or Maggie’s going to make her into a vegetable before we can get anything out of her.”
Luther laughed. “Who was the fool that put her in charge of the prisoner? Merlin knows she’d do anything to kill - well, anyone.”
Alistair avoided his gaze. “Well, she has good traits, too. Like, with her around, they’re not going to escape, are they?”
“No, they most definitely aren’t,” Luther agreed.
“I’m going to just pretend I didn’t hear it, so I don’t feel the need to tell her. She is my bestie, y’know?” Alistair winked, leaning against the wall. “You can apparate yourself there, right?”
Luther nodded. “Shall we be off, then?”
Alistair drew his wand in response, disappearing with a crack of magic that sounded like thunder. Not the stealthiest of exits. Luther followed suit, and found Alistair and Maggie waiting for him, just outside the manor’s property, when he appeared.
“Cunningham.” Maggie nodded, in probably the warmest greeting she was capable of giving anyone.
Luther nodded in return. “Good afternoon, Ms. McCarthy. So I hear there’s a Half-blood that needs interrogating?”
“A Metamorphmagus. No idea about her other than that and she was in the house of a criminal. Kept us from getting the family and doesn’t speak a word of English, or refuses to.” Maggie said, catching Luther up on the very little they knew of Mia.
Luther nodded politely, having already heard half of it from Alistair just a moment ago. “So, where is she?” he inquired.
“In the basement. We’ve got a couple of rooms down there just for guests.” Maggie spoke the word guests with a hint of glee, that meant those who were in the rooms were anything but guests. Alistair rolled his eyes in response, but somehow managed to keep his mouth shut.
Luther wondered how many of these rooms they had. Then, realizing he probably didn’t want to know, he shook his head, dispelling the thoughts from his mind. He looked at Maggie expectantly, waiting for her to lead him to their “guest” - he didn’t know where to go, owing to the fact that he didn’t live there.
Maggie walked up to the manor leading Luther in a somewhat circuitous way to the basement. There was no way for him to be able to guess how many rooms there were. She led him down the steps to the small room that held Mia.
Mia looked up from where she had rested her chin on her knees. That was too quick. Her stomach twisted. This new person with Maggie must be the Cunningham that the blond man had mentioned. She was thankful that her face had been showing nothing but fear since she had arrived in the McCarthy mansion because she couldn’t hide the fear pushing at her right now.
“Que voulez-vous? Qui êtes-vous? (1)” Mia did her best to keep her voice even, but it shook anyway.
“Je suis un ami,” Luther consoled. “Qui êtes-vous? (2)”
“Un ami? C’est crédible,” Mia said sarcastically. “Vous êtes venus ici avec eux. Vous êtes avec eux. Vous n’êtes pas un ami. (3)”
Luther sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Oui, je suis avec eux. Mais je suis différent! Je voudrais joindre les Ashes! Je vous aiderai, mais j'ai besoin de votre aidei, aussi. (4)”
“C’est un truc,” Mia glared at him. “Je ne suis pas un d’eux. Vous ne pouvez pas obtenir information de moi. (5)”
Luther sighed, and sat down against the wall besides Mia. “Je comprends que vous ne me faisez pas confiance. Je n’aurais pas confiance moi non plus, (6)” he said, with another sigh. “Ils ont pris ma soeur. Elle est dans Azkaban, parce qu’elle est Muggleborn. Ma innocente, petite soeur. Je ne lui pardonne jamais. Le Seigneur sombre est un monstre, et je veux lui disparu.” Luther looked to the ground, before continuing, “Je rencontrai avec les Ashes ce soir. Je peux leurs dire où vous êtes, mais il faut que je sache qui vous êtes. (7)”
Mia could see the truth in the new comer’s words. She could tell how much this man hated You-Know-Who. “Je m’apelle Mia. Seulement un d’eux saurai ma nomme. Je doute qu’elle veuille m’aider beaucoup. Nous ne sommes pas separés en bons termes. (8)”
“Je m’assure qu’ils vous aideraient. Vous savez quelque chose que je peux elle dire pour qu’elle me croit? (9)”
“Essayez cette - (10)” Mia then said a string of numbers, completely nonsensically to anyone who doesn’t know what a phone number is, but this string of numbers is the perfect length for a phone.
“Merci beaucoup, mon amie. Je reviendrai pour vous, je vous le promets, (11)” Luther said. He stood up and looked at Maggie, who had been watching the “interrogation” impatiently.
“So?” Maggie asked, she stopped tapping her foot. “What did you learn?”
1. “What do you want? Who are you?”
2. “I am a friend. Who are you?”
3. “Friend? That’s believable. You came down here with them. You’re one of them. You are no friend.”
4. “Yes, I am one of them. But I’m different! I would like to join the Ashes! I will help you, but I need you to help me too.”
5. “This is a trick. I am not part of them. You cannot get any information from me.”
6. “I understand that you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either.”
7. “They took my sister. She is in Azkaban, because she is a Muggleborn. My innocent, little sister. I will never forgive them. The Dark Lord is a monster, and I want him gone. I will meet with the Ashes tonight. I can tell them where you are, but I need to know who you are.”
8. “My name is Mia. Only one of them will know my name. I doubt she’ll want to help me much. We didn’t part on good terms.”
9. “I will make sure that they help you. Do you know something that I can tell her to make her believe me?”
10. “Try this - “
11. “Thank you, my friend. I will return for you, I promise.”