The Perfect Crime || Fred Weasley

04. Breakfast with Errol

"Jude, we have got to show someone this. Someone at the Ministry. You say you dreamt this months ago?" Mr Weasley's voice filled her ears in the very early hours of the next morning, hardly having returned for ten seconds before his fifteen-year-old sons bombarded him at the door to come quick to see Jude's painting.

Not even having time to set down his briefcase, the twins pulled their father across the living room where Mrs. Weasley had conjured mattresses for the twins and Jude, and to the kitchen. A bewildered Arthur Weasley suspiciously followed his sons into the kitchen to see Jude's rendition of the night before. He dropped the briefcase he was holding. Whatever he was expecting, it was not that. He now stood motionless before the floating artwork, studying it.

Jude had previously had plans to go back to Katie's house after the cup, but after the events of the night and the painting reveal, well, that wasn't going to happen. 

Mr Weasley stood silently, staring intensely at the moving branches and wriggling leaves, combing over every inch of the work while Jude and the twins sat at the table watching him study the painting. Underneath the table, Jude's hands wrung together nervously. She had never shown anyone her paintings before, and they were never up for this kind of scrutiny before, never studied to this extent. And never by a stranger, she thought as she glanced up at Mr Weasley, which must have reminded him they were even there.

"When did this ability begin?" He half-asked-half-mumbled, eyes now squinting at the serpent in the sky. He shook his head in awe.

"Er, just after Sirius Black escaped Azkaban last year." She thought back to the dreams she kept having of a certain shaggy black dog running around Hogwarts, and another with another dog-like creature howling under the full moon. Later, she found out the howling represented her werewolf Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin. "Sometimes I see things in dreams, sometimes they just come to me and I paint what I see."

Mr Weasley nodded thoughtfully. "Jude, may I have this painting?" She had expected this, and nodded. What was she going to do with it anyway?  In truth, she wanted nothing more to do with it. It scared her. "I have to show the ministry this, it could be useful in our investigation."

And just like that, Mr. Weasley was off again with her painting in hand, disappearing in the bright green flames in the fireplace with a "Ministry of Magic!" and a poof of smoke. Now, it was only Fred, George, and Jude who were still awake in the Weasley home. The rest of the family had turned in, unable to stay up to greet Mr. Weasley until his return late the next morning. 

—

The next day was filled with news reports and hushed conversations. Mr Weasley returned late that morning, bearing bad news all the while. Those poor muggles were in a bad way, apparently they were in intensive care at Saint Mungo's, and the aurors weren't sure what spells were used by those mysterious cloaked figures. Mr. Weasley said that by now, more people were calling them Death Eaters, followers of Voldemort. Anyone else called them imposters. But Everyone agreed they were dangerous.

When the newspaper arrived, the Weasleys and their guests waited with baited breath as Fred practically ripped the Daily Prophet from the string on Errol the ancient owl's leg. He read the headlines aloud. Mrs Weasley shook her head and sighed, saying how much it reminded her of the 'dark days.' Jude wondered what she had seen then as she studied the woman standing before her. 

Then Fred frowned a little and looked up at Jude, his ginger eyebrows moving up in surprise. "Er, you might want to see this." 

Jude reached for the paper in Fred's hand, hesitating. "What could the Daily Prophet have to say about me?" She wondered aloud. Then she followed Fred's line of vision to the paper in his hands. She snatched it and stared in disbelief.

There, on the front page of the newspaper, which was surely open on every table in the wizarding world, was her painting. Printed underneath in tiny letters was 'ARTIST AND SEER: JUDE MITCHELL' in an inky, crooked line. Her mouth fell open. Jude was at a loss for words. A seer? She supposed it was obvious, that she should have known what she was, but she had never thought to name her abilities. 

"Well, what is it?" Demanded Ginny impatiently. Jude flipped the paper over for the rest of the room to see. They had only heard about the painting earlier in the morning after George and Fred dutifully informed them of the night's events. Excited voices filled the room at once.

"Jude, dear, that's wonderful!" Mrs Weasley gasped. 

"How did you do that?!" Harry admired. 

Jude shrugged. "I don't know, it just comes to me and I just-" she gestured to the moving black-and-white painting before her, "-you know. Paint." 

Hermione, who sat across from Jude bit her lip. "Isn't that illegal to print that without permission?" She asked. Jude shrugged.

"Probably," was all she could come up with. She didn't care about that much, but the nagging feeling that her secret ability was not-so-secret anymore, being on the front page of the only news source people cared about. Her stomach twisted anxiously. 

"You ought to be selling that kind of stuff," Ginny told her, impressed. Jude was grateful for the subject change. "What's it say anyway?" She asked, nodding to the article. Jude reddened, unable to hide a small, proud smile and set the paper on the table to read.

Jude read the article, titled 'Terror at the Quidditch Cup!: Dark Mark Ignites Unprecedented  Wizarding Panic' aloud, which described the events of the night before and reassured that you-know-who was not back and it was all just come kind of cruel joke. Nothing about her painting, not that she really minded given the gravity of the night. But Jude wasn't convinced about the 'prank,' and neither were the Weasleys.

Ginny crossed her arms in indignation as Jude finished. "That's a load of crap! Last night was no prank." 

Mrs Weasley gave her an admonishing look, but didn't disagree. Dark looks crossed their faces as this news settled in. What does this mean?  Surely the Ministry couldn't believe this. But then, why would they say all that?

Mr. Weasley returned to the Ministry, and the rest of them were left to their thoughts, waiting on any more details. Jude spent the day with the twins, conspiring and theorizing about the article until later that night when Mr. Weasley returned, disgruntled and agitated as he stepped out of the green flames in the fireplace and haphazardly tossed his briefcase to the side. 

"Don't believe that article in the Prophet! It's all a load of crap!" His face was red and he huffed. Jude, who sat between Fred and George, exchanged side-eyed glances with them. Uh oh.

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley admonished. "What a good influence on your children you are!"

He could hardly be bothered about his language, but as he sat down and explained, no one thought much about it. He told them about how the Minister insisted keeping the public calm by minimizing damage and that 'We don't need a panic on our hands.' Mr Weasley grumbled particularly hard at this part, saying 'There already was one! At the Cup!' 

Well, he does have a point there, Jude thought. Something told her there wasn't much the Ministry could do to about the panic after this.

~end of chapter 07/23/23~

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