The Big Dipper

The Coup

Ursula pushed herself out of bed, squinting as the bright sunlight peeked through the gap in her curtains. She wrapped herself in her silk dressing gown and peered out the window, her gaze falling inevitably on the freshly overturned patch of grass beneath one of the trees. Only she, Hadrian, and Cassius knew a grave sat there.

She had burned everything she was wearing that night, and had embarked on a furious cleaning spree to get every last trace of blood out of the house, for it had been tracked and dripped and smeared all over in the horror of that night. Ursula felt like she was suffocating until the house had been fully cleaned and aired out. She had even slept in a different bedroom for a few nights.

Ursula couldn't talk about what happened that night. Not to anyone. Not to the Order, not to Hadrian or Cassius, not even to Fred. If she had to rehash it over and over again, she would never stop reliving it. If she stopped, even for a second, to process it, she would break again. It felt dishonorable to go about her business as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed, but it was the only thing she could do.

Sitting through Death Eater meetings, almost all of which now took place at Malfoy Manor or, worse, Corvus Manor, had become even harder, if such a thing were possible. Ursula was haunted by visions of past horrors committed at each table, and had to endure the jeers of Dolohov and some of the others when they asked how a little thing like her had handled a dead body. She repeated that she disposed of it, and that was all she would — or could — say on the matter.

It was always something of a relief when Ursula was allowed to host the wives rather than attend the meetings themselves, but it became more and more infrequent, and those who attended bore grimmer and more tear-stained faces. The wives were becoming increasingly concerned about their husbands' safety, and feared for themselves or their children if the war went badly. Between the young Death Eaters, there were seven children all under the ages of five, and several more on their way.

Despite their anxiety, none of them wanted to stop passing information on to Ursula, though she would have understood if they had. Rather, many seemed to have a renewed interest in diverting the course of the war from behind the scenes. Of course, this was not always positive, as it meant that they all had to accept that the war was not near its end, and the longer it went on, the more people it dragged down with it.

"Are you alright, Vanessa?" asked Ursula quietly. They were at a garden party hosted by Magnus and Vivienne Bole, celebrating the arrival of their first child, a daughter named Delilah. Vanessa was quieter than usual, and seemed a bit sad.

"I'm fine," said Vanessa, although she didn't look it. She hesitated, and then said, "I'm sorry, I have to ask... how do you cope?"

"What?" said Ursula, furrowing her brow.

"With everything that's going on in this stupid, pointless war," said Vanessa, with more fire than Ursula had ever heard her use when speaking. "Nearly every man we know is a Death Eater, and those that aren't..." She twisted a handkerchief in her hands and said bitterly, "Well, they don't have long, do they?"

"What's brought this on?" said Ursula, frowning. "What happened?"

"Lewis... he's going to become a Death Eater," Vanessa admitted, an edge of bitterness to her voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Ursula quietly.

"There's pressure on his father, you see," Vanessa said, getting slightly choked up. "He'll lose his job or worse if he refuses to declare a side. Lewis... Lewis volunteered..." Here her voice cracked, and Ursula gripped her hands comfortingly. "You'll be there, won't you? I'm not... I'm not allowed. Please."