1999
Chapter Three: Life is as Tedious as a Twice-told Tale
Political language - and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists - is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.
--George Orwell
The four men in black robes stared at one another as the girl fled the room.
"What are you standing here for?" the leader shouted angrily, "Stop her!"
Ginevra ran blindly into the night with tears falling down her face and obstructing her vision.
Neville was dead, Neville was dead. Those men had tortured and murdered him!
A heavy sob rose in the back of her throat and she had to stop running as the grief ran through her body. She hunched over, hands on knees, and gasped desperately for air.
Someone had to tell the State Security Committee…someone had to do something!
In her rush of panicked thoughts she failed to notice presence behind her until a gloved hand snaked around her mouth.
Ginevra clawed and fought with all her might until the man threw her against a wall. As her body fell to the ground she twisted to face the man who had killed her friend.
"You won't get away with it," she yelled with courage she would never have thought she possessed.
"What makes you think it was a crime?" the man stated smugly.
The pain rushing through her back took preference over the man's words. "Our Lord will find out," she protested, voice cracking.
The man crouched in front of her with a bemused expression. "Sweetheart," he said condescendingly, "he already knows."
A wand appeared a few inches from her face and the world faded to darkness.
When Ginevra woke she was on a damp floor. Memories flooded her minds simultaneously with pain.
"Neville," she whispered weakly.
She swallowed thickly and forced herself to sit up. She surveyed her surroundings with a growing panic -- she was in a cell. These men had killed Neville and they would surely kill her too.
Air caught in her throat as someone magically unlocked her cell and entered.
A man with a pleasant expression sat on the bench while she remained on the floor. "Hello, Ginevra," he greeted. "It is Ginevra, correct?"
She remained silent.
"Now, what you saw tonight -- or what you think you saw -- you didn't see. Understood?"
"You killed an innocent man," she responded after a moment.
He flashed her a sardonic smile, "No one is innocent. Your friend Neville was a traitor. Now, what do you make of that?"
Ginevra's eyes flashed angrily, "Neville has never betrayed anyone in his life! Our Lord will find out what you're doing and he'll stop you!"
"Beginning tomorrow Neville will have never existed. Any record of his miserable life will be systematically destroyed and the only person who will remember him is you. So how about you just be a good girl and accept the fact that Neville Longbottom was a traitor and we are better of without him. Perhaps you'll even take this as a lesson, Ginevra -- 'friends' are for the weak."
She knew it was a terrible risk but this was an opportunity. Mentally, she apologized to Neville.
"He was really a traitor?" she whispered meekly.
"Yes. We have it on good authority that he was going to attempt to turn you, Ginevra. You would never betray our Lord, would you?"
She thought of the portkey for the first time that evening. "No," she said strongly, "I wouldn't."
'There's a girl. Now, you've had a rough ordeal. Why don't you go to your apartment and start the process of forgetting Neville Longbottom."
She nodded slowly, taking note that this was the second time he had said the name Longbottom -- she assumed it was Neville's surname. "I can do that."
"I trust you can."
As she began to walk through the door of the cell the man slipped a wand out of his pocket.
"Ginevra?"
She turned.
"Obliviate!" He surveyed her vacant expression for a moment. "I don't trust you that much, though."
The following day at work Ginevra trudged through her work while trying to ignore her nauseating headache.
It didn't help that the Ministry had decided to hold a threat meeting that morning. While she mindless shuffled paperwork she thought of the meeting.
Lucius had presided over the ceremonies. It was common knowledge that anything Lucius said came straight from the Dark Lord.
"Our enemies are gaining power," Lucius had said. "Those who wish to kill our Lord are getting closer. Sacrifice. Sacrifice is required of each of us to prevail in this struggle. We must continue through strongly not paying heed to our own selfish desires. Comrades, the needs of society outweigh material possessions and comforts."
Ginevra frowned. She supposed this meant the extra clothing supply promised earlier in the week was now off. She wished Neville were here…he would no doubt share her thoughts.
She glanced around the hall for Neville. She wondered where he was…he normally made it a point to at least sit near her for these meetings. She had wanted to walk with him to work today but he wouldn't answer his door. She'd figured he had went in early. But she hadn't seen him all day.
After last night she was sure -- her head exploded in pain.
She hadn't seen Neville last night, she recalled after a moment.
But she was so sure she had went to his apartment. Her headache had only worsened from there.
Ginevra tried to not think of the meeting any longer. It was only causing her to feel worse. She kept her mind off of the meeting and Neville until lunch. He still was no where to be found.
Theodore eventually sat across from her. He worked in the Hall of Records as well.
"Theodore," she greeted carefully, "how is work?"
"Very good," he responded with a smile. "We have some really exciting things going on right now. I wish I could tell you about it…but you understand the security measures, I'm sure."
She nodded. "I haven't seen Comrade Neville in a few days. He isn't ill, I hope."
Theodore lost the grin. "No. Neville is no longer with us."
"Was he moved to another department?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Why do you ask, Ginevra?"
Tread lightly, she reminded herself. "Our flats are in the same building," she said, smiling easily, "and he borrowed my cauldron. You know how hard cauldrons are to come by -- I wanted to make sure he returned it."
After biting his lip nervously, Theodore leaned across the table. "What I'm about to tell you, you are not to repeat to anyone; do you understand?"
"Of course."
"Neville has been erased."
"Erased?"
"I've been on it all morning. Any records, any mention of him in the Prophet -- it's all been destroyed. As of eleven a.m. Neville has ceased to existed." Theodore grinned in a way that gave Ginevra the chills, "He's a non-person, now."
Ginevra waited until she returned home to contemplate the information. A non-person? Neville? Why would they erase Neville? And where was he?
Maybe he was on some sort of mission, she reasoned finally. If he were doing spy work then there could be no record of his previous life.
But if he were leaving he would have found some way to tell her.
None of it fit. Only traitors were so thoroughly erased. Neville had done nothing to warrant status as a non-person.
Unless…
What if they had found the research he was doing on her family and Black?
They'd kill me for this, Neville had said.
Oh, God. He was right. Neville died a traitor because of her!
And it was only a matter of time before they made the connection and figured out that he was only doing the research for her. With her head hung low Ginevra supposed she deserved death. She'd all but murdered her friend because she had been so desperate to know her bloody last name.
Maybe…maybe she should just turn herself in? They could help her. She shouldn't want to know the names of her family. She was ill. The Ministry could help her.
Or kill her.
No. He was always fair. The Dark Lord protected all his children and if she sought help she would receive it.
Ginevra tiredly rubbed her eyes. She wished there were someone she could consult on this matter…someone who wouldn't run off to report her the second they were through speaking.
Someone like Neville.
Ginevra lay in bed that night still mentally going over her options. And as often happened her thoughts strayed to a dangerous place.
She thought of all the things wrong with the government.
If only the Dark Lord knew what was happening. She knew of least three people who disappeared who weren't traitors at all. Something was going on. There was a conspiracy within the Ministry.
Someone had to warn the Dark Lord that the real traitors were his own high-ranking officers. But that someone was not going to be her.
No one was allowed to do any real magic. The spells they were allowed were no better than muggle magic tricks she read about in history books.
They would promise everyone extra blankets, clothes and food but none of these promises ever came to duration.
Muggleborn children were starving on the streets. The government had stolen the old magical enrollment lists from each of the schools. The lists that were once used simply to send acceptance letters were now used to round up muggleborns. They were taken from their homes and dumped in the streets of the Wizarding where they became slaves. Some escaped but could never find their way out -- those were the ones starving on the streets.
It didn't matter what the muggleborns did so long as their magic never strengthened. So long as they could never gather the power to be a threat.
Ginevra didn't see why they couldn't just leave the muggleborns with their families. With no formal training, no wand and no real clue about magic their powers would never develop. And even if they did, muggles were so terrified of magic that these individuals would never dare tell anyone about their abilities.
She continued to mentally count off the problems of society until she fell asleep.
A/N -- Well. There's some more insight into Voldemort's dictatorship. Hopefully no one was bored with some of the back stuff…I'm kind of mixing things I know about Soviet history that aren't in 1984, but not enough that anyone needs to get my references. But if anyone is a Soviet history nerd I fancy Lucius to be a Beria-like character. Oh, yes, be frightened.
Anyway, enough about that. Chapter title is from King John. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Please repeat the kindness!