Have No Fear

Chapter 3: Girl Talk

No one really listens to anyone else, and if you try it for a while you'll see why. - Mignon McLaughlin

Jael entered the banquet hall on her father's arm, and couldn't help gaping a bit as she stared around her. It was the first time she'd been in the banquet hall for almost a year, and she had forgotten how impressive everything looked. Torches and tapestries lined the walls, going all the way up to the high shadowed ceiling. The guests were wearing their best clothes, since many of them would be taking advantage of the Dark Lord's presence at the banquet to petition him for favors. Jael noted with an ill-concealed snicker that almost everyone was wearing dark colours, with only a few exceptions. Well, yeah. The minions of evil overlords have to appear suitably sinister. It's probably a rule in the "Death Eating for Dummies" handbook. She tried to hide her smirk as she continued to look around.

Her father nodded curtly to her, and set off for the High table, where the Dark Lord and the most prestigious Death Eaters and their wives sat. The tables in the hall were organized with the High table on a platform, looking over the other tables. The symbolism was hard to miss. Jael walked past the clusters of chattering friends and family, feeling a little out of place. Her lack of friends was much more obvious in this crowded room than when she was on her own in the castle. She reached one of the central lower tables, and flung herself into a high-backed chair which, like the others, was charmingly upholstered in dark green velvet. She glared down at the gleaming mahogany of the long banquet table, trying to ignore the happy conversations of those around her.

Stupid tossers.

Besides, she was not fooled by the apparent perkiness of the gossiping crowds. She was aware of the barbs and threads of venom that slithered beneath the most innocent dialogue. There probably wasn't a single person in the huge hall under the age of ten who didn't weigh their every word carefully; they simultaneously protected themselves from attack and looked for an opportunity to strike. Jael shivered suddenly, and was oddly relieved when a gong rang, signifying the beginning of the banquet. Now at least the food would be coming and the strident voices that caused echoes to ricochet off the stones would be quieter.

She watched silently as others joined her at the table. The same people always sat at this central table during a banquet. Like her, they were the teenaged children of affluent Death Eaters; too young to actually be Death Eaters or married to one; and yet too old too remain in their rooms, as the little children did. Even at this table, there was an evident hierarchy. The oldest, richest and most socially powerful of them sat at the head of the table, closest to the steps leading up to the High Table. The lesser ones sat further down, and the youngest and poorest were pushed to the end. This seating arrangement was no different than that of the High table; only the ages differed.

Jael had chosen to sit in the middle of the table, and no one challenged her choice. She knew that most of the other teenagers had no idea what to make of her. Her father was one of the Dark Lord's most valued lieutenants, and yet instead of taking advantage of the status this provided Jael had purposely isolated herself from them. Since they couldn't understand her apparent disregard for power, it was much simpler to ignore her. So she was not pushed to the end of the table with the other rejects, but instead was allowed to plant herself on the fringes of the main group. Jael liked it that way. She could listen to their conversations without having to contribute her opinion. As her opinion could possibly, at times, get her thrown into the dungeons and tortured, it was much safer this way.

The gong rang three times, and the whole hall rose to its feet as the Dark Lord entered the room. Jael bowed her head and kept her eyes averted. The Dark Lord's face was definitely not something she wanted to get a close look at. When she had first come to the castle, almost three years ago now, her father had introduced her to the Dark Lord. She did not like to think about the experience. She had stared into those insane, burning eyes, paralyzed with fear, her mind repeating over and over he's not human he's not human oh my god he looks like a fucking snake what if he can read my mind oh my god...

No, she thought firmly, definitely not something that needed a second viewing. Once the Lord had seated himself at the head of the High table, everyone else took their seats as well. Jael slumped back down into her chair, and for the first time really noticed those sitting around her. Most of them she knew by name and/or reputation only, but she was pleased to see that Medea Arlin was sitting to her right. Medea was a bony, sharp-tongued girl a year younger than Jael and one of the few people in the castle she almost liked. Medea always had some particularly vicious gossip to share with anyone sitting near her, which made her a welcome dinner companion.

Medea turned to Jael and smiled in recognition, displaying small, pointed teeth.

"Hey Jael," she said. "Long time, no see. Ready for another fascinating evening of food and conversation?"

Jael smiled back rather weakly. The smaller girl made good company, but was a little unnerving. Aside from her knowing eyes and predatory smiles, Jael could never help wondering what Medea said about her when she wasn't around. Best not to think about it, that way lies madness. She was usually as laconic as possible around Medea, and simply listened to and laughed at her admittedly wonderful, though poisonous, observations.

She watched as Medea scanned the tables, looking for fresh meat. Medea had only just begun to whisper a comment to Jael about a supposed affair between Casey Nott and the infamous Lady Adalia, when the food was brought in.

Slaves filed into the hall through the various kitchen entrances, carrying platters of food. Jael's head jerked up when she saw a flash of red hair. Upon closer examination, she realized the man was too small to be Fred, so she quickly searched for another flicker of red, without any luck. She sighed slightly, and relaxed in her seat. It wouldn't have mattered if he were here, anyway. It's not like I could invite him to pull up a chair and join me. Or even acknowledge his presence.

The food was served fairly quickly. Jael ate steadily while Medea chattered between bites. Banquet dinners always had a wide variety of excellent food, so Jael generally took advantage of this by stuffing herself as much as possible. She had just finished hiding some rolls in a napkin to eat later, when she heard Medea gasp softly.

Jael turned to her.

"What? What is it?"

Leaning close, Medea breathed, "Look at Ana's jaw."

Jael slowly slanted her body forwards, and shot at quick glance at the pretty girl seated near the front of the table. The cause of Medea's surprise was immediately obvious. A dark bruise was marring Ana Davies' delicate jawbone. She had been using her long hair to conceal the mark, but caught up in the conversation around her, she must have tucked her hair behind her ear without a thought.

Jael turned back to Medea, frowning.

"It must have been her parents, right?"

Medea shrugged. "Probably."

Jael fiddled with the collar of her dress, surprised and disturbed. Casual brutality was common among the Death Eaters and their families. However, being so indiscreet as to strike a face was not. In addition, Ana Davies, a girl whose spoiled brat tendencies rivaled those of Draco Malfoy's, was certainly the last person Jael would ever expect to be abused in such a way.

She shook her head in confusion. "I don't get it. Ana? I mean..."

Trailing off, lost for words, she looked to Medea for aid. Despite Jael's lack of verbal proclivities, Medea seemed to understand her puzzlement. The smaller girl nodded wisely and spoke in an undertone.

"It's because they haven't found them yet, you know. Everyone's - under stress."

This seemingly abstract statement served only to make Jael more confused. She gave Medea her best blank look.

"Say what?"

Medea's voice was filled with incredulous amusement. "You really don't have any idea of what's going on in the outside world, do you? Don't you ever talk to anyone? Don't you ever listen?"

Jael gritted her teeth with irritation. She could feel the blush rising on her cheeks, and hated herself for it. So her reply came out somewhat sharper than she had intended.

"I listen. Sometimes. Now for Merlin's sake, will you tell me what the bloody hell you're going on about?"

Medea rolled her eyes and answered quietly.

"Keep your voice down, will you? I'm talking about Dumbledore and Potter, you silly sod."

"What about them?"

Jael fought to keep from blushing again when faced with Medea's open-mouthed stare. God, she really had to stop spending so much time alone. She knew who Dumbledore and Potter were, she wasn't a complete idiot. It would have been fairly hard to forget the identities of the leader of the opposing side in the war, or the boy whom the Dark Lord hated above all others. Especially when those around her regularly cursed their names. But ever since the success of the Orb spell, and the subsequent "winning" of the war, she had heard nothing of those two most hated wizards. Which, she now reflected, was a bit odd in itself.

By this time Medea had managed to close her gaping mouth and gather her scattered thoughts.

"I can't believe you don't -" she stopped, glanced around quickly, than began speaking softly. "In Morgana's name, Jael, don't you know how much trouble those bastards have been causing our Lord?"

Jael shrugged, unable to think of any recent gossip.

"No, I haven't heard anything about them."

Medea exhaled in slight frustration.

"Exactly! No one's heard anything about them. That's the problem. The whole country is being searched, and plenty of prisoners have been brought in. But not them, not the ones He wants the most, understand?"

Both girls shot a quick, apprehensive look at the sinister figure sitting at the head of the High table. Jael noticed that Medea attempted to repress a shudder, and didn't quite succeed. Than Jael remembered one piece of gossip she had overheard a few months ago.

"But weren't there reports that Dumbledore was dead? Didn't someone claim they saw him fall under a Curse?"

"Yes, but those reports were never proven. They never found a body." Medea shrugged, and resumed picking at her food. "He's an old man. He probably is dead, and they've just hidden the body so they can fool everybody into believing he's alive."

Jael nodded, thoughtful. It would make sense for the remnants of the "light" side to try to keep some hope alive, to prevent their supporters from facing the realization that they would not be the victors in this war.

"And what about Harry Potter?"

"And what about him? He must be hiding out in the countryside somewhere, unless he made it to Europe before the Disapparition Shield went up. It doesn't matter anyway. He's just a kid, it's not like he can do anything. We'll find him eventually."

Medea seemed to have dismissed the matter. Jael felt her hands twisting in frustration.

"Alright, but if that's true, what's the problem? Why's everyone under stress, if it's just a matter of time -?"

She was cut off by Medea's exasperated hiss.

"Because as we all know, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is not renowned for his patience. He wants Dumbledore and Potter and He wants them now. But unfortunately, despite the struggles of his faithful servants, they're nowhere to be found. They've tried who knows how many search spells, but got nothing. So our Lord is not happy. And when He isn't happy," Medea smiled deprecatingly, "no one's happy."

It all made a sick sort of sense now. Jael left the logical conclusion unsaid: so the Dark Lord took his anger out on the Death Eaters, as is his wont, and they took their pain and anger out on their children, as is their wont. She realized that she was rubbing her face where her father had slapped her, and quickly dropped the treacherous hand into her lap. She hoped that Medea's sharp eyes had not caught her slip.

Jael picked up her fork and recommenced the wolfing down of her food. She half-listened as Medea began chattering again, this time sticking to safer topics, such as the rumours circulating concerning David Baddock's sexuality. The rest of her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of raging Dark Lords, wizards in hiding, and children with bruised faces...

Jael shook herself sharply. Stop this, she chided. Just because the world around you is going to hell in a hula-hoop is no reason to think serious thoughts while eating. She tried to concentrate on Medea's gossip, but she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering across to the faces of the other teenagers seated at the table. Nor could she stop herself from wondering how many of them had to hide marks left by their parents' fists, or were forced to keep themselves from wincing at the pain inflicted by their parents' wands. Too many, she reflected grimly. Probably way too many.