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Mundungus shrugged. “Maybe I am selling to the enemy,” he said. “But it is without my knowledge, I can assure you of that. All sorts come through that door. My business is to make business, not to conduct background checks on every fool who wants to buy a used wand.” The truth was he only knew of suspected Death Eaters. Trustworthy or not, Mundungus was still a part of the Order and still loyal to Dumbledore. That seemed to be the only thing never mentioned by his many accusers. 

“Make me look as helpful as you want,” he replied. “Merlin knows I wish I could be of more help. I don’t know why you doubt my loyalty simply because of my shop’s location and my refusal to discriminate amongst my customers. Believe me, if I knew of any Death Eaters coming in here, Dumbledore would be the first to hear about it.” Mundungus smirked, hoping it sunk in that the Ministry would most certainly not be the first to know. Not after everything they were pulling with his business. 

Moody did have a point about turning customers away, though, much as Mundungus hated to admit it to himself. It did cost money to run the shop, and without customers, there was no money. And he was not about to go back to selling things on street corners. He’d come much too far. 

“Tell you what,” he offered. “I’ll start making notes of the names of all who come in here--without them knowing, of course. Wouldn’t want to raise suspicions. If for some reason I cannot get their names, I’ll note as vivid a description as I can. Unfortunately, asking for identification will, as you said, turn many of them away and you’ll be no closer to catching any of the real threats. So why don’t you use my splendid little shop to your advantage instead of losing focus and trying to find something on me?”

Saint or Sinner | Alastor & Mundungus

Reliable my arse, Alastor thought to himself. They both knew that Fletcher was a liar, plain and simple. Don’t say I didn’t asked nicely. Now he would focus on holding Fletcher’s feet over a fire to see if that wouldn’t make the man talk.

He rounded the counter such that he could lean against it. “If the dust hasn’t filled your head completely, you might have noticed that there’s a war going on.” Pushing himself from the counter, Alastor approached Fletcher. “You’re suspected of selling illegal objects, and I can only think that a certain percentage of the enemy is buying them.”

Alastor stopped caring about the contraband or finding the secret room. He wanted names and was hell bent on getting them.

“I can put up signs on your windows, telling your customers that you’re being investigated and that they’d fall under suspicion too. I can have someone planted at your door, asking for identification of every person who walks in here. I doubt your clients are that loyal or desperate to seek your business,” he retorted. “I get where you’re coming from: afraid what might happen if word got out that you ratted them out.” His tone darkened and he fixed his glare on Fletcher, “But I can guarantee that before this investigation is done and if you’ve not given up names, it’s going to look like you were so helpful with the Ministry that they want to hire you as the next poster boy.”

Just because Fletcher was part of the Order, didn’t exempt him from being a traitor. Alastor didn’t have a problem calling him out as one if the other man didn’t start coughing up names.

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Experiments in the Dream Chamber, Marsden Fletcher, Kaaz Winston, unknown wizard, unknown witch, and unknown veela,  Department of Mysteries.

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Mundungus nodded slowly as he took in the information. It wasn’t news to him that they had a file on him or that he was a suspect for something, but at least the potion smuggling bit was a little more specific. Good thing he was extra careful with his potions, not because they were highly illegal, but because he didn’t want to deal with the broken glass and rotting floorboards should one of them fall and shatter all over the place.

“That’s all you got, huh?” Mundungus replied. He shrugged. “At least it’s something. Was that really so hard?”

He held out the vial of Anton’s precious potion. A deal was a deal, regardless of who came out richer in the end. Besides, if he showed this bit of mercy at last, maybe he’d have an easier time of making deals with Anton in the future. After all, a Ministry official--no, not his saint of a brother--was a good person to have at his service. 

“I do have one more question,” Mundungus added. “Outside of our deal, of course. Feel free to ignore it completely and walk away as I’m sure you will, but I’m curious to know why the Head bloody Auror paid me a visit. Overkill, don’t you think?”

The Mask of Midnight || Dung & Anton

That wink was not reassuring. It was irritating, and Anton scowled. He was the one that was supposed to be joking and condescending and confident, not the other person. He hated Mundungus, hated his dependence on this filthy, unimportant, annoying little half-blood. It made him nauseated.

He sighed. “I…I don’t work for the DMLE,” he said, though he was not argumentative anymore, only thoughtful. After all, if anyone knew the gossip from all the departments, it was Antonin Dolohov. He was fairly certain he had shagged one of the secretaries when digging around for information on Moody under Abraxas’ orders, though they’d found little on the notorious blood traitor. He did remember something about Fletcher, however. “You definitely have a file, though…Think you’re considered one of the central points for potion smuggling.” He shrugged. “Probably hoping you’ll lead them to more high profile people.”

He looked pointedly from Mundungus’ face to the vial, before frowning. “That’s all I got, I work in Accidents and Catastrophes,” he said, extending his hand. He’d never had any interest in looking up Fletcher’s relationship with The Ministry, after all. The man had a good reputation for being stable, keeping himself out of trouble. That was enough for Anton Dolohov–for him, reputation was everything.

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There was a gap growing between Marsden’s mind and reality, like the space within the walls of a house. He was fully lucid and aware of himself and what he was seeing, but he knew what his eyes were showing him wasn’t real. He knew the boy sitting beside him was offering help, not bleeding from the eyes as something stretched him out like a piece of rubber. And his eyes were most definitely not deep black hollows in his face.

The words the boy spoke floated in the heavy air and circled around his head a few times before registering in his mind as English. 

“Fletcher,” Marsden forced his mouth to say. “Knockturn.” His own voice in his head was hollow and echoed in his skull, but he hoped it sounded more or less like a normal human voice to his helper.

“Fucking potions,” he hissed as he tried to readjust his uncomfortable position on the ground. “Something isn’t right.”

He knew all about the emergency potions that were protocol for attacks in the Moon Chamber. He knew how they worked and how they were brewed, but the side effects had always been questionable at best. The only good thing to come out of this would be that he wouldn’t turn. He’d probably have crippling nightmares for a few weeks, but he’d remain utterly and fully human.

“S’your name?” he managed. He wanted some concrete information to hang on to in case he slipped any further. 

Disconnect | Marsden & Remus

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But a foolish part of me Still holds out for a shred of humanity For a queen in a robe or a knight on a steed Can't you see that I'm just a child on his knees

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Single-card reading for Marsden Fletcher | The High Priestess

Primary Meaning This is a card of studies and increased knowledge. If the Questioner is thinking about going to school or searching for increased knowledge, this card tells him to go ahead. For someone interested in the esoteric or spiritual studies, this card indicates that they have the ability. This card indicates scholarship in the widest sense of the word. This card can also indicate the arrival of a good teacher or a scholar. Secondary Meaning The secondary meaning is the total opposite to the cards primary meaning. It shows the total lack of commonsense control, emotional outburst and the lack of foresight. It also shows that the Questioner has difficulties in coming to terms with themselves, as well as difficulties by the Questioner to accept his feminine part.

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Single-card reading for Mundungus Fletcher | The Hermit

Primary Meaning Prudence and planning is the core meaning of this card. It also symbolizes the need to disassociate one self with action and take the time to prepare and plan. Secondary Meaning Refusal to take counsel or advice. Suspicion towards the motives of others and wrong assumptions. Loneliness.

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Blackness threatened to block his vision completely. Marsden forced hus eyes open, but could only see blurry shapes and shadows. He thought he heard a voice. Was it Mundungus? Was he close to his shop? He absolutely despised feeling this helpless and small, especially when it was his fault. Go home and rest. You’ll be alright. Did he do that? No. He didn’t. He decided to be stupid and go anywhere but home.

Marsden tried to speak, but all he could muster was a groan. He rolled forward in an attempt to sit up without the support of the wall he’d collapsed against, but had to catch himself with his elbow against the ground. He could feel the tiny stones and fragments of broken glass sticking him through his thick sleeve, but it didn’t register as pain. It was more of an awareness that warned him not to put so much weight on the arm.

“M’fine,” he managed to growl. He kept his head down in an effort to conceal his identity. He wouldn’t want to be seen with one of Knockturn Alley’s regulars. Not with his position at the Ministry. 

Marsden took a deep breath that prickled in his lungs and pushed himself upright, wiping the dirt off his robes. He didn’t want to try standing just yet. It probably wouldn’t turn out well.

“My brother,” he grumbled. “Where is he?” 

Disconnect | Marsden & Remus

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Mervyn.

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Disconnect | Marsden & OPEN

The spot on his shoulder where the werewolf had bitten him continued to burn, crackling and drying the surrounding skin. Marsden was fortunate enough that it had happened in the controlled environment of the Moon Chamber and that the proper spells and potions had been administered in time to save him, but the deep wound where the thing’s fangs had sunken into his bones was almost too painful to handle. 

He’d been relieved early by his superior and told to go home and rest, but resting was the last thing on Marsden’s mind. He decided to take the long way to the Ministry’s exit. A brisk walk through the halls kept the clean blood flowing to the wound to heal it. When he reached the Atrium, he stood at the end of the Floo Network entrances, staring as witches and wizards emerged from sickly green flames. There was something weighing him down. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. He remained rooted to the spot, the massive fountain towering behind him. The other employees shuffled past him without a glance. His heart pounded, slowly but strongly. His brother would be of no use to him in the present situation. All he’d do is offer an illegal potion for the pain and tell him to lie down.

Marsden’s vision was becoming altered. The shapes and figures before him were stretching away from him, as if he were looking down a tunnel of swirling cloaks and green fire. He found if he held absolutely still he started to feel nothing but exhaustion, but the moment someone bumped into him it was as if that person had slammed him into a brick wall at the speed of a golden snitch’s wings. He didn’t know if his state of mind was from the bite or the potions he’d been given. 

He gritted his teeth and took a wary step forward. Then another and another. He felt like he weighed more than a giant and the floor beneath his feet had somehow become harder with each step. He couldn’t remember why he was holding a handful of Floo powder or how long he’d been standing in the fireplace.

He closed his eyes, wishing to be anywhere but there. He imagined someplace dark, a thick layer of clouds hanging overhead. It was outdoors in the crisp fresh air. There were stone walls lining the narrow street. His hand relaxed and the Floo powder dropped to the bottom of the fireplace.

He was already so dizzy, he had no idea when the actual trip between fireplaces had begun and ended, but he was suddenly in Knockturn Alley, of all places. He stumbled back a few steps before hitting a stone wall and slid to the ground.

The last thing he saw was a cloaked figure approaching him cautiously.

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Marsden Fletcher, Department of Mysteries, Moon Chamber exact location classified.

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Pray to your God, open your heart Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark Cover your eyes, the devil's inside

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Socializing is sometimes fun.

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Marsden at work, Department of Mysteries.

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