Chapter 1 : Shock
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Aaand, this is also an attempt to switch between the present and the past. So the first part is set in the present and the second, in italics, is in the past, during their seventh year at Hogwarts.
I do not own anything but the plot.
Chapter 1- Shock
"Excuse me, do you have any idea how I can get here?" I ask the old man with the wispy gray hair and beard. I don't like weird old men. Especially ones who look at me funny.
"Is there something wrong with your eye?" I snap impatiently, grabbing at my coat tighter, to avoid flashing some unintentional cleavage.
"Er, Um. No," he responds , lowering his eyes to look at the scrap of paper I have handed him. He gives me brief directions. I thank him hurriedly and run towards my destination, my editor's voice ringing in my head like some sort of alarm.
"You have to be on time. This is big news, I hear," she said.
"At least tell me what I'm covering?"
"Nobody knows, Rose. But I can tell you that it's about the Second Uprising."
"Oh goody. Sounds brilliant," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Yes, I know. You're the only one," she dryly. "Anyway, you'll have to get to this place," she said, handing me the slip with the address. "Also, note that you can't apparate directly."
I nod and took off, which brings me to where I am.
I rush through the throng of reporters, photographers and other sets of people, who all seem to have one destination. The good thing about having a small frame is that you can push through crowds like these with ease. I finally reach the destination, which is a giant hall with a podium in the front. Minister Shacklebolt, Uncle Harry, Mum and dad are all sitting on the podium, discussing something with incensed passion. The shock on their faces is clear as daylight. The customary bolt of panic strikes me the moment I see this. But there is more. I know that this isn't just bad news. This is something beyond even them Something is off.
I immediately direct my gaze on Dad for confirmation that I don't really need. Or perhaps I am looking for reassurance. But, I get neither.
The thing about Dad is that he is an open book, to me. While he has learnt to mask his emotions whenever official duty calls, I can always tell what lies underneath his mask. As Deputy Auror, he has sat on many podiums and made several grave announcements, but I can tell that nothing has ever been more serious. I take the seat that has been reserved for me in the third row and stare at Dad. I finally manage to catch his eye, but he immediately looks away. This only intensifies my panic, as I wonder what news I will have to write about, what I will I tell my fiancée when I get home, what will we talk about over dinner, or as we slip into bed... what will I lose sleep over tonight?
Within moments, Kingsley's voice resonates throughout the hall. Loud and clear.
"It is with great grief that I must announce my resignation."
Murmurs all around. Nobody wants to believe that this man who has successfully led the Wizarding World since The Battle of Hogwarts has just told a room full of people that he is resigning. There was no warning. There were no rumours.
"I have given this matter a great deal of thought. I am aware that it is during times like these, that the members of our community wish to seek the comfort and refuge of the ministry the most. But in light of my faulty judgement, that led to the loss of several lives, of both muggles and wizards, I have decided that it is time to nominate a successor, who without doubt, can do a better job of handling what we have on our hands now. I have had a number of good years, as the head of the wizarding community, but I have to accept that the time has come for me to step down. The nominees for the post will be announced tonight, through the evening post. However, I beg of each and every wizard to count on the fact that the condition of things will only worsen in the immediate future. If you believe that a candidate is capable of handling such a situation, if you believe that their mind is not easily swayed by money, threat, or even the unforgivable curses, then, please, consider casting your vote in their favour. I will hold office for the period of two weeks, after which the new minister will be appointed. I apologize for the emergency disruption of normal electoral process. I here by resign as the minister for magic, with the Head and Deputy of the Auror office and the Head of managerial ministerial affairs and of the wizengamot as witnesses."
There is a stunned silence as Kingsley Shacklebolt takes his seat. I look over to my parents, who seem just as alarmed as everyone else. I look at Mum, who usually gives nothing away. But even she looks troubled and doubtful right now.
A man from the first row walks up to the podium and conjures himself a seat. I can vaguely recognize him as one of the head Aurors who were recently part of the Little Hangleton massacre. My dad can't stand this man, for he claims that the entire mess could have been avoided if he has followed Uncle Harry's command, instead of choosing his own moves. Uncle Harry, as usual refuses to comment on this controversial matter.
The man briefly introduces himself and goes on to announce that his team has narrowed the suspect pool down to three people, who have also been caught. Then, in an impressively confident voice, he continues, "The following people have also been added to the list of the Second Uprising gatherers or as most of us grudgingly point out, they are simply death eaters, carrying forward their old master's propaganda."
Anyway, The Crappy Auror sticks out his hand to indicate the arrival of the Deatheater as he calls out, "Ivan Krum, nephew of Viktor Krum." At the same time, a broad, well built man brings out the famous quidditch player onto the podium. He looks irritable and annoyed. He is trying to free his hands which have been bound using magical ropes, while muttering and hissing in the broad man's ears.
"Emmett Avery, son of former death eater." My hands turn cold, as I look at Emmett's face. He went to school with me. He played quidditch against me. He was always a loner, but from the few times that I had actually made conversation with him, I could swear that he was perfectly nice. Nothing dark about him. He was just a little bit broody, I guess. I look at his close set eyes, and his large frame. He is not attempting to fight the man who brought him in. In fact, he is smiling slightly, with pride. I suddenly feel cold. I feel scared. I want to rush home and into the arms of-
"Scorpius Malfoy. One of our very own. Auror in training," he finishes. And immediately, I feel the power of everbody's gaze on me. That is, everyone except Scorpius. I look at his face, shocked. Begging for an explanation of some sort.
"This is a mistake," I call out, looking at my fiancée's expressionless face. His steely eyes hold absolutely no emotion. His face, painted with a slight smirk, looks completely unbothered, to be standing there, being publicly sentenced off to Deatheater land. Why won't he open his stupid mouth now?
"Miss Weasley, I assure you, there is no mistake."
"Uncle Harry? Mum? Dad? Would you tell this wanker that this whole thing is a big fucking mistake?"
"Language, Rose," Mum calls out, reprimanding me.
I shoot a glare her way.
I turn around and face the people behind me, about to tell them this... this was preposterous. It just could not be true. I could gather support, right? From the breathless ladies who were dreamily gazing at Scorpius.
"Let it go, Weasley."
A thousand needles. That's what it feels like.
"Scorpius. Are you really not going to defend yourself from this shit?" I ask, annoyed now.
"That's enough," Mr. Crappy Auror interjects," Escort Miss Weasley out, please"
I gather my stuff and hurry out. I will not let people escort me. I will not let them take down Scorpius. I fucking will not let this happen.
As I walk out of the big hall, the cold hair hits my face, and tears sting my cheeks. I wipe them off with the back of my and apparate back home.
I need ice-cream. And a gun, maybe.
When Kyle broke up with me for not being 'skinny' enough, I could take it. When Joe broke up with me, saying that I had weird hair and an uncontrollable need to boss over everyone, it stung a bit. When Sam told me I cared too little about personal relationships and that I craved for success so much that I lost my head, sometimes, it cut right through me. The thing is, the things about me that make me who I am are the things that are most important to me and those were the only things I could ever feel insecure about.
"Weasley, you have big teeth."
I looked up to see the bane of my existance, Scorpius Malfoy. With pale blonde hair and steel grey eyes, he wasn't your regular boy next door. He was the mysterious guy. The different one. The one that didn't fit in... in... in a beautiful way. And so, Malfoy could have any girl he wanted. And that is exactly what he took advantage of.
"How many girls did you eat for breakfast?" I asked, turning the page of the book I was reading.
"It's sad that you don't realize that, that is a compliment."
He took a sickening bow.
"It's sad that you don't have a heart."
He glared at me. I glared at him. And this is how most arguments went with us. As long as he didn't tell call me stupid or over bearing or something like that that could actually kill me inside, I wouldn't hex him.
I looked up after a few minutes to see if he was still there, polluting the compartment. And that's when I saw it. Gleaming across his chest, with the letters H.B embossed on it.
He could not be Head Boy. Especially because I was Head Girl. McGonagall was obviously nuts if she thought I could survive an year of Scorpius Malfoy.
"WHY on Earth would they make you Head Boy?" I ask, not bothered enough to mask my horror.
"Exactly what I was thinking about you, Weasley."
"Well, I only hold the top most rank in nearly everything. And because of my family, I have been raised to responsible, respectful and dutiful. So pray tell me why I wouldn't be an ideal choice for this position, Malfoy."
"Because you don't care! You want it because it is prestigious. That's all," he scoffs.
"You know what Weasley? You tell me. Why am I not the best of these dolts when it comes to being picked to be Head Boy? What makes you think that there is someone better out there?"
"This is easy. You're a cunning, conniving bastard, with no respect for anything or anyone. You think money can buy you everything, don't you?"
"Well, some of us don't have enough. I know. I can sympathize Weasley, but I can do no more."
I glared at his annoying face. I swear to Merlin. If I could have, I would have killed him then. Right there.
"After all, why shouldn't they make the richest, smartest and most handsome boy in Hogwarts Head Boy?"
And with a wink and smirk, he was gone. And the Head's compartment was mine again. But he had been in there long enough to disturb my thoughts
How I hoped it wasn't him.
Head Boy. Malfoy?
And I spent the rest of the journey, pretending to listen to Lily and Al, while actually thinking about the mysterious boy whom everybody, but me had their hearts set on.
Merlin save me.
Sooo, what did you guys think? Please read and review. This is an experiment. If I think that this will find readers, I will continue. So please do tell me whether you like it or not. You have no idea how much it mans to me!