She didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want to converse. Didn’t even want to get to her destination right away. She just paid her galleons and sulked in one of the beds as the bus went on it’s way. She didn’t pay attention to how the bus jumped seemingly hundreds of miles with each “BANG”, or how things just seemed to leap out of the bus’ way (to make up for the driver’s occasional habit to ride the bus upside the sidewalks instead of the streets). She didn’t even pay attention to who go on with her. She was just in a bad mood, period. “I was born with a bad mood.” she whispered to herself. “No arguments here.” The voice, damningly familiar and damningly coy, drew her attention to a bed next to her. On it was a rather fit asian woman, dressed in a black uniform. Her arms were at rest folded across her chest, a thin smile etched across her face. “You did seem to be rather off back there.” “What would you know, Yamanaka.” “You’d be surprised.” Keiko Yamanaka, the 7th Judgement muttered, “I don’t ever remember anyone back home exiling you, yet you seem to be whining about that to a few people how you were sorely treated back home.” “It would have came to that.” “With you everything would come to a bad end.” Keiko retorted, “You have a bad habit of expecting the worst. Though I suppose it also makes you feel safer from disappointments because you always do seem to bring out the worst in a situation when you set your mind to it.” Alicia scoffs at this. “Thanks for being the dark acid rain cloud in the horizon, Yamanaka.” “No problem.” Silence envelops them for a few seconds as they lie there staring at the ceiling, then, “How’s life?” Keiko asks. “Same old thing. How’s your life.” “Same old, same old.” “That bad, huh?” “Same to you.” More silence. Finally Keiko huffs her breath and sits upright, “Look I don’t know why you feel so persecuted over what happened, but it’s none of my business to tell you that you aren’t as hated as you’d like to think you are.” “I just don’t want to think about it.” she sighs, rolling over to not have to look at Keiko. “Well that would be such a beautiful convenience if you could not think about it,wouldn’t it?” “And what’s the problem with that?!” “Nothing. Nothing.” Keiko sighed, “It’s your life so you want to live it that way I have no problem with that. Still, you’re the only one who seems to let it rip into yourself over and over again.” “No I’m not.” “You almost ripped those three boys in half back there, you sure you’re not---” “WHAT THEY DID WAS WRONG!!” she screamed, shocking the two in front abit, nearly causing the driver to swerve into a tree which barely managed to jump out of the way. “I know that. But in light of your abilities you can’t go about slaughtering the “infidels” who don’t live up to your high standards of---” “WHAT HIGH STANDARDS!!” she yelled, eyes burning. “Don’t give me--” “Even I don’t expect ignorance to disappear overnight. It’s an unrealistic expectation of those who live with bias. But still, you could have handled it---” “And how would YOU have handled it?!” Alicia spat out, spinning about on the bed to come face to face with Keiko, both sitting upright. “Don’t you sit there preaching to me from on high that you could have done better than me, because I know you wouldn’t have.” Silence once again separates the two for a little bit, “Maybe your right. But at least I wouldn’t have sent a highly charged plasma disc through a building! What if it hurt someone? Brought the building down? What then? Those discs don’t exactly stop on a dime and you weren’t---” “I could have stopped it---” “---you weren’t in the right state of mind to stop it!” Keiko finished, growling her words over Alicia’s denial. “You were so messed up that you would have let that disc fly regardless, devil be damned who or what was in front of it!” “Do you think I would have---” “I KNOW you would have, and you did if it wasn’t for that Mughi guy who---” Suddenly Alicia face scrunched abit, “Who?“ “Mughi. Mughi. That guy---“ (Alicia begins to laugh) “Mughi and--- what?!?” Keiko asks, looking flustered, “What’s so funny??” “MOODY!” Alicia gasps, her laughter growing, “His name is Moody, not Mughi!” Keiko looks at her oddly as she doubles over, laughing now hysterically. “Wasn’t that funny--- “Moody“, “Mughi“, what‘s the difference---” The next five minutes end up being lighter in mood with her laughing, easing tensions. By the time she recovers she turns to notice that Keiko was gone. On her bed a note. “Alicia Spinner” (-_-) It wasn’t that funny. Get over yourself. But I didn’t come here to harass you, you know. I just wanted to make sure you’re OK. Despite what you think I don’t blame you for what happened at the end. I’m just glad you’re OK and over her. It’s better this way anyway. I hope you find happiness with whoever you choose as your soulmate in this world. Best (signed Keiko Yamanaka) Alicia sighs and tucks the note in her tessearct pouch, lying back down to catch her breath (occasionally snickering everytime she thought of “Moody”/”Mughi”). So much so that she once again lost track of who was getting onboard. It wasn’t until she happened to turn her head that she saw--- “YOU?? H--” he quickly clamps her mouth shut, sitting up quickly to do so, before she finished saying the name “Harry Potter”, his grip is rather tight for some reason tonight -- too tight in fact. She stares at him awkwardly, his hand still clamped on her mouth. He motions for her silence then whispers “Sorry.” “Mmpmmpmmp. Mpmpmpm---” “I can’t explain it now. I just--- I have to get out of here---I---” he suddenly stops when he notices Alicia waving her arms in a panic. He quickly uncovers her face (hand covered too much) and let’s her breath again. “GASP!!” (she rolls over) “---I know I died once but let’s not go through that again---” “?” (Harry’s confused) “Never mind.” she grumbles, turning her attention back to Harry. “What are you--- WAIT!!” (hands up to shield her face) “Not that again!” (sighs) “Alright, alright. Never mind.” As the two lie silently on the bed, Alicia began thinking again and one thought came to her mind. ‘I’ll bet my pocket change that it has something to do with the Dursley. Rutty bunch of racists I’ve ever seen in my---’ “That man!” Alicia’s head spins around, looking towards the source of the voice, Harry, “He was on the Muggle news!” Briefly Alicia had a sudden and most peculiar thought. She imagined Sirius Black, dressed up in the most becoming dress, twirling about at the sound of “That man!” THAT MAN (in color) Alicia stifles her giggles. ‘Eck. Complete with background music--- better not laugh, they might think I’m psychotic to laugh about a convicted criminal.’ (a few more giggles though just because) “You oughta read the papers more, Neville.” ‘Neville?’ she thought, looking about almost expecting to see the forgetful boy and his half elfin (sweet as heck but abit scary in her sweet ways) girlfriend, “May”, who was sent mostly to spy on her at Hogwarts (but ended up mostly following Neville around much to her great relief). It then dawned on her that they were talking about Harry. She only then began to realize the depth of his fear if he wasn’t even telling people who he was. She rolled off her bed to come up next to Harry, looking over his shoulder as he read. The picture that accompanied the report didn’t move. It took awhile for Alicia to notice that it was, in fact, a moving picture --- only that the subject on it didn’t move an inch. BLACK STILL AT LARGE Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, (at this section the image shifted to what looked like a moving press conference as Fudge answered questions while trying to shake his reporter “shadows” that followed him through the halls of the Ministry building) this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.” Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. (a still of Prime Minister Tony Blair (‘I thought he got replaced?’ Alicia thought to herself) came up next) “Well, really, I had to, don’t you know.” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it --- who’d believe him if he did?” While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a type of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse. The image reverts back to that of Black once again. Alicia stares at the image, having already memorized it from news reports. Only the eyes seemed to contain any sign of life on the picture, and even they didn’t move. He looked like someone that even Alicia had misgiving about running into in any circumstances, be it dark alleyway or broad daylight surrounded by a hundred Judgements as backup. “Scary-lookin’ fing, inee?” said Stan, the conductor, who had been watching the two read. “He murderered thirteen people? With one curse?” “Yup,” Stan shot off as if it didn’t mean much to him, “in front of witnesses an’ all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?” At that Alicia grabbed the paper and stared at the image intensely. “Ar,” The picture was indeed dark, and scary, but the man in the image? He looked far too intelligent and smart to have done something so stupid like kill 13 people in broad daylight. There was something about his eyes which--- “Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-’Oo,” Stan said. “What, Voldemort?” “Voldemort would approve.” Alicia responded, tapping the page, “Looks like his---?” stops as the bus swerves hard, almost tossing her from her bed, causing her to throw her arm out grab something to keep from rolling off. “You two outta your tree?” yelped Stan, to which Alicia growled “WHAT?!” “Choo say ‘is name for?” Harry apologized, but Alicia refused, tossing the paper back to Stan and calling him a baby for being so afraid of a name. They talked to Harry in hushed whispers the rest of the ride, mostly because Alicia had hurt Stan’s feelings. “Big deal.” she griped, “It’s only a name.” Alicia didn’t have to listen anyway, she simply opened her mind to his and picked off the images he was ‘feeling’ as he talked. Nothing too hard for her to do. The images she saw made her think. Image of Voldemort, crumpling under his own spell in a overtly dramatic mannerism while standing in front of a glowing baby. It had to be Harry’s “defeat” of Voldemort (though she thought it was rather over the top for “Harry” to have been standing in his crib waving Voldemort down as he fell, Stan seemed to have had a lively imagination). Newsclippings and reports on wizarding news of the capture of Voldemort supporters. Image of Black, cornered on a busy street, going down fighting (wand striking out at his enemies). Death. Destruction. Then he started to laugh. It was silent, because Stan never heard Sirius Black speak so he didn’t have a voice to put with the laughter, so it was rather errie to see this scene play out. Just to be sure she watched it a few more times, but then gave up. ‘Too colorful.’ she thought to herself. The images in his mind were the “colorized”, sensationalized recollections of a man who reads the newspapers and overdramatizes the events within them. There was no factual information to be gained from his “account” of the situation. In a moment she supposed if she did some background and found an actual eyewitness, she could then scan his or her thoughts and get a better peek. But, then again, didn’t she say promise that she was through with “saving” the world after the chaos last year at Hogwarts? ‘There’s got to be a better way to find a significant other than this way.’ she lamented. Briefly an image of Azkaban came up, and she remembered that she hadn’t “disconnected” herself from his thoughts. She did that and came back to reality. The rest didn’t interest her. Still, the brief memory of Azkaban made her remember the Dementors. She had only seen them once, and she was in her worst mood then. When Hagrid was taken there. She had been frustrated, angry, and overtly pissed that everyone was being so easily manipulated by Lucius Malfoy. That just got her anger up. She used what power she had (which wasn’t as much as it was now post her receival of a new Raven’s “heart” and Familyar Cloak) to travel there (teleport) and made a big show to threaten the Dementors. The guards were miffed at her arrival, and Hagrid looked embarrassed at her boldness, but the Dementors were intrigued. They followed her as she walked Hagrid to his cell, and then stopped. When she turned to look at them, eyes burning red, they drifted away. It was on her way out she saw something that interested her. Something that got her thinking--- Stan (who apparently had to speak to her because it was his job) woke her out of thought. “where abouts in London?” “Diagon Alley.” she whispered, her thoughts fading back to Azkaban and her discovery. But that didn’t last long because a few shaky moves and twists later and they were there with a thunderous BANG to announce their arrival. “Thanks,” Harry said to Ern, jumping down the steps, helping Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the pavement. Alicia right behind him. “Well, said Harry. “Bye then!” Alicia moved to join him, only to realize that Stan wasn’t moving. His eyes were firmly fixed at something, or someone, ahead. She looked up, and saw him. “There you are, Harry.” Alicia saw him the minute she looked out the bus, but for Harry it was too late as he felt a hand on his shoulder. At that exact same moment, Stan shouted “Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!” ‘For God’s sake don’t act so excited!’ Alicia thought to herself gloomily as she stepped off the bus and approached Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. As she did this, Stan leapt onto the pavement besides them. “What didja call Neville, Minister?” he asked in an excited tone. Fudge, a rather portly little man (yet with an air of power about him) in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked at Stan oddly. He was worn out, looked rather tired and cold, yet he still had that air of power about him which came from his mantle as Minister. “Neville?” he repeated, frowning as if he couldn’t understand why Stan would say such a thing, “This is Harry Potter.” “I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully, almost instantly causing Fudge to turn pale, no doubt regretting that he even mentioned that to Stan. “Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!” (his eyes suddenly turned onto Alicia, who suddenly felt quite anxious to leave the alleyway ASAP) “What is it?!” “YOU!!” Stan shouted, suddenly grabbing Alicia’s right arm trying to force the sleeve of her shirt up. She quickly shoves him back and screams, “STOP THAT!!” (obviously they were looking for her raven tattoo which was making the rounds ever since she the end of last year after her fight with the Darke Raven, when she came back upstairs in her tattered robes (her uniform safely “tucked” back into subspace), her right arm exposed showing her tattoo. But why such an excitement over a tattoo was something Alicia couldn’t fathom. She just knew people wanted to see her raven tattoo, that’s it. It was 20 or so the first week, and then a steady 1-4 each week afterwards. Maybe they were just fond of tattoos. “Yes,” Fudge finally interrupted, his patience with Stan growing thin (a feeling Alicia could relate to wholeheartidly) “well, I’m very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now---” Fudge, making sure not to lose Harry, skillfully increased pressure on his arm to maneuver him inside the pub. Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, his stooping figure coming through the door bearing a lantern, eyed the crowd outside. “You’ve got him, Minister! Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?” “Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge carefully, slowly manuvering Harry into the pub. Behind them there was a loud scraping and puffing, as Stan & Ern appeared carrying Harry’s trunk (dragging it more likely) and Hedwig’s cage looking about rather excitedly. ‘It’s like they barely ever get out of the bus they drive around in.’ Alicia thought with great disdain. “’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ‘oo you are, eh, Neville?” Stan asked, to which Alicia replied “Because of the way your acting now I suppose.”, still that didn’t stop Stan from continuing to gawk with Ernie’s rather owllish face peering intensely over Stan’s shoulder in a rather un-owllike manner. “And a private parlor, please, Tom.” said Fudge, his tolerance for the duo obviously at it’s end. Then he turned to Alicia and added “I’d like to see you as well if you don’t mind, after I talked with Harry that is.” Alicia nodded her head and trudged off to her private booth, already feeling the weight of his request on her shoulders. Well, she figured, somebody reported her in for nearly hacking up those boys. Oh, well, guess she was going to be in for it now she figured. Still, as she sat down and waited for him to call for her, she didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Tom returned in awhile with a drink for Alicia, and took her order for dinner (which he said he’d deliver to Fudge’s private parlor for her when she was called in). As he hurried on his way she sat there and pondered what he’d do. Thoughts of that lead back to thoughts of what happened in the alley, and thoughts of that lead to thoughts of Hermione. For a brief instance she imagined it was her in the alley, her robes hiked up as one of those “things” straddled between her legs and -- ‘dammit.’ Alicia hissed mentally, drinking down another gulp, ‘Don’t go all paranoid. That’s what got you in trouble in the first place.’ Still, if it was Hermione, she wouldn’t have stopped when she did, and she wouldn’t have bothered with an easy to dispell thing like the Eviscerator Disc. Then she realized something. Something she didn’t before in the alleyway. “I wanted to be stopped.” Before she could ponder it further she realized that Tom needed help with Harry’s luggage seeing how heavy it was. Meeting him at the foot of the staircase leading upstairs she simply lowered her left hand, “gripped” the trunk with her power, and raised her hand levitating it into the air. It didn’t take long that was (trunk floating behind her) to get Harry settled in. By the time she was done Harry and Fudge were done talking and Tom showed her down a narrow passage to the parlor where Fudge was waiting. “Sit down.” Fudge motioned, indicating a chair by the fire. Alicia, however, took a seat at the table and motioned for him to sit down. “I’m expecting dinner. Come.” Feeling a little awkward by her boldness he did just that, watching as Tom brought in a huge bowl of spaghetti, a bowl of sauce, garlic toast and two plates. “I took the liberty of ordering dinner for you.” she motioned, digging in. As he helped himself he stared at her, his expression one of curious amusement. It seemed as if he didn’t know quite what to make of her, and this seemed to have thrown him off balance abit. “I’m Cornelius Fudge,” he began, digging in himself, “The Minister of Magic.” “Your reputation precedes you, sir.” she compliments him as she eats, “What can I do for you?” She felt that she was already in trouble, lest he wouldn’t be speaking to her now, so she played it rather coy and kept her hands close to her chest while she waited for Fudge to make his own move. However the first thing out of his mouth made Alicia more concerned than worried. “What about young Mr. Potter, huh? We were in quite abit of a flap about that I assure you---” “Stop.” she whispers, motioning with her hand (garlic toast held tight), “As much as I’m deeply concerned for young “Mr. Potter”’s welfare, I don’t think you called me in here for that. Want to try that again?” He stopped, and swallowed a little harder than he should have. He was clearly at a disadvantage, and for the first time she saw his power slipping a little. Whatever he was on about? It wasn’t going to be about her, or at least not to the point of her being in trouble. “The boys you -- had words with earlier tonight? They’re dead.” Alicia frowned, looking up at him from her plate, “And you’re blaming --” “No! No! No!” Fudge spat out, turning pale. “I wasn’t blaming you at all. It seems the three young men you ran into -- were eaten alive.” ‘Now there’s a lively thing to chat about during dinner.’ Alicia lamented to herself as she took another bite, “And what does that have to --” (she stopped and thought about it) “-- tell me, were the bite marks on the remains rather large? Like say that of a fair sized carnivore? About six feet from nose to tail?” “That’d be about right.” “Sharp small incisions like that made by, say, a Velociraptor? With claw marks that showed signs of an opposable thumb, yet ground markings of something huge with talons and a tail like a reptile? Is that what “ate” the little bastard boys?” Fudge was now paper white as he stared at her, shaking, “Now, now, they weren’t that bad--” “Yes or no.” Her abruptness took him off guard, causing him to studder a little as he choked out “yes”. She simply raised a hand and produced an image of “A Galerian.”, then waited for his reply. As he stared at the image his eyes grew wider and his mouth fell open. “Chew your food honey, it’s showing.” she jabbed, causing him to shut his mouth, “I bet it looks familiar, this little guy. Azkaban? New guest? The “unregistered Ani-Magius”?” “How did you--” “I hate to break this to you, but it’s NOT an Ani-Magius. It’s worst.” Fudge didn’t answer. He looked like he was incapable of giving an answer. So she gave it to him anyway. “Cornelius Fudge? Meet your first extraterrestial.” “---w-w-what?” “That’s right. Meet the Ministry of Magic’s first hostile alien life form.” ------- It took five minutes to give Fudge the data he needed to take back to the Ministry of Magic. Just as long to get him to eat again after she gave him the gory details. He seemed to relax when she suggested that he tell her all about Harry, taking his mind off of the topic of the alien. At least his appetite improved, and that was good for starters. In short? She wasn’t in trouble, and apparently neither was Harry despite what he did. “So he -- ahem --” (Alicia motioned with her hands as if she was indicating something inflating) “--”blew” up his aunt, and then ran away from home?” “That’s basically it.” “And the Ministry has been running about rampant because they were worried that he’d get capped by this Black fella before someone had a chance to find Harry alive?” “That’s basically it.” Fudge repeated, his appetite returning with each bite. “And the Aunt & Uncle will take Harry back as long as he stays at Hogwarts for the Christmas & Easter holidays which he already does without being asked?” “That’s basically it.” For a minute she could imagine Hermione scolding her from the background, chiding her for the nasty remarks and insults she had on the tip of her tongue, ready to go at a moment’s notice. So, for her “imaginary Hermione-chan’s” sake, she kept her tongue civil. “And he asked about punishments, right?” “Right.” Fudge answered. “Well it’s true! We simply don’t cart people off to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!” She kept her thoughts of what they did to Hagrid last year to herself, however -- “That’s funny.” she remarked, her sly voice coming back as she leaned towards Fudge, making him more than abit nervous as she did. “As I remember it? Last her your boys sent Harry an “official warning” just because Dobby the House Elf smashed a cake (mislabeled “pudding” in the letter) in his uncle’s house. Didn’t the letter say they’d expel him from Hogwarts if anymore tom foolery of that sort took place?” Fudge swallowed hard again, and began to fidgit nervously, “Mistake. Some overzealous paper pusher back at the Ministry took it upon himself to send the warning. Didn’t ask his superior or anything, just sent it. He got a good scolding of course, won’t happen again.” “Sir.” Alicia whispered, drawling out the word which made Fudge sweat, “I’m not trying to blame you. But the circumstances--” “Are different now that Harry’s life is in danger.” he quickly pointed out, shoveling down another bite of food as he did. “Well then,” Alicia spoke up, slapping her hand down on the table to his shock, “What’s the hubbub about! Let’s enjoy dinner!” “Yes, lets.” Fudge agreed quickly. Dinner, for the rest of the meal, went by quietly. Fudge didn’t ask questions, Alicia didn’t volunteer answers. As they wrapped up she lead him to the door, then stopped. “How’s the search for Black progressing?” she asked. Fudge’s fingers slipped on the fastenings of his cloak, his hands shaking as he tried to grip the silver metal beneath his fingers. “Oh, well, we’re trying our best but so far nothing. It’s only a matter of time.” “Before you catch him, or he kills again?” “I better be going--” he groaned, pushing his way out and quickly down the corridor before she could pursue him. “Guess even the best of the best falter.” ----- Writing that night’s letter to Hermione was more of an adventure than she thought. ‘I’m beginning to act like a love sick girl.’ she thought to herself as she laid stretched out on her bed, in her panties only, scribbling madly on a piece of paper everything that happened as if she was pouring her heart out to her girlfriend. “We’re not even there yet and already I’m babbling like she’s my sweet forever love.” She took care not to refer to Hermione as “Hermione-chan”, or to babble sticky sweet words. She just wrote the letter, filled it with info and sometimes thoughts and such (she only depended on two people to hear her innermost thoughts - Hermione & Cho Chang) and sent it off with Chii. “She’ll probably owl me just to spite me. She knows I hate owls.” she griped, settling down into bed for sleep. As she looked up at the ceiling above one thought came into her mind, “Helluva day.” she muttered, rolling over as she slowly fell asleep. “---uh-huh---” the mirror replied wearily.
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