antebellum [t. riddle]

xxxviii

23 december 1944
warning: sexual content / depiction of violence

"oh this is absolutely heinous! son of businessman daniel mercanthy and three others arrested for the torture of auror octavia huang."

sicaria choked.

they were at breakfast (mr. malfoy still hadn't returned. though mrs. malfoy mentioned that he would be in time tonight to greet the guests at the party, she, nor abraxas, seemed too distressed over his absence) and mrs. malfoy started reading the news from the prophet. apparently mrs. malfoy told the house elves that sicaria was american, because she noticed her meal was different from the others. it contained an assortment of what the elves seemed to think the typical american meal consisted of, including coleslaw, an entire mass of what she assumed was meatloaf, and a slice of coconut cream pie.

abraxas had said something to the extent of, "you wont eat black pudding, but you'll eat this shit?" to which mrs. malfoy slapped his hand for "being disrespectful to her culture". sicaria fought a laugh, wondering if mrs. malfoy had met a non-white person in her entire life. she didn't want to eat all of this either, but she ate a good portion, not wanting the elves to think they did a bad job.

recently, the prophet had been filled with the usual drab; quidditch scores, political editorials, opinions on the muggle war, and painfully centrist criticisms on the ministry of magic's mishandling of grindelwald. today, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

they stared at her, confused by her outburst. get it together, sicaria, she scolded herself.

"sorry," she said recomposing herself, trying to search for a quick lie for her behavior. "mercanthy is a familiar name. is he related to the fifth year girl? galleria or something like that?" she asked, knowing damn well she was.

she thought about the information she had extracted from galleria about her brother, but it was nothing substantial. she wondered if they'd make her come in to testify at his trial anyway. there would be no point in all honesty. she'd sit on the witness stand under mountains and mountains of identity protection spells, and all she'd be able to say that carson mercanthy was a known grindelwald supporter and pureblood elitist.

"agent, where did you get this information?" the prosecutor would ask.

"that is classified by order of the director of magical security," she'd respond.

"agent, how did you get this information?" the prosecutor would ask.

"that is classified by order of the director of magical security," she'd respond.

"agent, from whom did you get this information?" the prosecutor would ask.

"that is classified by order of the director of magical security," she'd respond.

it would be pointless, but they might make her do it anyway. she hoped not.

court proceedings were more boring than sitting through professor binns history of magic lessons.

it was very weird to sit in front of a group of lawyers, jurors, and defendants where you could see them, but they couldn't see you. they all stared at her, but all they saw was a blur of something that vaguely resembled a human being.

adonis nodded at her statement. "i didn't know the two of you were so close."

she swallowed all her irritation at both the sound of his voice, and the sneaky insult laced in the words. he knew very well that the five of them (and perhaps katherine) were her only friends.