fic for loupnoir: A Quibbler Exclusive (Millicent Bulstrode, Luna, Neville, G)
Title: A Quibbler Exclusive
Recipient: loupnoir
Rating: G
Characters: Millicent Bulstrode, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Thank you to emei, empressvesica and janicechess for giving this a once over and helping me to knock this into shape. It's true, four eyes are better than one.
To my recipient, Happy Holidays! And I hope you enjoy.
--
A Quibbler Exclusive
So, you want me to tell you what it was like to be a Death Eater on trial? Well, you know that the second Death Eater trials were not open to the public. They tell me that it was a decision that caused much uproar. I wouldn't know. I was being held in custody, locked away from the world until my turn in that dark courtroom.
What was my trial like? I remember meeting Scrimgeour's eyes as I settled myself on the chair, allowing my wrists to be chained. I think he was surprised when I didn't flinch as the cool metal enclosed my wrists. They read out my name. It was loud and clear. The courtroom was empty except for the prosecutor, Scrimgeour and the Wizengamot. I wanted to smile at them and welcome them to my trial, to the beginning of my death.
No, I did not expect to be acquitted of my crimes. Yes, you're right; they were minor in every instance. Why? Well, my father had tried to protect me as best he could from the self-destruction of my soul. Do I mean that I would have murdered if given the chance? Well, what do you think?
The prosecutor's questioning was long and I answered as calmly as I could. I had given up on the idea of freedom, while sitting in my holding cell. None of the other Death Eaters had been set free, why should I be the lucky one?
Yes, they did mention Potter. A lot. They asked me questions about him. 'Did you know of Mr Potter's plans? What was the nature of your relationship with Mr Potter? Were you friends? Did you ever conspire with Mr Potter? Then how do you explain your part in the defeat of You-Know-Who if there was no plot between yourself and Mr Potter?'
They tried to hide their smiles as I answered them. I could see the amusement in their eyes as I looked at them. They weren't to condemn me. Scrimgeour cleared his throat and he looked nervously towards the prosecutor. Who was the prosecutor? I don't know.
Oh, he was a small man with a walrus moustache and wide eyes. Augustus Wessex? If you say so.
You want to see my Mark? For Merlin's sake, Luna, here, look. Yes, it's ugly. No, it will never fade. It's a reminder, a reminder that I was a Death Eater, that I'm not to be trusted.
No, I never killed but I did terrorise. I tortured and I watched as other Death Eaters killed. I watched as small children were torn from their mothers and murdered and I enjoyed it because that's what Death Eaters did. I also believed that it was Right.
No, they weren't very nice things to do.
Do I still believe that it was Right? Yes. No. Maybe. Mudbloods and blood traitors endanger our world. Every time one is accepted into our society the barriers between our world and the Muggle one get thinner. They fade and the world-- both worlds become more dangerous. What we did-- what I did, well it's not nice, but I did believe it was necessary and Right.
No. Tom Riddle was a half-blood and he never believed it was Right. He believed that it was fun, that it was entertaining. That it was a way to demonstrate his power and to show that he could dominate over life and death. He believed he was worthy of immortality, of being a god.
He didn't believe because he knew, underneath everything, that he was an abomination. Tom Riddle was the product of a union that should not have taken place. He couldn't believe. For him to believe would have been to condemn his own existence.
I was horrified when I found out. I was angry, so very, very angry. It was a betrayal, and not one that I could give grudging respect to. I felt foolish.
Yes, I tried to tell the other Death Eaters. I told my father. He laughed outright and told me that it was the stress. I told Bellatrix Lestrange. She slapped me before torturing me with the Cruciatus Curse. I even told Draco Malfoy. Yes, I know, it was stupid of me. I tried telling other Death Eaters. The results…well, perhaps its best not to mention what they did to me.
Yes, I was. It was Percy Weasley who found me, bloodied and bruised outside the Ministry door. Well, I didn't think I was desperate at the time. I was though, I was desperate and half-mad. Percy took me to St Mungo's. No, he didn't know what I was. He didn't see the Mark on my arm, but the medi-witches and Healers did. Percy thought I was raving and mad. He thought that I had been tortured by Death Eaters. Yes, you're right, I had. Percy saw me as a victim.
Wasn't I captured at St Mungo's? No, I escaped the Aurors, barely. I ran into Neville Longbottom. Yes, he was trying to capture me too-- on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix. I didn't know it then. I told him about the Dark Lord, and he believed me. Well, he already knew I suppose. He told me to come with him to a safe house. I laughed at him. He said that I needed help. He was right.
Of course, because it was. When I say that my part in the Dark Lord's defeat was an accident, I mean it. It was an accident. I'd never meant to find out his terrible secret. I had stumbled across his birth certificate and a tattered old diary with blood stains. They were being kept together in the old Gaunt house-
No, I'm not sure. That's just where I found them. The Dark Lord was moving. Yes, I know. Bella had ordered me to clean and I had thought it terribly unfair. It was a job for Wormtail and not the daughter of a pureblood house.
When you put it like that … well, I suppose I do owe Bella my freedom, without her I would never had found out.
It makes me laugh, you know. In a sad way, but it is still laughter. Neville tells me, because of my part in The Defeat, that my arrest was almost entirely ceremonial. I was never to be convicted.
Whatever you say, Luna. I'm just glad to get my story out.
Yes, I know. Well, isn't that a joke? Despite what everyone says, I haven’t changed.
Oh, just shut up! Yes, I'll be at the wedding, just make sure Granger stays away from me. I know about the hair and the Polyjuice potion.
I don’t care if it was years ago. It’s still creepy.
See you.
-
"Luna showed me the transcript of the interview. It was brave of you," Neville tells Millicent. The ice cream is not the same as it was during Florian Fortescue's time, but it is still ice cream. Neville loves ice cream.
Millicent shrugs. The scars from her duel with Bellatrix on the night of The Defeat mar her face, and there is a long mass of thick white skin along the back of her right forearm. There are some things that magic can't heal or take away.
"Like you said, people deserve to know," she tells him. "Potter wants his solitude, but people want to know what happened that night."
"Skeeter's done more than a dozen articles on Harry and that night. People think they know already. What you've said … people still don't know all of that." Neville takes a spoonful of ice cream.
"Well, The Quibbler is more reliable than the Prophet these days." Millicent sighs. "Anyway, what is that they say? History is written by the winners?"
Recipient: loupnoir
Rating: G
Characters: Millicent Bulstrode, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Thank you to emei, empressvesica and janicechess for giving this a once over and helping me to knock this into shape. It's true, four eyes are better than one.
To my recipient, Happy Holidays! And I hope you enjoy.
--
A Quibbler Exclusive
So, you want me to tell you what it was like to be a Death Eater on trial? Well, you know that the second Death Eater trials were not open to the public. They tell me that it was a decision that caused much uproar. I wouldn't know. I was being held in custody, locked away from the world until my turn in that dark courtroom.
What was my trial like? I remember meeting Scrimgeour's eyes as I settled myself on the chair, allowing my wrists to be chained. I think he was surprised when I didn't flinch as the cool metal enclosed my wrists. They read out my name. It was loud and clear. The courtroom was empty except for the prosecutor, Scrimgeour and the Wizengamot. I wanted to smile at them and welcome them to my trial, to the beginning of my death.
No, I did not expect to be acquitted of my crimes. Yes, you're right; they were minor in every instance. Why? Well, my father had tried to protect me as best he could from the self-destruction of my soul. Do I mean that I would have murdered if given the chance? Well, what do you think?
The prosecutor's questioning was long and I answered as calmly as I could. I had given up on the idea of freedom, while sitting in my holding cell. None of the other Death Eaters had been set free, why should I be the lucky one?
Yes, they did mention Potter. A lot. They asked me questions about him. 'Did you know of Mr Potter's plans? What was the nature of your relationship with Mr Potter? Were you friends? Did you ever conspire with Mr Potter? Then how do you explain your part in the defeat of You-Know-Who if there was no plot between yourself and Mr Potter?'
They tried to hide their smiles as I answered them. I could see the amusement in their eyes as I looked at them. They weren't to condemn me. Scrimgeour cleared his throat and he looked nervously towards the prosecutor. Who was the prosecutor? I don't know.
Oh, he was a small man with a walrus moustache and wide eyes. Augustus Wessex? If you say so.
You want to see my Mark? For Merlin's sake, Luna, here, look. Yes, it's ugly. No, it will never fade. It's a reminder, a reminder that I was a Death Eater, that I'm not to be trusted.
No, I never killed but I did terrorise. I tortured and I watched as other Death Eaters killed. I watched as small children were torn from their mothers and murdered and I enjoyed it because that's what Death Eaters did. I also believed that it was Right.
No, they weren't very nice things to do.
Do I still believe that it was Right? Yes. No. Maybe. Mudbloods and blood traitors endanger our world. Every time one is accepted into our society the barriers between our world and the Muggle one get thinner. They fade and the world-- both worlds become more dangerous. What we did-- what I did, well it's not nice, but I did believe it was necessary and Right.
No. Tom Riddle was a half-blood and he never believed it was Right. He believed that it was fun, that it was entertaining. That it was a way to demonstrate his power and to show that he could dominate over life and death. He believed he was worthy of immortality, of being a god.
He didn't believe because he knew, underneath everything, that he was an abomination. Tom Riddle was the product of a union that should not have taken place. He couldn't believe. For him to believe would have been to condemn his own existence.
I was horrified when I found out. I was angry, so very, very angry. It was a betrayal, and not one that I could give grudging respect to. I felt foolish.
Yes, I tried to tell the other Death Eaters. I told my father. He laughed outright and told me that it was the stress. I told Bellatrix Lestrange. She slapped me before torturing me with the Cruciatus Curse. I even told Draco Malfoy. Yes, I know, it was stupid of me. I tried telling other Death Eaters. The results…well, perhaps its best not to mention what they did to me.
Yes, I was. It was Percy Weasley who found me, bloodied and bruised outside the Ministry door. Well, I didn't think I was desperate at the time. I was though, I was desperate and half-mad. Percy took me to St Mungo's. No, he didn't know what I was. He didn't see the Mark on my arm, but the medi-witches and Healers did. Percy thought I was raving and mad. He thought that I had been tortured by Death Eaters. Yes, you're right, I had. Percy saw me as a victim.
Wasn't I captured at St Mungo's? No, I escaped the Aurors, barely. I ran into Neville Longbottom. Yes, he was trying to capture me too-- on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix. I didn't know it then. I told him about the Dark Lord, and he believed me. Well, he already knew I suppose. He told me to come with him to a safe house. I laughed at him. He said that I needed help. He was right.
Of course, because it was. When I say that my part in the Dark Lord's defeat was an accident, I mean it. It was an accident. I'd never meant to find out his terrible secret. I had stumbled across his birth certificate and a tattered old diary with blood stains. They were being kept together in the old Gaunt house-
No, I'm not sure. That's just where I found them. The Dark Lord was moving. Yes, I know. Bella had ordered me to clean and I had thought it terribly unfair. It was a job for Wormtail and not the daughter of a pureblood house.
When you put it like that … well, I suppose I do owe Bella my freedom, without her I would never had found out.
It makes me laugh, you know. In a sad way, but it is still laughter. Neville tells me, because of my part in The Defeat, that my arrest was almost entirely ceremonial. I was never to be convicted.
Whatever you say, Luna. I'm just glad to get my story out.
Yes, I know. Well, isn't that a joke? Despite what everyone says, I haven’t changed.
Oh, just shut up! Yes, I'll be at the wedding, just make sure Granger stays away from me. I know about the hair and the Polyjuice potion.
I don’t care if it was years ago. It’s still creepy.
See you.
-
"Luna showed me the transcript of the interview. It was brave of you," Neville tells Millicent. The ice cream is not the same as it was during Florian Fortescue's time, but it is still ice cream. Neville loves ice cream.
Millicent shrugs. The scars from her duel with Bellatrix on the night of The Defeat mar her face, and there is a long mass of thick white skin along the back of her right forearm. There are some things that magic can't heal or take away.
"Like you said, people deserve to know," she tells him. "Potter wants his solitude, but people want to know what happened that night."
"Skeeter's done more than a dozen articles on Harry and that night. People think they know already. What you've said … people still don't know all of that." Neville takes a spoonful of ice cream.
"Well, The Quibbler is more reliable than the Prophet these days." Millicent sighs. "Anyway, what is that they say? History is written by the winners?"