#so yeah of course 'half-breed' hater umbridge really doesn't approve of that :I

[carewyncromwell]

“Tell me, what has become of my rights? Am I invisible ‘cause you ignore me? Your proclamation promised me free liberty, now... I’m tired of bein’ the victim of shame -- They’re throwin’ me in a class with a bad name! I can’t believe this is the land from which I came! You know I really do hate to say it... The government don't wanna see, But if Roosevelt was livin’, he wouldn’t let this be, no, no!”

~“They Don’t Really Care About Us” by Michael Jackson

x~x~x~x

The day before Valentine’s Day 1996, Mia Flume finally came to grips with the horrible thought that Cornelius Fudge -- Minister for Magic and leader of the British Wizarding World -- was actively trying to cover up the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, all for the sake of his own personal ambitions. As the year wore on, Mia became more and more convinced that it was true...and to make matters worse, Fudge’s chosen representative, Dolores Umbridge, was making life hell for the students of Hogwarts.

Mia first heard about Dumbledore having to flee the school for supposedly organizing an illegal student “army” to rise up against the Ministry from Madame Rosmerta. It honestly sounded like the most outlandish thing in the world -- something that she couldn’t believe anyone sane would believe. Yet Fudge sure seemed to believe it -- and so Dumbledore was now on the run, a wanted man, and Dolores Umbridge had been named Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And one of the things she did first was punish the students who had supposedly joined “Dumbledore’s Army” -- one of whom, Mia was horrified to hear from her older sister Tia, was her fourteen-year-old nephew, Olin!

Both Tia and Mia sent Olin several letters questioning the validity of what they’d heard, but to their dismay, they received no letters in response. Instead Umbridge went to paid a visit to Tia and Dirk herself, where she asked them many pointed questions and even made some vaguely threatening comments.

“Your son is very bright, Ms. Cresswell,” Umbridge said in honeyed tones. “It’s not unlikely to presume he wishes to join the Ministry like his father someday, yes?”

Tia tried to keep her head high, but Umbridge’s overly sweet attitude was making her uneasy for a reason she couldn’t quite explain.

“...He hasn’t quite decided yet,” she confessed. “He’s always wanted to play Quidditch professionally, before...but recently, he’s expressed some interest in working in the Being division as an advocate...”

Something oddly cold flickered through Umbridge’s eyes. Knowing immediately that his wife had said the wrong thing, Dirk quickly brought a hand onto Tia’s and gave it a supportive squeeze.

“We shall support our son in anything he chooses to do with his life,” Dirk said very firmly, his eyes narrowing.

“Not aligning himself with traitors, I hope, Cresswell,” Umbridge said, her sweet tone twinged with something much more poisonous. “It would be a shame to see a man like you lose the Minister’s good graces, the way your son has his new Headmistress’s.”

Umbridge then put on a much more fake smile.

“...Fortunately your son has been diligently working to re-earn my favor in his detentions with me. I’m certain he’ll completely overcome this rebellious phase...especially with your guiding influence, as his parents.”

“We might guide Olin more easily if we knew our letters were getting through to him,” Dirk said, a bit of temper squeaking out of him despite himself.

Tia squeezed her husband’s hand, her face much more anxious upon Umbridge. “We haven’t heard from Olin in over a week now...please, Headmistress, I just want to hear from my son...”

“Of course, Ms. Cresswell -- of course you do,” said Umbridge. She gave Tia an insincere pat to the shoulder. “That’s something any mother should want. But sadly, children are very selfish creatures -- prone to keep things to themselves...especially any misbehavior. Sometimes they just go quiet, rather than admit they’ve done wrong...”

Dirk opened his mouth to speak, but Umbridge silenced him with a look.

“Not to worry,” she said with another sugary sweet smile. “When your boy is ready to speak to you, I promise you, I’ll make absolutely sure that his letters reach you.”

When Umbridge left, Tia actually burst into tears. Dirk ended up contacting Mia and Callie himself via Floo Powder, and when they met up at the Cresswell home, he was clearly beside himself.

“Olin would not just go quiet like this,” he said fiercely. “He would never worry his mother this way...”

“Worry us this way,” Mia interjected in agreement. “Olin always writes back to me, when I write to him, and always on the same day. This is not normal.”

Dirk slid his pipe into his mouth, giving it an anxious puff.

“His mail must be getting intercepted before it can reach us,” he muttered, “but if so...Merlin, what state must he be in now? Hogwarts was always safe, with Dumbledore in charge...”

He whirled on his youngest sister-in-law. “Callie, you have contacts at the radio station -- surely one of them knows what the deal is behind this ‘Dumbledore’s Army?’”

Callie looked unusually gloomy as she bowed her head. “Not really. No one who was in Dumbledore’s office that day has been very open about it...and everyone else...well, they’re just following the party line Fudge has been circulating. The whole Ministry’s really clammed up, lately.”

"Because of that interview you did with the Junior Undersecretary?” asked Mia.

Callie crossed her arms moodily.

“The boss even brought me into his office yesterday to scold me,” she grumbled. “Said I was too ‘hard-ball’ with Weasley, when I asked him about that rumor that Umbridge made Potter write with a cursed quill, during one of his detentions with her...”

The idea that Olin might’ve likewise been put through that in his detentions with Umbridge made Tia cover her face again, trying to hold in a fresh round of tears. Dirk’s jaw clenched as he brought an arm around his wife and squeezed her against his side.

“The broadcast was cut short, but trust me -- Weasley looked like he’d seen a ghost,” Callie said resentfully. “I don’t know whether it’s because he didn’t know about it at all or he just didn’t know I’d know about it...but either way, he didn’t even try to deny it or defend Umbridge’s character. I frankly don’t think he can.”

“How could he?” said Mia. “From the sound of it, not even the Ministry was aware Umbridge had quills like that. Where did you even hear that rumor in the first place?”

“A new informant of mine,” said Callie lightly.

When Mia raised her eyebrows, all traces of humor from Callie’s face faded immediately, and she crossed her arms.

“Ah, ah, don’t you dare ask!” she scolded her older sister in a tone rather akin to a huffy teenager. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Mia recurred, her features creased with suspicion.

“Of course,” Callie said defensively. “I mean...he’s got contacts at both the Ministry and Hogwarts. The staffs of which I’m quite sure have no idea he’s been sending me messages.”

“True,” said Dirk. “Any Ministry employee could face severe consequences for being so open with the press...the professors too, now that Umbridge is in charge...”

Mia had to admit Dirk was right. She nodded in agreement.

“Well, if your new informant can tell us what really happened, Callie,” said Dirk, as he squeezed Tia gently against his side, “we would both be very grateful.”

Tia sniffled miserably.

“My son wouldn’t cause trouble for no reason,” she whimpered. “He’s a good boy...”

~*~

In May, at long, long last, Mia finally received a letter from Olin. The minute she received it, she ripped the envelope open so roughly, she almost tore the letter inside too. The letter didn’t hold any of the explanation she’d wanted -- instead, it seemed almost painfully restrained, talking only about the upcoming Quidditch Cup Final between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. When Umbridge was brought up, it was written in such flowery, over-the-top language that Olin’s sarcasm seemed to be bleeding through the page.

Don’t know if you heard, but we have a new Headmistress! Dolores Umbridge, you know -- the High Inquisitor I told you about? She really is marvelous -- a perfectly upstanding woman. I’d gush more, but...well, she’s just such a kind and sweet lady, I don’t think my testimony could do her justice!

Dirk was right, Mia thought. His other letters must’ve been intercepted before they could reach us. That’s why he’s saying all this now -- he must know Umbridge is reading any letters he tries to send, and she won’t let them reach us unless he says what she wants him to say...

The thought of a fourteen-year-old boy having to lie blatantly in his letters just to have any chance of getting through to his family was absolutely horrid to think about. Even worse was the thought that the person now censoring her nephew and preventing him from writing to her and his mother had been selected by the Minister of Magic himself, supposedly address the “falling standards” at Hogwarts promoted by Albus Dumbledore...

With a heavy heart, Mia put Olin’s letter away in her robes and set about trying to busy herself with the work of the day.

And of course, right in the midst of this -- right when Mia was feeling so miserable and worried about her nephew and trying hard to distract herself with some medicinal normalcy -- this just had to be when Jacob Cromwell had the audacity to show his rotten face in Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop for the first time in five years.

When he’d first come in around mid-day, Mia had had her back turned, arranging inventory on the shelf in the far corner of the shop. Her mother Jenie was busy ringing up customers at the desk while her father Ambrosius pecked away in the kitchen, so Mia had rolled over a whole cart full of brightly colored boxes across the shop, which she was now levitating onto the shelf.

It was while doing this that she suddenly realized dozens of boxes were flying up onto the shelves around her, rather than just the ones she’d actively levitated.

“What -- ?”

When she turned around, she found herself immediately face-to-face with a man exactly her height, who had not one but two wands -- one made of white aspen and the other of black ebony -- raised, enchanting the rest of Mia’s stock to arrange themselves neatly on the shelf. His dark curls cascaded down his back and shoulders like a waterfall and his blue eyes were so darkened and sunken-in, they resembled a skull’s, especially when juxtaposed on such a pale face.

When Jacob Cromwell looked down at her, he offered a sheepish smile.

“Sorry -- I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were working,” he said.

Jacob wordlessly enchanted the last few boxes he’d lifted up onto the shelves to dance around each other so they were in the proper order.

Mia immediately flicked her wand around, catching the one box that she’d still been levitating in her non-wand hand so she could turn her wand’s focus onto Jacob. Before she could cast any spell, though, Jacob brought both of his wands up, crossing them in an “x” shape around Mia’s so as to force her to lower it.

“Easy!” he said quickly. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“That’d be a first,” spat Mia. “What do you want, Cromwell?”

“To talk to you, actually,” said Jacob.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Now get lost -- ”

Mia yanked her wand arm back and turned her back on Jacob. He seemed to have predicted this move, though, for within seconds, he’d stepped in front of her.

“Wait -- I’ve been talking to your sister,” Jacob said seriously. “Your younger sister, Callie.”

Mia’s dark eyes flashed. Callie? Mia knew full well that her sister was one of those who’d taken a stupid liking to Jacob, so she’d interviewed Jacob rather often, but had she actually told Jacob to seek Mia out? When she knew how Mia loathed Jacob Cromwell and would for the rest of his sodding life? The chocolatier felt the strong urge to throw her shoe at something.

“I gather you don’t like me, for whatever reason, but please, just hear me out,” said Jacob. “For Callie’s sake, if not mine.”

Mia glared at Jacob. Glancing around, she took note of several customers who’d started to eavesdrop -- upon being noticed, they all immediately looked away.

“What do you want?” Mia repeated lowly, as she put down the box of Peppermint Toads still in her hand down roughly on the shelf.

Jacob likewise glanced around the shop, taking stock of the people around them. He seemed to be thinking hard, for it took him a moment to conjure up a response.

“...Callie’s told me that you’ve...been looking for new things to read, lately.”

Mia’s face scrunched up with confusion. “What?”

Jacob kept his blue eyes dreamily aloft, dancing over the highest shelves, as he slipped his hands idly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Newspapers are lovely and all, of course...but their content just gets kind of stale, after a while. Same boring, feel-good stories, over and over again. Sometimes it’s good to read other kinds of fiction, just for a change of pace...”

He shot another furtive glance around before glancing at Mia out the side of his eye.

“...Even the Quibbler gets a bit old, after a while.”

Harry Potter’s interview flitted through Mia’s mind, and it made her stiffen.

“You read the Quibbler?” she asked.

“Not all the time -- just when they’ve written something interesting,” said Jacob with a grin. “Like that article about Stubby Boardman and Sirius Black? Those photos! Almost had me believing their wacko theory, for a second...”

Thoroughly unamused, Mia tried to move past him. “I don’t have time for this -- ”

But Jacob once again seemed to have predicted her movement before she made it and cut her off.

“Mia -- may I call you Mia?”

“It’s either Hermia or Miss Flume to you,” Mia spat. She did not want to be on nickname terms with Jacob Cromwell.

“Hermia,” Jacob took this in stride, his voice going down a full decibel, “if you want me to get to the point...I know what you’ve been worrying about. What a lot more people have started worrying about, lately....”

Jacob glanced around the shop again, which prompted Mia to do the same. Once again, she could sense many of the shoppers there looking away quickly, so as to pretend they hadn’t been trying to listen in.

Oh great, Mia thought irritably, they’re probably looking at this whole exchange and thinking it’s some sort of lover’s spat.

The thought -- and Jacob’s seemingly obliviousness to how their physical proximity made them look -- made Mia glare at Jacob and take a marked step back as she started busying herself with arranging inventory on the closest shelf.

“And I suppose you’ve been worrying just as much yourself?” she growled disbelievingly under her breath.

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Jacob asked, his mouth turned down in a confused frown.

“You forget, I remember your arrogant arse at school,” Mia said vindictively. “You’ve never worried about a damn thing in your life, Jacob Cromwell.”

Despite the lingering bewilderment in his expression, Jacob’s brows came together over his eyes in intense seriousness as he stepped closer to her again. 

“Look, Hermia,” he murmured so quietly only she could hear him, “I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you so much...but this thing is a lot bigger than us, than all of us. However much you might not like me, there’s a War coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Real soon. And with how close you are to Hogwarts, I reckon you deserve to have some better reading than the stuff you’ve currently got.”

Very abruptly Jacob had pushed a pretty blue leather-bound book into Mia’s hands. She looked down at it, startled.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“I would hope you’d have seen this on stage, given your name,” he said with a slight wry smile. “But even if you’ve only read it...I think spending an evening reading the annotated version might prove very enlightening.”

With this cryptic remark, Jacob turned on his heel and swept off toward the door. Mia looked up from the cover, mouthing angrily before finally being able to conjure up a response.

“Wha -- what in the world is that supposed to mean?! Cromwell! Get back here!”

But by the time she’d pulled herself together enough to chase after him, Jacob had already disappeared from Hogsmeade with a CRACK.

~*~

Mia was left stewing in her juices for the rest of the day. There were points she didn’t even want to look at the book Jacob had so unceremoniously gifted her -- after all, she already had her own worn copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as well as all of Shakespeare’s other plays. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny that however annoying Jacob had been -- as annoying as he always was to her, quite frankly -- his word choice seemed way too pointed to not mean something.

“ -- you deserve to have some better reading -- ”

“ -- reading the annotated version might prove very enlightening -- ”

And so, later that afternoon on her lunch break, Mia opened the book and idly flip through the pages. Nothing seemed particularly special about the book, though -- it was the same text she’d read countless times when she was little, trying to entertain herself without leaving Honeydukes or her father. She used the Revealing Charm on the pages to see if any hidden text would appear, to no avail. There weren’t even any notations or markings of any sort on the pages that could hint to some sort of code.

You would think that a guy who runs around cursebreaking all willy-nilly would know the benefit of a proper code, Mia thought scornfully.

With a scoff, the chocolatier shut the book with a loud snap, leaving it behind on the counter in the kitchen as she returned to work.

~*~

Within a few days, Mia had completely forgotten about Jacob’s “gift.” It wasn’t hard to lose track of it, given the state of things both in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts. As OWL season began up at the school, Honeydukes and the other shops became busier, and Mia heard even more more bad news. It seemed that Umbridge had ordered several Aurors to help her forcibly evict Rubeus Hagrid from the grounds, only for them to fire several Stunning spells right into Minerva McGonagall’s chest when the Deputy Headmistress tried to intervene, sending her to St. Mungo’s and sending Hagrid running off into the forest. However much Mia hadn’t spoken much to Hagrid at school, considering how fond Hagrid was of Jacob Cromwell, she’d still always found him sweet in his own weird way, and Minerva McGonagall -- how anyone could dream to attack her, Mia couldn’t even fathom.

The worst news of all, though, was the one Mia received through an owl from Callie in the wee hours of the morning of June 19, 1996.

The eagle owl had woke Mia up out of a sound sleep with the amount of noise he made tapping against her closed window. No matter how tired and irritable the chocolatier was at being awoken so abruptly, however, her mind bolted awake with alarm when she took in the first few words.

Mia,

The Evening Prophet has just confirmed our worst fears.

You-Know-Who is back.

Mia felt like her heart had stopped.

No. No, no, no --

Her mind racing at a million miles a minute, she tore through the rest of the letter.

He and his Death Eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries last night, supposedly getting all the way to the room that holds a series of prophecies. Nobody knows exactly what he was doing down there or what he was looking for, but the report says that Potter and Dumbledore and a couple of others were there to stop him. One of those people -- which confirms Harry Potter’s testimony about Peter Pettigrew somehow surviving! -- was Sirius Black, who died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange while fighting the Death Eaters. You-Know-Who and his people fled after the Minister and his support staff arrived.

I’m sorry if this is hard to read -- I’m having a lot of trouble not shaking. Oh, Mia, Mia, what are we going to do...?

Please stay safe. Please, take care of Dad and Mum.

Your Loving Sister,

Callie

Mia felt like her throat had clenched up, making her unable to breathe. She collapsed back into the chair in front of her desk, Callie’s letter fluttering down onto the floor.

So it was true. All along, the terrible feeling she’d had, the outcome she’d feared, but had so desperately, desperately didn’t want to be true...

The Dark Lord was back -- really back. The terrifying Dark Wizard that had been a bogeyman for Mia and her sisters, while they were at school -- the man who terrified the Wizarding World, while the Flumes huddled together in the safety of the shadow of Hogwarts...was back, and back at full strength. His army had been restored, thanks in large part to the Azkaban breakout and the dementors turning against their guards...and if the reports of giant activity could be believed, that army was soon going to be a much bigger one.

And worst of all...the Ministry of Magic had lied to them. They’d lied! They knew the danger, they knew how bad things were getting for both wizards and Muggles, and they’d lied! They’d sent representatives to Hogwarts, not to improve its failings or promote higher education, but to persecute anyone who didn’t crow the party line, all in an effort to cover up the fact that everything coming out of their mouths was a LIE!

Mia felt herself shaking with both terror and righteous fury as she cupped her hands over her face.

“...There’s a War coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Real soon.”

The memory of Jacob Cromwell’s words were like cold poison in her blood. Tears spilled loose from Mia’s eyes as she gave a mad kick to the back of her desk, unable to hold in the violent emotions beating at the inside of her heart.

Mia had always been the sort to have faith in authority. Even despite all of the failings of the Hogwarts staff while she was at school, she at least always had faith that they cared about their students. But now...now she was forced to accept that the only thing the Minister had truly cared about was himself. And that was a truly bitter pill to swallow.

For the next hour, all Mia could do was sob at her desk. It wasn’t until she heard a CRACK outside of someone Apparating in the street that Mia shot out of her daze.

Her entire frame stiffening with irrational fear, Mia catapulted over to the window. When she looked out, though, she didn’t see a Death Eater standing in front of Honeydukes...but Florean.

For you see, Florean Fortescue had just received word about the Dark Lord’s return as well, and in an impulsive decision decided he had to make sure Mia was all right. It was only when he arrived that he realized just how early it was and therefore just how insensitive it would be to wake the whole house up, just to ensure Mia’s well-being. As fate would have it, though, Mia had been awake and seen his arrival -- and so within a minute, she’d come running downstairs in her oversized T-shirt, pajama pants, and slippers, right out into the street, to try to prevent him from leaving.

“Florean!”

Florean turned, startled. At the sight of Mia’s tear-stained, emotional face, though, he instantly melted. He swept right over to her, throwing his arms out and pulling her into his arms.

“Mia,” he breathed against the top of her head.

Mia clutched at the back of his shirt. “Florean...”

His arms should’ve been warm -- they’d always been so warm -- and yet now, in this moment, all she could feel was a numbing, paralyzing cold.

A War...what could she or her family hope to do, in the face of a War? Sure, Mia herself had been in the Dueling Club, but going up against Dark wizards? She’d never have thought she’d ever have to do that in a million years! And her sister and mother didn’t even have that distinction. And with her father’s condition...if Ambrosius turned into a dog, he’d be helpless against the likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...

Mia hadn’t even realized how much she’d been shaking until Florean had fully descended upon her, securing her head in the crook of his neck and cradling her against his chest with his much taller frame like a blanket.

“Mia,” he whispered.

It was just her name, nothing more -- and yet the sound of it on his lips said so much. She could hear him wanting to comfort her, to reassure her, while also feeling as though he didn’t fully know how. She could hear his anxiety about the world: the heartbreak, seeing their whole peaceful world come crumbling down around their ears. She could hear his fears -- his fear for his grandfather, his shop, for her...the longing he felt, wishing that they’d be able to face this together as husband and wife, rather than just as associates and friends.

And what he said next, in such a soft, yet firm whisper, only seemed to make these feelings bloom into a blossom of understated, yet blazing courage.

“It’ll be okay.”

Mia choked. Fresh tears spilled out of her eyes as she clung to him more tightly than ever. Florean rocked her back and forth like a child, murmuring beside her hair.

“It w-will, Mia. I promise. He fell once before -- he will fall again. I p-promise you. ...I promise...”

Florean was never so articulate in words as he was on the page, but his sincerity rippled through every word all the same. And in that moment, all Mia could do was wrap herself up in his modest, understated courage, desperately longing to have the same kind of faith that he did.