march 1945
graphic depictions of violence
substance abuse
brief suicidal ideation
sicaria was going insane, truly.
it seemed she was incapable of true relaxation. her plan of self-restoration had gone miserably; instead of the day of doing nothing, as she had planned, she ended up feeling something akin to guilt about even attempting to rest when the people she loved were in danger, even if it was not imminent. gone were the hopes of momentary peace, and in their place sat that same immovable dread that kept her in a constant state of alertness.
there was nothing— literally nothing— she could be doing to help anyone at this time, but her mind simply wouldn't allow her to rest. panic and anxiety haunted her day and night, to the point where she was becoming irritated by her own emotions.
sicaria awakened long before dawn broke, significantly earlier than what was healthy and what she had planned. she had the vague feeling and memory that she'd had a nightmare, but couldn't recall any of it. she figured it had probably been derivative anyway, and not worth trying to remember. after checking the time, she settled back into her bed, listening to the faint sounds of nighttime fading from outside her apartment.
after an hour of rolling around trying to force herself back to sleep, she groaned as she got herself out of bed. flicking her wrist, she sent a wandless spell to her lamp to turn it on, because the apartment still looked as though it were in the middle of the night.
sparing no time to take in the state of her apartment, sicaria exited her bedroom and went straight to her kitchenette.
she stared into her cabinets seeing them almost completely bare except for two half opened bottles of gin and sake and a few miscellaneous foods scattered around. the items she'd left under stasis were practically inedible now, so if she planned on eating, she'd have to go out, which negated the idea of doing nothing.
this was the second avoidable obstacle she'd encountered— she could have taken a sleeping potion last night and she could've gone out for food yesterday evening— but sicaria hadn't realized relaxing took so much planning.
it was around one o'clock that sicaria decided to give up on the stupid idea of what healer miranda would call 'self healing'. perhaps if she had given it a real attempt, she would not have been so quickly discouraged by the setbacks, but she hadn't really planned on seeing this through, anyway. instead, sicaria moved on to what she had actually wanted to do all along. the solution had always been lingering in the back of her mind.
drugs.
it wasn't lost on her that there had to be at least one misplaced bag of coke somewhere in her home, but those around her had successfully managed to make her feel guilty about the time and emotional labor it took to be around her while high. for miranda, it was only the worry of her addiction worsening while out of reach, but her five boys had to think of that as well as the everlasting potential threat of global conflict. now, every time she wanted to do something reckless, she could feel adonis hugging her, or abraxas trying to comfort her as best he could, or miranda's outburst at realizing she had no grasp on sicaria. it was maddening, being made to feel guilty for something that sicaria felt she was a victim of.
there weren't many things sicaria took responsibility for in her life — it was undeniable that the world had done her many great disservices— but she couldn't force the blame this on anyone else.
she knew it 'hurt' those around her, but addiction was inherently selfish. she could tell herself it had nothing to do with them as much as she wanted, but that wouldn't change the reality of the situation. she didn't want to care about how her actions affected other people— that was really the only way she was able to do her job. everything was supposed to be an equal exchange of guilt and retribution, but sicaria found herself struggling to stay afloat as the scales started to tip.
see this, this was exactly the type of emotions she was trying to escape. that guilt, that apprehension, that self hatred, that sense of displacement. so really, in some twisted way, she could convince herself that their constant, suffocating surveillance of her had driven her to this ultimatum. yet, on the other hand, that feeling of guilt added to the snowball of negative emotions writhing within her, to the point where she didn't really care anymore. it was like after such an intense buildup of emotions, whether gradually or sudden, her mind was taken from her hands and the irrational part of herself, that she forcibly suppressed, took over her. typically (or rather, recently, since she met tom), it led to some sort of outburst involving screaming or violence or magic or some combination of the three, but every now and then, she was put into a state of pure apathy, where she couldn't feel anything other than doing whatever she felt like doing.
doing nothing, she remembered. owing nothing to anyone. that was the purpose of this day.
she didn't use a summoning spell. it felt more earned if she got down on hands and knees and looked for it. she opened every drawer in her home, banishing stray spiders and cobwebs. she cleared newspapers and miscellaneous files from beneath her bed and couch, some of which were probably important. she looked inside pots and pans and in between book covers and eventually found that little bag stuffed in the breast pocket of one of her heavier cloaks.
it sat on her kitchen cabinet for nearly five hours before she actually dared to open it. she'd spent the day finding every meaningless task to do around her home while glancing back toward the bag every few minutes as if doing coke was part of some grand scheme sicaria had planned out. it all felt so much more— not official, but official— when she could pretend she had tried so hard to hold out.
and try she did (she didn't).
she was still slightly spaced out when the idea came to her, or perhaps it was the manic train of thought that came with being high that brought the idea to her mind.
sicaria rarely thought of the people in her life in new york as having any real connection to her in any tangible way. she thought of her actions at work and her interactions with any real people in her life to be completely separate universes. those two sides of her— the agent and the person— couldn't coexist in the same space at the same time. but then she started to think of tom, who knew her as both, and then thought of the one person on the outskirts of her life that also knew her as both a person and an agent.
madam teresia.
she couldn't quite tell if removing herself in every way from teresia was a necessary measure— and for that reason, she chose to let the woman decide for herself. if she didn't want to be obliviated, then sicaria would know that the idea was an overreaction, but if she did— then she really had to think about cutting ties with those closer than teresia but farther than the knights and dumbledore.
which wouldn't be hard, considering there were only three people who fell into that category. regardless, it was still something she needed to think about.
it was another drug-fueled impromptu decision, one which she had no plan for. she didn't have any polyjuice potion on hand, and she didn't want to be seen entering teresia's library. the situation had come to a point where it was less paranoia and more precaution that she truly started to feel was necessary. the entire purpose of this visit was to move the woman safely out of any danger that was surely soon going to swallow sicaria whole, and if she could distance those who did not want to brave the storm with her, she would do so.
rather unwisely, she stood in front of her bathroom mirror and did a few appearance altering charms while high, changing her already distorted features as well as her hair color. she could scarcely recognize who she was in the mirror while sober, let alone try to do so while both high and with layers of enchantments placed on her face.
once she'd decided she was sufficiently disguised, she grabbed her cloak and wand before departing.
apparating out of her home felt like leaving a safehouse, as if being exposed to open air suddenly doubled the number of people looking to kill her. she landed in a dark alleyway on the side of town teresia's library was located and stepped out onto the pavement. as she walked, she studied the difference between the war-weary muggle neighborhoods as opposed to the war-torn wizarding ones as she got closer to where magical new york was concentrated.
her eyes struggled for a moment to adjust to the change in lighting and she found herself practically leering at things.
sicaria's steps were hurried as she made the few blocks journey through this part of town. she felt, for some unknown, unguessable reason, extremely feverish, and the cool early-spring air felt nice. it was darker out now, but still felt like the city was only just waking up, similarly to herself, just now waking up and making any part of her day productive.
she entered the store at about fifteen minutes prior to closing and approached madam teresia, who was sitting behind her desk writing in some sort of ledger. she looked rather irritated that someone had come in so close to closing time, and didn't much try to hide it in her voice.
"how can i help you?" she asked in the driest voice imaginable, glancing up without moving her head.
sicaria rolled her eyes. "soy yo."
"¿cuál es quién, en particular?"
looking around the empty building, sicaria got rid of the spells altering her face, leaving the ones that changed her hair. "¿feliz?"
finally looking all the way up and setting down her ledger, she spoke directly. "ah, sicaria. what is with all the—" she gestured confused and condescendingly at her. "—theatrics? if you've finally decided to go on the run then i don't want to know."
"no, it's only a precaution."
"against what?" she asked. sicaria didn't answer. "against who?"
sicaria made no move to speak. teresia shook her head in a way that made sicaria feel like a kicked puppy.
"you're back for the funeral i assume." she said, changing the subject. "tomorrow, isn't it?"
"yes." sicaria leaned against a shelf of books, from which she could hear a fair rumbling as if the pages were fighting amongst themselves. "did you know the director?"
teresia nodded, expression changing slightly. "for many years. he was never as great a leader as people make him out to be now. i think you can acknowledge someone's legacy without assigning them false accolades."
"it feels disingenuous that way," sicaria agreed, glancing toward the door again.
"it does," the woman murmured absently, staring curiously at sicaria, who was acting somewhat strangely. it was as if she was only half there— both mentally and physically. "what was the first book you borrowed from me?"
sicaria snorted at the memory. "theories of the magical afterlife by grant lockheart, after you told me you didn't have dante's inferno."
"then stop beating around and tell me what you came to say."
sicaria stared blankly at the request as it hung in the air, not expecting such an outburst (though, that felt like the wrong word to use. it was far more calculated than any sort of impulsive action).
"oh don't give me that look. you put me in danger just by being here and yet i still let you enter ten minutes before closing so the least you can do is to cease dallying around your point!" the woman had never pretended to be a beacon of condolence and consideration, but she'd never been so outright unsympathetic to sicaria. the stress of heightening tensions touched her, even in retirement.
nearly taken aback by the sudden faux-indifference, sicaria spoke as bluntly and jarringly as it could, hoping it would take effect on the woman and stir up some kind of regret for using that tone on such a fragile, broken child.
vindictive. "i'm not going to live much longer."
she even let her voice crack.
it brought sicaria great joy to see just how fast the irritation dropped from the woman's face. to make someone regret their words so immediately; it would have made her feel bad if it didn't feel so fucking good. then so quickly, it made her feel far worse than she could've ever made herself feel. it took this to make sicaria realize that people seldom saw her as a real person, and that to teresia, sicaria was less a human and more of a walking reminder of her past. the older woman had hated that part of her life, it seemed, so of course she could hardly feel sympathy toward sicaria— she represented an institution she resented. it made sicaria glad she wouldn't live long enough to become her.
teresia frowned at the young witch, staring for a few seconds and waiting for sicaria to elaborate. when she didn't, she sighed and lifted her wand. if she's going to bitch at me about wasting time, i'll show her wasting time. the sign hanging in her window flipped to closed and all the lights dimmed. the older woman beckoned sicaria to the back room where she kept miscellaneous artifacts as well as a desk. on it were no pictures or frames, but several small paintings, a desk clock, two candles in gold holders, and several little trinkets that all looked very expensive. on the walls were shelves all the way around, including one magically hung from the ceiling, each one practically combusting with tomes, books, loose papers, objects, and what looked like a collection of wands. all of it was a particularly gaudy excuse for an office.
she sat down in her chair and pointed sicaria toward a chaise with a sign that said 'do not touch!' on it.
"do you want any coffee? or tea? whiskey?"
sicaria just nodded.
teresia blinked before turning, and sicaria could see the glances shot toward her every few seconds as the older woman fixed the drinks for the two of them.
after a few minutes of very obvious dawdling to try to find within herself the part that was patient and careful in her words, she turned back to sicaria and gave her the drink, which she ascertained was tea.
sicaria brought her lips to the cup, but did not drink.
"so," she said, settling across from sicaria and fixing the younger woman with a stare that made her feel very much like she was being cross-examined— or rather, interrogated. "what has changed, hm?"
it was that moment that sicaria decided that this was indeed a goodbye. she wouldn't ask for any more information if she did not plan on being obliviated after. perhaps she just wanted to aid sicaria in her indecision.
after deciding that teresia was so far out of practice that sicaria could take her in a duel if necessary (though she doubted she'd need it— it was just instinct to make sure), she told teresia everything. starting from the dynasty oath, skipping to her time at hogwarts, and every bit of information she'd ever gotten from grindelwald or any of his fiends. once she started, it was easy to just let everything flow. things she'd almost forgotten, and details that certainly weren't necessary littered the slew of partial-nonsense coming out of her mouth, but she made sure to keep her anecdote entirely factual and void of any irrational speculation.
once sicaria finished, teresia scowled in a manner that felt almost like a joke. "evil magic, i knew it from the moment he set foot in this building."
"that's inarguably the least important part of what i just told you."
teresia shrugged, attempting a small bit of humor before sobering herself. she rolled her neck as she thought, turning information over in her head as thoroughly as sicaria's quick speed of output would allow.
sicaria waited in silence for the outpour. she didn't know whether she was going to receive an onslaught of advice or questions or just a simple request for obliviation.
she inhaled as questions began to form in her head. "what year was the vow made?"
"i don't know. but it was originally crafted to end in 1945."
"and they extended it? before or after your parents died?"
"after." the candles lighting the chandelier above them flickered every few moments, slightly changing the patterns of light on the walls. sicaria stared harshly at a shadow just above teresia's left shoulder.
"bonds like that... after a while they naturally start to erode. especially if it was posthumously refreshed. it will be significantly easier to break now, if you wished to do so."
sicaria nodded, i know. "i'd have to disappear in seconds."
"and the boy would want to go with you?"
"if i used him to break the vow, he wouldn't really have a choice." she crossed her legs before remembering not to give such obvious non-verbal cues. it was too late though— sicaria saw her eyes flicker. "i can't do that to him. he has ambitions and goals and i'm not going to take that away from him." she spoke, only then realizing she didn't half know what those goals were.
the only way to break the bond would be to take another kind of magical bond strong enough to overpower that one (which would require both her and the person she bonded to to run for an indefinite amount of time), or to get macusa to free her from the bond. but she couldn't. that would solve only a fraction of the macusa problem, but not the grindelwald problem in the slightest.
if she were to run, there would truly be nowhere to go. macusa would put out a search for her, and grindelwald already had a hit put on her. the entire magical world would be looking for her. all forms of travel, both regulated and illegal would be unavailable. even the muggle world wouldn't be able to hide her. she could lock herself in a safehouse in the middle of nowhere, but she'd go stir crazy inside and probably end up taking her own life. she'd spend the rest of her life running, and what good would that do, to take both her and tom's lives away from them?
there was no way out of this for sicaria.
the older woman set her cup down on the desk and folded her hands together, resting her chin on her wrists. "is that true?"
"how do you mean?"
"are you sure that's the reason? would he go with you if you asked or are you conflicted as to if he would or not?"
"yes," she said. she was rather certain. more than certain. "he's offered to do many things for me, but he'd get resentful eventually. if i asked him to run, he would, and that's the problem."
"i think you should still consider it."
sicaria hummed, hopefully conveying that she no longer wanted to talk about this part of the conversation. she didn't really know what she wanted from the older woman in the first place— not for advice, because she had gone through every possible turn of events that the future could hold, but perhaps she was still holding out a bit of hope that teresia would be able to see some detail that she'd missed.
"are you entirely certain that eileen intends for you to die?"
"yes.
"and you say you are sure grindelwald is looking for a means to find you?"
"yes, i'm sure."
"then you know what i'm going to ask of you." she was rummaging through one of the drawers inside her desk as she spoke, pulling out a small vial the moment she finished speaking. she tossed it to sicaria.
she nodded, half sad and half relieved, feeling like she'd accomplished something in crossing teresia off of her list of potential collateral damage. she turned the glass over in her hand, feeling it go from cool to warm as it adapted to her body temperature. "yes. that is why i thought i should come."
because sicaria was not her family, and sicaria put her family at risk. teresia was smart. it's what sicaria would have done in her position. but it still stung. tremendously.
sicaria turned back to her, wand in hand and prepared to do the spell only to see teresia staring at her curiously.
"yes?" she asked, somewhat frostily.
"if, or really, when the war ends, and you think it's safe, come find me."
"if you wish." if i'm around. "do you mind if i apparate out of here?"
"i won't really be able to stop you." she summoned a shawl from a desk drawer on the opposite side of the room before placing her wand down on the desk. "fifteen minutes should be enough. longer and i'll start to wonder what happened."
sicaria merely nodded, feeling both detached and numb.
"transpare," she cast, tapping her wand against the glass of the vial. then, aiming her wand at teresia's temple, she cast again. the wrinkles beside the corners of her eyes tensed for a moment before relaxing. "oblivate transpono."
slowly, teresia's eyes began to glaze over and she slumped back into her chair as the memories poured from her. sicaria watched them glitter in the air between her wand and the woman's head. finally, she fell over entirely, head landing softly on her desk and knocking her teacup over.
sicaria stared at her for a few seconds as the magic tethering them disapated and then looked down at her hand, seeing that the vial that was supposed to hold teresia's memories was empty.
it took her a second to process what had happened— like she was unable to understand that she was capable of making mistakes like this, especially using magic that she was so well practced in. sicaria's heart felt like it was expanding in her chest; like it was holding too much blood and pressing on her lungs. she should never have been so stupid as to attempt such complex, temperamental spellwork while still partially intoxicated. the notion took her breath away.
she apparated before she could think much harder about how shed just destroyed someone's only living memory of her.
one less person who had ever known her.
•••
the afternoon of the funeral, sicaria was surprised to see barry campbell at her door, apparently planning on escorting her to the park where the funeral and memorial service were to be held. he was almost certainly sent by either dumbledore or eileen, though likely the latter to ensure she actually did attend.
"how did you know where i live?"
he furrowed his brow, as if not understanding her concern. "your address is in the records, miss edwards."
"as what?"
"edwards residence." she had no reason to be suspicious of barry, but she doesn't invite him fully into her home.
sicaria scowled. she should rectify that, immediately. she half felt that it wasn't true, and that barry was lying, but either way, that kind of information was particularly sensitive, especially if tom was still insistent on coming to see her.
sicaria remembered a while back at hogwarts, she had thought about removing her files from the archive. picquery had given sicaria her personal level of clearance, so if a file had gone missing and sicaria had been the one to remove it, it would appear in the ledgers as though picquery had taken it, not sicaria. only the president would know it was her, and by the time she realized, sicaria would have long destroyed it.
it was a good plan, but there was just that ongoing sense of pessimistic reality constantly interrupting her thoughts.
you're delaying the inevitable.
she didn't care. all she wanted was more time.
before exiting her apartment, she applied her identity concealment charms. the two then lazily apparated right from the empty hallway of her muggle apartment building, not bothering to find a more discreet location. they landed at the macusa-approved entry points in a park, not far from the main macusa office building. the venue was large enough (with room to spare) to fit the hundreds of people in attendance, some dressed in all black and others in more showy robes of glittering black.
along the far edge of the park, muggles continued to walk past the site, as if nothing was happening.
there were several guides ushering people toward different groups of seats, all of which were aligned in neat rows facing a conjured stage just in front of a small patch of trees. to the left of the stage, a few feet away, there was a small creek.
barry and sicaria separated as they crossed, him being directed toward a section full of multinational diplomats, and her toward what she presumed were other groups of agents, all of which were under identity concealment spells similar to her own. she sat down, unfortunately in the front) in that section and looked around, observing the scene. in the section barry was in, he stood on the right side of the british minister of magic, who was talking to president picquery as well as the french minister. nearer to the front, the family of the late man was sitting together, not being approached aside from a quick solemn nod and a small handshake from miscellaneous guests. the aurors in attendance sat behind the diplomats, and behind them were clerical staff and other miscellaneous workers. in the second row, the family was in front, and behind them were friends, closer coworkers, and anyone that would have normally been invited to attend a normal funeral service. behind them were the agents, where sicaria sat, and one more section back were the magical creatures of macusa. behind all of that was press with hundreds of cameras, all of whom were standing.
as guests finished arriving and things began to settle, the seats around sicaria went from scattered to very compact. on her right were other agents, but since she was on the end of her section, her left side faced the back end of the auror section. a young-looking woman sat beside her just as the last guests took their seats.
a man sicaria didn't recognize stood from the front row of seats on the family side and made his way to the podium on the stage. "good afternoon, all, and thank you for being here. anthony would have been so happy to see you all here for him..."
the funeral was long, to say the least. speaker after speaker giving the same speeches of nothing and anecdotes that were so baseless they could apply to any random person off the street. each time a new person stood at the podium, they paused for about two minutes to allow the cameras to click and flash before even beginning to speak. every so often, the woman next to her would quietly snort derisively or mumble something incoherent but clearly meant to express her displeasure. sicaria noticed that many people in the family and friends section did not clap after each speaker (most of whom came from the diplomat section). all of the speeches bled together in sicaria's mind, and she found her thoughts often wandering away from where she really was. she checked the time far too often, before realizing that she didn't even know when this was meant to end.
apparently, the woman on her right had seen sicaria look down at her watch (she thought she'd been discreet) and took it as an invitation to speak. "i don't see why they make such a big deal of this shit."
sicaria's lip twitched, but she still whispered with some level of sternness, even if it was insincere. "have some tact. some of these people are truly mourning."
"a very select few." she sat up straighter, not looking at sicaria. "i think they all act this way when funeral season comes around."
"oh?" the vague recognition of the woman was the only thing that kept her interested in the conversation.
"my father died practically the same way. right before christmas."
ah, sicaria remembered. right after she'd left the malfoys. "i'm sorry for your loss."
"it's easy to say that without really meaning it. all the funerals i've been to since this whole thing started— before i was born— if i really felt sorry every time i said i did, i'd be carrying more guilt than a person can live with."
sicaria thought for a moment, and supposed that perhaps she was right. its reflexive now, to say you're sorry for someone. it's the equivalent of saying 'hello' when you enter a room. one can only give so many condolences before they start to feel like a standard rather than a special circumstance.
sicaria hadn't realized she'd been struck silent by the thought until the girl started talking again. "he died almost exactly the same way this man did. except his family found out from newspapers, and mine found out in a courtroom."
"how do you mean?" sicaria inquired, not letting the suspicion and contempt leak into her tone. the woman seemed far away, like sicaria was just the first person she got to recite these thoughts to. it was as if she'd had these thoughts bottled for ages, practically bursting at the seams, and spewing them at the first person who paid her a bit of attention.
"they sent him out on missions all the time, even while he was so injured and burnt out. then he went missing, and we assumed the worst. some hearing, i cant remember, an agent popped into the room and just announced his death in a list of others names. so coldly. though i guess she couldn't have known i was there."
"agent?" sicaria held her breath for a few seconds to slow the rapid acceleration of her heart.
she shrugged loosely, seeming half-drunk and only slightly able to keep control of her motor function. "one of the ones they keep secret. wasn't her fault really. she was still in the party dress when she arrived. they just kind of threw her into the room before she could even collect her thoughts."
"should you be telling me this?" sicaria could see how so many leaks got out, but this woman seemed like an outlier. a loose cannon of resentment, instability, and unresolved grief. a cesspool of emotional turmoil that could only cause chaos within the human psyche, so it was understandable how she could be so uncaring about the consequences of her actions.
she shrugged. "perhaps not, but i haven't got much else to lose. i doubt i've said anything to blow her cover, if that is even what she was doing. i don't want to know what she had to do to find out what happened to my father."
sicaria felt sick at the implication. that is what they thought of her, when she returned and they'd seen her bloodied and dirty. that she'd been assaulted, or worse.
and they cleaned her up, and sent her back out.
the slow, morose funeral march played tonelessly in the background of her thoughts. the sea of witches and wizards adorning all black stood heads bowed and quite still as the casket was carried to the impromptu stage at the front of the building. three adornments were placed on the stained wood casket: the macusa crest, his medal of valiance, and his family crest, in that order from most to least prominent. the service went on slowly, as it appeared that every man that the late director allen had ever worked with was entitled to give a speech. all of their words blurred together in sicaria's mind as she sat there, clapping when everyone else clapped and occasionally shifting in her seat to stop her legs from going numb.
sicaria felt somber but was so very bored— she couldn't be bothered to pretend to care about a man she didn't know, but remained silently respectful nonetheless. stony-faced government officials gave his career highlights while slightly more expressive family members talked about him as a man and his life outside the office. the only part sicaria could distinctly remember was when his eldest brother talked about his life before the war. back when he was an agent himself, rather than a supervisor. one particular anecdote told the crowd of his first day on the job, two years out of ilvermorny and being so collected that they tested him for polyjuice potion. it was one of the few moments in the ceremony that the crowd genuinely laughed at. his wife maintained a wistful smile, that didn't match her expressionless eyes, like she was remembering a man she did not know.
"please, light your wands for a moment of illumination and remembrance."
it was all very performative, she felt. insincere, in a way. they were lighting their wands though the sun had only just begun to set.
and then everything shifted slightly, almost silently.
that feeling— the seductive cold that she had felt in the french town— it began to wash over her again. the apprehension tugged at the deepest part of her intuition, and she could tell that there was malevolent magic here.
her senses heightened, but it seemed she was the only one having any sort of reaction. she scanned the crowd, looking for any kind of disturbance or outlier, or anything out of the ordinary. she let her eyes dart around rapidly, almost instinctively wrapping her hand around the end of her wand in her pocket in preparation for—
there was something in the sky.
the sound of an explosion came from behind her. a shield charm went up faster than she could take a breath.
"avada kedavra!" the woman speaking dropped dead.
sound exploded around her. chaos ensued as people scrambled to their feet, turning over chairs and fighting through crowds of people. sicaria felt herself being jostled around on all sides, but being pushed in the general direction away from the stage. she could hardly see over the mass around her, but it seemed like no one was able to apparate out.
security auror detail was surrounding the diplomat area, each one fighting through the crowd to get to the person they were meant to protect as everyone practically began to trample around her.
smoke started to materialize around the congregation.
and there he was, standing over the body of a woman he murdered for spectacle.
"my, what a dour ceremony."
sicaria took one inhale as she stared at him. he looked (and felt) the same as when she'd last seen him. just as spectacular and grandiose and somehow managing to convey both glee and despair at the chaos he'd caused.
spells shot at him from every angle, all of which dissipated into thin air before they got anywhere near him. his supporters were spawning in all around the congregation. people were casting spells in all directions.
cameras still flashed, even throughout all the mayhem.
as if just realizing this, grindelwald's arm raised. she saw his arm swoop in a great motion over the top of the crowd, but she couldn't make out the spell he cast. it was just too loud.
suddenly, all around her, everyone's identity charms disappeared. faces appeared around her spectacularly quickly, and as everyone started to realize what had just happened. sicaria ducked down quickly, face nearly touching the grass as she tried not to get trampled while simultaneously trying to ensure her identity wasn't compromised.
temporary. think temporary solution.
"diffindo," she cast, cutting off a piece of fabric from the bottom of her cloak, tying it around the lower part of her face so that only her eyes were exposed. it was not secure in the slightest, but it would do long enough to assess the situation and get out of there.
when she came up, she still had to crouch slightly to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of duels. it was almost impossible to describe how ridiculous the situation looked from the outside. it was practically a riot; some people were standing stationary, dueling and deflecting spells, but it was hard to tell what percent were on which side, since everyone, including grindelwald and his supporters, was dressed in black. others were running, trying to find the limit of his anti-apparation ward in an attempt to get away. sicaria moved as well, casting discreet killing curses to grindelwald supporters she recognized while also looking for a way out. it was hard, fighting through the crowd, because she began to lose perception of her relative location, meaning she didn't know where she was within the park.
grindelwalds voice struck a chord in the air, somehow louder and more painful than any of the surrounding explosions.
"take note of the danger, my brothers and sisters, that your leaders have placed you in. look at how they have failed you; failed to protect your family, your colleagues, your cities. they leave you to fight their battles; i ask you, where is your president now?" it wouldn't surprise sicaria if picquery had gone, but she didn't waste time trying to look for her.
sicaria began to trip over bodies and continuously be slammed into people from all directions, everyone attempting to run and fight through the crowd. she looked back to grindelwald (noticing the crowd had pushed her closer to him instead of farther) to see that whatever enchantment he had used to protect himself had been broken down, and that barry was among the fray of people he was dueling all at once. behind them, she saw the tree line, and she figured that if she could just make it there, she'd have a clearer space to be able to run and make it to safety.
she couldn't even hear her voice casting her spells. everything was so loud that all she could do was succumb to the urge to cover her ears and run. it was like an air raid siren, piercing through the distance between them and plunging like knives straight into her head.
spare "avada kedavra!" s began to pop up around her as the battle continued on. grindelwald's still magically amplified voice was loudest of all, ensuring that each person he killed would linger in the ears of everyone in the vicinity. three of his acolytes stood beside him, each helping to duel the crowd of people still trying to advance on grindelwald.
sicaria turned back to the front, just as the disarming charm hit barry, flinging his wand aside. the spell also managed to clip another auror, whose wand was also lost.
sicaria raised her arm, but her curse left a mere second too late. she couldn't see which direction the other killing curse came from, but she did see as it struck barry squarely in the back, as if it had come from the section behind him rather than the stage.
barry twitched, and was then stiff as his body dropped. grindewald's fighter dropped just after.
sicaria turned as fast as she could before her mind could start to process.
it's just another body. it has to be just another body. a faceless casualty. just another body. just another casualty. you can't get irrational, it's just another body.
it was time to get out of there. sicaria hadn't forgotten what had last time she'd stuck around to see just how bad things could get. she also knew her limits, and could feel that being in this environment any longer would only further overwhelm her, in a situation where there was nothing to be gained.
she began blasting people out of her way, uncaring as to whether they were friend or foe. her lungs burned with the excess force it took to breathe through the thick cloth all while trying to maintain her pace and duel as she went. after what felt like hours of fighting through the fray, she made it parallel to the stage. many others apparently had her idea of making it into the trees, but it was far easier to go through this crowd since they were all travelling in the same direction. her muscles felt exhausted, but she continued running until she saw several men ahead of her apparating.
her momentum carried her a few steps onward and she slowed to a halt, crouching down as stray spells shot through the branches of the trees. she felt so very hot, but she couldn't shed her cloak and leave any physical evidence behind.
grindelwald's piercing voice still echoed through the trees, and leaves fell to the ground with every explosion that happened back where the battle took place. she could hear distant screaming now, as people were likely being stomped as they tried to escape.
she straightened as people flew past her, still breathing shallowly but forcing her mind to focus.
idea struck her just as she was turning to apparate, just barely able to stop the magic from splinching her in her distraction.
she realized— macusa was practically empty right now. every clerk, house elf, and custodian deemed not one-hundred-percent necessary was in this park right now. it was the perfect distraction for her, and the perfect justification for her conscience. she couldn't kill grindelwald, and he couldn't kill her, though he'd still be on the hunt.
it took all of two seconds for her to internally deliberate. an opportunity this perfect wouldn't present itself again, she thought. now was the time.
renewed adrenaline burned in her blood. taking in the destruction around her one more time, she apparated.
how strange it was not to feel the beating pulse of macusa around her. to not feel the ground shake under the weight of its workers' footsteps, or the constant dull cloud of sound that was supposed to be ever-present.
no, it was silent. it shouldn't have been silent. the switch was so jarring it nearly made her dizzy, and the reverberating sound still rung in the chambers of her mind. she shook her head in attempt to clear it.
she raised her wand and rounded the corner before she could allow her mind to talk her out of it. sicaria saw immediately where the lack of sound was emanating from. the receptionist behind the desk sat leaned back in her chair, bleeding from the neck. her head tipped back over the edge of her chair and her eyes were opened and glassy. sicaria pressed her finger to her neck, feeling for her carotid pulse before quickly creating a portkey of her paperweight and sending her barely-alive body to the nearest magical hospital.
behind the desk were fragments of broken magic and wards surrounding the air around the door. on the floor on either side of the entryway were two guards, and sicaria didn't need a pulse to tell they were dead. she could feel the killing curse lingering in the air.
sicaria assumed that the intruders, however many there were, incapacitated the receptionist first before breaking down the enchantments that kept the records room locked. the leftover guards that weren't in the park likely rushed to the scene only to be killed immediately upon arrival. judging by the way the jagged pieces of broken magic hung limply in the air, she also presumed that they had struggled to get through the enchantments, or that they weren't trying very hard to be precise or efficient. it looked as though they had just taken a battering ram to the set of spells.
she took the slightest of inhales as she stepped over their still-warm bodies into the threshold of the archive room. the gravity and irony of the situation only just began to hit her as she crept slowly forward.
of course. it had been a stunt, but also a distraction.
taking quiet, deep inhales, she kicked off her heels, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet as she carefully tiptoed through the entrance. she forced herself to remain calm, internally stomping down the human urge to run from the danger she could already sense. she formed a simple objective in her mind— retrieve the files as quickly as possible and refrain from engaging in any conflict if possible.
the archway directly opened into a second floor terrace, and she could see the atrium-like room underneath her. there were rows upon rows of individual columns that look like bookshelves lining every inch floor, each being incredibly tall. from the height she was, she could look out over and see the sea of information in the round room. the second floor terrace wrapped all the way around the room, and she could see the stairs on the opposite side that led down. she heard echoes of sound, but couldn't see a source. she tiptoed quickly and silently around the terrace to the staircase, keeping an eye out for movement as she went down. the room was so massive that she could scarcely see the end of it, let alone hear stray echoes of sound from across it.
as she reached the ground floor, the entire space felt a hell of a lot more overwhelming. the shelves were several times taller than her, and the set-up of the room made it feel as though one was traveling through a maze. she crept into the records room soundlessly, wand at shoulder level with both hands gripping it. on the end of each aisle were small signs, like those in a library, that directed her through the numerical catalogue system macusa assorted files by. her information would be categorized toward the beginning (agent 1231) which was situated on the far east section of the rows.
sicaria had been standing on the edge of the maze for a moment, hesitant to actually enter because to do so would be to decrease her own visibility, as well as creating barriers of sound around her. still, she had no choice but to advance into the archives.
she went through each aisle, clearing them but also inching toward the area with the files that would contain her. if someone was in here, it wouldn't matter to her as long as she could get in and out without them noticing. hell, she wouldn't half care so long as they weren't looking for hers.
oh, what irony.
as she came nearer to the section that housed her files, she began to hear whispers of sound. her breaths were so shallow and so silent that she started to become lightheaded as she came closer and closer. the voices and movement then became so nearby that sicaria finally paused her steps. she was millimeters away from the side of the shelf, and she slowly peeked around the corner. two men stood there, one holding a wand that supported a magically-conjured ladder, and the other atop it, rifling through files and reading off names and crimes. sicaria immediately turned back, pressing her head to the wood and fighting the urge not to bash her head in as she heard him say, "agent 968; died march 1939, division of..."
of course. of fucking course. how could she be so foolish?
the pair were digging through files fast, and it appeared their task wasn't incredibly hard; half of the files they picked up were from agents that had already died, and another quarter were of agents who hadn't been active since the start of the war, though that still left a large pool of names to pick from. they weren't, however, making much of a mess. as if they wanted macusa to know they had been there, but not specifically what had been taken. typically, as one passes through the editing enchantments, a log is kept of what authorization took out which file, but because those enchantments had been destroyed, there would be no way to tell what precisely had been taken.
sicaria leaned her head against the wood as she considered her options before realizing there really weren't any. she couldn't just let them find and take her file— then everything really would be over. so really, it was a choice between fighting them now or surrendering in hours when her file exposed every location she'd ever been a resident in.
she thought for only a moment longer, strategizing for the quickest way to be done with these two. they weren't out in the battle, which could indicate either that they were not expendable in grindelwald's army (she immediately ruled this out; grindelwald typically treated all of his underlings as if their lives were equally meaningless) or that they were incompetent as fighters and could be better used in stealth operations. she figured if she could take out one of them, dueling the second one wouldn't be so hard of a task— she just wanted to avoid a two-on-one duel.
she looked back, noticing that the one atop the ladder's wand wasn't in his grasp as both his hands were rifling through papers.
sicaria set an anti-apparation boundary across the room with a grand flourish of her arm before taking a deep breath. she fortified her mind— locking out thoughts of anything but dueling before rounding the corner fully.
"avada kedavra," she casted at the man holding the wand and his body dropped. the other turned around as her wand turned on him. he dodged her killing curse and she grit her teeth in irritation as she realized he had his wand in his other hand. he spotted her wand pointing and jumped down off the other side of the shelf, out of her view.
fuck. ambush or wait?
she couldn't wait, though. he'd run.
she grabbed a random file off of her side of the shelf before running to the edge that divided the two sides. she heard silence. she took her steps quietly, bracing herself against the wood on the side of the shelf.
quickly, she threw the file into the open area behind the shelf, watching as his killing curse hit it the moment it came into his view. before he could reorient himself, she sent a flash of blinding light ahead of her into the area behind the shelf, causing the man to scream out in pain. she turned the corner, sending several spells meant to disorient and stun him as he deflected. he continued to step backwards and sicaria advanced on him, even once attempting to apparate.
he backed himself up further until he hit another corner, turning it just fast enough to dodge another one of sicaria's killing curses. she ran after him, footsteps echoing in the chamber as she fought not to lose sight of him. he turned corners between shelves at every chance he got, and sicaria, somewhat struggling in her fatigue to keep up, was practically sprinting to ensure he couldn't make it to the stairs without her seeing.
"expelliarmus," she managed to wheeze out, and she caught the tail end of his robes with the spell. his wand shot back into the corridor she'd followed him through, but he continued to turn the left corner.
sicaria nearly tripped as she stopped where he turned, realizing she no longer heard his footprints. she waited a second, trying to listen for the sound of his breathing around the corner, but she was unable to hear over her own.
suddenly, he jumped out from the corner he'd just turned. less than a foot away from him, she leaned back to dodge his grasp.
he lunged at her, brandishing a knife and before he could get anywhere close, he spluttered, blood falling freely from his neck as sicaria's reflexive diffindo struck him. he still had documents in his hand, though the massive amounts of blood flowing in waves down his body stained them.
"bombarda," she shouted, and the shelf behind him shook before collapsing under the weight of itself. the edge of the shelf landed squarely between his ribs and lower back, but the rumble of the movement was so loud that she couldn't hear the crunch of his breaking bones.
the curse had just left her wand, and the delayed magical backlash of her earlier killing curses hit her magic just as her airway was suddenly cut off. an arm was wrapped around her throat, pushing hard on her esophagus and her feet were kicked from beneath her. she heard a snap and could feel the pain radiating from her right ankle.
a third assailant. likely drawn to them by the mans scream and the sound of their commotion.
the feeling was so sudden and harsh that her lungs spasmed as the two of them hit the ground together. they landed next to the discarded knife and in her thrashing in attempts to get away, she kicked at it, nicking her upper calf. her hands scratched at the arm, trying to relieve any of the pressure. she kicked and scratched and elbowed into her attackers body attempting to get out of the grasp as her mind started to blank, hitting the floor beneath them several times as she thrashed wildly. she could feel the compression building behind her eyes as they watered and heard rushing in her ears.
her wand was in her grasp, but she couldn't get the angle to cast anything.
with as much physical force as she'd ever exerted, she struck backward, plunging the sharp end of her wand into the attacker and immediately feeling her blood gush onto her hand. in the split second reaction of shock, the grip on her throat loosened, and sicaria slammed her head behind her forcefully, causing a scream of pain from the woman who had grabbed her. sicaria rolled over, pulling her wand free.
"avada kedavra!" she choked out, voice barely recognizable through the coughs as her lungs rushed to replenish themselves with oxygen. the green light of the spell nearly blinded sicaria— she hadn't ever cast it from this close. it stunned her for a moment. she was less than two feet away from the body, within point blank range, and able to see the exact moment that death took her assailant. sicaria could feel the woman's last breath brush past her shoulder and the pulse of her final heart beat. she thought about what the girl at the funeral had said, about not being able to feel grief for everyone's loss.
kill or be killed. ideologically, it wasn't hard to choose a side, to prioritize your life above others, but it was much harder post-action to dehumanize your opponents to not feel guilt for their deaths. it was hard to consciously ignore the humanity of those fighting you, especially after you had won.
sicaria had plenty of practice, though.
her head lolled to the side, and on her neck sicaria could see the once-shining white mark of grindelwald on her neck turned black as death overtook her.
and then, finally, everything was still. quiet.
there was no wind in the archive chamber, nothing at all to rustle the loose, fallen papers. no footsteps come to investigate the intense sounds of destruction. just quiet for a moment, basking in the damage done before sicaria had to return to the real world and do this all over again.
sicaria laid there for moments longer, evening out her breaths and trying to slow the sporadic beating of her heart. she forced her tense muscles to loosen themselves while trying to gather the strength to rise. soon, she felt the blood still seeping from the female attackers body beginning to pool on the ground beneath the two of them, which made sicaria shoot up. she sat on the floor, shifting her weight so that she could rise on one leg. she brought herself to her feet, balancing on one leg and letting the adrenaline carry her through the pain in her other.
she looked around for a few more moments, not in search of anything in particular, but feeling like after such an upheaval, there had to be more to the situation.
"accio." blood dripped from her hands and off the tip of her wand when she raised her arm to cast. she summoned the files from the male thief, watching them leave his hand, which was the only part of his body exposed and not crushed under the weight of the massive shelf.
time to go.
she stared for only a few seconds longer at the destruction and wondered how long it would be until macusa regrouped enough to discover the damage. she wondered how long it had been since she left, and if the conflict was still going on at the funeral venue. she wondered how she was ever going to manage to turn on one foot strong enough to apparate, but she attempted it anyway.
the room spun, and magically, she wasn't in macusa anymore.
her blood pressure dropped significantly after the first apparation into her home. trying to land on one foot was a foolish idea, one which she paid for dearly the moment it touched the ground. she was dripping blood on the floor and on the files, and in the dark she couldn't tell which room she landed in until she felt the edge of her kitchen cabinet bite into her hip, further throwing off her balance. there, she deposited the files in her home, throwing up some kind of protective enchantment (she was so low in adrenaline and low in blood volume that she couldn't remember) before apparating once more into the macusa medical center. the extreme magical exhaustion coupled with the pain of her injuries (and probably blood loss) knocked sicaria unconscious in the lobby before she could even check herself in.
her arm burned white-hot from a summons borne of worry, but in her rest, she could feel nothing.