Who: Valentina Proudfoot and Morag MacDougal Where: Morag's flat When: Monday Sept 25 [backdated] What: Val wants to check up on Morag, but is also fishing for information. Rating: PG
Valentina's head was a mess, all things considered. Her world had been very simple until recently, even with the secret affair she'd carried on with Ari for a year, but there had been things she'd known without a doubt were true: her father was a good and honest Wandholder working tirelessly to keep their world safe; the Ministry was strong and making their world a better place; the rebels were terrorists with a grudge; and she was going to be a Potion's Master someday. And now? The only thing she was truly confident in without any doubts was her future in potions. She still thought the rebels a bit ridiculous and certainly overreacting, but she was beginning to doubt their being labeled as terrorists. When had that perception shifted? Somehow, over the last few weeks and all her conversations with Bill, she realized it must have, though she hadn't consciously acknowledged that thought until reading the Daily Prophet article about the attack at the Golden Dragon.
Which brought her thoughts back around to her father. She didn't know what was really going on, but the facts expressed in that article hadn't lined up right in her mind, and when she'd seen people, rebels, commenting about it in their journals, she'd realized just why it hadn't made sense. But Morag had been there, and even though she knew her friendly acquaintance was a staunch Ministry supporter, she hoped to get some clarity in what had actually taken place that night.
Not that she didn't consider herself a Ministry supporter. She did. She just couldn't shake the thought that there was a whole lot more going on than she'd previously realized. But she did still believe in Minister Lestrange, that he was working tirelessly to better their world, she just didn't know where this whole Ivy thing fit into it.
The thought niggled in the back of her mind that it would be better, smarter, to just leave it all alone, to continue her life focusing on her apprenticeship and the very few friends she did actually have. But Morag was one of those friends, she justified, and this could easily simply be her way of making sure her friend was all right. She hoped that's how it was perceived anyway.
If nothing else, this whole situation had gotten her mind off of the terrible decision she'd made Saturday night and how disappointing that experience had been. Instead, her thoughts swirled around the attack and her father's statement about it as she picked up the takeaway and made her way to Morag's flat for lunch, having been able to get away from her apprenticeship for a little while today. When she arrived, she knocked on the door, her expression slipping easily into one of friendly concern.
🎬
Morag felt apprehensive about Valentina's visit.
While she didn't have so many friends that she could deny someone the chance, there was a part of her that was afraid of speaking out about what had happened at the Dragon. There were holes in the official story. Morag knew it and she also knew that Maximus Proudfoot was the one who had released the official accounts.
So why was his daughter here?
She walked to the door, trying to put her paranoia from her mind but it was a difficult thing. What would happen if she told Val the truth? Would it be kept quiet or would there be a pack of wandholders at her door? No, Morag thought. It won't happen like that. I'll go to work knowing and I'll come home thinking about the news instead and how sad it was that those people were hurt and how lucky I am that I decided to cook for myself that night. Or else...I just won't come home at all.
The door opened but by the time Morag greeted Valentina, she looked as if she'd simply been resting. She smiled calmly and said, "Come on in."
🎬
When the door opened, Val's lips stretched up in a faint smile. "Hey, you're already looking better than the other night," she observed, trying to infuse a positive, hopeful note to her voice as she walked into the flat, one hand holding a bag of far too much food for two people, but she hadn't been exaggerating about the usefulness of leftovers. Although she didn't think she was terribly good at this whole friendship thing and she and Morag weren't the closest of friends, she was trying, and she had been genuinely worried about her in the aftermath of the attack at the Golden Dragon.
"How are you feeling?" she asked curiously. She wasn't going to just jump in with questions about the attack, as even she knew that would be suspicious. She could imagine it was strange enough that she was asking about it at all that she didn't want to make it worse. Rather, she wanted to maximize the odds of Morag actually giving her details on her experience.
🎬
"I'm a little tired," Morag confessed. The smile on Val's face looked genuine and Morag truly wanted to believe that the other woman cared. She's younger than me, she thought. What are the odds that she would be trying to gather that kind of information? But then she remembered Potter and all of the things that had happened at school and she hesitated. She'd seen very well what youth was capable of.
"What did you get? I don't know much about Italian. To be honest, I went with Millie and I'd never really had much of it before." She felt a little awkward dropping Millie's name but it was better than immediately discussing the dragon in the room.
🎬
Val nodded at the confession, thinking that being a little tired was more than understandable after what she'd gone through. "Well, it's good that you've got some time off then. You'll be able to focus on getting your energy back rather than stretching yourself thin and delaying your full recovery," she expressed with a decisive nod. And she hoped that Morag would use her time off productively without impeding her recovery.
Just because she wanted to get information out of her didn't mean she didn't care.
"Ahh, Millie. It's so strange to think of her as Millie!" she admitted with a soft laugh, shaking her head a bit. "I really ought to write to her soon, though. I always enjoyed discussing arithmancy with her." It didn't strike her as odd that Morag had gone for a meal with Millie--if she remembered correctly, they were around the same age, and it wasn't a stretch to think they'd been longtime friends. "Where should I put this though? And what is this, you ask? Well, it's a little bit of everything. There's a caprese salad, risotto, gnocchi, eggplant parmesan, and the classic spaghetti and meatballs." She really had tried to make sure to get a variety of things, including a couple of lighter options just in case Morag's stomach couldn't handle anything terribly heavy.
🎬
"Is it odd?" Morag asked, a mixture of shyness and worry suddenly washing over her. She was so bad with people. Perhaps she shouldn't have used that silly nickname after all. "I didn't know you knew her."
She reached out with her good hand. The other arm was still wobbly and she didn't like to look at it. Skele-Gro, while effective, had the effect on her of making her left side appear to be constantly quivering if she didn't forcibly hold her arm. "We can go to the table with this. I'm hungry enough to eat it all myself." Morag smiled. "It's really too bad I don't have a house elf, I guess. Sometimes I think about trying to get one but where would I put it?"
🎬
Her brows furrowed at Morag's question, not really understanding why the other girl would think it odd. "Well, there's only one Millie I can think of off the top of my head, though I realize it might not be the same Millie. Ms. Bulstrode? I took advanced Arithmancy, and she was associate Professor," she explained. "Why would it be odd though?"
When Morag reached out for the bag, Val waved her off with her free hand. "I've got it. You're supposed to be resting," she reminded her with a slight hint of teasing. She glanced around, spotting the table easily, and took the bag over to it. "That's a good thing because I've honestly not been terribly hungry lately. Although this does smell amazing. And I'm sure you could find space for a house elf if you were to get one. I don't think they take up too much space," she mused as she started pulling the dishes of food out of the bag.
🎬
"Oh, I just meant what you said about it being strange to think of her as Millie." Morag smiled. "I guess you would have been at school when she was teaching. What kind of teacher was she?"
Morag wondered about that. The Millie that she knew had changed from the Millicent at school. Those shifts might have occurred in the years that Val had known her.
"I don't know how much space they take. My father wouldn't allow it." The comment about her childhood slipped out and Morag silently cursed it. She added, "It would have to sleep in the bathtub and I don't think that would be any good. Plus it would just be me and it. What would Witch Weekly say?"
She giggled a little as she twitched her wand, charming a couple of plates free from the cabinets.
🎬
"Oh! She didn't teach me directly," Val explained with another slight shake of her head. "She had the younger years, but I did have a few opportunities to discuss the subject with her. I'm hesitant to refer to it as a tutoring sort of encounter, as it was more an exploration of ideas rather than instruction." It still didn't seem strange to her that Morag knew her as Millie.
That little tidbit about Morag's father had Val glancing at her with a quirked brow, but she got the sense it wasn't something Morag wanted to keep the focus on, so she simply filed it away as something to potentially poke at if they did reach a level in their friendship where it wouldn't feel intrusive to ask. "Considering the tripe they already publish, I can imagine it wouldn't be anything flattering," she agreed with a soft snort of her own laughter.
"Perhaps it's something to consider once you've got a house and perhaps start a family--if that's something you might want someday," she added with a small shrug of one shoulder. It probably wasn't right to assume that was something Morag wanted for her future. Hell, Valentina wasn't even sure about it for herself, though she supposed she didn't have to decide that sort of thing any time soon.
🎬
"It's a thought," Morag said. She wanted a house and a family to fulfill her mother's dreams but then again, she thought, her mother would have wanted her married by now. That was a thing she didn't see changing any time soon.
Morag jumped back to Witch Weekly. It seemed a safe enough topic. "Did you read the last issue of Witch Weekly? It's gotten completely ridiculous." She rolled her eyes. "I do like reading about Wagtail though. He amuses me."
Part of it was, Morag thought, their occasional exchanges about secrets. She wondered whether she was the only one he talked to like that. With a smile on her lips, she decided that definitely wasn't the case.
🎬
"I did, yeah." The Witch Weekly article was definitely a safer topic than the possibility of having a family someday, and she didn't mind that that's what Morag focused on. She wrinkled her nose at the mention of Wagtail, though. She'd never had a conversation with the man, over the journals or otherwise, but she knew a lot of people were obsessed with him. "I don't see the appeal, honestly."
Though that smile on Morag's face certainly made her wonder. Was Morag secretly a Weird Sister's groupie or something? It didn't seem like something the serious and career-focused woman would be, but you never knew. How many people would guess that she would have an affair with her professor? Hopefully none.
She piled a little bit of food on her plate, not taking much because she'd been honest about not being terribly hungry. Ever since Saturday... But well, that was something she was resolutely not thinking about. "So are you one of the many that would die if he commented on your journal?" she asked, infusing a bit of light-hearted teasing to the question, not wanting things to go serious. Not yet.
🎬
"I just think he's interesting, that's all. Sometimes I read his journal." She realized how that sounded but didn't care. It was better that Val think she had a crush than for her to know that there were other things Morag secretly yearned for Wagtail to teach her. That was, if he knew half of what she suspected.
"I did meet him at the auction. He was very nice." It sounded so prissy, so very not true, that Morag burst out laughing.
🎬
Both of Val's brows rose at that admission, though in the context it wasn't nearly as awful as it might have sounded otherwise. "I can't say I've paid too close attention to what he's written, but it can be really interesting to read random people's journals. Some of the things people post publicly!" It was a bizarre concept for her, though she was an extremely private person. She didn't want people knowing her business.
"He congratulated a friend of mine for getting a part she'd tried for over the summer, and I honestly thought she was going to hyperventilate," she shared. But Becca was a huge Weird Sister's fan, so she supposed she could understand the enthusiastic response to the lead singer addressing her personally.
It was good to hear Morag laugh, and she smiled back at her. "Nice, mmhmmm." She wasn't sure that as the word she would use to describe Myron Wagtail, but then she'd never met the man and her perception was admittedly based on highly limited observations. "Do you think he's really with Charlie Weasley?" What did Bill think... Nope. Not going there, she decided, forcibly moving her thoughts elsewhere.
🎬
"I'm not sure. I don't see why he wouldn't be. But Charlie? Of course who knows what'll happen with the paper naming names," Morag said. Then she giggled again, unable to help it. "Entwhistle's cheekbones? Are they really amazing enough to destroy a relationship? I honestly never noticed..maybe they were too covered up by all that ink."
🎬
"I've never bothered to try to notice Entwhistle's cheekbones, but of course, I'm just a privileged brat to him," she admitted, rolling her eyes a bit as she sat and scooped up a bit of the food. She didn't want to focus too much on Charlie Weasley either, and seriously, why had she thought the Witch Weekly article was a good topic to focus on? Especially since she just remembered that Fleur Weasley had been mentioned in it.
"I mentioned to Cicero this morning that I'd like to try to research anything involving dementors in potions," Val commented, eager to get the conversation away from gossip that might hit on things that she was certainly not willing to discuss with Morag. As tentative as this friendship was, she couldn't be sure Morag wouldn't turn her over to the Wandholders the second she learned just what Val had done.
🎬
"A privileged brat?" Morag sniffed. "Oh, remember the source. He's a reporter--things can be a bit dramatic sometimes. Just like his cheekbones, apparently...what a very odd thing to focus on." She levitated a meatball, laughing as it wobbled toward her plate.
"Do you think there's some sort of potion to deal with them? What would that be, exactly?" The comment instantly swung Morag away from a topic that she wasn't that comfortable with. She glanced over at Val, wondering how skilled the other woman was with potions. Experimentation was on her mind at the moment and while she hadn't considered potions as a part of it, there was always that possibility.
🎬
Morag's reaction to that was precisely what she needed, Val thought, relaxing faintly. "It was because I dared to say that parents ought to be responsible for their children's early education prior to attending Hogwarts. Did you see Mr. Savage's post about how Hogwarts ought to be teaching the students to write a proper sentence? I found it absurd that anyone would be sent to Hogwarts to begin with without that skill." Of course, he'd followed it up with a comment about sarcasm, but she still wasn't sure just what he'd been sarcastic about.
Val blew out a breath at the question, shaking her head. "I haven't the foggiest. Not yet. But that's why I'd love to research it. And I know it seems like such an odd place to look, but that's why I think it should be looked into. Cicero didn't have any insight off the top of his head for where to start, but he said he would consider it and let me know if he found a direction he could point me in there." And she was confident that if anyone would be able to figure out where to start, it would be him. She knew she was tremendously lucky to be his apprentice.
🎬
"I did. I do agree with him though. I think a good many muggleborns made it in without that knowledge," Morag commented. "Personally, I'm glad I never had to read any of the sainted Potter's schoolwork. But I know talking ill of the dead isn't popular so I'll stop there." She finished off another meatball and swallowed, listening to Val talk about her own career.
"It doesn't seem like an impossible place to look. The Dementors came from somewhere, after all," she said. She made a slight hm noise in the back of her throat as she wondered exactly how their creation had occurred. Knowing how a thing was put together made it easier to undo it.
🎬
Morag's response gave Val a moment of pause--was her friend prejudiced against muggleborns? Did she really think that children raised by muggles weren't taught the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic? It was something Val herself had never considered, though being a Ravenclaw, the muggleborns she was most close with in school had taken education seriously and not been lacking in those basic areas. But Morag had been a Ravenclaw as well. Had Morag's muggleborn peers been so terrible?
It was far easier to just... brush past that topic and focus instead on the dementors. "Of course, exactly. And if we could figure out how they came about, it could give invaluable clues as to how to either permanently contain them or even kill them. I'm honestly concerned that they haven't truly hurt anyone yet because they've been too weak. How long until reports of the first kiss victim?" she asked rhetorically, not expecting Morag to have an answer to that.
🎬
"I don't know but I should think that it would be soon," Morag said and frowned. "I'm not talented enough to cast a Patronus. At least I never really learned well. Can you?"
🎬
She'd been expecting this question to come up, and Val reminded herself of the importance of keeping her lies straight. She'd never needed to learn how to cast a Patronus, but her insatiable thirst for knowledge had demanded she do so. However, she'd told her father she couldn't, and so she knew she needed to pretend that it was a skill she did not possess. "I can't, know. I mean, I know the theory, but I've never learned the practical," she answered, infusing a note of worry to her tone.
🎬
"I'm the same," Morag admitted. "Though I've always wondered what it would be, if I could. I asked the Minister if he might consider having classes. I really don't believe it's a good plan to have Dementors and no way to defend against them." Morag's mouth tilted up as she thought about the Minister listening to her. While she knew he didn't care about her personally, it made her feel a little tingly to have been noticed.
🎬
Val had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out what form her Patronus took (a fox) because she wasn't supposed to know. "You are far braver than I! I've wanted to comment on several of the Minister's posts, but I always chicken out. He's so brilliant and articulate, though, I imagine a conversation with him would be one to remember." She sighed a bit, as if wishing she were braver than she was. "But I do hope he will consider having classes." Since her father hadn't responded to her asking for help with it. She couldn't help wondering if he was on to her deception.
🎬
"Our conversations haven't been more than a few comments," Morag admitted. "I don't think he actually knows who I am, even if I wish he did."
She longed for the life that the Minister represented to her--a life where everything was easy and she always had enough of whatever she wanted. Her mother had told her time and time again that life would be easier if she had remained in those pureblood circles. Morag had never been given any reason to doubt that.
She decided to pick up a fork and finish the meal. Val still hadn't asked her about the murder and she sensed that was coming.
🎬
"I'm not sure I'm ready for him to know who I am just yet! I would much prefer to be a bit further along with things so that I might have more to offer," she admitted. Of course, Morag worked within the Ministry, and if she had aspirations of climbing the ladder there, it would probably do her well to be on the Minister's radar.
They slipped into a companionable silence as they ate, but just as Morag suspected, Val couldn't let it last... "I can imagine you probably don't want to talk about it, but I would really appreciate it if you could walk me through what happened at the Golden Dragon," she said once she'd sat back in her chair, done eating.
🎬
Morag paused. She'd expected this but it didn't make it easier.
"It was...chaotic," she said finally. "There really isn't another word for it. A woman showed up and just started waving her wand around. I...My offensive spells aren't any good." Those were the memories that flooded her mind: standing up in front of a family and trying to cast. Watching her spell sail past the blond while the children screamed and ran under the table. Feeling the hex whirl toward her when she made herself a target. The whole thing made her shudder, gently clutching at her arm.
"What do you want to know?" No one had ever come to ask her about what had happened. She wondered about that.
🎬
That sounded even more odd than what her father was quoted with in the paper, and her brows furrowed faintly in thought at it. Why would Ivy do that? Had she wanted to get captured? Had it even been Ivy at all? She thought she remembered that Ivy had a twin, but why would Ivy's twin do it? She still couldn't wrap her head around the idea that the rebels were actually stupid enough to be at the Golden Dragon plotting a terrorist attack...
"Just what happened. I just want to understand how so many got hurt. And... I don't understand why the rebels would have been there. It's a level of stupid even I didn't think they were capable of!" She infused a bit of derision in her tone at that, enough to express her disdain for the rebels without overselling it. And that wasn't difficult to do as she still didn't have any real sympathy for the rebels.
🎬
"It was a rebel," Morag said flatly. There were holes in the story, she could see that, but she wouldn't acknowledge them to anyone else except, perhaps, Myron. "Why wouldn't they do it? Haven't they been quiet for a long time? Perhaps they were waiting to find a way to make the Ministry look weak or to make the rest of us fearful."
She paused. "For all we know, they let the Dementors out."
🎬
The tone of Morag's voice clued Val in that she was treading on thin ice here and needed to proceed with extraordinary care. "Oh, I know it was a rebel," she specified. A rebel that was now living in her father's house with her. She thought about Susan Bones's response to it, and the other rebels who had commented publicly, and she thought of some of the public remarks about the dementor attacks and found that she couldn't bring herself to agree with Morag's assessment.
But she couldn't let on to that. "They could have. It would be a brilliant albeit dangerous way of making the Minister appear to be failing at keeping the country safe. And it would be on par with some of the things they've done in the past," she speculated.
A moment later she blew out a breath on a sigh. "I just hate that you got hurt," she admitted, looking at Morag in concern. That was, at least, the truth. "It makes me angry, and I wish there was something I could do."
🎬
Morag stared down at her arm and was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "I was attacked by a Dementor near the time this happened. I've wondered if they were connected. I thought about Owling Kevin about it after I saw the paper but I don't know if that's a good idea."
🎬
"Maybe you should," Val suggested gently. "You both went through that experience, and it might help to talk to someone who understands first hand..." Even though she doubted Morag had told her everything from that night, she cared more about her friend's mental and physical health as much as getting the whole story. But she was also smart enough to know it was time to back off.
"I should get back to work, though," she said with another sigh, standing up and resting a hand lightly on Morag's shoulder. "If you need anything at all, let me know?"
🎬
"I don't know," she said. "It still feels..." Raw.
But she wouldn't say that. Not now, and not to Val. She didn't want to risk the small pleasantness of the day.
Morag nodded as she felt Valentina's touch. "I will. Thank you for coming." She gestured to the rest of the takeaway. "Can I package anything up for you?"
🎬
Val's smile took on a sympathetic tilt, not needing Morag to finish her sentence. She rather thought she had a general idea of how it might feel, especially as it had only been a few days.
She shook her head at the offer though. "Oh no, don't bother. This way you won't have to worry about meals for a little while." She hesitated a moment before squeezing Morag's shoulder and then retreating a bit. "It was really good to see you though. We'll get together again soon?" She wanted to try to be a better friend even though she felt inadequate in that area.
🎬
"I'll like that," Morag admitted though she wondered a little at Val's sudden interest. But it was nice to have someone to talk to and after long days in the hospital, it was refreshing. She smiled. "I'll see you later then. Do you mind letting yourself out?" Despite herself, the exhaustion was again beginning to take hold.
🎬
"Not at all," Val answered, not minding in the least. She left then, knowing she hadn't really gotten the clarification she'd come for, but rather a reaffirmation that what happened at the Golden Dragon was much more than her father wanted people to think. She just had no idea what to do with that information.