A fanfiction.

2006-12-26T07:53:05Z

"I reject your reality and substitute my own."
Yes, I think that sums this up nicely.
This is an AU (Alternate Universe) fanfiction.
The sixth year did not happen.
This is my version of what happens after the Order of the Phoenix (book five, no duh).

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter One: AN INTERESTING TURN OF EVENTS

The day, thus far, had been nothing out of the ordinary for Rachel Shacklebolt, Ministry employee. A worker in the Records and Registrations Department, her days were usually quite busy. Every time the Aurors went out she sighed and knew that she would be in for a long day. She was the one who had the unfortunate task of drawing up death certificates, after all. A depressing occupation, to be sure, but she was fascinated by the kinds of people who came in to have different changes registered. New addresses, the purchases of Muggle appliances, the letters from Ollivander’s Wands to register the wands he had sold that day... yes, Miss Shacklebolt did indeed see all manner of things that needed to be registered with the local government.

She smiled politely at the man she had just finished helping; he had been registering the purchase of his Muggle gun, something that was becoming more and more common as the wizards looked for ways to protect themselves against the attacks happening more and more frequently.

“Have a nice day, sir,” she said, and he nodded at her and walked off quickly, as if he had someplace more important to be than at the Ministry. She supposed that many people did. “Next!”

The next to step up was a woman, tall and thin. Her pale complexion and white-blonde hair made it obvious who she was. Miss Shacklebolt asked for her name anyway.

“Your name, miss, as it is registered, please,” she said, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. It was odd, she thought, how one could go through the entire day without thinking of their appearance once, but then a beautiful aristocrat shows up and you suddenly become as paranoid as a teenage girl.

“Narcissa Black-Malfoy,” the woman said, and Miss Shacklebolt wrote it down on the form.

“What change are you notifying us of today?” she asked, wondering if it was the death of her husband, the infamous Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eaters in Azkaban were dropping like flies, after all. Dying whilst attempting to escape or committing suicide. It was a shame to see all of the grieving spouses, parents and children come in, telling her that the notification letter that had been mailed to them must have been a mistake.

When the other woman failed to answer, Miss Shacklebolt said, “Financial, familial or personal?”

“Familial,” she answered, voice barely more than a whisper. Miss Shacklebolt wondered if Lucius Malfoy really had died. No, it would have been in the newspapers if he had, she decided.

“A marriage, death, birth or disownment?” she asked. Disownment was becoming more and more rare as time progressed, though there were still a few cases. Miss Shacklebolt personally had no idea why it was still among the choices on the form.

“Disownment,” she said, sounding as if she might cry. Oh. For people like her, I suppose, Miss Shacklebolt thought, and checked the box marked DISOWNMENT.

“Family member’s name as transcribed at birth?” Miss Shacklebolt asked, struggling to remember the protocol for recording a disownment. She had never filled out the paperwork for one before.

“Draconis Augustus Malfoy,” she said, and Miss Shacklebolt felt a stab of surprise. The only child of the Malfoy line was being disowned? The only heir? Something major must have occurred for the Malfoys to be cutting him off.

“What name will he be taking?” Miss Shacklebolt asked.

“Draconis Augustus Black,” the Malfoy answered. The Ministry worker felt a stab of relief. If she was willing to give her son her name, then he wouldn’t be completely without resources. As far as she knew, there was no heir to the Black family, either, and they were only slightly less wealthy than the Malfoy family. But of course Narcissa already knew that, as she originally came from that family.

“His date of birth?” she asked.

“January 21, 1990” the blonde answered. Miss Shacklebolt sighed. How very sad; the boy wasn’t even seventeen!

“That would make him only sixteen,” she said, “meaning that, legally, he still needs a guardian. Who would that be?”

“I don’t know,” she answered wearily, and the other nodded sympathetically.

“Would you like to list it as Ministry-appointed?” Miss Shacklebolt asked. Mrs Malfoy nodded. “The Ministry will send a representative to collect him tomorrow morning. Are you connected to the Floo system in your home?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then. What name should be said in order to get to your home?” Miss Shacklebolt already knew, as did almost everyone else in the world. The Malfoys lived in Malfoy Manor.

Predictably, that was the answer given by Mrs Malfoy. “The Ministry representative will be there to collect your son at exactly nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” she answered. “Just two more things left. Reason for disownment?”

“Private,” she said automatically, and Miss Shacklebolt distinctly heard the wobble in her voice. The woman was going to start crying, and she just hoped it wouldn’t happen until she was done. That would be more than a little bit awkward.

“Alright. I just need your signature now,” Miss Shacklebolt said, and turned the paper towards the blonde woman. She signed quickly. “And we’re done. Have a nice day, ma’am.”

The Malfoy woman left the office hurriedly—it could not be described as running because a Malfoy would never do something so undignified—and Miss Shacklebolt felt a surge of pity.

“Purebloods,” she sighed. “Still stuck in their ways...”

The incident was forgotten for the moment as she moved on to the next visitor, filed away for later inspection.

That night, Miss Shacklebolt found herself in Albus Dumbledore’s office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The rest of the school had been eerily quiet, as it was summer and there were no students. In the office, however, the murmuring of the portraits could be heard in the background, accompanied by the soft twittering of Dumbledore’s phoenix.

“Lemon drop?” the old wizard asked, and Miss Shacklebolt politely declined. “Well, then, Miss Shacklebolt, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“My brother, Kingsley, thought that you might want to hear about this,” she began. Dumbledore nodded. He knew Kingsley well; the man was one of the best wizards in his Order of the Phoenix.

“Go on,” he said.

“I am the head of the Records and Registrations Department at the Ministry, meaning that any financial or familial changes must be recorded through me,” she explained, and Dumbledore nodded. He himself had had to inform the Ministry when he had first gotten Fawkes, his phoenix, all those years ago, though Miss Shacklebolt had not been working at the Ministry at that time. She had probably still been in attendance at Hogwarts, in fact.

He turned his attention back to her as she continued. “Today I had a most interesting change registered. It was a disownment.”

“Very rare in this day and age,” Dumbledore said, eyebrows going up. His mind was going into overdrive. It was most likely a pureblood family...

“Extremely rare,” she agreed. “But they still happen, it seems. The Malfoy family, though, apparently saw fit to disown its only heir.”

Dumbledore was rarely surprised, but at this he was downright shocked. “On what grounds?” he asked.

“She wouldn’t say. It’s listed as private,” Miss Shacklebolt explained. Dumbledore sat back in his chair, lost in thought.

“I daresay your brother was right. This is most certainly one of the most interesting things to happen of late,” Dumbledore commented, though Miss Shacklebolt had the feeling that he was only half-aware of her presence in the room now. “What name is he listed under now?”

“Draconis Augustus Black,” she answered.

“And his guardian? Who is it?”

“Ministry-appointed.”

“When will he be picked up?” Dumbledore asked.

“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning, at Malfoy Manor,” Miss Shacklebolt answered.

“Where will he be taken?”

“To the Ministry,” she answered. “To the Social Services department.”

“And who is doing the retrieving?” Dumbledore asked, lacing his fingers together. His eyes were beginning to take on that unnerving twinkle again.

“Whoever Social Services sees fit to send as a representative of the Ministry,” Miss Shacklebolt explained, and got the feeling that it was soon going to be whoever Albus Dumbledore saw fit to send as a representative.

She was right.

Writing a short note, he folded it up and handed it to her. “If you would give this to them tomorrow morning before they go to pick up Mr... Black”—she smiled slightly at the headmaster’s stutter—“I would be quite appreciative.”

“Of course,” she answered.

“Thank you.”

As the woman left, Dumbledore turned to Fawkes and laughed as the bird let out a series of coos.

“I do believe you are right, Fawkes. This will indeed shape up to be an interesting turn of events...”

Before Miss Shacklebolt shut the door she heard him add, “I only hope it will not be for the worst.”

As do I, headmaster, she thought. As do I.

Yay!

2006-12-20T22:40:17Z

Alright, so I lied.
I'm also going to be using this as a blog.
Not just for writing.

I hate Myspace.
Myspace is AWFUL.
That's why I'm on LiveJournal.
^_^

I <3 the Marylin Manson version of "This is Halloween."
It's AMAZING.
* Squees *
Although the way he looks really just kinda freaks me out...

First Post

2006-11-29T04:16:29Z

New journal.
Hooray.
This will be (mostly) for writing ONLY.
I shall not rant.
I swear.
Stop me if I am.

Tomorrow I shall post the works I currently have in progress.

Musings

A fanfiction.

Yay!

First Post