#i forget the exact wording but phoenix says or thinks something about ''old times' sake'' and ''that old familiar cough''

[iridescentoracle]

so over the last month i have watched a playthrough of the entire ace attorney series (including the first three games twice bc i got to the end of T&T and was immediately like. okay so many things have just happened, i need to get a better handle on The Everything before i continue) and even now The Rest Of The Games Later i'm still thinking about how the benefit of context/hindsight makes everything even better right off the bat, even in ways the developers absolutely could not have intended/been thinking about

like. the first time through, the quiz at the beginning of the first case is just part of the tutorial given a light veneer of characterization. however having watched T&T i feel like "your conduct during this trial will determine the fate of your client, please prove that you know what's going on" is actually pretty reasonable to ask a guy you once saw eat a glass necklace to destroy evidence his girlfriend committed the murder he was on trial for. the judge could really have asked more questions actually i'm not sure this pop quiz is really covering all the bases. if anything i think he earned a lot more doubt actually. like yeah okay do you know the name of the victim and the cause of death but more importantly do you know that you cannot eat evidence to try to get your client off the hook

[phoenixyfriend]

I am seized by a fatal need for courtroom ninja drama fic

But not serious courtroom drama. I'm talking Phoenix Wright style Nonsense.

(Some of this was provided by the folks over in @sloaners​‘ server, but the bulk of it was me spitballing nonsense at people who actually know the games, which I do not. I do paraphrase a few times to make it more feasible as a tumblr post/fic concept, rather than a rapidfire text conversation.)

Or one of those like. Reality TV paternity test things? But specifically in my mind the people involved in the actual paternity are a married couple and someone that joined them to be their third, and Clan Elders are throwing a fit about how the baby might not be the heir by blood! while the actual parents are like "I could not care less, this is our child, all three of us, please stop getting involved."

HashiMitoMada would be a VERY good option for the paternity nonsense, mostly because I can see Madara screeching at his own elders about how he already said Izuna would be his heir and he's not changing his mind!

Tobirama is just begging the paternity test to work faster off-screen because he's the only person with the machines to make it happen.

(Hashirama is just. Moping in a corner.)

"I just had to INVENT a paternity test that works before the birth! I had to figure out how to test amniotic fluid! If you assholes make me do something this stupid on such short notice again, I will be digging some shallow graves!" "...for who?" "I haven't decided yet."

Anyway, jumping back to like a Phoenix Wright-style murder investigation.

The victim was Danzo. Even the prosecution isn't actually that interested in making sure someone gets arrested, but they're legally obligated to do at least try. A bunch of people all acting really suspicious about who killed him. There is at least one shitty fake mustache-on-glasses disguise to provide a paper-thin alibi.

WAIT The other thing this gives us is ninjas in three-piece-suits but half of them wear the suits wrong. I’m talking mismatched buttons. The wrong way of tying their tie. Sewn-on-cufflinks. This is Naruto, for instance.

Tobirama would wear it properly, except he's rushing about in a lab coat, screaming at everyone to get out of his way because he's The Entire Forensics Team.

(This is the part where I have to confess that I have only seen the live-action movie of Phoenix Wright, as I don't game, so I just have the live action and tumblr osmosis.)

At this point, of course, we gotta ask: Who is the most Belligerent Witness And who is the Helpful™️ Witness that's super enthusiastic but entirely useless

I can see, say, Mito being a solid witness that both defense and prosecution are really thankful for.

Modern gen you have like... Sasuke and Neji are both incredibly belligerent witnesses. Neji at least is polite about it but pulls the "only answers with the absolute minimum of information."

Lee and Gai would have the over enthusiasm but forget to say actual vital testimony until pressed, and Naruto would love to help but might not be entirely sure what the case even is.

Shikamaru falls asleep when the lawyers consult their partners. Prosecution A consults Prosecution B for thirty-seven seconds, then turns around and the witness is asleep at the stand.

Tobi (as in Obito with mask) is an incredibly frustrating witness. They have to declare a recess just so all the lawyers can recover their blood pressure. "Can we please get someone up on the stand with this guy as a handler? I'm--I'm going to explode."

Gaara: Helpful. Polite. Answers with detail. Answers the spirit of the question as well as the letter. Includes more detail. That's too much detail. Gaara please stop telling us about the sounds that bones make.

His testimony just drags on forever.

Ninken can and will take the stand! Pakkun even enjoys it! Some ninken require translators.

ABURAME TRANSLATING FOR A RANDOM GIANT CENTIPEDE THAT WITNESSED A MURDER IN THE FOREST OF DEATH

There are arguments about whether or not the testimony can count since nobody else can confirm the translation except Other Aburame so how do they know the Aburame aren't part of the coverup.

"Okay, so this Danzo guy had like fifty shell companies but I think I found the route that leads back to him?" "Nah, that one goes to a guy that died eighty years ago that's still collecting pensions: his family lied and said he was still alive for the money." "Fuck!"

Also I just. I love the idea of Sasuke and Madara being the exact opposite kind of belligerent witness.

Also, Orochimaru answers with pretty much the exact kind of wording as Gaara, but where Gaara is trying to be helpful and provide detail for the sake of the case, and failing to see that it's maybe not necessary, Orochimaru just wants to see people squirm. ...similar thing happens with Sakura and Kabuto. Similar phrasing, very different energy.

I keep picturing all of Team Taka as part of Forensics and Evidence Collecting ajshakshjd

Juugo, holding up a rabbit: I found a witness.

Karin joins forensics and Tobirama nearly weeps from joy until he finds her criminal record "Shit, that was supposed to get thrown out when I turned eighteen."

Tobirama: I asked for an assistant, not a criminal. Karin: I'm on parole. Tobirama: That makes things worse. Karin: I know how to use a [concerningly advanced machine that I, a business major, cannot name]. Tobirama: ...never mind, I'm keeping you.

Karin: I know how to DNA sequence AND use LA-ICP-MS Tobirama: [weeps with joy]

Suigetsu would be great at blood splatter analysis. ...I think I read somewhere that blood spatter analysis is actually over in 'fake science that's pushed by cops and media but actually doesn't work' BUT apparently it’s in the Ace Attorney games so we’re going to ignore reality a bit. We’ve already got dogs and rabbits and centipedes as witnesses, what’s a bit of blood spatter?

He's also probably really good at cause of death stuff? Like looking at corpse and figuring out how long it took the victim to die, which blow did it, whether any damage was inflicted post-mortem, etc.

Sasuke is usually too busy playing Belligerent Witness but sometimes goes to join Taka for... uh... reasons.

Juugo: [takes the stand] Lawyer: Hey, uh, why's that Uchiha guy with him? The witness-- Judge: No, no, we need Uchiha Sasuke on hand when questioning Expert Animal Handler Juugo. Lawyer: ...why? Judge: Property damage.

(Sasuke as a work partner with Juugo, also moonlighting as a witness/suspect in Danzo's murder.)

One time they need Juugo but can't find him even though court is already in session and he said he'd be here, turns out he was lured away by Kakashi's army of dogs. Kakashi didn't notice until he turned to ask Pakkun if he could help find the missing expert.

Juugo is a decent lab assistant, I think?

Anyway.

Tobirama taking on Team Taka as his forensics team while Orochimaru is... hm... traveling the country to promote his new autobiography, which is outselling the newest Icha Icha to Jiraiya's ire.

Sloane suggested “a case where it's all the Sannin as suspects in a murder. They would be THE WORST, say... the murder of Hanzo.”

To which I suggested “The Sannin are all suspects but the people on trial are the Ame trio, maybe?”

Which garnered the response of “It could be a surprise upset IN COURT that the trio should be on trial.”

We love a court upset.

Suigetsu finds out that the cause of death was actually an entirely natural heart attack, but while he was determining this, the rest of the team and the lawyers found like eight conspiracies by Zetsu, three by Danzo, four by Orochimaru, and an entire network of nonsense by Sasori.

INO IS THE PSYCHIC. I know her thing in canon is reading minds but pls. Ino is Maya. The Spirit Medium.

Is the judge: 1. Hiruzen 2. Hashirama 3. Hagoromo 4. Mifune 5. The Daimyou

(Old dude with authority, optionally easily distracted/questionably competent. I'd have gone for impressive facial hair but only Mifune and Hagoromo have more than like... Hiruzen's weird soul patch.)

It's not a soul patch but I don't know what facial hair is called and I can't just call it a goat beard

Response commentary was as follows: The Daimyou would unfortunately be closer to the personality of the ace attorney judge, more blindly agreeing with things that sound good :joy: Hiruzen could be fun if only for the competing facial hair for a beard, yes xD Hagoromo would possibly be most buckwild tho WELCOME TO MOON COURT

I managed to get this far with like... NO idea who the judges were except “IDK maybe Kakashi?” but consider:

...HashiMada rival lawyers

Dropping over to Izuna vs. Touka for when Hashirama and Madara inevitably become suspects of something or other themselves and have to be witnesses.

(Tobirama's too busy running blood tests, Anija, let Touka handle it, she's better at people anyway.)

...Hashirama is like. Marginally more put-together than Madara, right? So that... makes him Edgeworth... somehow... That feels wrong but Madara as Edgeworth feels even more wrong.

Madara is very into screaming OBJECTION

ALSO consider: Friction when a doctor from a nearby hospital gets called in to provide expert testimony on something because Karin is like "no hey I should be the one doing this" and then she sees how cute Sakura is.

But also at some point Kakashi vs. Gai for a nonsense case. Their personalities are both VERY FUN for this sort of thing.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m so lost idk in which day of the week I’m living and the posting schedule for this thing is a mess in wattpad and Ao3 h e l p -Danny

Words: 5,117

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘I Wanna Get Better’ -By Bleachers

Chapter Three: The Order of the Phoenix.

"Hold it!" Ron stopped them before they could continue their walk towards the kitchen. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something —"

The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry's guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very centre of the group, Harry saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. Harry leaned farther over the bannisters. He was very interested in what Snape was doing for the Order of the Phoenix...

A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended in front of Harry's eyes. Looking up he saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear toward the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they began to move toward the front door and out of sight.

"Dammit," Harry heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.

They heard the front door open and then close.

"Snape never eats here... Thank God. C'mon."

"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs Weasley told them in a hushed voice. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here —"

CRASH.

"Tonks!"

"I'm sorry! It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over —"

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —"

"Ah yes, that's the evening bell to announce dinner," Mel said with an ironic smile.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut up!" Sirius grabbed the curtain and attempted to hide the portrait unsuccessfully.

"Yoooou!" The woman shouted. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said — shut — UP!"

Lupin grabbed the other end and both men closed it tightly.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius said, more calmly this time. "I see you've met my mother."

"Your— ?"

"My dear old mum, yeah. We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?"

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius, looking at Mel briefly. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, redhaired man, who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet.

"Harry! Good to see you!"

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, picking up some parchments before Mel could see what was written in them. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Tonks dropping a candle onto the last parchment. "Oh no — sorry —"

"Here, dear," said Mrs Weasley, fixing it quickly. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings..."

"Evanesco!" Bill exclaimed, and the papers vanished.

"Sit down, Harry. You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

"Some'n say m' name? I 'gree with Sirius..." Mundungus mumbled in his sleep.

Mel and Ginny laughed, waking him up.

"The meeting's over, Dung... Harry's arrived."

"Eh? Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah... you all right, 'arry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him in seconds.

"Owe you a 'pology," grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud.

"For the last time, Mundungus," called Mrs Weasley, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah," said Mundungus. "Right. Sorry, Molly."

"Harry!"

Emily rushed over to the boy, smothering him with kisses and trying to brush his hair. Harry blushed furiously and tried to escape from her grip, but she kept him in place.

"You look so skinny! Don't worry, you'll be looking charming as a prince in no time," Emily tugged at his shirt. "We need to fix these– " When Harry stood up again, she gasped. "Merlin, you've grown!"

Harry was looking eye to eye at her for the first time in fifteen years. Least to say Emily didn't take it well.

"My little boy!" She teared up. "Not so little now... even taller than Mel! Oh, you look so much like James!"

"Mothers..." Mel rolled her eyes, but the woman ignored her.

"Never seen her like that before," Sirius whispered to her. "She used to be so tough... now look at her, crying over a kid's height!"

Mel grinned, catching the way Sirius was beaming at her mother.

"Mum, let him breathe," Mel stepped in, pulling her away gently. "I think you need a moment, sit down..."

"If you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand," Mrs Weasley told them. "No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey —"

"What can I do, Molly?" said Tonks.

"Er — no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today —"

"No, no, I want to help!"

"I'll help, my mum's having a crisis," Mel teased.

As she started to set the plates on the table, she heard the adults continue their talk.

"Had a good summer so far?"

"No, it's been lousy," Harry retorted.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."

"What?"

"Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights... I've been stuck inside for a month."

"Didn't know my company was such a torment," Mel replied without looking up.

"How come?" Harry asked.

"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix... or so Dumbledore feels– I didn't mean I'm not having fun with you, little Em," He added out loud. "I just... yeah, I know I could be doing more..."

"At least you've known what's been going on."

"Oh yeah! Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time... asking me how the cleaning's going —"

"Snape's a twat," Mel said as she settled a plate in front of Sirius, "you shouldn't take it personally, it's like hearing a seven-year-old showing off."

"What cleaning?" Harry asked them.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation– No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages —"

"Sirius? This solid silver, mate?" Mundungus said, examining a small goblet.

"Ye... Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," muttered Mundungus.

"Keep your filthy paws away from it, Dung," Emily kicked him under the table.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus looked around and, a split second later, dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air toward them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.

Mel managed to retreat barely on time and hissed when the knife touched her skin briefly.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, running into the room and grabbing the knife. "Sorry Sirius, mate — didn't mean to —" He stared at Mel, who was holding the patch of skin where the knife cut.

Emily and Sirius were laughing, not noticing she'd gotten hurt. Mundungus was on the floor. Harry, however, was touching his hand in the exact same place her cut was.

"I'm sorry, Lady!" Fred left the knife on the table and examined her hand. "Blimey– let me see..."

"What happened?" Emily stood up.

"I'm okay," She quickly pushed the boy and her mother out of the way to wash her injury. "Just a scratch..."

"Boys, your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you're—"

"— none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble! Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy —"

"Let's eat!" said Bill abruptly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin.

"Let me see, Mel!" Fred insisted.

The girl noticed Harry was staring and turned away hastily.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Tough girl like her mother!" Exclaimed Sirius happily.

"I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing-room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," said Sirius.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too, I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Sirius sarcastically. Emily slapped his arm mumbling 'Behave!'

Mel was chatting with Mundungus, the twins, and Ron. Dung wasn't exactly of her liking, but the boys made him tolerable enough.

"...and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'e says, ' 'ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? 'Cos some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back orf me for twice what 'e paid in the first place —"

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus," said Mrs Weasley over Ron's cackles.

"Beg pardon, Molly, but, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong —"

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons."

Fred and George buried their faces behind their goblets, Mel sent an innocent smile to her mother. She didn't know why, but she was feeling keener to do mischief than years prior. Maybe that was the result of spending so much time around the twins.

"How come you're not all over Harry?" George asked her quietly. "You're sitting with us after so long without hearing from him..."

"Don't nag about that," She rolled her eyes. "Fred already asked me. Stop it or you'll wake up to a dead rat on your pillow."

"I'll stop asking if you promise that I'll wake up to you on my pillow," Fred winked at her, which caused her to blush.

"Don't even think about it," She replied, making a face.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs Weasley.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius took a deep breath. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

Mel snorted, she felt the sudden change in the room, but she didn't care about being the only one who found it funny.

"You think he didn't? He went mad upstairs!" She exclaimed.

"I did!" said Harry, then threw a grumpy look her way. "Not the part about going mad, but I asked Ron and Hermione, they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"

"And they're quite right. You're too young." Said Mrs Weasley.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions? Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen —"

"Sirius..." Emily started.

"Hang on!" interrupted George.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.

"'You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" Fred imitated his mother's voice. "Harry's not even of age!"

Mel looked around the table with disinterest, of course Harry was going to have all the answers he wanted. What was worse, she'd started to realize how much she'd felt his absence. And she hated that, she hadn't understood exactly how badly she was missing her best friend until he was standing in front of her.

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing. That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand —"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry! You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?"

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know!"

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly, but as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to —"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix! He's only fifteen and —"

"— and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some —"

"No one's denying what he's done! But he's still —"

"He's not a child!"

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Mel saw the way her mother's face paled at the remark, that had to be a sensitive subject.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" Harry pouted.

For the first time in weeks, Mel felt something else besides resentment towards the boy. Harry needed Sirius, he wanted to be as important as his father. She couldn't blame Sirius for seeing James in Harry, not when sometimes she would catch herself thinking of her own father when looking at Sirius.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?"

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!"

"Arthur! Arthur, back me up!"

"Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters —"

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes! Emily!"

The woman gave a start, but she spoke with confidence.

"Harry is as smart as they make 'em. He's brave and he knows this is not a game. I've seen this kid grow and I like to think I've brought him up a little, I can give you my word that knowing won't put him in danger..."

"Personally," said Lupin, leaning further on his place. "I think it better that Harry gets the facts — not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from... others. Emily's got a point, she's been with him for the longest time, if there's someone on this table that gets to decide apart from Harry, that's her."

"Well," said Mrs Weasley, positively fuming. "I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart —"

"He's not your son," Sirius mumbled under his breath.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley yelled. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me! He's got Emily!"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it? And not too sound rude, Emily dear, but you had no control over Harry's life when he was a baby and you still have none. You have your hands full with Mel."

Sirius tried to stand up but Emily pulled him back down.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Lupin, sounding a bit annoyed. "Sirius, calm down. I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this, he's old enough to decide for himself."

"I think we've talked enough about him as if he weren't present," Emily nodded.

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said immediately.

"Very well," said Mrs Weasley. "You six — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

"We're of age!" Fred and George.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron exclaimed.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny demanded.

Mel and Emily shared a look, the woman knew there was no point attempting to send her daughter away. Mel knew she didn't have to ask.

"NO! I absolutely forbid —"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George... They are of age —"

"They're still at school —"

"But they're legally adults now," Arthur said tiredly.

"Mel can stay," Emily replied, then she added coldly. "I don't need to have control over anything my daughter does to know that she'll treat the information with discretion."

"I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —"

"Mel and Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron hesitated, looking at Harry with doubt. "Won't — won't you?"

" 'Course I will," Harry said casually. Mel nodded.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley put the plates away angrily. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

After a few minutes of putting everything away, Lupin asked him:

"Okay, Harry... what do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —"

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway... And we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do anyway," said Lupin.

"How come he's stopped killing people?"

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment. It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Lupin smiled a bit.

"How?"

"You weren't supposed to survive! Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore, and you made sure Dumbledore knew at once," Lupin looked at her. "With your help."

Fred and George looked at her without understanding. She hadn't mentioned to any of her friends the lifeline connection, how could she, without giving away the reason for her fight with Harry?

"How has that helped?" Harry asked.

"Are you kidding?" said Bill, answering Harry's question. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius.

"He doesn't know how, but he definitely knows you helped, Mel," Emily's face was grim. "Apparently, there are tons of rumours about you already, some are as far fetched as to say that you're the next Merlin, others just say you were at the right place at the right time– Either way, he knows there's more than one Dumbledore after him, and he thinks you're the easiest target to defeat."

Mel felt the urge to run and hide under her bed, but she remained still, her eyes fixed on her mum. She thought, kind of bitterly, that Harry's attempts to keep her safe were of no use, and taking away the only thing that was making them happy was a huge mistake. But she wasn't going to admit that out loud, she would pretend everything was fine on her side for as long as she could.

"So what's the Order been doing?" said Harry, after a moment of awful silence.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"How d'you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," said Lupin, "and Dumbledores shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate... as we've witnessed more than once."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again, in the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," said Lupin.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," said Bill. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Some others have also reached to a different area," Emily smiled at her. "Erick and Eliot have been writing to me, they're doing what they can with the pureblood families they know aren't as keen to see Voldemort's comeback. So far they haven't got lots of people, and of course, Erick tries to talk to the young groups, but they aren't that willing to believe him."

"Why?"

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," said Tonks. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why? Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore —"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Mr Weasley giving her a pointed look. "The Dumbledores."

"Fudge is frightened, you see," said Tonks.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry incredulously. "And Mel?"

"Frightened of what they're up to," said Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want —"

"Of course he doesn't– He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," Lupin added. "But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that? How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it all up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said Sirius. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him. He also somehow found out that Mel was having extra lessons with Dumbledore, though I guess that wasn't a secret. He thinks he's preparing her to be his secret weapon so they can take over."

"You see the problem," said Lupin. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumormongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you? You're letting people know he's back?"

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" said Sirius bitterly.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

Emily reached for Lupin's hand and gave a gentle squeeze to it.

"I'm all right, I guess..." She sighed. "But my husband was a Dumbledore, they think I'm just trying to keep his name clean."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off, and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though. Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you's putting the news out that Voldemort's back —"

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," said Bill fondly.

"It's no laughing matter. If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?"

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry. He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in, he's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on them at the moment."

Voldemort was after her, and Fudge was after her as well? She certainly wasn't afraid of the latter, but it worried her, she didn't like being watched at all times; if her uncle ended locked up in Azkaban, she and Harry would be the next.

Harry was known to be stubborn and unable to shut his mouth whenever he was strongly against something. She couldn't have that, she needed him to follow orders as much as her because if he were to break the rules, people would immediately assume she was doing the same, if she wanted to remain safe for the rest of the year, Mel needed to change that.

"What's he after apart from followers?"

"Stuff he can only get by stealth... Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ?"

"That's enough. I want you in bed, now. All of you," Mrs Weasley demanded.

"You can't boss us —"

"Watch me! You've given Harry plenty of information, Sirius. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not? I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight —"

"No," said Lupin and Mel.

Harry stared at her, but Lupin spoke, catching his attention.

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards– Wizards who have left school. There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius– Mily... We've said enough."

"Time's up, kids," Emily stood up. "That's all you'll hear from us."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Chapter Six: Flashback, one of two, and also Maya’s in it

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist]

“Hey, Chief, question: so murder’s murder even if it’s one of the Fair F -- the fae, who’s murdered.”

“Murder is murder when a person is killed, accounting for manslaughter, accidental death, and the like -- honestly, Phoenix, you just think a person doesn’t count?”

“No! I mean, like… It just surprises me, is all, that you would let a human court arbitrate it and not just…”

“Revenge ourselves on the suspected killer with our magics in our home realm?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s always a possibility -- but it’s far too messy. That sort of thing tends to drag others who are far outside of the disagreement into the fighting, by way of networks of alliances, and before you know it there’s a full war that began because of a stupid crime of passion in a human bar. Some time before me, our Courts decided that humans and your courts and laws are the closest to fair, neutral judgment available, and that we would abide by their verdicts. Oh, certainly humanity was not consulted, but it is to your benefit to investigate the killings of fae, so as the allies of the deceased will not strike a curse down on all who were in the vicinity. And besides, you don’t think that, if humanity agreed that fae deaths won’t be tried, that rule wouldn’t be abused? That any man might claim his neighbor was one of the Fair Folk and killing him does not ‘count’ -- that any mother might throw her child in a fire because it acted just the slightest bit strange and claim that its life was forfeit on her suspicion?”

“You say that humans are fair and then list out all that. Neutral, with our lying and biases and stupid foolhardy impulsive actions--”

“Other than lies, we have the same faults, but so often magnified. We are impulsive and petty and cruel, with bias bred into our bloodlines -- it is an imperfect decision, as we are imperfect, as you are imperfect, as I have found even your laws to be. We make do with our best. It is all we have, in the end.”

-

A cold iron stake through the heart will kill anyone, not just one of the fae.

The same, Phoenix thinks, would go for an iron bullet through the forehead.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what Magnifi was -- Zak told him that from the beginning, and Pearl’s gift confirms for him that he wasn’t lying. And even without it, he could still see the lingering traces that Zak was a witch -- once. Their powers fade quickly when their patron is gone. He knows that without asking.

If it should matter, though, there is no way to prove to anyone else what Magnifi was.

Fae corpses don’t leave evidence. If they leave a corpse at all -- most do, but not all, and those deaths by their nature are never judged but in the Courts of Kurain, if the dead has the allies to bring the matter forth -- it is indistinguishable from a human’s, a last residual enchantment to make sure they cannot be ignored or dismissed.

Or to fuck with those left behind, as Phoenix comes to understand of Magnifi.

The evidence of the trial made that much obvious: one shot to the forehead; you cannot refuse, and we both know the reason why. A final cruelty to impart on those whom he bargained with -- and why wouldn’t he? If he knew he was dying -- of age, a curse from another, whatever it was -- the Gramarye witches would outlast him. And even if his death would take their powers away, the fae never like to feel that they’ve been cheated. One last indignity: don’t forget what you lost forever to make a bargain with me.

There is a lot Phoenix does not know, answers he is still seeking, but this, he understands. The nature of the fae, he understands.

The Bar Association suspends his badge pending inquiry, the hearing scheduled for one short week after the trial. News travels fast about Phoenix, ever since von Karma, ever since Gant, two pillars of the legal system he brought crumbling down, and the prosecution already had done half of their inquiry for them, placing Drew Misham in the courtroom with a speed that made Phoenix’s head spin. His memories of the trial are patchy, direly so, when it comes to the diary page -- how he got it, why he didn’t find it too suspicious to present -- and that will be his own inquiry: who fooled him, and how. It probably wasn’t Zak; it very likely could have been Gavin, a prodigy looking to make a name for himself, with enough enchantments and glamours to make it happen. He is human at the core and nowhere else, but the old adage, foot in each world, doesn’t seem so true, not when he drapes himself in iron jewelry like he thinks it can ground him firmly on this side of the veil.

Phoenix doesn’t trust him -- Phoenix has five people whom he personally trusts -- but he can’t condemn him, not yet. Not without more evidence.

The first lead he chases down is the forger himself, Drew Misham. (No, not himself.) The forger is his daughter, Vera, a shy, sickly little girl, and a changeling besides. Drew seems to know, but he won’t say it outright -- Vera is “exceptionally talented”, “a genius”, and he never makes eye contact with Phoenix. She was the only one to see the client’s face, and whoever it was has done a good job of convincing her to clam up. A gentle smile, she says. Like an angel, but for the briefest of moments -- a slip in the upkeep of a glamour? -- Vera saw the devil.

Not exactly helpful, and definitely worrying when compounded with the secret charm that she won’t show, but she does tell him that she lays an enchantment on all of her forgeries -- not in those exact words. Phoenix isn’t even sure that she realizes what she is, that her powers are not human.

Valant is the second he speaks with, at the detention center where he has been interred for trying to pin the murder on Zak. Talking to him -- or maybe it’s that Phoenix retrieved the magatama to keep with him on this investigation -- brings one memory into sharper focus -- the girl, the little girl, Zak’s daughter, as human as her father but draped in magic even when it was fading from Magnifi’s two pupils. And that is definitely worrying, too; Phoenix has stumbled sightlessly into the dark, and something monstrous is lurking in it.

He nearly misses his hearing -- an unnecessary formality because there wasn’t one among them, except apparently Kristoph Gavin, who hadn’t decided that Phoenix’s badge would be gone at the end of it -- trying to track down Trucy. The Gramaryes were an elusive coven -- Valant tried to make a cursory protest on the terminology, “Troupe! We were not…”, and Phoenix broke the single lock by just staring him down until he rescinded his words -- who were never found by those desperate enough to seek them out, but instead would appear to them in the midst of their search. If they had a home base, Valant won’t say, and no one else in the world knows. Zak’s daughter, Trucy is her name, could be anywhere in the city, anywhere beyond the city, out to the mountains of Kurain, and Phoenix might never find her.

Getting an answer from her about who she received the diary page from would be a bonus; Phoenix is more concerned for her sake. He was only able to briefly See her, but he didn’t like the glimpse.

This is going to take some assistance.

The first thing he can unearth in his apartment that can make a circular shape is an extension cord; he drags it out to the kitchen and sets a cold half of a ground beef patty on a plate in the center. The fake candles are back at the office, but that is an unneeded trifle -- funny, but unnecessary. “Maya,” he says, stepping back from the circle and closing his eyes, “there is someone I need your help to find.”

A cold gust of wind batters against his face. When he opens his eyes, the room has filled with a slowly-dispersing purple mist, twisting in strands around the fae standing in the circle. She has gained an extra pair of eyes since he last saw her, smaller slits right along the browbone, all four glowing red. The remaining mist settles about her head like hair or the headdress of royalty, not quite blending with the void-black tendrils that frame her face. One of them extends, almost like an extra arm made of shadow, down to the floor, snatching up the burger and tossing it into her mouth. She grins, the truest cheshire smile Phoenix has ever seen, stretching literally from pointed ear to ear, displaying dozens of huge sharp fangs. “Hey Nick!”

Immediately she turns to face the refrigerator right behind her. “Are you holding out on me? That was a lame burger just now.”

“Cut me some slack. I just lost my badge. I’m trying not to burn my savings on food too quickly.”

She cocks her head, still staring at the fridge. The mist doesn’t move with her like something part of her should. “Where’d you have it last?” she asks. “If you lost it at the office, Sis will probably have it on your desk in the next couple days.”

Ah. Literalism. The main weapon and weakness both of the fae. “No, I mean -- I was disbarred. I am no longer allowed to work as a lawyer--”

He stops when he sees Maya’s face. She has finally looked at him and her expression, however hard to parse it can be, shifts rapidly, the briefest flash of something like horror that twists into fury, a contorted, monstrous rage. “Who did this to you?” she snarls, and he didn’t know he looked, physically, that bad, or that she knew how to read the depths of his exhaustion and despair from his aura. “You want my help to hunt them down and eat their hearts?”

“No! No, that’s not what I want!”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I would throw it in for free.”

“No!” He bends down to break the circle and stops. “On the condition of not eating any part of a person, I let you leave.”

“For the duration of this summoning, you have my word,” she replies. He could -- should -- argue that, try and make it a blanket deal for eternity, but he decides they can negotiate that some other time. For now, he has what he needs, and he unwinds the extension cord.

When Maya steps forth, the glamour settles over her in a wave, the mist hanging over her settling into glossy black hair, her two smallest eyes vanishing and the others whitening and gaining dark irises, her mouth shrinking, and the four small glowing orbs that drift lazily about her face sink down to become four large beads of a necklace. And then she looks like an ordinary girl, late teens or early twenties, her hair done up in a topknot and her smile small but still toothy and just a little too sharp. “So who is it that you want to find?” she asks. She frowns, but it seems like such a minute motion compared to moments ago. “Is your prosecutor in trouble again, too?”

“No; that was last month.”

And he leaves her hanging on that one and they sit at the kitchen table while he instead begins to explain his own case, his own worst situation, and the Gramaryes. She repeats Magnifi’s name to herself after he says it, again and again until her voice loses its human quality, sounding instead like the clatter of bells or a windchime, until suddenly she snaps back. “This fae you call Magnifi -- he was banished, many years ago, stripped of his power with his name and cursed to never return.”

“Why?”

“He strove for power and made those who had that power very mad,” she answers. “And so -- ouch.” She picks at some stain on the table and Phoenix winces, anticipating her leaving claw marks gouged into the wood. “He had a daughter. No other allies besides her -- she left with him, naturally.”

“Thalassa,” Phoenix says. Maya nods. “It was a far fall for him, huh, to end up where he did. Probably all he had left was the power trip over Zak and Valant, and all they had was pretending that they weren’t witches sworn to some bastard.”

“That’s the funny part of it, kinda,” Maya says. “They didn’t even credit him, when they were saying they can perform spells for whatever sorry suckers show up hoping for a miracle -- they were just like ‘yeah, no fae involved, ignore that guy, we won’t screw you out of a deal’. And they by being like that probably screwed him out of dozens more deals with sad desperate humans. No wonder he decided his death should be one last one-over on them.”

Sitting cross-legged in her chair, her hands in her lap, she leans it back to balance impossibly on two legs. She likes to cause the double-take, to force Edgeworth or Franziska or whoever else to look twice at the way she twists the world around her. “And you’re looking for his granddaughter?” she asks. “Not his daughter?”

“Thalassa is dead,” Phoenix says. “And Trucy isn’t, yet, so yes, I’m looking for Trucy.”

“I’m vaguely flattered that you think I’m powerful enough that I can just find her, just like that,” Maya says. She doesn’t wobble. “It’s not so easy, not here in this realm, not without knowing her true name.” “Trucy Enigmar,” Phoenix says. “Or Trucy Gramarye.” Maya rolls her eyes. “I need to know which, Nick.” Names have more power in the Twilight Realm. It’s why Mia, even trying to be human, stumbled on names that weren’t Phoenix, the human whose life she owned, and Dahlia, the fae she defeated. It’s why Iris only ever called him Feenie. It was the kindest gesture she could make. In the same fashion, Maya calls him Nick. They don’t own him, not entirely, though they could. “It’s only two choices. You can’t guess?” “No. I need to know.” Half of magic is certainty, Maya and Dahlia so certain they have the world at their fingertips, Iris so much meeker and weaker than her sister, Vera knowing little about herself but knowing that once instructed she can create anything and that is all she needs to know. And Valant, weaker, because he was so sure he was second-best, a self-fulfilling prophecy, the only kind of prophecy that Phoenix ever sees. A spell can’t be cast on a guess. “Is there anything you can do if you go back to the Twilight Realm?” Phoenix asks. “Hm.” Maya holds her hands up, palms facing each other, and a purple glow begins to form around them. Then she claps them together and the light vanishes, her eyes glinting red for a moment in the sterile light of his kitchen. “I’ll ask Sis for help, first.” It has started to rain when they leave Phoenix’s apartment. Biking in this weather is unfortunate enough, but Maya insists on balancing herself on the handlebars, right in Phoenix’s line of sight, and this would be the most embarrassing way for Phoenix to die after everything he has been through. They are both soaked through to the skin but only fell once by the time they arrive at the office. The lights are already on and the heat is blasting a literal warm welcome. “Hey, Sis!” Maya calls into the silence. No answer comes forth, of course, but the smile on Maya’s face is one that shows her to be more at ease than in a long time. “I could use some help! Nick’s trying to steal a kid.” “I’m trying to help her,” Phoenix objects. “Honestly, Maya.” “Yeah, yeah.” Maya twirls through the office and her hair doesn’t move like it is heavy with water, or even like it has the weight of that much hair. She stops at the shelves of law books that Phoenix has meant to read for two and a half years and never did, running her fingers down the spines but not stopping at any of them and proceeding on to the binders and file folders full of Mia’s case references and research materials that Phoenix hasn’t known how to sort and get rid of. “Somewhere here,” she mutters, “maybe there’s something.” Phoenix gives her a moment to offer one before he asks for an explanation. “After our mother left,” she says, “Sis at some point moved some of the royal records out of the Twilight Realm. I think she was worried about our aunt getting her hands on them.” The pages turn without Maya touching them. Her bangs and the hair framing her face sway as though there is a gentle wind to tousle them. “But… nope.” She stops on a page and squints down at it, only to resume flipping a few seconds later. “This Magnifi of yours, his true name – it wasn’t just taken, but erased. There’s not even an echo for me to work from.” The binder slams shut and is tossed over her shoulder without her moving her hand. “If these witches were well-enough known, how did people usually find them?” “They didn’t,” Phoenix says. “Anyone who went looking for them, they would eventually appear to.” “Huh,” Maya says. “Well, we’ve got two options, now!” Phoenix is already bracing himself to hear them. “We can go out and wander until I find us a likely trail, or you can put up some – uh, wanted posters.” “Wanted? For the Old West, maybe, but—” “Then, a ‘lost kid’ kinda thing. You do that, right? With the description, and the phone number, and the reward money.” “That’s for pets.” “It could be for kids. Don’t let your narrow-minded cultural assumptions box you in.” “Ah.” Sometimes, Phoenix has no idea what the hell she is talking about. “If we’ve got to make a grid search of the city, we’d better get started.” Maya hops up onto the couch and pushes the curtains aside to look out at the rain. “Maya, do you know how big Los Angeles is?” She looks back at him with her head cocked. “No,” she says. “How big?” Again they set out, on foot this time. “We’re helping her by stealing her,” Maya says, jumping squarely into a puddle and splashing muddy streetwater up Phoenix’s jeans. “It’s not either-or.” She tilts her head back, face to the clouds that are darkening from gray to black as night falls. “I bet Sis can save her, like she did you.”

Streetlamps flicker as they pass, and in those brief spurts of shadow, Maya’s shape flickers too.

She leads him down streets he didn’t know existed, past storefronts that look long-abandoned, with neon signs still glowing in the windows but not the puddles they should be reflected in. “You definitely were enchanted, by the way,” she adds. “I can still see the residue.”

“It’s been a week,” Phoenix says.

“Well, double-layered enchantments are harder to shake off and take longer to fade.” She shakes her head. “You were doomed as soon as you took that paper, without anyone to help you. You’re only human, after all.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know.” A cheap, sad ball bounced back and forth between players of a game whose rules he doesn’t understand, then as in now, a pawn dragged to the other side of the board to be crowned a knight and turned back again.

“What did you say this coven called themselves, again?” Maya asks, when they’ve been out for a little more than an hour, Phoenix soaked through to the bone, Maya having given up the illusion that weather affects her the way it does mere mortals. Her skin does not shine wet in the light. Her hair still flutters like a ribbon with the breeze of passing cars.

“Gramarye.”

“The name itself might be an invocation,” she says.

“What, like ‘Bloody Mary’ three times in the mirror and she’ll--”

Maya squints at him. “I don’t know anyone who uses that moniker,” she says, very seriously. “Is that a meme?”

Phoenix regrets teaching her about memes, for many more reasons than this, but also specifically for this. “The -- the belief is that you say her name three times and she’ll appear behind you in the mirror.” He turns to his reflection, staring back at him out of the dark window of a closed-down ramen shop. “Gramarye,” he says firmly, despite feeling a little silly, and doubting that the reflection is even necessary. “Gramarye, Gramarye.”

“That’s not a mirror,” Maya says.

“I don’t wear makeup so I’m not going to just have one in my pocket--” Something flashes in the storefront window and Phoenix glances back. Something is glowing, a small pink light, and he figures that some neon sign in the shop has sputtered back to life until it moves, flitting about like a moth thumping up against a lamp. He looks back over his shoulder. There, down at the end of the block, the light is dancing up above the street. “Maya, look,” he says, nudging her, not even sure why he’s pointing it out but compelled to. “What’s that? We should go look—”

“Nope!” She grabs his arm and yanks him back. He hadn’t realized he ha started walking, toward it, until she stopped him. “What’d we just talk about, Nick?”

“Bloody Mary? Or that I’m only human?” The light pulses, brighter and softer, but never too bright that the glare is jarring in the dark and the rain.

“Yes! That without me you walk right into enchantments!”

“An enchantment?” He looks again at the light, really looks, but nothing about its shape or color changes and he takes another step forward. The edges of his vision are blurry, like he is staring through a sheet of falling water, and he should be able to see something—

He didn’t see anything suspicious about the diary page, either. Glancing over at Maya, his stomach momentarily turns over at the sight of the pale claws on his arm. “It’s trying to lead you astray,” she says, and even when she isn’t grinning, her full shark’s mouth of several rows of teeth is made visible, and she tugs at his arm again. “Back this way.”

The light bobs back and forth, sashaying forward as Phoenix moves away from it. “A will o’ the wisp?” he asks.

Maya nods. “A distraction,” she says, very seriously. “This is all very clever, actually.” One hand still closed around his upper arm -- he blinks and wills her claws to look like stubby nails and blunt fingertips again -- she pulls him back toward the storefront. “The doorway appears where there is a need, then the wisp distracts for the witch to step forth and seem to have just appeared from nowhere.” She reaches forward, touching a finger to the glass, and it wobbles and ripples like water, opening wider and wider a circle big enough to step through. “Because you can’t just teleport like that. There always has to be a door, but it adds to the illusion if it doesn’t look like there’s one.” Stepping to the side, she waves to usher Phoenix in first. He can see a stained wooden stairs descending, before they are swallowed up entirely by darkness. “Age before beauty!”

Even in the most human of her grins, he is reminded what she is.

Beneath his feet, the steps creak at every movement, the walls closing tighter and tighter as he descends, brushing against both of his shoulders at the same time. He fumbles forward, one hand stretched out groping blindly for an exit or a wall. Maya is prodding him in the back as they go -- “C’mon, Nick, you’re so slow!”

“I can’t see,” he protests, right as he walks straight into something solid, the impact of his hand against it jarring his entire body. “Ah.”

Maya’s hand brushes past his ear to reach over and tap the wall. With a loud scraping sound, a thin crack of light slowly spreads wider and wider, shifting aside to reveal the interior of a gaudy gilded room. It isn’t the decrepit shack he expected, no rats or exposed wires or broken furniture, but it still disgusts what slight aesthetic sense he has. Everything is gold, or red, or black, a collection of clashing decorative styles, Victorian-looking couches with abstract modernist tables and shelves, and a few implements that look like something from a circus, strange boxes and colorful flags and hula hoops.

Stage magic. Phoenix snorts.

Sitting on the couch, a blue plastic bowl in her hands, a spoonful of mac-and-cheese on its way to her mouth, is Zak’s daughter. “Oh!” she says brightly, through a mouthful of noodles. “Hi, Mr Lawyer! If I had known it was you I wouldn’t have let Mr Hat lead you away.”

Mr Hat? Phoenix mouths it at Maya, even though reasonably there is no way she will know what that means. She shrugs. “Hi Trucy,” he says, looking around for a place to sit and deciding he doesn’t trust anything in this place. “Your daddy hasn’t come back, has he?”

Her face falls. “No,” she says. “He hasn’t. But he told me I could trust you, Mr Lawyer!”

Why, Phoenix so desperately wants to ask, but he is trying to keep that trust and that question will not do him any good. “I did some digging to find out if you have any other family,” he says, trying to keep eye contact with her while also watching where he puts his feet. “And it didn’t seem like it, so I wondered if you wanted to stay with me for a little while -- until your daddy comes back.”

She nearly overturns her bowl trying to set it down. “So if I stay with you,” she says, “does that mean we’ll be family?”

“I, uh… I guess so?”

Maya is laughing quietly as she circles the room, plucking up the decorations on the mantles and setting them back down. “Who is she?” Trucy asks. “Will she be my new mommy?”

“Er -- no. No, no.”

Trucy’s face falls. “Oh,” she says. “Since my mommy disappeared years ago, I thought I might get a new one now too.”

“No,” Phoenix says, “she’s just -- a friend.” Sort of. As much as human and fae can ever be friends, without the tangle of deals and magic and curses that always litter those relationships. He’s heard of romantic couplings of fae and human -- ones genuinely built on love, he means -- but that was not his experience and he has no intention of repeating anything close to that situation.

“I’m Maya,” she says. “Nick and I have known each other for a few years now. You can trust him.” She grins. Trucy hasn’t recoiled from horror from her; it doesn’t appear that she has the Sight, and another quick glance over her confirms that. Phoenix hadn’t paid attention to that last time, distracted as he was by everything else that was going on, with her, and in general. Now he can see that her eyes don’t change, but marked around them is a teal glow, in the shape of a diamond, over each of her eyes like a variation on a domino mask. He can’t quite tell what it means; curses are always easier to read, a red slash across the throat only really meaning one thing.

In the meantime, until he can ask Maya out-of-earshot, he decides he should stop staring and instead deal directly with the situation he has invited upon himself. “Oh, Trucy? You don’t have to call me ‘Mr Wright’ or ‘Mr Lawyer’ or anything. You can just call me Nick if you want.” He scratches his head, as the depth of this is beginning to weigh on him. “Or even ‘Daddy’ someday, but not now if you don’t want to--”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Oh. Okay.

“I have to get my stuff, if I’m going to be living with you,” Trucy says. “I’ll be right back!”

She springs to her feet and runs off into the next room. Phoenix moves to follow her, not sure if this place won’t swallow them both up, never to be spat back out into the world. “It’s truth, if you’re wondering,” Maya says, opening an ancient-looking wooden cupboard and rifling around in it. “The blessing on her,” she adds, emerging with a pack of microwave mac-and-cheese that for some reason was stashed there, and tearing open the pack of cheese powder and shaking it into her mouth. “It probably doesn’t look quite the same as Pearly gave you, but I wouldn’t recommend lying to her.”

“I see,” he says.

“No, you didn’t See. You were wondering.” She grins again, and she swallows the package of pasta, plastic and all. Once she told him that she can unhinge her jaw like a snake to swallow anything as big as her head; he wishes that she could lie. He wishes that her sense of humor could extend beyond literalism into exaggerated falseholds.

He steps into the hall that Trucy disappeared down, just far enough to see her running from room to room, with the clattering of objects upended and tossed aside. “Do you need help carrying things?” he calls.

Trucy sticks her head back into the hall, beaming. “Nope!” she says proudly. “I have this!” She waves at him a huge pair of frilly pink bloomers, and part of him -- most of him -- does not want to ask, but he also does not want to trek back into this hideout when he finds out she didn’t bring any of her clothes. “My magic panties are better than any suitcase!”

“Can you… elaborate?”

She reaches in through the top of the bloomers and pulls forth a pink cape. “Oh,” he says, but she drops the cape in a heap on the floor and reaches again to bring out a t-shirt. “Okay, I see. Thank you.”

Maya has wandered into the kitchen area and is continuing to devour everything she can find in the cabinets. Phoenix decides against asking her to leave him some of it to bring home for him and Trucy now. “This really isn’t a liminal space, is it?” Phoenix asks. He would be able to see if it were, the way magic hangs in the very air in his office, the way Mia herself and the last traces of her life linger.

Maya shakes her head and sinks her teeth into three donuts stacked together like a hamburger. “Hidden by magic, but no closer to the Twilight Realm than anywhere else. She’d have at least a bit of the Sight if it were.” She leans up against the wall, watching Phoenix with eyes that glamour doesn’t quite have a hold over, flickering as they do to red. “But even then, she might still be too young to know to be afraid.”

[jhathaway71]

Robert’s Revenge Spoilers???

I'm a basket of conflicting emotions about Robert & the entire taking down the Whites & revenge against SuccuBex scenario being discussed based on the spoiler articles released this week...

Link below for reference!

Excited The only reason this excites me is that it might help usher the entire White clan from the screen and out of the Emmerdale Universe. That includes the removal of Rebecca White and "Spawn of Satan" (She weren't half wrong there when she referred to the bundle of something growing inside of her...she has been a cunning, manipulative, and show destroying She-Devil). Disclaimer: I continue to doubt Iain's absolutely tragic, victimized by Robert princess will be leaving anytime soon.

Perplexed & Confused Since we have now had the split of Robert & Aaron wanted so desperately by Mr. Iain MacLeod, we are giving the opportunity to continue with both lads stories from their individual perspective.

We know Aaron will be embarking on a "boxing" thing with Uncle Zac which will lead to some happier & lighter times for him. I'm all for Aaron having happiness and receiving help with his mental health concerns, but is this new interest from his family to replace his professional counselling. We've seen 1 session and then a reference made to another (25-May). Both of those were very positive developments in Aaron's character and showed growth. Is the baby being thrown out with the bath water? (Sorry, bad reference & joke!) Is Aaron’s family replacing his therarpy?

For Robert, his upcoming story will have him pining for the love of his life, Aaron for what looks about one or two episodes before he gives up moving out of the Mill. And to pour salt in the wound not just with Aaron but the fandom, we will see Robert working along side Rebecca. It makes absolute perfect sense for a man to want to help the woman carrying the child that has devastated the love of his life to begin self-harming and then used as the reason to end their relationship.* We are given a treat in the soap mags about Robert being "surprised" about the e-mail and questions about his motivation....yawn! The devious, manipulative and self-serving Robert Sugden and has been since birth is making a return to our screens. And it will be the same as every other plot he has crafted against the Whites and fail miserably. The entire ploy feels like some big setup by ITV, Emmerdale, and Iain MacLeod attempting to smooth the ruffled feathers of the fans for being misled, manipulated, deceived, and outright lied to about the direction the Robron story will take thus satisfying their worries and to keep those same  Robron fans interested with a Robert exacts revenge against his baby mamma for the sake of his relationship plot. WTF????? 

Is this another step in how Rebecca will be redeemed in the audiences eyes? Can anyone say DELUDED? I'll just say NOT HAPPENING! Cut your loses on that Iain...I don't think anyone is really interested other than you.

And why would Robert want to revert to the person he was before he somewhat “changed” for Aaron? Surely, if Aaron was not impressed by that before, it won’t win Robert any favors in his attempts to win Aaron back. Or, is their relationship story is being abandoned in favor of their individual stories until it’s necessary to give the supporters of the couple a reason to root for them again (another awards season? failing ratings?).

Disappointed & Disillusioned I think it is well documented by me how I feel about Iain MacLeod and his leadership of Emmerdale. Again, stating for the record I DO NOT HATE HIM. I am disappointed that he has taken a couple that I so enjoyed to watch (angst and all), and reduced them to ruble. I'm disillusioned with the prospect that this storyline and the couple are salvageable given the current "context" for the status of their relationship. Yes, it is a soap and they were not perfect by any means. But let's not forget he has often led us down the garden path with his platitudes about "end game" and support that he sees them together in 2, 3, or 5 years down the line.

Every producer and showrunner wants to put their mark on the show they oversee and that should be encouraged. While writing this line, I am reminded of a very important quote (partial) from a novel loved by millions. Being the sarcastic little shit I am, I'm including it below with a few words replaced here and there....

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts showrunner and producer of Emmerdale have brought something new to the weighty task of governing  this historic school producing the award winning show Emmerdale; and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions successes often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits characters and their traits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

If only Iain MacLeod had a copy of Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix and heeded Dolores Umbridge's words. While she had been incorrect in her assessment of Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore, it is with sadness that I am beginning to admit the damage Iain MacLeod has done not just to Robron but Emmerdale as a whole will forever shadow his tenure of this award winning show.

I’m not singling out Duncan by any means as his article was written well before Iain’s first episode of Emmerdale aired, but from my opinion of what we’ve seen of the show since he has taken over, “#9 He’s not about making his mark – he is about building on success” is a complete 180 from what we have actually witnessed.

Read more:

http://metro.co.uk/2016/02/07/9-solid-reasons-why-emmerdale-fans-have-no-reason-to-worry-about-the-new-producer-5667234/#ixzz4nqrS43Rz

http://metro.co.uk/2017/07/25/emmerdale-spoilers-robert-sugden-rescues-rebecca-white-but-is-he-plotting-revenge-on-her-6788127/

*Robert agreeing to support Rebecca had made perfect sense to me from several different angles:

Supporting the incubator so as to not cause stress on the fetus.

Teaching the incubator about business so she can become self-sufficient while raising their devil’s spawn.

Prove to Aaron he would do what’s necessary for his child while maintaining a professional distance from said incubator.

Long winded rant over, unless I decide to modify and add to this convoluted mess...although in my defense, this story is convoluted in itself.