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The Sugar Quill


Bartemius Crouch watched with pursed lips as Edgar Odair entered his office. Sitting opposite Bartemius’s desk were two people - an auror named Maximillion Coldwright and the mediwitch Dorcas Meadowes. Bartemius stared at the boy. “Hold the door, Mr. Potter,” Bartemius said as he leaned back in his seat and lifted his wand, running it through his fingers thoughtfully for a moment, then flicked it at a stack of parchment, turning one into a little aeroplane, which swept up from the tray and out the door. Bartemius put his wand down as Charlus watched the aeroplane go.

“Good morning, Barty,” said Charlus, letting the door close. “Mr. Coldwright, Miss. Meadowes.”

“Wotcher Potter,” replied Dorcas, waving with two fingers and a wink.

Maxamillion Coldwright nodded.

Edgar was looking about with curiosity at a giant globe that spun silently in the corner of the room and several fluttering parchment aeroplanes that had come into the room as Bartemius’s had gone out, all hovering above his desk.

Bartemius was studying the boy still.

“This is Edgar Odair,” said Charlus, waving to the boy.

“Given that was whom you mentioned this meeting would be regarding, I am sure that we all have assumed as much,” Bartemius replied snarkily. He looked Edgar over carefully.

“What are all the aeroplanes for?” Edgar asked, pointing at the fluttering parchments.

“They’re inter-department memos,” offered Dorcas. She patted the chair between her and Max. “C’mere and have a seat, Edgar.”

Edgar watched the memos in awe, then went over and sat down.

Hovering behind Edgar’s chair, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, Charlus looked at Bartemius expectantly.

“Now that we are all here,” Bartemius said, “We can begin. Miss. Meadowes, did you bring along the veritaserum?”

“Veritaserum?” Edgar asked, confused.

“Yes, sir.” Bartemius replied. “I want the truth.”

Edgar looked at Bartemius and then to Charlus. “What is that?”

“It’s a truth potion, Edgar,” replied Charlus. “It’s just to make sure that you’re telling Mr. Crouch the truth about what happened that night, so that we can help Jasper. Is that alright?”

Edgar looked nervous, “Okay.”

Dorcas Meadows reached down and grabbed her purse from the floor. “Don’t be nervous, Edgar, it’s really not so bad. Here, look I have it here. I’ve made it into a sugar quill here for you so it’s not as scary.” Dorcas help up the sugar quill - it was a red one. Edgar’s favorite colour was the red sugar quills - Jasper had gotten one for each of his brothers during his Diagon Alley trips every year that he’d been going to Hogwarts.

Edgar instantly felt better.

“Thank you,” Edgar said, taking the quill and sucking on the end of it.

The adults all watched him for several moments and he felt rather self-conscious, but continued at eating the sucker. When he’d been eating it for some time, Dorcas looked at Maxamillion Coldwright, who lifted his wand and waved it to produce a small shimmering bubble - which would record Edgar’s confession - and Dorcas took Edgar’s extra hand - the one not holding the lolly - and she said, “Edgar, tell us your favorite colour?”

“It’s red,” he replied.

“Red is a great colour!” Dorcas said with a smile. “How old are you love?”

“Eleven.”

She watched a moment as he sucked on the sugar quill, then, “Do you like Hogwarts so far, Edgar?”

He nodded.

“What’s your favorite part?”

“Not being around my mum and dad anymore is my favorite part,” Edgar said in a very honest, very casual manner.

Dorcas looked at Maxamillion and shifted her weight. The veritaserum in the sugar quill was at work. She smiled at Edgar and said, “You’re in Gryffindor?”

“Yes,” Edgar said. “The hat thought of putting me in Slytherin or Hufflepuff, too.”

“That’s interesting. I was a Hufflepuff when I was there,” she said, smiling.

“Jasper was a Hufflepuff, too. Quidditch Captain.”

“Very cool,” Dorcas said. “I played quidditch for a bit, too. I was never captain or anything, though. It was fun. Have you learned how to fly a broom yet?”

Bartemius Crouch slapped his fist against his desk. “Can we please just get on with it!?” he demanded, “The boy is under the influence of veritaserum! There’s no reason for small chat to make him comfortable! He has to tell the truth!”

Edgar looked frightened at the outburst.

“Did you kill your father, boy?” Bartemius Crouch demanded of him, leaning across the desk with beady, suspicious eyes.

Edgar stammered, “Yes.” He started to cry.

Dorcas Meadowes looked angry, “You can’t do that to a child, you nincompoop!” she said to Bartemius, her face clouded with anger as Charlus patted the boy’s back and knelt down, telling him it was okay. “You have to be gentle with the children, Mr. Crouch! You should know, you’ve got a son..”

“And my son knows how to get to a point. Now,” Bartemius looked at Edgar, “Did you kill your father with your brother’s wand?”

“Yes sir,” Edgar said.

“Was your father abusing your brother?”

“Yes, very badly.”

Bartemius looked at his notes, then up at the boy, “Did he do that often?”

“Quite often, sir,” Edgar replied, his cheeks were hot and he stared up at Bartemius. “My mum, too. The night he died, they was fightin’ and Jasper went and stopped ‘em and he started whalin’ on Jasper and Jasper was all bloody in the face and I wasn’t supposed to go down there, but I did and I knew if I didn’t stop’em he was gonna kill Jasper, sir, and Jasper wasn’t backin’ down none because he’s stubborn, sir, and he protects everybody, you know, that’s what Jasper does. And I was really scared and really angry that father would beat on Jasper so much and I saw Jasper’s wand and I meant to give it to him so he could protect himself but I couldn’t get it to him… and then father had hit him so hard Jasper fell down against the sink and I thought he was dead and I screamed no because I didn’t want Jasper to be dead, Jasper couldn’t be dead! And when I screamed there was a… a flash of green light and father was dead and Jasper was staring all surprised and then the police wizards came - the - the uh - the --- orders…”

“Aurors,” Maxamillion corrected.

There was a ringing silence that filled the room.

Charlus looked at Bartemius, eyebrows raised, then looked down at Edgar. “Ed, Mr. Crouch here is really interested in knowing, too, why your brother Jasper might’ve lied and made a confession if he wan’t the one who killed your father?”

Edgar replied, “Jasper always took blame for things. He didn’t want me and our other brothers to get hurt. He took our punishments when he was home. I broke a window once. Jasper said it was normal for young wizards to have mistakes and accidentally ruin things, and I didn’t mean to but there was one day when I accidentally broke the big window in our living room and he told father and mother that I did it and father struck him so hard he had a busted up jaw and everything… but Jasper always took the blame for us so we wouldn’t be hurt if father was angry or drunk or -- or whatever.”

Charlus looked at Bartemius again.

Bartemius’s mouth twitched. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “Maxamillion, please work on release forms for one Jasper Odair.”

Charlus let out a great whooping cry and Edgar looked up with excitement, “What? My brother’s getting out? You’re letting him away from Azkaban?” His stomach had climbed up into his throat with glee and he stood up as Charlus danced about behind the chair.

“However,” Bartemius said as Maxamillion Coldwright left the room, “We will be permanently expelling Mr. Edgar Odair from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He cleared his throat as Edgar stared up at him with wide, astonished eyes and Charlus stopped celebrating.

Dorcas shook her head, “Mr. Crouch, it isn’t the boy’s f--”

“Mr. Odair,” Bartemius said, waving his palm to silence Dorcas. He stood up and held out his palm, “Please surrender your wand.”

“Barty, c’mon now,” Charlus said, “You’ve only just heard that it was self defense…”

“Regardless, Mr. Potter, the boy cast the Unforgivable Curse.” Bartemius was insistent and firm, waving his fingers at Edgar. “Your wand, son.”

Edgar hesitated, then, with shaking hands, he withdrew the lovely wand from his pocket. He stared at it for a long moment, remembering Mr. Ollivander, remembering getting that wand… It had only been a few months, but it already felt like an extension of his arm, like handing it over would be like cutting off his arm at the shoulder. That wand meant everything to him. It was all his hopes for the future, all his dreams… Slowly, though, Edgar shivered and handed it over.

“Barty --” began Charlus again, but Bartemius Crouch cleared his throat, stopping him.

“Edgar Odair, you’re sentenced as guilty for the murder of your father. Being underage, your punishment will include expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Effective immediately, you will not be allowed upon the grounds of the school, and your wand will now be destroyed.” And before Dorcas or Charlus could respond, Bartemius stood, held the wand at arm’s length over his desk, took a deep breath, then bent the wand and snapped it cleanly into two pieces, letting them clatter to the desk with a finality that hung in the air.

Edgar stared at the bits of broken wand.




The wizard returning Jasper Odair was disbatched that very night.

It was - much to the dismay and argument of Dora - Charlus Potter who apparated on the island of Azkaban, clutching the rails as the stormy sea crashed violently against the rocks. The ocean swelled and waned harsh against nearly sheer cliff face over jagged stone and sprayed it’s misty anger through the black night. Charlus shivered and pulled his cloaks tighter around himself, turning to face the horrid, prison building, which stood jagged and dark in silhouette against the moon.

Dementors crowded around, but Charlus walked, his patronus - a falcon - flying beside him, wings flapping strongly at any dementors that showed interest in Charlus Potter, keeping them away. They walked up the stairs of the horrible, crumbling castle, and through the dark doors, and Charlus felt his knees weaken as he walked through dripping dark corridors, past cell after cell, past immobile forms of witches and wizards long since imprisoned and rotting away. There were tears and moaning voices… Moonlight pooling in dark puddles… and dementors, hundreds of them. Charlus felt his stomach twisting into knots, his heart aching, and he felt tears pouring over his cheeks as terrible memories flooded him.

He paused walking at a cell on the end of a block on the third floor and stared between the bars. The cell was empty. He closed his eyes, hands shaking, until the falcon patronus nudged him and he was able to move forward again, though he stumbled, his body feeling just so heavy from the weight of the dementors…

And then there came an echo from the end of the block he was turning onto.

A rhythmic beat, almost a humming, indistingushable at first…

“IdidntdoitIdidntdoitIdidntdoitIdidntdoit…”

And as he got closer…

“IDidntDoIt I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it…”

Charlus practically fell against the bars of the cell.

“Jasper.”

“...I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it….”

“Jasper!”

The boy looked up. "I didn't... didn't... do... it." He stared at Mr. Potter in disbelief for a moment.

Charlus held out his hand as the cell door sprang open. “Come along, son. Let’s get you out of here.”