fic for lottelita: One Way Only (The Cattermoles, PG)
Title: One Way Only
Author: lazy_neutrino
Recipient: lottelita
Rating: PG
Character(s): The Cattermoles
Author's Notes: The third scene draws heavily from Chapter Twelve: 'Might is Magic' of Deathly Hallows; some text is lifted directly, while the rest of that scene tells the same events from a different point of view. Thank you to my wonderful, and very rapid, beta.
--
'Remember,' Dolores Umbridge said calmly, 'that there is no reason for us to retain you at the Ministry. No reason at all.' She leaned across the table and smiled at him.
Reg Cattermole leaned back in his chair. Yaxley's breath stirred his hair and he froze. 'I don't know anything,' he protested. 'It's not me.' The quill moved across the parchment and he saw its words appear in its wake, smooth confident strokes in ink the colour of blood. I don’t know anything. It's not me.
Umbridge gave a breathless giggle. 'Now then, Mr. Cattermole - Reg - we know that's not true, don't we?' Her eyes hardened. 'It's a bad idea to lie. Liars are always found out. And then we have to punish them.' Her eyes flickered to a point on his left. Reg followed her gaze and found himself staring at a poster of Harry Potter, emblazoned with the caption UNDESIRABLE NO 1 and adorned with a pink sticky note decorated with a kitten.
'Oh, yes,' Umbridge said in a soft voice. 'Liars must be punished.'
Reg swallowed. 'It wasn't me,' he insisted. 'Honest. Just because I can fix it, doesn't mean I started it. I'm just Maintenance.' He watched the quill roll across the parchment and shook his head. 'I would tell you.' The top of his head itched. He had a desperate urge to reach up and pat his hair straight, but his wrists were still tied to the arms of his chair.
'I'm sure you would,' Umbridge purred. Her eyes met Yaxley's and she smiled. 'At least, I'm sure you will.'
Yaxley reached around the chair to place his hands on Reg's forearms. His muscles creaked as he pushed down, letting Reg's arms take the weight as he levered himself into a standing position. Reg gasped with pain, then bit his tongue.
'You'll find out who is making the rain,' Yaxley told him. 'And you'll bring that name to me.'
Umbridge spoke again. 'Don't let personal loyalties enter into this, Mr. Cattermole. You may think this blood traitor is a colleague of yours, but they are working against the Ministry. And that means they are working against you.'
She nodded to Yaxley, who gave a casual flick of his wand. The ropes on Reg's wrists fell to the floor. 'You may go back to work,' Umbridge continued. 'I'm sure we'll be meeting each other again.' She exchanged another glance with Yaxley and the look in her eyes made Reg's blood run cold. As soon as she nodded towards the door, he stumbled out, rubbing his arms in a desperate attempt to restore the circulation.
--
'I don't want to do History of Magic. History of Magic's boring.'
'Maisie Cattermole,' Mary said calmly, 'how old are you?' Fred and Ellie stared down at their breakfast cereal, suddenly engrossed.
'Nine.'
'Nine,' Mary repeated. 'When you are eleven we will buy you your first wand and you can go to Hogwarts with all the other witches and wizards, and do all the Charms and Transfigurations you like.' Maisie hung her head and poked a hole in her toast with her cereal spoon. 'Don't do that. But right now you are nine, so this morning you will be doing History of Magic, and reading and sums.' She paused. When no rebellion came, she added, 'And if it's nice this afternoon, we'll go to the park.'
'The park! Can we feed the ducks?'
'I think that would be lovely.' She exchanged a glance with Reg just as the French windows imploded.
Through a shower of broken glass and smoke, Reg dived for his children, pulling them under the table. Maisie was screaming, a thin high-pitched wail that made his ears hurt. Fred stared at him, mute and wide-eyed, clinging like a limpet to his arm. Ellie had her fist jammed into her open mouth as if it was the only way she could stay silent.
'Mrs Cattermole?' Reg recognised the voice as belonging to Dexter Sowerby, a Hit Wizard he went drinking with from time to time. He shook his head at Maisie and raised a finger to his lips. She was quiet at once. Reg patted her on the arm, disengaged himself from Fred and scrambled out from under the table.
Mary was in the corner of the room, pressed against the walls as if hoping she could dissolve into them. Sowerby was standing in front of her. Another wizard, a stranger to Reg, stood beside him. 'Orders from the Ministry, Mrs Cattermole. You're coming with us.'
Reg cleared his throat. 'What the 'ell is going on?'
Both Hit Wizards turned. 'Muggle-born Registration,' Dexter muttered, going pink. He would not meet Reg's eyes.
'What's that in your hand, Mrs. Cattermole?' The unknown wizard took a step towards Mary.
She flinched. 'My - my wand?'
'Not your wand, Mrs Cattermole. We can add possession of stolen property to the list, Sowerby. Read the rights; let's get moving.'
Dexter Sowerby licked his lips and produced a torn parchment from his pocket. 'Reg, I'm sorry -' he muttered.
Reg took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching in his pockets. 'Go on, Dexter. Mate. You've been round here often enough cadging a Floo home after a session down the pub. Read Mary her rights.'
'Shut it, Cattermole.' The unknown wizard took the parchment from Dexter and unfurled it. 'You have the following rights,' he said, facing Reg. 'To be present at the interrogation of Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, said interrogation to take place in the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning at ten a.m. precisely, said time and said date being variable without notification or liability on the part of the Ministry. To surrender to the Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission without delay all magical items in the possession of said Mary Elizabeth Cattermole. To notify the Ministry without delay of any information you possess relevant to said interrogation. If you do not comply with these rights your assets may be seized without warning and you may be liable to financial penalty or imprisonment.'
'Now, wait a minute -' Reg took a step forward. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dexter raise his wand. There was a green flash and Reg went sailing across the room, to land in an untidy heap on the cat basket. Under the table, Maisie began to scream. The unknown wizard walked over to loom above Reg.
'Try that again,' he grunted, 'and we'll haul you in, too.' He dropped the parchment onto Reg's chest, and he, Dexter and Mary vanished.
--
'Mary!' Hoping he wasn’t going to start vomiting again, Reg leapt out of the fireplace and charged across the Atrium.
'R-Reg?' Mary Cattermole turned from her husband to the man beside her, who swore loudly. Reg stared. It was like looking into a mirror.
Next to them, a short, balding wizard gaped, his head turning ludicrously from one Reg Cattermole to the other. 'Hey - what's going on? What is this?'
'Seal the exit! SEAL IT!' Yaxley had burst out of the lift and was running towards them. As the balding wizard lifted his wand, another wizard - Reg recognised Albert Runcorn from Magical Law Enforcement - raised an enormous fist and punched him on the nose, sending him flying through the air.
'He's been helping Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!' Runcorn shouted.
That's it, Reg decided. I have no idea what's going on. Whole bloody world's gone mad. He started towards Mary, just as the fake Reg grabbed her by the arm, pulled her into the still open fireplace and disappeared.
'My wife!' Reg yelled. 'Who was that with my wife? What's going on?'
He saw Yaxley's face change and jumped backwards just in time. A curse whizzed past him, missing Runcorn's head by inches. As Reg dived towards the fireplace, a hand grabbed his sleeve and yanked him backwards.
--
The rain was coming down in sheets as the Cattermoles stood on the pavement outside their home. Ellie and Fred sheltered under the wings of Mary's thick travelling cloak; Maisie stood a little way apart from her parents, looking around the street where she had grown up as if she had only that moment realised she was unlikely ever to see it again.
'You're sure?'
Reg shrugged. He pulled out the piece of paper Arthur Weasley had stuffed into his hand and studied it again. 'Seems pretty clear. He's a good bloke, Weasley. Calmed me down after you disappeared with that other Reg.'
She smiled. 'He wasn't as handsome as you.'
'Who, Arthur? I should say not!'
'You know what I mean.' She glanced over at the luggage piled beside them. The largest suitcase was laid flat, with a cat carrier sitting on it to protect its occupant from the soaking pavement. Within the carrier a huge grey tom snored peacefully, oblivious to the rain that parted above the carrier's roof and fell in waves on either side. 'You sorted out the rain. Septimus hates rain.'
It was Reg's turn to smile. 'Not too hard, really.'
His wife reached up and stroked his cheek with her gloved hand. 'You're a good man, Reg Cattermole.'
He caught the hand and held it there. 'Just lucky, I reckon. You ready? She nodded, and he flung out his other arm, thumb upward. With an ear-splitting crash, a triple-decker purple bus skidded to a halt beside them.
'Good evenin',' called a cheery voice. Stan Shunpike jumped down and reached for the cat carrier. 'Ooo, this one's 'eavy. Welcome to the Knight Bus, the first choice of transport for discernin' witches and wizards. This evenin' our tour will transport choo to the delights of gay Paree, with its famous vineyards and beautiful ladies.' He exchanged a wink with the red-haired driver. 'There is no charge for h'our h'excursion tonight. But do make sure you 'ave all your stuff before you h'embark. The Knight Bus only goes one way.'
Author: lazy_neutrino
Recipient: lottelita
Rating: PG
Character(s): The Cattermoles
Author's Notes: The third scene draws heavily from Chapter Twelve: 'Might is Magic' of Deathly Hallows; some text is lifted directly, while the rest of that scene tells the same events from a different point of view. Thank you to my wonderful, and very rapid, beta.
--
'Remember,' Dolores Umbridge said calmly, 'that there is no reason for us to retain you at the Ministry. No reason at all.' She leaned across the table and smiled at him.
Reg Cattermole leaned back in his chair. Yaxley's breath stirred his hair and he froze. 'I don't know anything,' he protested. 'It's not me.' The quill moved across the parchment and he saw its words appear in its wake, smooth confident strokes in ink the colour of blood. I don’t know anything. It's not me.
Umbridge gave a breathless giggle. 'Now then, Mr. Cattermole - Reg - we know that's not true, don't we?' Her eyes hardened. 'It's a bad idea to lie. Liars are always found out. And then we have to punish them.' Her eyes flickered to a point on his left. Reg followed her gaze and found himself staring at a poster of Harry Potter, emblazoned with the caption UNDESIRABLE NO 1 and adorned with a pink sticky note decorated with a kitten.
'Oh, yes,' Umbridge said in a soft voice. 'Liars must be punished.'
Reg swallowed. 'It wasn't me,' he insisted. 'Honest. Just because I can fix it, doesn't mean I started it. I'm just Maintenance.' He watched the quill roll across the parchment and shook his head. 'I would tell you.' The top of his head itched. He had a desperate urge to reach up and pat his hair straight, but his wrists were still tied to the arms of his chair.
'I'm sure you would,' Umbridge purred. Her eyes met Yaxley's and she smiled. 'At least, I'm sure you will.'
Yaxley reached around the chair to place his hands on Reg's forearms. His muscles creaked as he pushed down, letting Reg's arms take the weight as he levered himself into a standing position. Reg gasped with pain, then bit his tongue.
'You'll find out who is making the rain,' Yaxley told him. 'And you'll bring that name to me.'
Umbridge spoke again. 'Don't let personal loyalties enter into this, Mr. Cattermole. You may think this blood traitor is a colleague of yours, but they are working against the Ministry. And that means they are working against you.'
She nodded to Yaxley, who gave a casual flick of his wand. The ropes on Reg's wrists fell to the floor. 'You may go back to work,' Umbridge continued. 'I'm sure we'll be meeting each other again.' She exchanged another glance with Yaxley and the look in her eyes made Reg's blood run cold. As soon as she nodded towards the door, he stumbled out, rubbing his arms in a desperate attempt to restore the circulation.
--
'I don't want to do History of Magic. History of Magic's boring.'
'Maisie Cattermole,' Mary said calmly, 'how old are you?' Fred and Ellie stared down at their breakfast cereal, suddenly engrossed.
'Nine.'
'Nine,' Mary repeated. 'When you are eleven we will buy you your first wand and you can go to Hogwarts with all the other witches and wizards, and do all the Charms and Transfigurations you like.' Maisie hung her head and poked a hole in her toast with her cereal spoon. 'Don't do that. But right now you are nine, so this morning you will be doing History of Magic, and reading and sums.' She paused. When no rebellion came, she added, 'And if it's nice this afternoon, we'll go to the park.'
'The park! Can we feed the ducks?'
'I think that would be lovely.' She exchanged a glance with Reg just as the French windows imploded.
Through a shower of broken glass and smoke, Reg dived for his children, pulling them under the table. Maisie was screaming, a thin high-pitched wail that made his ears hurt. Fred stared at him, mute and wide-eyed, clinging like a limpet to his arm. Ellie had her fist jammed into her open mouth as if it was the only way she could stay silent.
'Mrs Cattermole?' Reg recognised the voice as belonging to Dexter Sowerby, a Hit Wizard he went drinking with from time to time. He shook his head at Maisie and raised a finger to his lips. She was quiet at once. Reg patted her on the arm, disengaged himself from Fred and scrambled out from under the table.
Mary was in the corner of the room, pressed against the walls as if hoping she could dissolve into them. Sowerby was standing in front of her. Another wizard, a stranger to Reg, stood beside him. 'Orders from the Ministry, Mrs Cattermole. You're coming with us.'
Reg cleared his throat. 'What the 'ell is going on?'
Both Hit Wizards turned. 'Muggle-born Registration,' Dexter muttered, going pink. He would not meet Reg's eyes.
'What's that in your hand, Mrs. Cattermole?' The unknown wizard took a step towards Mary.
She flinched. 'My - my wand?'
'Not your wand, Mrs Cattermole. We can add possession of stolen property to the list, Sowerby. Read the rights; let's get moving.'
Dexter Sowerby licked his lips and produced a torn parchment from his pocket. 'Reg, I'm sorry -' he muttered.
Reg took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching in his pockets. 'Go on, Dexter. Mate. You've been round here often enough cadging a Floo home after a session down the pub. Read Mary her rights.'
'Shut it, Cattermole.' The unknown wizard took the parchment from Dexter and unfurled it. 'You have the following rights,' he said, facing Reg. 'To be present at the interrogation of Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, said interrogation to take place in the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning at ten a.m. precisely, said time and said date being variable without notification or liability on the part of the Ministry. To surrender to the Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission without delay all magical items in the possession of said Mary Elizabeth Cattermole. To notify the Ministry without delay of any information you possess relevant to said interrogation. If you do not comply with these rights your assets may be seized without warning and you may be liable to financial penalty or imprisonment.'
'Now, wait a minute -' Reg took a step forward. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dexter raise his wand. There was a green flash and Reg went sailing across the room, to land in an untidy heap on the cat basket. Under the table, Maisie began to scream. The unknown wizard walked over to loom above Reg.
'Try that again,' he grunted, 'and we'll haul you in, too.' He dropped the parchment onto Reg's chest, and he, Dexter and Mary vanished.
--
'Mary!' Hoping he wasn’t going to start vomiting again, Reg leapt out of the fireplace and charged across the Atrium.
'R-Reg?' Mary Cattermole turned from her husband to the man beside her, who swore loudly. Reg stared. It was like looking into a mirror.
Next to them, a short, balding wizard gaped, his head turning ludicrously from one Reg Cattermole to the other. 'Hey - what's going on? What is this?'
'Seal the exit! SEAL IT!' Yaxley had burst out of the lift and was running towards them. As the balding wizard lifted his wand, another wizard - Reg recognised Albert Runcorn from Magical Law Enforcement - raised an enormous fist and punched him on the nose, sending him flying through the air.
'He's been helping Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!' Runcorn shouted.
That's it, Reg decided. I have no idea what's going on. Whole bloody world's gone mad. He started towards Mary, just as the fake Reg grabbed her by the arm, pulled her into the still open fireplace and disappeared.
'My wife!' Reg yelled. 'Who was that with my wife? What's going on?'
He saw Yaxley's face change and jumped backwards just in time. A curse whizzed past him, missing Runcorn's head by inches. As Reg dived towards the fireplace, a hand grabbed his sleeve and yanked him backwards.
--
The rain was coming down in sheets as the Cattermoles stood on the pavement outside their home. Ellie and Fred sheltered under the wings of Mary's thick travelling cloak; Maisie stood a little way apart from her parents, looking around the street where she had grown up as if she had only that moment realised she was unlikely ever to see it again.
'You're sure?'
Reg shrugged. He pulled out the piece of paper Arthur Weasley had stuffed into his hand and studied it again. 'Seems pretty clear. He's a good bloke, Weasley. Calmed me down after you disappeared with that other Reg.'
She smiled. 'He wasn't as handsome as you.'
'Who, Arthur? I should say not!'
'You know what I mean.' She glanced over at the luggage piled beside them. The largest suitcase was laid flat, with a cat carrier sitting on it to protect its occupant from the soaking pavement. Within the carrier a huge grey tom snored peacefully, oblivious to the rain that parted above the carrier's roof and fell in waves on either side. 'You sorted out the rain. Septimus hates rain.'
It was Reg's turn to smile. 'Not too hard, really.'
His wife reached up and stroked his cheek with her gloved hand. 'You're a good man, Reg Cattermole.'
He caught the hand and held it there. 'Just lucky, I reckon. You ready? She nodded, and he flung out his other arm, thumb upward. With an ear-splitting crash, a triple-decker purple bus skidded to a halt beside them.
'Good evenin',' called a cheery voice. Stan Shunpike jumped down and reached for the cat carrier. 'Ooo, this one's 'eavy. Welcome to the Knight Bus, the first choice of transport for discernin' witches and wizards. This evenin' our tour will transport choo to the delights of gay Paree, with its famous vineyards and beautiful ladies.' He exchanged a wink with the red-haired driver. 'There is no charge for h'our h'excursion tonight. But do make sure you 'ave all your stuff before you h'embark. The Knight Bus only goes one way.'