Adele Black: The End

All You're Ever Gonna Be is Mean

The following day I stormed into St. Mungo's. Once my name was called to go to Dr. Michael's office, I stomped in there. I had been getting apprehensive looks as I walked through the building, and I was getting sick of it.

I calmly sat down on the couch in his office, and waited for him to come into the room. Once he did, I averted my eyes and stared at the wall. He carefully made his way to the chair that he usually sat at. In response, I turned my head and crossed my arms. I looked at him, my stormy gray orbs staring into his.

"Did you have to do this? I was thinking that you could be trusted," I glowered.

"I certainly didn't mean to. I was talking to my brother-in-law, and my niece. I asked my niece, Romilda, if she knew who you were and she said that you her two years above her at school. And then we got to talking, and it sort of spilled out," Dr. Michaels said in an attempt to defend himself.

I snorted. "Have you heard of doctor-patient confidentiality? Or is that a foreign concept?"

Dr. Michaels gave me a sour look. "Look, Adele, some of the things you've told me are absolutely outrageous. There are no Greek Gods. There are no monsters. I honestly believe that you've been hallucinating."

"Excuse me?" I asked in disbelief, my voice rising and body heating up. "How dare—"

"Adele, I can't help you if you don't want help yourself."

"I'm leaving. And I'm never setting up an appointment with you ever again," I said, making my way towards the door.

"I am sorry, but it was for the greater good," Dr. Michaels said with a sad smile.

I snorted. "Don't think it's in the past, these kind of wounds they last and they last."

I left before he could say anything else to me, because I wasn't going to let him have the last word. That was reserved for me.

The next stop on my war path was the Ministry of Magic. I marched through the building and went to the elevator to be taken down to level 2. I either looked very intimidating or insane, because people made sure to avoid me I stormed my way through. The wizard in the elevator was hesitant when I stepped in, and I saw him put his hand in his pocket so that he was ready to pull his wand out on me if necessary.

Once I got out of the elevator, I went directly to the office of the Head Auror, Gawain Robards. Both Ron and Harry had complained about him, but in my opinion they just seemed to have issues with authority figures telling them what to do.

I knocked on his office door. I was about to knock again when it opened and revealed Robards.

"Miss Black," he nodded. "Come in."

He opened the door up further and I walked in. He motioned for me to sit down in the chair across from his desk, so I did. Unfortunately, the office was very hot— abnormally so for indoors— and I was sweating already. I already knew that my legs were going to be sticking to the leather cushion on the chair.

"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you. That article was really nasty," Robards said. "I knew your father, he was very interested in becoming an Auror. He and James Potter were as thick as thieves. Practically brothers. Did you know he lived with the Potters after he got kicked out at 16? He absolutely deplored all of those pureblood beliefs. I didn't believe that he joined forces with Lord Voldemort for a second."

"Really?" I asked, relief flooding my voice.

Robards nodded. "Besides, it'd be dumb of Voldemort to let your father into his ranks. He was way too outspoken in his beliefs— beliefs that were a complete 180 of what the Death Eaters believed— to be of any use to him. Plus, the very notion that Sirius would betray the Potters is laughable."

"I don't know if you've heard, but I got my application offer rescinded from the Wizarding School of Law. So did my cousin, Draco Malfoy. I haven't really ever thought of doing anything other than law. Now I'm pretty much blacklisted. But I'm not here for a job."

Robards looked at me inquisitively. He seemed to have a knowing look in his eyes, as if he knew the truth of why I was here.

"Well, I know I can't file a libel lawsuit against the Daily Prophet on behalf of my father, because he's dead, and you can't really ruin the reputation of a dead person."

"Correct."

"So, I'm here to file a civil lawsuit against the Daily Prophet. I'm suing them for libel and defamation against myself, because them saying that my father, though dead, is a mass murderer is false, and that lie has impacted me and my reputation. I can do that, right?"

Robards nodded. "Two other individuals successfully did win defamation cases like the one you are proposing. One was in 1796 and the other was in 1945. It might be difficult for you to find a lawyer willing to do this, though. A Public Defender would be wary too."

I smirked. "That's why I'm going to be my own lawyer. And Draco Malfoy will also be working with me."

If Robards was apprehensive about Draco working with me, he didn't show it. "How much are you suing for?" He asked as he got a form and a quill out of his desk.

"1 Galleon," I said.

Robards eyebrows jumped up in surprise, and I was sure that if they could go up any father they would go into his hairline. "1 Galleon? That's all?"

I nodded. "I'm trying to make a point. They'll probably try to settle, but I'm not going to let them. They'll either call me crazy or ambitious, but I can't be both."

"And why can't you be both?"

"Because, Mr. Robards," I began with a smile that was both sad and also a smirk, "I'm a woman. In the eyes of the world, I can only be one or the other. And unfortunately, woman who are ambitious are often deemed crazy because they don't fit the patriarchy's idea of how a woman should behave."

"Well, I will have this filed, and somebody will serve it to the Daily Prophet's office," Robards said. "This probably will be in court in August. You know, Miss Black, we could use somebody like you on the force."

"Thanks for the offer," I said as I got out of the chair (my legs did indeed stick to them), "but I've had enough fighting for at least several lifetimes."

"Alright. It was a pleasure seeing you. I wish you well," he said. I said goodbye and walked out of the office with a smile on my face.

When I saw Draco that night, I braced for the worst. I wasn't sure if he'd be mad that I'd gotten us both pretty much blacklisted from the legal field, or if he'd be okay with it.

"I'm sorry that this effected you too," I said to him softly that night as I set a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs lathered in red sauce in front of him. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It wasn't your fault. If anything, it was my mothers. Actually, I could blame my grandfather. He'd be what, your great-uncle?"

I ran the Black family tree through my head, drawing imaginary lines between people in my mind. "Yes."

"I could blame him. His infidelity technically caused this entire situation," he said, twirling spaghetti onto his fork.

"I mean, I guess."

"Though, my mother probably could have handled everything better. She was rash in her behavior that day, which was much different than usual. If anything, it's her fault."

I bit my lip. "If it makes you feel better, all of our hard work isn't going to go to waste. I filed a lawsuit against the Daily Prophet. I'm going to be my own lawyer, and you're going to help me out. We can still clear my father's name."

If he was surprised, Draco, much like Robards, didn't show it. "How much are you suing them for?"

"1 Galleon."

"1 Galleon? You're pulling my leg."

I shook my head. "Nope. 1 Galleon. The Prophet is going to try and settle, but I won't let them."

Draco looked at me, dumbfounded. Achilles just kept on playing with crumbs that were on the table.

"Is there... anything else we'll need for evidence?" Draco asked.

I nodded. "The letter I got from the Wizarding School of Law, and probably some newspapers from the days after the Potter's death. But I'm sure that Mr. Weasley has some of those— did you know that he collects important issues of the Prophet?"

"Good for him I guess?"

"Anyways, how was your date with Astoria?"

Draco smiled and told me all about his night. His eyes had lit up with happiness, which was something I hadn't seen on him for a while.

"Right, so are you sure that this will work?" I asked, peering over the cauldron in the back of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Of course! It's just like the Nosebleed Nougats," Fred said, as if that explained everything.

"Alright. I'm going to trust you and George on this, and I'll go handle the counter if you want. I'm not really sure how you work your magic," I said sheepishly.

Fred leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the top of my head. "Thanks for helping out. We still on for ice cream later?"

I blushed and nodded. "I'm always down for ice cream." I then made my way down the stairs and to the front counter, where I saw what must have been a new employee working one of the cash registers.

"Hi, I'm Adele," I introduced myself as I quickly put the ghastly purple and orange apron on.

"Uhm, hi, I'm Ben," he said. Ben looked to be about 13. He looked exactly like Lee Jordan did, but younger.

"Do you have a brother named Lee by any chance?" I asked him.

Ben's eyes brightened. "Yeah, he's my older brother! He couldn't be here this week, he's sick, so Fred and George said I could do his shift and they'll pay me! It's great, I can use this money in Hogsmede."

I grinned. "That's nice of them. Have you been to Hogsmede before?"

Ben shook his head. "I'm going into my third year, so it'll be my first time going!"

I smiled at him. "Make sure you go to Honkeydukes, they have tons of candy."

"Even chocolate frogs?"

"Especially chocolate frogs. And, if you get one with the Harry Potter card, I can get it signed for you," I offered.

Harry had recently gotten his very own chocolate frog card. Ron and Hermione had as well. Ron thought it was one of his best accomplishments to date, Hermione was indifferent to it, and Harry was embarrassed about it.

"Wait, really? Your friends with Harry Potter?" Ben asked me, his eyes wide with wonder and astonishment.

"Yeah, we're friends! He's super nice," I told him.

"Wait," Ben said, "you're Adele Black, right?"

"Yeah, I am," I hesitantly responded.

"There's no way you're crazy if you're friends with Harry Potter! Harry Potter would never be friends with a crazy person," Ben said. "The Prophet's a load of crap anyways, that's what my dad says. Don't worry, Lee's spoken highly of you before. Besides, the twins wouldn't let somebody insane work here."

I wanted to point out that sometimes the twins bordered on insanity themselves with some of their creations but decided it was best that I didn't.

"Thank you Ben. Oh, there's some customers."

Ben and I worked diligently for the next few hours. In between customers, he asked me tons of questions about what classes I took for my third year. He fired off question after question, and whenever I would answer he looked entranced.

"Just these two, please. They're for my grandson," a customer said as they came up to my register.

"Alright, you're total is—"

"Oh, they let your kind work here?" The customer said, their voice snobby.

I glanced up at the customer to meet their eyes. It was an old woman, her hair shockingly white and pulled back into a meticulous bun. She was around my height, but was hunched over a little bit.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, genuinely confused. She could have meant three different things by that. It could've been my halfblood status, the fact that I'm American, or, more likely, the fact that I'm certifiably insane according to the Daily Prophet.

"You're kind," she said.

"Is it because I'm a halfblood? There's plenty of halfbloods around," I said.

The woman rolled her hazel eyes that were hidden behind a pair of circular glasses. "Don't be ridiculous. You're kind means part of the Black family. All of them were dark wizards, you know. I bet you tricked the Sorting Hat into putting you in Gryffindor, just like your father must have done."

I was silent. Truthfully, I was fuming with anger, but I knew that anger would get me nowhere. I took some deep breaths instead. "I don't think it's possible to trick the Sorting Hat."

"You never know. Anything's possible with dark magic. Given your family, you should know that," she hissed at me. "I'm surprised they're letting you work here. After all, insane people are a liability, and the Black Family Madness is genetic. It's in your genes."

I took a deep breath again. "You know, someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me, and all you're ever gonna be is mean."

The woman scoffed. "Can I have this young man ring me up instead? I don't need the Black Family Madness contaminating the gifts for my grandson."

I rolled my eyes. "Ben, let's switch places."

Ben looked at the woman hesitantly, and then back at me, as if he was afraid that she would start to berate him instead of me. Nevertheless, we switched registers.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with her," she told Ben. "Everybody's seen that Prophet article, and I've made sure to tell my grandson to stay away from her at Hogwarts. I've heard that she's repeating some years, starting from her fifth year, because she cheated on tests."

I quickly snapped my body around and faced her, my blonde hair almost snagging onto the cash register. I realized that there was a group of people watching the spectacle that this woman was creating. Some of them looked at her in absolute shock, while others looked understandably awkward.

"All you are is mean," I confidently said. The woman looked at me with disgust, but instead of shutting up, I continued to talk. "And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life and mean. And mean. And mean. But, please, enjoy the rest of your day. We hope you come to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes again soon!"

The woman huffed and hurriedly left the shop after paying when she finally noticed all the eyes that were on her.

As soon as the door behind her was closed, the shop was overwhelmed with clapping and cheers of approval.

"You go Adele!" The familiar cheerful voice of Dennis Creevey called out. I looked around at everybody there and blushed.

At least I had some people on my side.