Chapter Two
Confronting the Faceless 💀 CompleteSeptember 2, 1997
"Whatever happens to your body, your soul will survive"
The letter had arrived a week prior, giving her plenty of time to clear her schedule. Honestly she doesn't know what her roommate is so concerned about it for.
"It just feels weird Farrah, doesn't it feel weird to you?" Clara Lee frowns at her friend as Farrah sits across from her at breakfast.
Farrah Krychelle Parker laughs lightly at her friend's pinched expression. "You worry way too much Clara. It's a Ministry summons, they probably need me to offer some consultations from a past client. I've had some weirdos you know."
Clara sighs. "The fact your best-case-scenario is 'maybe I worked with a psychopath' doesn't exactly fill me with confidence Krys."
Farrah shrugs. "Well it's just the truth. One takes risks when working freelance you know." She sticks her tongue out playfully.
Clara sighs and shakes her head slightly but doesn't bring it up again. Honestly, Farrah doesn't know why her friend is being so fussy - a Ministry summons could be a really good thing! The fact the government itself recognizes her as a viable source to summon for a case involving possibly fraudulent heritage could really do wonders for her freelance genealogy business.
If anything, Clara ought to be thankful - this trial could increase her exposure, which in turn would increase her clients! And then she can pay her half of rent this month and Clara won't have to complain about it for once.
"So how is your current job going?" Her friend asks after a moment of silence. "Some lady up in Scotland, right?"
Farrah hums cheerfully. "Yep, she thinks she might be descended from Rowena Ravenclaw and therefore have right of access to her heirlooms. Probably nonsense based on my findings so far, but I've had Eloise Taylor in Records copy a few things for me that I'm going to pick up today before the trial." She pauses to actually eat some of her breakfast as Clara clears her own plate.
"Sound fun. Taylor isn't the one you were telling me about, was she? The snippy one?"
"That's her!" Farrah agrees brightly. "If you can get on her good side you can get access to basically any file you desire. Took some doing but I'm practically an unofficial Record Keeper myself at this point!"
It's true too - Farrah spends so much time down in the Ministry Records that she knows the place like the back of her hand. She's even been mistaken as an employee a few times, which she finds flattering.
"Why don't you just get a job there? Keep the side business but actually have a steady paycheck?" Clara suggests a bit cheekily, and Farrah rolls her eyes.
"I like not being a cubicle drone Clar." She declares dramatically, as she has many times before. This is an ongoing debate between them and from anyone else it would be annoying, but Farrah knows Clara does mean well. Though, admittedly, the semi-regular nagging does sometimes get irritating. "Besides, incoming future clients, remember?"
Clara just sighs and gives a resigned smile. "Sure thing. If it is a consultation you may well be right about that."
"There you go, try to not be such a Debbie Downer." Farrah grins. "Don't you have some wedding bouquets on order to work on today? You should be cheerful!"
Clara clearly can tell Farrah is changing the subject, but she does love talking about her job at the Muggle flower shop across town so she lets it happen, eagerly detailing her ideas for the custom order bouquets as Farrah finishes her breakfast and cleans up the table.
"Alright, I'm gonna do an hour of yoga and then head out. You want anything from London while I'm there?" Farrah checks about half an hour later, when Clara is getting ready to head out to her shift.
Her best friend shakes her head. "I'm good, probably going to go to Diagon in a couple days anyway to get lunch with my mum. Have fun at the trial." She pauses, and then gives a wicked grin. "And with Christian later." She adds teasingly
Farrah gives Clara a quick hug goodbye and then shoves her out the door with a laugh. She's going out to dinner that night with a very close friend who she kind of definitely has feelings for, but who wouldn't really? Christian Yu is an absolute god with that face and that body. Farrah feels herself going fuzzy just thinking about him.
She magically clears out a spot in their small living room for her daily yoga routine, half-distracted by her thoughts. She lets herself relax into the familiar poses, her mind going blissfully blank of everything but the movement (and admittedly the image of a certain man she's getting dinner with later pops up semi-regularly as well).
She puts the room back in order once she's finished and proceeds to shower and spend about an hour agonizing over her outfit and makeup. She has to make sure she looks professional but still stylish. Trials, she knows, can go on for hours, and she has a dinner to get to after it. The outfit needs to say 'all business' as well as ' goddess', not an easy combination to pull off.
She eventually has to concede to the need for a slight costume change - she's certain Christian won't mind if she's just a little bit late, if it means she's going to look fantastic. And she had told him about the court date when they had gone out for a walk a few days before so he'll understand.
She sighs happily as she pulls on the rose pink dress she'd chosen and slips a formal-ish looking jacket over her shoulders. It's black - it's close enough.
She then lays out a change of clothes for later - Christian is going to be absolutely blown away. Ripped black jeans that hug her hips just right, and a black crop top that shows of her best assets, her stiletto black heels - also worn for the trial - are just the cherry on top.
She folds the clothes neatly into her work bag and marches over to the Floo. "Diagon Alley." She declares confidently and strides through the fireplace.
She does find it a bit odd that she has to use the visitor's entrance now - a new Ministry policy supposedly meant to discourage unwanted infiltration but Farrah just thinks it's inconvenient - but it's only a few extra minutes walk so she can't really complain too much.
She strides into the Records department like she owns the place and gets a glare from Eloise Taylor for her trouble.
"Good morning Ms. Taylor, I'm hear to pick up the file copies I reserved." She declares brightly.
Taylor leans back in her chair, her standard indifferent scowl looking slightly different than usual but Farrah puts it to the lighting - all the windows are showing a rainstorm and really, what is maintenance thinking with that? No one gets good work done when the skies are overcast.
"I'm afraid you don't have clearance to take these files off the premises." Taylor informs her bluntly.
Farrah blinks, certain she hadn't heard correctly. She's been taking forms out for four years now, and never once was she turned down (except the very first time when she hadn't gone through the proper channels but really, Ministry procedure is so obtuse how is anyone supposed to know how it works their very first time using it?). "Taylor, it's me. Farrah Krychelle Parker, I reserved copies three days ago? The lineage trees of the Haddocks and the-"
"I know what you requested Parker, I've got the copies in my desk." Taylor interrupts. "But until your trial your access has been revoked. Nothing I can do."
Farrah frowns. "Well, the trial is in an hour, and I have somewhere to be afterwards. I don't have time to come back and pick these up."
Taylor regards her blandly. "Look Parker, I'm sorry, really I am. It's stupid to me to, but the new regulations are clear. With luck the trial will go quick and you can come back. Worst case you're a bit late to your social life, who cares?"
Farrah pouts. What would Taylor know about how important her social life is? The woman spends her days in a drearily lit filing room and probably goes home to an empty flat and does nothing in the evenings.
"I care, I'm never late." A lie, but the sentiment is there.
Taylor groans and sits up. "Look, I've got them right here, easy to grab, and I'm not leaving until around six or so today, work is piling up with the new regime so I'll probably still be here if you win your trial. Just pop down and I'll give them straight to you. And I've heard arriving fashionably late is all the rage right now."
Farrah huffs. "Fine, I suppose that's agreeable." Something about the way Taylor had worded her sentences sits funny in her mind for a moment before she shrugs it off. "I suppose I'll just go sit outside the courtroom then and wait to be called in."
Taylor frowns. "Uh, Parker? You actually read the whole summons, right? You need to go to the Muggleborn Registration Commission first. Tenth floor. To pick up your files."
Farrah frowns. "Well, I only skimmed it. I suppose it does make sense I should be familiar with the lineage I'm discussing if I'm to do well-"
"Parker. Jeez. Just..." Taylor sighs and summons a chair from one of the other desks, most of which, Farrah now realizes, are empty. "Just sit down and read the whole dang thing okay? You are really disconnected aren't you?"
Farrah bristles slightly at the insult. "Just because some of us have lives outside of our work-" She starts hotly, but Taylor waves her off and goes back to the file she'd been working on when Farrah had come in.
Farrah makes a loud, annoyed noise to get her point across, and then lowers herself into the offered chair and pulls ou the summons that has been sitting in her work bag for the better part of a week.
Ms. Farrah Parker,
This is a formal notification that your trial date has been set for September 2nd, 1997. You are requested to appear in front of the Wizengamot to answer questions pertaining to your magical lineage.
This trial is non-negotiable but may be deferred on request provided a legitimate reason is given at least five days in advance of the trial date.
Before appearing in the courtroom, you must fill out a questionnaire that will be provided by our secretaries in the Muggleborn Registration Commission on the 10th floor of the Ministry. You will be given your sealed records to be presented in the Wizengamot at your appointed trial time. Tardiness exceeding ten minutes will be seen as an attempt to run from justice and you will be branded a fugitive from the law.
Your trial is schedules for thirteen hundred.
Thank you for your cooperation,
Head Undersecretary and Top Commissioner for the Muggleborn Registration Commission,
Dolores Umbridge
Farrah frowns. "Wait... I'm under scrutiny? I thought they needed me for my work." She pouts at the paper. "Muggleborn Registration. I suppose it's good to know where we all are since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is loose again."
Taylor grimaces but doesn't comment. "You better get to the tenth floor. I've heard the questionnaire is a bit lengthy."
Farrah takes her leave of the dim basement, feeling grumpy and blaming Taylor for it. The woman's attitude is both toxic and unfortunately infectious.
The lift ride from the lowest floor to one of the highest is incredibly slow thanks to it stopping on just about every floor. She does get some amusement out of it - a soaked and rather harassed looking gentleman takes the lift up a single floor while carrying a mountain of towels.
"Raining in Yaxley's office again, eh Cattermole?" One of the other lift occupants says sympathetically.
The man - Cattermole, apparently - starts and looks at the other man nervously. "Er, yes! Indeed!" He stutters out awkwardly, and then races out of the lift as soon as the doors open.
Farrah giggles at the display, feeling a bit better. Really, Taylor ought to quit being so doom and gloom, there's plenty to smile about, even in the bland and boring halls of the Ministry.
The tenth floor is buzzing with activity, and Farrah instantly feels rejuvenated by the bustle. She bounces up to a long table of frazzled-looking secretaries and gives the first one to look less busy a bright smile.
"Hello! I'm here to respond to my summons." She says cheerfully, holding out her letter to the pretty brunette, who offers a strained smile in return.
"Thank you Ms. Parker," She checks Farrah's name as she speaks so she barely stutters over the greeting, "If you'll fill out this questionnaire and return it to me when you've finished."
Farrah doesn't take the clipped tone personally, the woman is clearly swamped with work. She hums as she goes to one of the desks lining the room, apparently intended as areas to fill out the form, and pulls a quill out of her work bag.
The questionnaire is quite long, with a lot of questions about her family tree. She can't imagine how much longer it would have taken her if not for the fact she's already familiar with her own heritage - or at least as much as she can be, considering she's adopted. Still, being a genealogist by trade she's done some digging into her own past so the form isn't too difficult to complete, just lengthy.
She bounces back over to the woman who had handed her the form once she's finished it about twenty minutes later. "I imagine this would be quite the task to fill out for most people! I'm a genealogist though, so it wasn't so hard for me." She tells the woman cheerfully. "Though I am adopted, so there is some information I've just never been able to find. I hope that's alright?" She smiles at hte brunette, who just sighs tiredly.
"It's fine, we just ask they be filled out as well as possible. Here, give these forms to the prosecutor when you're called in. Second floor." She adds, and Farrah hums in acknowledgement before heading back to the lifts. Really, why not have all these things on the same floor? It would be far more efficient that way, and Farrah would have a better chance of making her dinner on time. It's like no one in the Ministry thinks to plan for a social life.
She snorts to herself at the thought of a Ministry drone having a social life, and she concedes the point to herself. Why plan for something none of them probably has?
The ride down is less busy than the ride up, and the lift only stops once to pick up a slightly frazzled looking young man who's gripping a stack of files like his life depends on it. Despite his clear disorientation he holds the lift door for her on the second floor and she beams at him in thanks. At least the drudgery of the Ministry does inspire good manners.
There's a crowd of other witches and wizards sitting in what appears to have been turned into a makeshift waiting room, though Farrah can still tell it's meant to be a hallway. Really, how hard would it be to bring in someone with actual aesthetic sense to make the area feel more comfortable? Add a few chairs, fix the weather being shown through the window - maybe put in a nice fireplace? - and presto you have instant comfort. She can acknowledge that they did at least try with a row of cushioned seats and some pictures on the wall, but really. This sort of thing is why she could simply never work in the Ministry.
She scans the group to see if there's someone clearly in charge and eventually settles on the tall, thin man standing by the door of the courtroom and glaring at everyone waiting.
Farrah strides up to him purposefully and gives him a smile - he's probably just had a bad day, and some cheer will do him good. "Hello, are you in charge here? I have a scheduled for one o'clock today, Farrah Parker?" She keeps her smile firmly on her face despite the look of disdain she's getting from the man. He really has had a bad day, the poor thing, to still be that grumpy when he's got a full Farrah grin directed his way.
"You're nearly late." He informs her primly. "Wait here, I'll inform the Inquistor that you've arrived."
Farrah lets herself frown as he turns away - nearly late? She's at least five minutes early, which really is impressive considering how much she had to accomplish before this hearing. Still, it's no good to get angry at the man without knowing why he's in such a piss-poor mood. To make herself feel better she slips out her wand and fixes the paintings on the walls so they're properly aligned, and fluffs the cushions on the waiting chairs while she's at it. A few of the people waiting offer her wan smiles that she returns full force. Lots of bad days all around apparently - really, whoever is in charge of the window views ought to be given a good talking to on the connection between sunny skies and good moods.
"Ms. Parker, you may go in. Present your file to the prosecutor." The Ministry worker has returned, and speaks briskly. Farrah doesn't even get a chance to thank him before being pushed into the courtroom.
"Well then." She hums to herself, raising an eyebrow. "No need for being so rude."
"Ms. Parker? Your files." Farrah doesn't recognize the woman who holds out her hand, though she appears young enough that they probably went to school together. She looks as cheery as everyone else has so far. Farrah really can't wait for dinner - it will easily be a better experience than the rest of the day is turning out ot be. At least she doesn't look gloomy, just determined. A good quality in a lawyer, Farrah supposes, though she finds the whole profession to generally be unpleasant.
Farrah hands over the files and the woman waves her towards a wooden bench as she flicks open the folder and begins rapidly skimming the parchment inside.
Farrah hums idly to herself as she walks over and takes a seat on the bench as she assumes she's meant to do. She then takes the time to actually look around the courtroom. It's rather large, but there are only a few people present - there's no jury at all which strikes her as odd, but considering this is a newly implemented commission in the Ministry she assumes they must still be working out the details.
Aside from the prosecutor, the room contains a few annoyed looking wizards sitting where the Wizengamot usually is, a couple bored, brawny guards standing on either side of the two exits from the room, and seated at the center of it all, behind a raised desk, is a frog-like woman with a pug nose and pink ribbons in her hair. A silver Persian patronus is seated on the corner of the desk, grooming itself meticulously and not paying the rest of the room any mind at all.
The woman clears . "Hem hem. Now then, state your name and age for the judges." She instructs, and Farrah almost cringes away. The woman's voice is sweet to the point of being sickly, and it instantly makes her nervous. Maybe this woman is the one giving everyone a bad day - Farrah certainly wouldn't be surprised to learn that was the case.
"Farrah Krychelle Parker, twenty-two." She says, keeping her voice steady and almost challenging. This woman can throw out her worst, nothing is going to get to Farrah. Not when she's got places to be after this and much more appealing people to see. This witch won't be getting any satisfaction from ruining Farrah's day.
"Very good. And you are a Muggleborn Ms. Parker?" The woman simpers.
Farrah shrugs. "I honestly couldn't tell you. I was adopted you see, abandoned at birth." There was a time stating that would have been agony, but now it's little more than a twinge, an old wound never full closed but no longer gaping. "My birth parents may well have been wizards. My adoptive parents were Muggles though."
"Her files corroborate that statement." The prosecutor confirms. "There's nothing here on her birth lineage aside from the fact it was foreign."
"And how many foreign witches and wizards live within Britain, hmm?" The woman asks in a way that tells Farrah she'll be answering herself momentarily. "Not very many dear. And you, I'm afraid, look like none of them. Ms. Kiddell, if you would be so kind as to collect the defendant's wand?"
Farrah frowns in confusion but pulls out her wands nonetheless. Is there some secret to wand magic that connects to heritage? If so then she's missing what could be a very vital aspect of her work - she'll have to stop by a wand shop and ask an expert some questions soon.
The prosecutor - Kiddell definitely does ring a bell, though not enough to place the woman - looks reluctant as she walks over.
"Madame Umbridge, you do realize she was born outside of Britain according to her files? We can't know anything unless-" Kiddell tries to argue, even as she takes the wand.
"Tut Tut Ms. Kiddell, your job is as prosecutor, not defense." The woman says cheerfully, cutting Kiddell off mid-sentence.
That's when it hits Farrah - there isn't a defense lawyer present. Which... is definitely wrong. If there's a prosecution there must be a defense, right? She's never heard of them being separate, though admittedly she doesn't know all that much about the justice system...
Her eyes flicker to the few other people in the room and realizes that none of them are looking at her kindly, if they're looking at her at all. The Prosecutor and a couple of the Wizengamot members are resolutely avoiding having to look directly at her. Which is a red flag. Isn't it?
Farrah is starting to feel light-headed, so she takes a few careful breaths and thinks about Christian and their date. Maybe he knows something about the justice system - no, he definitely does, he knows absolutely everything the brilliant bastard - and she can ask him about prosecutors and defense, and they can laugh about this strange toad woman together.
But right now Farrah isn't laughing. She isn't even smiling anymore. She's thinking maybe Clara was right to be a bit concerned about the entire situation, and maybe the reason for everyone's bad day has to do more with this courtroom and their summons rather than the weather.
But really the weather doesn't help.
Toad Woman has said something but Farrah had missed it due to her brief internal panic. She blinks but apparently wasn't expected to give an answer, thank goodness, as the woman keeps talking.
"You stole your magic from a true witch, perhaps in anger that she had a true family, hmm?"
Farrah blinks. "What?"
She can't help the outburst - really the sentiment is ridiculous. Sure, ultimately her parents had disowned her, but that had to do with her ex-girlfriend, not magic. And before that they had been amazing - the best parents she could have asked for.
"Don't act surprised dear, you're an awful liar." The woman says, voice dripping fake sympathy. "Who can blame a poor orphaned child seeking validation and importance? But theft is theft I'm afraid, and you ruined a real witch's life due to your negligence and selfishness."
Farrah's head is spinning again, and she looks faintly towards the other people in the room. Some are smiling wickedly, Toad Woman included, while most are even more intently refusing to acknowledge her existence at all. The prosecutor in particular seems to find her shoes very interesting all of a sudden.
In her haze Farrah hadn't registered the Toad Woman getting her wand, but then she holds it up and all Farrah can think is that she doesn't want that awful woman's hands on her wand.
"What sort of wand is this? Ms. Kiddell?" She prompts the prosecutor, who finally looks up from the floor to take a look at the wand.
"Looks like Pear, Madame Umbridge." She says quietly.
"Pear, a good wood. A witches wood. Being used by a common thief." The woman leans forward with the most pasted-on fake smile Farrah has ever had the displeasure of seeing. "This wand isn't yours Ms. Parker."
"But it is!" She protests, a new fire sparking at the accusation. She's dealt with a lot in her life, but that wand has been with her for most of it and it's the one thing that never passes judgement, just seeks to make her life easier. It's her wand and no Toad Woman is going to tell her otherwise. "I got it from Ollivanders when I was eleven, you can ask him! You can ask Professor McGonagall, she went with me and my parents!"
"Ollivander has been missing for months, and Professor McGonagall is at school, we can't very well drag her all the way out here now can we?" Umbridge says, falsely sympathetic. "I'm afraid this all is very clear. Mr. Parker, you stand accused of stealing magic, and the evidence is undeniable."
What evidence? But Farrah's voice seems to have left her, and she can only gape in disbelief at the wretched woman in front of her.
The woman holds up her wand - and snaps it clean in two. Farrah feels like something inside her snaps as well, and she slumps on the bench, thoroughly in shock and barely processing anything as the woman rambles on about something or other - stealing magic, protecting the populace, all nonsense from what Farrah manages to vaguely make out over the buzzing in her ears - but when she gets to the sentencing Farrah finds herself snapped violently back into the present.
"Life in Azkaban, no parole. Selwyn, if you would Ms. Parker to the cells to await transfer-"
There's a commotion outside and later Farrah thinks she could have used it to her advantage, could have gotten away. Instead she turns and stares along with the rest as the thin grouchy man from the waiting area bursts in and starts shouting about Harry Potter and a prison break.
Later Farrah will berate herself for not moving, but in the moment Farrah's limbs are far to heavy from shock and desperation, her mind far to clouded with denial and disbelief for her to have realistically accomplished anything in the minute or so that everyone is distracted.
Then the minute is over and the wizard she later assumes must have been Selwyn has materialized beside her and charmed a pair of handcuffs around her wrists before she's even noticed he's there. He's dragging her away from the door where all the commotion is and towards a different one on the other end of the courtroom and Farrah finally slams back into awareness enough that she has control over her limbs again. It's too litte, too late though. Selwyn is a burly wizard so her struggles don't faze him in the slightest.
She's dragged down a damp corridor, and she swears it's getting colder as they move further from the courtroom, which wasn't very well heated to begin with (really maintenance is making a terrible impression). She shivers, her struggling becoming less about getting away and more about keeping at least some heat present as they walk down the hall.
Finally they stop, and she's unceremoniously shoved into a cell that's quickly locked behind her. The floor is stone, but it feels like ice, and she can actually see her breath misting around her.
"Don't get too comfortable, the next transport to Azkaban is tomorrow." Selwyn barks.
"I doubt anyone could get comfortable." Farrah mutters to herself once he's out of earshot.
"It's the end room." A voice whispers out of the gloom, and Farrah bangs an elbow against the wall when she jumps.
"Ow." She whines, rubbing at the smarting bone as she squints in the direction the voice came from. "The end room?"
"They keep a dementor in there. For..." The voice doesn't elaborate, but Farrah doesn't need it to. She shudders, and not only because of the temperature.
"Well..." She tries to think of something positive - anything positive - but where they're going there will be even more dementors, and her wand is gone and she's going to be locked up for the rest of her life and she's going to miss dinner with Christian.
That realization finally bursts through what little denial she had left and she bursts into tears, sobbing loudly and distantly embarrassed that she probably looks awful in front of whoever else is down here with her.
When she's finally able to stop wailing and get her breath somewhat under control she realizes there are quite a few people down here with her, and she blushes and wipes futilely at her dripping nose.
"Don't worry dear, we all broke down at some point." A different voice offers kindly. "Best to let it all out now. Dementors feed on emotion you know."
Farrah doesn't know if that's supposed to make her feel better, but as it just makes things worse she opts to not respond at all and instead curls up against the back wall of the cell.
Surely this is all a mistake. Surely she'll wake up and they'll hand back her wand (no, it's snapped, it's gone, it-) and she'll apologize to Christian and he'll take her to his place and comfort her with a good book and a mani-pedi and-
She drifts fitfully to sleep, the shock finally taking it's toll on her body and mind, and dreams of a fantasy world where courtrooms don't exist and everything is perfect.
Author's Note: I wrote half of this while super sick, so I didn't edit this one - I slept OTL I've still got some final papers and a couple exams left, but don't you worry, this story will still be on schedule next week!
Next Week: How to Resist when you're Working for an Evil Dictatorship but also don't want to lose your job or get arrested/killed for treason
So I'm thinking I might do a final 'afterwords' chapter to share my thoughts and feelings on writing this story, if that's something people would be interested in? I'm also open to answering any lingering questions people might have there as well!
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