Who: Marietta Edgecombe & Jean Edgecombe. What: Marietta gets her mother's blessing in veiled terms, the real account of her father's illness Where: Department of Floo Network Authority, Ministry of Magic When: Thursday morning, their first day back at work. Rating: low
Marietta set her mother's tea cup in front of her with care. She'd never seen the woman look so drawn. Jean Edgecombe took up the cup gracefully, but couldn't hide the shake in her hands. Her appearance was so markedly different from her normal severity and authority that it nearly broke Marietta's heart. She loved her mother dearly, despite how much she complained about her control over her life. "Thank you, Marietta dear, this is lovely," her mother said. Marietta smiled and placed her hand gently on her mother's shoulder. The two were never this tender, but the last couple weeks had brought the two women closer together than ever before. Marietta's thoughts drifted to earlier that morning, when she had left a bowl of broth at her father's bedside. She couldn't shake the image of him, frail and fragile, helpless on the bed. Her heart darkened as she thought of the reason for his ill-health.
Frank Edgecombe worked as a trader of oddly assorted items, mainly rare magical items that brought him to all sorts of places, some less savory than others. Two weeks previously his trades led him into a muggle museum, where a very interesting egg had turned up which Frank's associates had assumed was a rare dragon's egg, most likely of Norwegian or Belgian origins. Though dealing in dragon's eggs was not Frank's usual line of work, he did have an eye for what was authentic and had agreed to appraise the egg for them before they attempted to negotiate it from the museum (he didn't bother in the details of how legal this negotiation would be of course, he certainly wasn't being paid for that). However, Frank was surprised when his meeting was suddenly ambushed by muggle guards. Before Frank could draw a wand to protect himself, his world went red with pain as a bullet pierced his stomach. His associates were able to safely obliterate the memories of the guards and transfer them all safely to St. Mungo's, but Frank had lost a lot of blood. What made matters worse was Frank's reaction to the bullet, which seemed to cause him grave pain even after the bullet was removed and the healers had closed the wound and given him plenty of draughts. It was as if his body were reacting to this violation by muggle means by shutting down. He had wallowed in St. Mungo's, confounding healer after healer, until they urged Marietta and Jean to bring him home and make him more comfortable.
They didn't need to say it; Marietta knew her father wasn't long for this world, and she knew who was to blame. The muggles may not have magic, but their savage weapons were destroying her kind, dear father. He was a proud wizard, pure as any-it must be the taint of the muggles that was killing him. The weeks by his side, fretting in hospital chairs, sleeping only fitfully, had served only to strengthen the resolve she had to join the Death Eater cause, not diminished it. She believed she only had to meet with the Carrows and accept her mark to make that happen. Now, more than ever before, she knew that muggles were far to dangerous to live safely with wizards and witches. They deserved to suffer as much as her father suffered-more!
Marietta felt her mother's hand cover her own; she couldn't remember the last time her mother even acknowledged they were related in the small office, let alone touched her so tenderly. She squeezed her mother's hand as she fought, unsuccessfully, the tears that began to pour down her cheeks. Jean looked up at her daughter, seeing tears in her eyes and the pain on her face. "Marietta, it just isn't the way I had planned this. I'm not ready to be alone. I'm supposed to be in a high Ministry position, with my doting husband, my beautiful daughter a successful Ministry star on the rise, grandchildren at my feet. I...I just don't understand. How could this happen to us? We've always done what was right. Oh, look at me, I'm sorry to go to pieces, we should be working," she said, starting to tear up herself, and pulled her hand away from her daughter's grasp so she could start going through the stacks of Floo Monitor requests that had piled up in their absence. "Here dear," she said, wiping her face and handing Marietta a small stack of requests, "you start with these and I'll go through these others. We'll get this pile done in no time." The crisp authority began to return to her mother's voice and she straightened up and began dictating owls with a quill that moved on it's own.
Marietta took the papers, wiped her own face, and returned to her desk. She sat for a moment staring at the forms filled out, asking for the activity of several known Death Eaters. At the very top, she saw a request for Nott mansion. Her heart raced, thinking back to her secret meeting at that very house just a few weeks prior. She took the request, and with her mother distractedly dictating away, she wiped the request clear. Her non-verbal magic skills proved useful at times. Before looking at the next request, Marietta looked up at her busy, harried mother and said, "Mother, what if it doesn't have to be this way? What if witches like us got what we deserved, and that those who didn't were...punished. Wouldn't that make the world a better place? It wouldn't save father, but might it calm some of the pain?"
Jean Edgecombe looked at her daughter's face with a hint of surprise. She couldn't possibly-well, surely it was possible. And at that moment she felt a tug of pride. Her daughter was so very right; the world would be better if Jean got the respect she deserved. Her loyalty to the Ministry had given her little but a high position in a lowly office. Maybe her daughter could be great after all. She knew she couldn't say a word, or a hint of a word that would tie her to what had been going on around the wizarding world, but she caught her daughter's meaning. She looked Marietta straight in the eye, "You should do as your heart sees fit, Marietta. Your father deserves that much."
And with that she returned to her dictation, resolve set. She would not be asking her daughter any questions about her activities from here out.