Chapter I.
   A Flair For The Dramatic

1991

     Augustine Alexandre was a white-haired, heavy-footed, stoic man that had a flair for the dramatic, whether he liked to admit it or not. His four children all thought so and even his wife, who thought him indifferent and dull, agreed. The Alexandre family was a drama in and of itself; their meals were like dinner theatre and everyone had had a role assigned to them the day
they were born.

     The Alexandre family sat at an abnormally long table, which was meant to seat 20 people and filled with food from the north end to the south. Augustine was at the head of it, as he assumed his role as the Ruler: the one that operated as the boss for aesthetic purposes, but was really a puppet in a larger scheme.

     A small, thin house elf made her way into the room, holding one last dish in her hands and placing it on the table. She bowed to the family and scurried back into the kitchen. They all began eating silently, even the sound of their chewing was soft and can only be heard if focused on hard enough.

     It was the same performance as always. The curtains went up and Augustine Alexandre would look to his eldest daughter, Camille— who played the role of the Sage: the wise academic and, therefore, her father's favourite. He would ask her how her job is going, and she'd bare her dazzling white teeth in a charismatic smile before going into as much detail as she could about being an Unspeakable in the Ministry of Magic. Of course, nobody knew what Unspeakables did (hence the name!), but something about it always put a wicked grin on her face.

     Augustine and Camille would laugh, eliciting small smiles from others at the table, and then they would move on.

     The curtain falls and rises again, and Augustine would turn to his eldest son, Romeo and, instead of asking how Romeo's job is going, he'd ask if he'd found a job at all. Romeo was more of a tenant than a son, in Frances' opinion, always off doing Merlin knows what and getting away with it (playing the role of the Explorer well). He might as well had been an Unspeakable like Camille, but he wasn't one for structure. Or punctuality. Or discipline. Or anything that one needed to achieve financial stability.

     But they would laugh too because, in the end, he was the eldest Alexandre son and he could do whatever he pleased.

     Throughout every conversation, Aliena Alexandre would make fleeting comments or give unsolicited advice. She excelled at making people feel small and insignificant, but she wouldn't dare use this power on her children. She claimed she loved them, but it was unclear whether she was capable of truly loving someone when there's nothing to gain. She was the true Ruler of the family, the puppeteer pulling her husband's strings and making him dance before her.

     She watched as Augustine spoke to their youngest son, Apollo, who was still a student. She and her husband attempted to map out his entire career for him, ensuring the best possible path to increasing his wealth and status. Perhaps this was her way of showing love, by micromanaging her youngest son's entire life.

     And like the meek and naive Innocent he was, he just let her.

     Because of his inability to speak up for himself, he had created a standard with which nobody can compete. Especially not Frances Alexandre, who hadn't a quiet moment since her infancy (and even then). No, she watched her mother and father's faces fall when she spoke. She watched the way they got tense, how her mother's fist clenched around her silver fork. How her father attempted to dismiss her every word.

     Dinner concluded and the curtains fell; act one was over. Introductions were always so difficult to sit through, as people must get acquainted with new characters and situations they were unfamiliar with. Frances herself could barely ever get past the first fifteen pages of a book before skipping to the middle to get straight to the action. She had no interest in reading about what made people feel the way they did, or why they did certain things or what they felt about why they did certain things, it was all nonsense!

     Aliena used to think giving Frances a reading schedule would help discipline her, so she made her daughter read all her favourite books from her youth. The majority of them were translated from Russian and full of annotations in every margin, and they were all written by old pureblood philosophers who tried desperately to convince their readers to be just as prejudiced towards muggles as they were. It was no shock that Aliena thought they were geniuses. All the media she consumed was blood purity propaganda and filled her head with the idea that she was, somehow, superior to all others because her mother and father were related.

That sort of discipline stopped working once Frances was past the age of seven. Once she could form her own thoughts and opinions, there wasn't much that either of her parents could do to change them (without use of force, of course). Frances Alexandre had read more pureblood manifestos than she'd like to admit, and she loathed every single one.

Besides, Frances had always thought muggles were wicked. How could you not? Freddie Mercury? Kate Bush? David Bowie? Patti Smith? Not to mention muggle films— how could one survive without having seen Edward Scissorhands at least once? Or Beetlejuice, or Labyrinth, or Sixteen Candles? Her bigoted family missed out on the greatest cinematic masterpieces of the universe all because of their stupid, bizarre, cultish beliefs (and they were at a total loss).

So, you see, she was in a constant predicament, always at war with her mother's cold heart and sharp tongue. But war would be too a gentle way to put it, and for discretion, Frances chose not substitute the word for anything greater— all she would say was that she absolutely had to get out.

Alexandre Manor was never home for her, not really.

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1995

Frances Alexandre came home the same way every night— sweaty, exhausted and so bloody thirsty. She had a theory that apparating home always made her thirstier than when she traveled by floo, but had yet to work out the logistics (or she'd save it for some Arithmancy nerd to figure it out).

Point being: every night, Frances ended up passing out on her sofa with a stomach full of firewhisky and fizzing whizbees. She'd eat healthier if she could, but there wasn't much she could afford, even as a second year auror. Between her rent, utilities and fancy food for her beloved cat (scratch that: daughter), Clementine, life was getting a little too expensive for her liking.

Then again, Frances would rather get a collector's edition Star Wars boxed set for eighty quid than use that money for grocery shopping. (Maybe it wasn't life that was at fault. . .)

Regardless, she had very little complaints. Freedom, television and (seemingly) unlimited alcohol were all Frances Alexandre had ever cared about, and now she's got them all in the palm of her hand! Not to mention, she was en route to a promotion— her supervisor, the delightful Bernie Baggs, said he'd never seen a brighter, more promising young talent for over a decade!

(Even if it was just flattery, Frances took it to heart. And it went directly to her head. That's right, Beatrice Arbuttocks, you batty old hag!)

And now, Frances Alexandre was free to let loose. Once she was out of her dirty clothes and in her pyjamas, she twisted the cap of her firewhisky bottle with her teeth and spat it out across the room for her cat to play with. She poured herself a glass and threw herself onto the sofa and flipped through various television channels until she landed on a series about talking, time-traveling dinosaurs. The bottle was half empty before the first twenty minute episode had finished.

She had two more glasses of firewhisky, then set the bottle on the table while watching another episode. Almost immediately after, she ran into the bathroom. Her bladder nearly burst everywhere but, thankfully, she made it just in time. Clementine was pawing at the door, begging to be let in, and started to meow in increasing volumes.

Then she stopped. She was completely silent for a moment, and then Frances heard something hit the ground. Then silence again.

Something else fell. That time, it was heavier and it made a loud thud.

Frances pulled up her trousers and washed her hands, cursing herself when she'd realised her wand was on the sofa.

She grabbed the plunger from beside the toilet, prepared to plunge the absolute shit out of any intruder. Slowly, she made her way into the living room. Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other. Slowly. . .

But nobody was there. Everything was exactly where she put it before she ran to the bathroom, nothing had been broken or stolen, and there was no sign of an entry. Clementine was sat on the sofa grooming herself happily.

There was no way she'd hallucinated all of it, right? She wasn't even drunk yet, and already she's having delusions. Maybe she was getting old. But, no matter, she walked towards the windows and as she locked them—

"Ah, Miss Alexandre."

Frances nearly jumped out of her skin, throwing the plunger at the voice, "Merlin!"

"Not quite," he chuckled. It was Albus Dumbledore, in all his cerulean-robed, long-bearded glory. Albus Dumbledore was in her living room at two in the morning holding her toilet plunger.

     What an odd thing it was.

"Shit, sorry," she said quickly, taking the plunger from him and throwing it behind her. "Er— not to be an arse, Professor, but what are you doing here?"

"Please, we're past formalities now," he said. "You may call me Albus."

Frances felt her eye twitch. "Okay, Albus. What are you doing in my flat?"

"I have urgent matters to discuss," he said simply, taking a seat on her sofa beside Clementine.

"Can't this wait until morning?" she asked, suppressing a groan.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important, Miss Alexandre," he said.

She sighs, "Go on, then."

"To put it simply. . . I have reconvened the Order of the Phoenix so that we may defeat Lord Voldemort."

Wow, she thought, how forward.  Of course, she hadn't the foggiest idea what the Order of the Phoenix was or how it'd defeat the most evil wizard to ever exist, but she was intrigued. Most people didn't even believe Voldemort had come back— and seeing as the people in the Ministry didn't believe it either, Frances thought everyone was bound to end up in deep shit.

But she'd read the Daily Prophet articles about the boy who died at the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year, and Harry Potter's testament to Voldemort's return— that boy had no reason to lie about any of it. Especially after all he'd been through? If Frances were in his shoes, she'd demand so much financial compensation from Fudge, the lazy oaf.

"This Order of the Phoenix thing. . ."

"It is a secret society," said Dumbledore.

"So, what, you're a spy?" Frances asked. "Like James Bond?"

"Essentially."

"And by 'secret' you mean. . ."

"Completely confidential. No one knows of it besides it's members."

"So, you want me to join?" Frances asked, and Dumbledore nod. "I'm not judging your taste or anything, Al, but why? What's in it for you?"

"We'll need all the help we can get," he said, petting Clementine. "And it doesn't hurt to have a talented auror on our side."

      She liked the sound of that: talented auror.

      "Is there any. . . y'know. . . monetary incentive involved?"

      "Wouldn't you rather have the support and company of other likeminded individuals?"

       No. "Sure, yes," she said, trying to conceal her disappointment. "Of course!"

      Dumbledore looked at her through his crescent shaped spectacles, and a smile formed beneath his white beard, "Perhaps I shall see if there is something I can do regarding an incentive. If you're to join us, that is."

       Frances was convinced the moment Dumbledore said he was pretty much James Bond. Of course, she'd definitely prefer payment for risking her job and livelihood, but maybe she'd just have to see where the road took her. Cross that bridge when she came to it. Go with the flow! (But, really, she'd prefer the money).

       "When do we start?"

A/N: YAY i'm finally done rewriting this ! and now !!!! everything's gonna b sm easier to get done cuz writing first chapters are always a snooze fest ughhh but i'm so pleased w this :) i have more plot points + changed up the alexandre family dynamic a lil bit and withheld some info from y'all LOL <3 + a different way of characterising frances (esp w her impending alcoholism & dynamics w other characters) and i'm soooo stoked it's gonna b so fun :)