Flora. {Credence Barebone}

Chapter Twenty-Two.

No matter how hard she struggled, Flora could not escape the fierce grips of the two Aurors who apparated her to the Woolworth building, leaving Walter behind in a frenzy. The lobby was echoing with nervous whispers, emitted by huddles of witches and wizards, all of whom turned to see Flora Cuthbert being dragged in off the dark street by a pair of Aurors with cloudy expressions.

Ascending the lobby steps, Flora looked up to the gigantic dial hanging from the ceiling, which displayed the Magical Exposure Threat Level; the hand was teetering between 'Severe' and 'Emergency'.

"I demand to know what is going on!" Flora exclaimed in indignation for the fourth time, struggling against the large hands holding her in place. Her request, however, was met with the jostle of her shoulder and a grunt from the Auror on her right.

Flora knew the MACUSA building, knew its marble floors and cold atmosphere, and though she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew she was approaching Madam Picquery's pentagram office. The closer her and her new friends got, the louder the irritated voices became.

"This is an emergency!" Madam Picquery exclaimed, and Flora heard the hand on the dial in the lobby chime; it was officially an emergency for the witches and wizards of New York. Flora however didn't know how she fit into it.

Madam Picquery's statement was met with loud murmurs of agreement and argument, all of which stopped when Flora and the Aurors stepped through the tunnel and into the pentagram.

The entire room of witches and wizards, all sat in ascending rows, turned to face the three who had come to a halt in the centre of the room. Madam Picquery was holding a conference with delegates of wizarding councils from all over the world; apparently this was an emergency for the witches and wizards of the world, not just New York.

A deadly silence hung over the large hall, broken only by the click of Madam Picquery's shoes as she stood from her chair and began to descend the red-carpeted steps leading to her throne. Her dress flowed as she made her way toward Flora, and her ornate headpiece glittered.

"Miss Cuthbert," the President spoke as she reached an appropriate position. "How nice of you to finally join us. Your father was quite worried."

Flora turned her head excruciatingly fast in the direction Madam Picquery was pointing in. There, in his official dark robes, sat Oleander Cuthbert on a wooden bench, beside Percival Graves. He seemed larger than Flora remembered, and his steel blue eyes darkened as he clenched his long wand tightly in his whitening fist. Frozen in place by her father's icy glare, Flora felt the Aurors' grip on her shoulders slacken. The pain of nineteen years of abuse hit her in one torrential wave of emotion, and Flora felt weak at the knees. What had she gotten herself into?

"Wh-why am I here?" Flora spoke through gritted teeth.

"You are here, Miss Cuthbert," Graves stood from his seat beside her father, gaining the attention of the room. "Because you were witnessed fleeing the scene of a dangerous breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"City Hall," Flora whispered under her breath, and Graves pointed upwards.

Flora stifled a scream as she took in Henry Shaw Jr's mangled body levitating above the room. She understood that it was a hologram image from the glowing light it emitted, but it didn't make it any easier on the eyes.

"Henry," Flora whimpered, casting her gaze to the cold floor.

"Did you, or did you not, know the No-Maj Senator for New York personally?" Graves glowered, his voice booming around the hall, every witch and wizard waiting with bated breath for Flora's answer.

"I-I didn't-" Flora's pitiful stutters were met with incredulous gasps and disbelieving shouts.

"Fraternising with No-Majs!"