Emerson Wilmore was an exemplary Ravenclaw student, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and an unyielding moral compass. However, things took a twisted and deviated turn in her life after her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was murdered by L...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The strangest thing about defecting from the Dark Lord was that, apparently, it came with considerably more homework.
"I never bloody agreed to this," Enzo complained in the Room of Requirement, staring mournfully at the list that Neville kindly gave him of students requiring additional defensive training. "I agreed not to support a genocidal psychopath. At no point did McGonagall mention administration."
From the table beside him, Draco didn't bother looking up. "You didn't agree to anything. You spent half the conversation talking about your childhood trauma and then nearly cried when McGonagall practically said she was proud of us."
"I did not nearly cry. I had something in my eye."
"You had something in both eyes?" Blaise sniggered under his breath.
The conversation with McGonagall was treated with considerably less reverence by Enzo than everyone else. It wasn't because it had meant less to him. Emerson suspected the opposite was true. Enzo had a peculiar habit of turning the things that frightened or hurt him most into jokes until they became small enough to carry, and apparently formally declaring himself an enemy of the Dark Lord was no exception.
"We haven't defected," He announced over toast the following morning.
Theo glanced up from the coffee he was sliding towards Mattheo, who was yawning and rubbing his eyes. "We quite literally have."
"No, we've been dysfunctional."
Olivia stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "What?"
"Dysfunctional," Enzo repeated confidently. "Completely different thing. Defection implies some kind of organised ideological transition. We don't have enough emotional stability between the five of us for that."
"You certainly don't," Theo muttered darkly.
Enzo ignored him. "Think about it. You have father issues. Mattheo has the final boss of father issues. I have—,"
"Every issue," Elena commented, sliding into the seat next to Emerson and kissing his cheek.
"Thank you, Len. Exactly. We're not defected Death Eaters. We're dysfunctional Death Eaters who accidentally developed morals. There's an important distinction."
Mattheo, who was so exhausted that morning that he was staring into the same cup of coffee for several minutes without drinking it, finally lifted his eyes. "Is there?"
"Absolutely. Defectors have plans. We have Neville."
At the Gryffindor table, several metres away, Neville looked up as though he'd somehow sensed the insult.
"McGonagall asked whether we'd fight for the Dark Lord," Theo reminded him quietly. "We said no. That's generally considered defecting."
Enzo sighed heavily. "Fine. We're defectors. But we're dysfunctional defectors, and I think Professor McGonagall should acknowledge that before she starts assigning us responsibilities."
