✦✧✦
"Literally, fuck the Ministry."
Blythe gives Cress a scathing glare, one that Cress tries not to wither under. Her mother is known for making grown men weep with that stare, and Cress has received it all of twice in her life. It is always followed by raging lectures that will tear down a person's will to live. Cress intelligently steers clear of it. She doesn't take back her statement, though, because fuck the Ministry. Fuck them and their mistrust in Harry; fuck them and their stupid pompous rules; fuck them and the hearing they want Cress to attend — one to see if she can go back to Hogwarts.
Fuck the Ministry.
"Crescent, please," Blythe says, and there is a furrow in her eyebrow. Cress bites her lip. That only happens when Blythe is on the verge of a meltdown.
"I just don't see why I need to go. It's not like they're going to let me go back to school. I'm a Vacua, Mum," Cress retorts weakly. She stares at the parchment in her hand, the official letter that the Ministry somehow got to her despite the fact that she was hidden in headquarters that no one could find unless they knew where it was.
It stares back at her, and the black of the ink is mocking her very rudely, calling her names as it announces the very thing that she knew was coming. Her trial.
Ugh. Cress throws herself into the pillows and wants the world to swallow her whole. Her tears are fresh, and they burn her nose. Her nostrils flare in an attempt to keep them at bay. She coughs, and Blythe rubs her back.
"Mum, I don't want to go," she cries like a child being forced to go to the doctor's.
But that's what it feels like — a doctor's appointment. Somewhere where Cress is a spectacle and the disease she has is nothing like anyone has ever seen so everyone needs to get a glimpse of it — to see the girl who lost her magic because of her fucking brother. She'll be like an animal in the Muggle world, behind glass where no one can touch because they're too scared to get close to the beast in fear that they will end up with the same fate as the prey.
In this case, the spectators won't get too close in fear of losing their magic.
Wimps, the voice in her head sneers. For once, Cress agrees. She almost wishes she could suck the magic out of them, just because of their fear. Succubi do that right? That's what Hamlin told her, back in third year when he claimed a Slytherin of being one. Cress would most definitely be one, if she could. Probably a rocking one. At least she'd have her magic.
Blythe rubs her back. The room is hot from lack of circulation, and Cress is due to leave and help the other adolescents beat the dirt out of the house while the adults talk about "grown-up things." Ugh, Cress hates that they treat them like they're six-years-old or younger. Just say that you're plotting to overthrow You-Know-Who next time, Sirius Black. It'll be so much simpler since they've already decoded it.
"I know that you don't," her mum says softly into her ear. Cress sniffles into the pillow, really wants it to just be glued onto her face to where she can't get it off and then she's forced to swallow in air only to choke on the cloth of the pillowcase and die. "But you know you have to. Don't think so negatively. There is no way of knowing exactly what they're going to say when you show."
Picking her head up, Cress levels her mother with a glare that shows just how upset she is with everything. Her mum's optimism would be appreciated if Cress had some of her own in her body. Alas, all that is in her body is a deep defeat that weighed down her bones and poisoned her veins. She knows that she isn't going to Hogwarts again. That is a dream that she is going to have to hold onto in her slumber.
"Oh my gosh," she whispers, and her voice is horrified. Heartbroken. Shattered. She throws herself into the pillow again, letting the stars dance behind her eyelids as she shuts her eyes. "I'll never see Axel again! Or Mallory! And—oh my god, Mum! This is the last time I'll see Fred and them! What if they take me away? What if they tell me that they're going to show me something, but they take me to a dungeon and in that dungeon there's skeletons because they killed the other Vacuus? God, Mum, what if—"
Why did Blythe tell her this? Cress had been settling in so nicely. After her conversation with Harry, and after he blatantly told her that she needed to talk to her friends, to surround herself with the positive rather than the negative, Cress tried to take his advice for what it was. She socialized. She met Sirius Black on a personal level. She tried to laugh and smile for everyone, but that was proven difficult, so she took it in baby steps. That way, it was easier. It was still hard, letting herself move ahead with the world when it had stopped all of those weeks ago, the axis of it frozen.
But it had been going well, well enough that Cress didn't mind cleaning the house with everyone else. If anything, it made her feel a bit better, let her keep her hands and her mind busy throughout the day. Because of that, she couldn't think about her very obvious problem — she had no magic.
Leave it to Blythe to ruin that for her.
Okay, it isn't like her mother purposely tried to ruin Cress's already fragile mood. Blythe had no clue what she was doing when she sat Cress down this morning and told her that the Ministry called for a hearing to see what Cress's future held. Blythe had not one clue that it felt like Cress's world shuttered to a complete stop, the axis shaking to a halt as her world crashed into the deep dark of space.
But like — the hearing is in two days. That is no time for Cress to mentally prepare herself for the prodding eyes or the judgmental questions. She's going to go in there blind, and they're going to beat her while she's down.
"Okay, shh. . ." Blythe pulls Cress into her, cradling her. "Hey, I'm sorry. I know it's short notice, but we have to go. None of that is going to happen, you know. They're just going to assess what has been happening over the past weeks. You're going to be fine."
Cress really isn't. She is most likely going to leave the hearing room in pieces, her heart trailing pieces of glass behind her, probably cutting into her body with the force of the awful words she knows the people are going to say to her.
How fun.
After she convinces her mum (and herself, kind of) that she's prepared for the hearing, Cress goes into the upstairs bedroom that isn't occupied by anyone yet — due to it being unstable and awfully dirty — to find everyone in already there. Something is rattling in the drapes, and it makes the cloth look black and grimy. It smells like mothballs and sulfur. Cress doesn't gag as she goes to stand by Fred, but it's a near thing.
"Morning, Crescent!" Mrs. Weasley greets merrily enough.
Cress tries for a grin. Mrs. Weasley has been nothing but kind to her, even after she found out that Fred was, in fact, dating her. (And, okay, that might be due to the fact that Cress's life is in shambles at the moment, but dammit if the woman isn't trying to make Cress feel as welcome as she needs to be.)
"Good m-morning, Mrs. Weasley." Cress manages a small wave and nods her greetings to everyone else in the room.
Fred gives her a bright beam before handing over her supplies. Cress secures the rag over her mouth with her own tiny smile, allowing the warmth of his hand trail up her arm. Her cheeks heat as she moves over to Ginny, and that feels good.
(Guilty, but good.)
They wrestle with some creatures that Cress doesn't catch the name of, and by lunchtime, Cress has black soot all over her from the chimney gremlin that they had to exterminate. She wipes the dark streak on her cheek onto the blue of her shirt and accepts the sandwich that Fred hands her when Mrs. Weasley levitates a tray into the room.
"Thanks," she mutters, feeling much too like the Cress who didn't know Fred — who was still infatuated without a chance of knowing him.
Fred grins, and it dazzles more than the constellations in the sky, and it hurts Cress that this is the last time she's going to see him — here, in this house, where she is still broken, and he is so perfect, so much more than what she deserves. Seriously, what is Cress going to do when the Ministry puts her away like some kind of monster? Is she going to even be able to talk to her family anymore or will they force her into a life of solitude where she has to think about the shame she brought upon her family?
Amos's words come to mind as she eats her sandwich, and that makes it difficult for her to concentrate on dusting off the rest of the room when their break is over. Lunch was good, but it didn't settle well on Cress's stomach — nerves eat away like acid tearing up the lining of her intestines.
Mrs. Weasley calls it quits around dinner, and Cress lugs herself to the dining hall, dirty and exhausted both from today's activities and the whirlwind reverberating against her brain. The table is long, but everyone fills the seats in easily. Cress, having been one of the last ones in the room, is forced to sit beside Sirius Black, across from Nymphadora Tonks. Fun. Sirius regards her with a grin, and Cress thinks it might be teasing — perhaps with joyful mischief mingled in.
She narrows her eyes at him, anyway. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing," he replies quickly. Sirius pushes a plate towards her, and it's filled with tonight's dinner, a bowl of stew following it to Cress's spot. "Here. Made you a plate."
Suspicion ripples through Cress, and she glares at him questioningly. His crooked teeth gleam in the lit room as he moves on to his plate. Cress sighs out, spoons out her beef stew, and remains silent as conversation bustles around her. Today was a good day for the Phoenix, then.
Tonks is one of the more excitable ones. "While I was out, I passed one of my old classmates, and I had my disguise on—" As if to demonstrate, her face smoothed out into that of a mid-twenty male who had freckles dotting his pale face, blond hair in his face. "And they totally didn't know who I was! Mum said that I would get better at morphing, and I didn't really believe her because this classmate — well, they could always see through my changing. . . But they didn't!" It comes out garbled, as her voice is changing octaves, deeper for the male she created and shriller for Tonks.
"Wicked," Ginny says breathlessly, blowing on her own stew. "That's so cool, Tonks! All we did today was beat the tar out of some drapes and dust an old room. It was boring!"
Cress wouldn't say that. It was busy work that kept everything in check for a while, and it allowed Cress to save her mini breakdown until she is the sanctuary of her own bed.
"Oh, hush, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley scolds from the top of the table. "Sirius allowed us a place to stay, the least we could do is help clean it up."
She finishes her statement with a cautious glance in Sirius's direction, gauging the emotion on there. Sirius is oddly solemn, eating his stew in renowned silence. Cress glances at him before staring at her own bowl, swirling her soup around without eating. Her stomach is full of hazardous butterflies — nervous flitters beating against her ribs until her entire chest aches.
"How was cleaning today?" Sirius questions after a few moments.
Cress watches her loaf of bread sink to the bottom of the bowl, crumbling into tiny specks. "Fine. The usual, except Ron almost got strangled to death by some robes. It wasn't comical."
Fred snickers. "Yes, it was, Crescent. Don't lie to Sirius. He was as purple as the robes when Mundungus finally got them off."
"Oi!" Ron exclaims from a few seats down. His words are muffled, and there is a roll of bread stuffed in his mouth. He chews for a moment then shouts, "I could have died, you twit! Have some compassion!"
"Ah, but you didn't, little Ronald. You're perfectly fine. Remember? You were saved like a damsel in distress. Say thank you, Mundungus."
"I was caught off guard!"
"Sure, okay. No, I believe that." Fred turns towards Sirius and Cress. "He totally wasn't. He was staring at the robes for ten minutes, just marveling, and they had had enough — so they attacked," he stage-whispers to them with a chuckle.
"Naturally," Sirius deadpans, but there is a tiny grin on his face. "Sounds like you've had a productive day, eh, Magnolia?"
Cress glares at him, and he guffaws like some cartoon villain.
Over the past days, Cress has come to realize that she might hate Sirius Black. Like, legit hate. It's a hate so profound and so deep that she cannot do anything with it but pretend like it's not there. He's such — such a prick.
Okay, listen. Cress knows he means well. She knows it. Deep in her soul, she understands that Sirius crept into her room as a fucking dog to help her, not scar her for life.
But like, he did that. He waltzed up into her room as fucking Boo after Cress had just talked to Harry, and her life was falling apart, and she felt hazy and dizzy with her tears, and laid right on her. And she was surprised, but it was pleasant because Boo was back; Cress thought she would never see him again, thought Madam Rosmerta grew weary of his beggar habits and kicked him to the next country. She thought he was a goner, but he wasn't because he was there, and his fur was soft and pliant in her hands, and she rubbed him, and his soothing growls helped her calm down — helped her come back to herself.
That's all it was supposed to be. After that, Boo should have left and let Cress believe he was a figment of her imagination. He wasn't supposed to hop off the bed, and Cress wasn't supposed to hear growls turn into groans as the dog transformed — right in front of her eyes.
Into Sirius Black, nonetheless.
And that had ended up with a screech so loud that it opened the curtain of Sirius's mother's portrait, and she shouted throughout the house with a vengeance that Cress has never heard from a portrait, even the one she accidentally knocked down in her third year. The haggard looking man with a five o'clock shadow and hair down to the back of his ankles didn't even match the intensity of the late Mrs. Black, and he called Cress every name in the book.
When Blythe came in, Cress was beating Sirius with her jeans from earlier, and Sirius was cackling to himself as though the whole situation was humorous. Then, after all was explained, and Sirius told her he was an illegal Animagus (cool), Cress felt embarrassed because dammit, he knew everything about Fred Weasley and her stupid fat crush on him before they started dating. He had so much blackmail.
He said he wouldn't use it, claimed it was a secret between the two of them, but he also winked when he did that, so Cress doesn't know what to do with that information.
And he calls her Magnolia. What kind of arsehole does that? It's literally not even her name.
"Stop calling me Magnolia, oh my god."
"Why? You gave me a nickname. It's only right that you get one, too."
"I gave you a nickname because I thought you were a dog. I have been wronged."
"Wronged? How? The cutest dog in the world comes up to you and helps you through your problems, and it's considered wrongful? What world are you living in, Mags?"
"Oh my—" Cress slams her head into the table, being mindful of her plate of food. Mrs. Weasley uses her wand to wave the food away from her, and Cress mutters her thanks even though the scene sends a deep ache of jealously through her. "I didn't know the dog was you. I thought it was a fluffy little angel who needed some love. Turns out I was wrong; I was dealing with a mongrel."
"How dare you! I am no mongrel. I am but a cretin."
"Is that not slightly worse than a mongrel?" Cress catches a glimpse of Fred as he pushes his chair out, plate in hand. He sends Cress a wink when he sees her staring, and she does not know what that means. Only that it turns her whole body into a live flame. She turns back to Sirius, if only to save the nest of emotions in the hive of her mind from tumbling down and filling her heart with too many overwhelming things that she doesn't want to address.
Sirius shrugs. "Beats me. Find an encyclopedia and look it up, Mag Mag."
"Okay, why Magnolia? I get it—I give your Animagus a nickname, and you think it's free game to give me one. Sure. But what the hell? Magnolia?"
"You want to know the story? Alright then. When I was young and naïve, a wee child—" Cress glares at him, and he snickers to himself. Obviously, he loves riling people up. He continues, hands up, "When I was younger, I told myself, 'Sirius, if you ever have a child, name her Magnolia.' I had it all planned out. I was going to settle down and have three kids and the first one was going to be named Magnolia, and she was going to be the favorite out of everyone even though I claimed to her mother — or father — that she wasn't. I had an entire plan. But, as you can see, that got me no where." By now, the only people in here are Sirius, Cress, Professor Lupin, and Blythe. Everyone else was corralled off by Mrs. Weasley to wash up. Sirius has a bitter sneer on his face, and it looks very unbecoming of him. Cress isn't sure whether she wants to smack it off or try and distract him until it disappears. Gross. "So, now, I have you to call Magnolia because Blythe is my best friend, and I'm your bloody godfather so it's only ri—"
"Wait—what?"
"What?" Sirius asks, momentarily taken aback. He seems flummoxed by the look of outright shock on Cress's face.
"Repeat that again."
He furrows his eyebrows. "It's only rig—"
"No, you heathen, before that! You're my what now?"
"Oh. Yeah. I'm your godfather." Sirius says, stealing a glance at Blythe. Cress's mum is glaring at him, and he winces. "Oops. Probably shouldn't have said that to you."
"Yeah, probably," Blythe says scornfully. She looks at Cress, but really, Cress is far gone. "Crescent, honey, it's not a big deal."
And okay, that is a lie. It is a big deal. During Cress's life, she grew up thinking that she had no godfather, nothing else but her grandparents and her uncle on her mother's side (a right mess that no one wants to meet). Other children had spoken and bragged about having their own godparents, and Cress had balked because why would she need one? Her parents were well and alive, and no one needed to take her away when she didn't want to go anywhere. They could keep their godparents; Cress had her family. She had her brother and her mum and Amos (sometimes, barely, when he wasn't shouting down her neck about being better — being more to catch up with the legacy Cedric was already carrying); she had Pop Pop and Nan — there was no one else she needed.
But Sirius Black. Sirius Black. He's a notorious Black, and his family is known for being evil and dark wizards, and he went to bloody prison for crying out loud! Granted, the reason he went was wrongful, and Cress fully believes that the trial should have involved consensual consumption of Veritaserum, and it would have prevented this entire commotion. But still. How — Blythe made him her godfather? And for what? For what reason?
"But. . ." Cress racks her brain for any logical reason, for any possibility. "I don't even know him."
"Ouch, Maggie," Sirius says, shaking his head in mock hurt. "Yet again, I comfort you, and I am shunned to the side like garbage. I am very hurt by this."
"You know I didn't mean it like that." Cress rolls her eyes at him because he is dramatic. Too dramatic. Dramatic enough that he shouldn't be her godfather. Yet he is. Sirius Black is her godfather, and that is a fact that she has to live with. "Oh my god. My whole life I thought he was some kind of criminal, and you're telling me he's my godfather?" Cress turns to Blythe with curiosity laced in her eyes.
Blythe nods defeatedly, her lips parting into a sigh. "Yes, Crescent. He's your godfather. He was there for the birth and everything. I was going to tell you, but as you can tell, he went and got himself arrested like an arse. I felt it best to spare your feelings."
"Oi, Blythe, don't call me an arse. I've said it before, you can talk about my arse, but don't call me one."
Cress might explode. Her heart is beating an erratic pattern against her chest, and Sirius feels too close in the warm dining hall, his chair much closer than it had been before. She wants space, but she also craves answers. Yet, she isn't sure if she wants to know the answers — isn't too sure if she can handle it.
(Cedric could. He'd handle this with ease. Would make nice with Sirius in the matter of seconds because that's who he was. Charismatic and dramatic. Just like Sirius Black. Oh, god.)
"Merlin almighty." Cress rubs her temples to fight the oncoming headache that's growing. "Why didn't you just tell me, Mum? I would have understood, had you sat me down and explained everything to me."
"You were young, and I didn't want to put that stress on you," Blythe says sadly. "I'm sorry, Crescent. You're right, I should have told you. I just didn't really think. . . I never thought I'd see Sirius again, if I'm honest."
There's something in that tone, something soft and tender and so heartbroken. Her mum's eyes are wet with tears, but she doesn't cry, and Cress wonders so much. Blythe never talked about her teenage years or her years at Hogwarts, only told them about Amos and their love story. But Blythe is staring at Sirius, and she looks beyond her years, almost like she had just gotten a Dementor's kiss.
Sirius is paying firm attention to the splintered table, and his expression is the gloomiest Cress has seen it since she's been here. He hasn't been the world's happiest camper, but the portrait on his face is outright thunderous.
Professor Lupin just looks sympathetic. Cress feels for him. He had to lose his friend too, he can relate to what Blythe went through.
"But why?" Cress whispers still perplexed. "What made you choose him, Mum? No offense, Sirius. You're great. Really honored that you're my godfather!"
She gives him a lighthearted punch on the shoulder though she feels weighed down by everything that is happening. First, her mother tells her she might not be returning to Hogwarts this morning and then, after dinner, this bomb is dropped on her. The universe truly does hate her.
Blythe shudders like a pain went through her. She takes a sip of her tea, placing it gingerly down on the tea plate, and gazes at Cress. Her eyes look like rain droplets. "I chose Sirius because there was no other choice. He was the only one I trusted with you if something were to happen to me or Amos." Blythe glances at Professor Lupin, but he seems to comprehend the situation; Cress thinks back to her fourth year, thinks about how Professor Lupin would pat her on the shoulder and smile at her sadly. She thinks about her mother's anger towards people who hated werewolves and glances back down at her hands. "It had to be him. It was always him."
There is a scrape of a chair on hardwood floor as Sirius pushes himself up. "I think that's enough enlightenment tonight, dear Blythe. I'm going to bed," he snarls, voice hard and tight like a spring unfurled too much. "I will see you in the morning. Good night."
"Sirius," her mum calls, and it's a plea, but Sirius is already slamming the door shut behind him.
Cress has no clue what happened, but her mother looks gutted, and that pains her. She won't lie, a fight between her and Sirius might end in bloodshed, but Cress is willing to put in her all if he's the reason this expression is on her mother's face.
Professor Lupin rubs Blythe's shoulders, whispers, "Just go talk to him, Blythe. He'll understand." The body language shows that he's done this before. How many fights have her mum and Sirius been apart of? How many times has Professor Lupin been the mediator between them?
Blythe runs her hands through her hair, and Cress watches her deflate. She looks back at Cress evenly. "I can't really explain it, Crescent," her mum explains to her, voice thick. "I just knew it had to be Sirius. That's all I can give you."
And Cress figures that can be enough. Cedric told her once that patience was the key that opened the giant door to a world of success. She figures that he was over-exaggerating a bit on that, but she watched him be patient with everyone he interacted with, and it helped him in the long run. People came to him because he understood, and he listened, and he was there for them. He was their shoulder to cry on when their bodies were broken; Cress could only do the same for her mum.
"That's okay, Mum," Cress replies with a tiny grin. "I get it. Really."
Blythe sends her a grateful grin, and one tear falls, and it's so dramatic, Cress's life. "Thank you, Crescent." And she pushes her chair back, too, and follows the shadow that Sirius left behind.
Professor Lupin remains behind. Cress sits in her chair, the wood digging into her spine, and she wonders where to go from there. Her head is pounding with an onslaught of information, and the voices in her head are articulating their concerns about the trial that was days away. She is tired from today's activities and wishes to get in her shared bed and sleep the night away, to let blackness take over until there is nothing for her to think about.
"I hear you've got a trial soon," Professor Lupin says suddenly, and Cress startles. He is peering at her curiously. "Not excited, are you?"
Cress snorts. "You could say that. The Ministry is full of a bunch of idiots. I just wish they'd tell me I'm not going back to Hogwarts this term."
"Going back to Hogwarts?" Professor Lupin asks, fiddling with Blythe's leftover tea. "What does that mean? Blythe didn't disclose the specifics to me so I had not known what the trial was about. If I may?"
Sure, why the hell not? Cress needs to let some of the stress out of her system; if she doesn't, she's certain that she is going to blow a gasket at the wrong time. Plus, Professor Lupin helped her in her fourth year when Cress got in a fight with Cedric and decided that she didn't need a sibling. He was the one who told her that family was the most important thing she had, and it was cliché, but Cress ended up apologizing to Cedric, anyway (even though he was damn wrong about the Ballycastle Bats being a team of vampires).
"Basically, I lost my magic," Cress explains. She tells Professor Lupin, and it feels good to get it off her chest, to let someone besides her mum or Hamlin know what's happening in the warped trench of her mind.
Professor Lupin listens with intent, leaning forward in his chair as she recalls every detail from when Cedric. . . from that night. It's hard, and Cress swallows back tears on more than one occasion, but it feels easier than talking about it with Augie or her mum, and the anvil on her heart lets up a bit, suffocating but not destroying.
"I see," he says when she finishes. His scars flash pink in the low light of the dining hall. "I didn't know. My condolences. I've heard of it, but to witness it in real life. I thought it was just a myth. . ."
"Nope," Cress says matter-of-factly. A chuckle forces its way out of her mouth. "Not a myth. Definitely not a myth."
"So, did you just lose it? How did it happen?" Professor Lupin is looking at her not like she is a problem that can't be fixed but like she is something worth fixing. It's like he's working out the problem and analyzing it and trying to find the best possible solution for her. "Will it come back; do you think?"
Cress shrugs. She is as enlightened as he is. "My Specialist said the ones that have suffered from it never got it back. Or at least, I think she did. The details are really fuzzy there." And Professor Lupin nods as though he understands. Cress figures he does; thinks he has those days where everything blanks out into nothingness. She's read about being a werewolf, she knows. "But Augie is hopeful that I'll get it back. She says since I'm such a 'strong witch,' it'll come back in no time. But," Cress shakes her head, "I don't know. It probably won't."
"Well, I wouldn't say that." Professor Lupin frowns, enchanting the tea plate to go into the kitchen. He assesses Cress with curiosity. "The only thing really stopping you from getting it back would be you, Crescent. From what you explained, it sounds like a mental and emotional block. Once a witch or wizard has magic, it's not something they can lose so easily since it is a part of that person's very essence. Yes, it is true that it can disappear through something traumatic, but that is only if the user allows it to vanish."
Cress digests this information and tries to reign in her frustration. Sure, it's that easy. Cress can just stop being emotional, and everything will be okay. It's like a light switch — flip it on and off until eventually the bulb blows. That's all that happened; Cress's bulb blew out. She just needs to change it.
She needs to get a new light bulb.
But that's not easy. God, what the fuck. It's not easy. Not when her body feels like concrete, and she just lost her best friend. Not when she's going to see Axel and he's going to hate her because she's the worst — the worst best friend to ever exist. He's going to yell at her and tell her she's an idiot and that no one wants to be friends with her because she pushed everyone away because she couldn't change a damn lightbulb.
No one ever wants their bulb to blow in their light, though: it just happens. It happens the same way people grow, slowly then a big burst at the end of the line before the light is extinguished, and they're shattered, just like the broken bulb. Why is Professor Lupin acting as though she wanted this to happen when it's the worse thing to ever fall upon her?
"I'm sorry," Professor Lupin says when Cress stares at the table, trying to turn the wood into stone with her hard gaze. "I might have overstepped my boundaries. I apologize. I had just been spewing out my advices. Perhaps they were much too judgmental, though, I can assure you that was not my intention at all."
"Yeah. I'm sure."
Really, he sounds like Augie, but more in the know-it-all sense rather than the defeated sense that she normally addresses Cress with. Professor Lupin wants Cress to get better, Augie knows she never will be.
Cress doesn't know what's better.
She says, "How? How do I get it back? How do I make it mine again?" Her hands are folded into her chest, pressing down. She feels them tremble, her lip wobbling.
Professor Lupin rubs his head. "I am not sure. I have little to no experience in this field. The only thing I can think of is you wishing to get better. I think, in the end, that'll help you." At Cress's questioning glance, he states, "I hate to say it, but it seems like you don't want to get better. And that's a big problem when addressing your lack of magic. If the user gives up, I believe that the magic has no where to focus its energy as you have none to spare for it. So it burrows itself away until you can find that spark again."
Huh. Cress takes his words in heed. She mulls over them for a minute, letting them sink into her like a rock in the water. It makes sense to her — kind of. She hates it, but it makes sense. If she wishes to find her magic, she needs to try. And to try means she has to—
No. She can't do that. She won't. If she does that it means that he was never here. If she lets him go, she'll have nothing to hold on to. He has to stay, if only in the form of stolen magic and haunted dreams. If Cedric—If Cress lets him go, she'll be gone, too.
She tells Professor Lupin she'll think about it, but he doesn't believe her. Cress can see it in his pearly eyes, the distrust swimming in there as she wishes him a goodnight and exits to her room. He wants her to try and let go, to be better. What does he know, though? He didn't lose his brother. He didn't lose his fucking magic. He has his; it flows through his veins — it breathes and lives and is apart of him.
But she wants hers back. She does. Cress remembers when it was uncontrollable yet so warm, a part of her that felt like soft nectar, molten and comforting as it shifted through her, a river of energy and life and something that was completely her own. She wants that feeling back.
She also wants Cedric back.
If she had Cedric back, she wouldn't need magic. She wouldn't need anything but him.
✦✧✦
The only good thing about the trial is that Sirius gets to come with them. Well, Boo (or, as Cress has dubbed him now: Sirius the Dog) gets to come with them. Blythe wasn't going to let him go at all because of danger and all that, but Cress managed to convince her that they could say he was a service dog rather than ex-convict. After all, Sirius truly did calm Cress's nerves in his Animagus form. It was best that he came with them. And he seemed to get over whatever problem he had with Blythe, so that's a plus. Cress really thought she was going to have to take someone out for a moment there.
The three of them head out before dawn breaks. The trial is at six in the morning because the Ministry is full of a bunch of arseholes who do not believe in sleeping. Cress thinks they're a new brand of monster that's trying to ruin her life.
"Godric, almighty, you'd think they'd be polite enough to ask me what time I wanted to be there," Cress gripes, almost running face first into a pole.
Blythe catches her by the arm and pulls her out of harm's way. "If they would have given you an option, you would have never come. It's best they set a time."
Sirius the Dog snuffles into Blythe's arm. Unlike Cress, he is very cheery on this early morning, prancing around and sniffing in the dirty air of London like it smells good. He actually came into Cress and Blythe's shared room this morning before the time to even get up and pounced on their bed, giddy with the excitement to go out. Cress would have felt happy for him, but she was sleeping so well, and he ruined that. She's allowed to be miffed.
"That's not true," Cress tells her mother though her mother is stating the truth. She kicks a rock, and jogs across the street, pushing her glasses up on her nose when they start jiggling down.
What a day to run out of contacts. Cress truly does hate her life.
Blythe saunters over, running her hands through Sirius the Dog's (Cress cannot, for the life of her, call him just Sirius when he's in that form; it feels wrong, almost, and a little bit weird) fur as they continue their trek.
Mostly, it passes in silence, and Cress thinks about every entrance to the Ministry and how she wants to break them all so that she has a reason to be excused from this abdominal trial. Like, what are they going to do if she just breaks the telephone booth they're headed to? Cress has her enchanted pair of pants on, and there is a bat in her back pocket. She will use their heads as batting practice if any of the workers try to subdue her.
However, Blythe would be disappointed if Cress did that. Ugh. Cress shakes her head and throws her hood over her head. The chill in the morning is not a joke; Cress can feel it though her clothes, the cool biting at her feet through her thick socks.
When they reach the revolting phone booth that reminds her of nasty tomato soup, Cress is all but freezing, and she's nervous. Her hands are shaking because it's getting too real now, the fact that she might not go back to Hogwarts. They might tell her that because she lacks magic, she lacks the right to attend a school made for teaching it.
They might also give her the stares that the Specialist did, and that's going to suck. If Cress has to see that stare etched on someone's face again, she might scream. It's not funny, nor okay to judge someone for something that they cannot control. If she sees that expression on Cornelius Fudge's face, she's going to punch him. Right there, in front of everyone. And she's not going to feel sorry about it just because of his title. If fucking You-Know-Who looked at her like that, Cress would deck him, too.
(She wants to punch him, anyway. For various reasons. But, if he tried to look at her like that, she's going to punch him right in his ugly face.)
Blythe has to force her into the booth, and Boo barks at her on more than one occasion to hurry it along, but Cress is stubborn. She really doesn't want to go. At all.
"Mum," she says, and it's a whine. "Mum, don't make me go."
"Crescent, you know you have to."
"No, I don't. We can skip this. I don't have to go to Hogwarts." But as she says it, Cress is piling into the booth and listening to the drawl of the operator as she takes them down to the Atrium.
No matter how much she denies it, she doesn't want to lose Hogwarts. In a way, it connects her to Cedric. It was there that her and Cedric played Quidditch on their first real pitch; it was there that Cedric let her cry into his shoulder in the calm quiet of the Hufflepuff common room when she was feeling broken and her body was weak with malnourishment because she was too much, too big in Amos's small world; it was there that she found Axel and Mallory and kept them close, where they let her be herself and didn't care about her boisterous laughter or curses that could make a sailor waver; it was where she witnessed things and came into herself and found that she loved who she was despite being told to hate impurities and imperfections. She was Cress at Hogwarts, and she didn't have to prove anything.
And Cedric was there.
Cedric was there.
Cress cannot lose another connection she has to him.
She steels herself against the crowd of the workers. Even though it's barely seven in the morning, the dark lit Ministry is bustling with people, each of them with their heads down, walking towards elevators and Floo Networks that'll take them to where they need to go. Cress runs into a man with a trench coat with boas all over it as she walks with Blythe and Sirius the Dog to the designated area where her trial will be held. No one spares Sirius the Dog a glance, and Cress loves that.
And she's feeling great about it. Her nerves have disappeared into the thick atmosphere of workers, taken away by the crowd. She thinks maybe she'll be able to go back to Hogwarts and be with everyone. Maybe she'll be able to get her magic back, too.
The shadow of a smile that she had on her face at the thought is wiped off when they reach the room. Cress has not been paying attention — why would she, she's never coming back to this wretched place — so it takes her as a surprise when Blythe stops abruptly, and Sirius the Dog starts growling warningly.
"Amos," Blythe says, sneers, and pulls Cress behind her.
Cress is a statue of ice. Sirius (no more "the Dog" just Sirius; the situation is too much, too somber for her to be separating his Animagus form from himself) flanks her on the left where Blythe left her open, and Amos stares at the lot of them, and Cress can almost smell the tang of fire whiskey from here — a phantom aroma that makes her nose itch.
Confusion ripples through her, and her heart sort of breaks. Kind of like a clock, it doesn't shatter, but it stops moving, stops beating; the gears are frozen, stuck together uncomfortably, but it's still considered broken because it doesn't work. That's how it feels. And she hates it. She hadn't been expecting to see him so soon. Cress thought when she saw him next, she'd be legal and able to hex him into oblivion without any repercussions. She'd be healed from the wounds he inflicted, and he'd be nothing but a faint memory in her head, ready to be eradicated forever when she finally saw him again.
"Blythe, dearest," he purrs, and it sounds gross, coming from his mouth. Cress likes it when Professor Lupin says Blythe's name, with fondness and love. Or when Sirius says it, with mischief and adoration. She finally sees just who loves her mum the way she deserves. "I see you've brought the mutt."
Sirius rumbles low in his chest, and his hairs stand up on his back.
"Enough, Amos. Why are you here?"
Amos leers at Cress at that inquiry. Cress flinches away at the cool grey in his eyes — Cedric's, no, no, no — and he smiles. "I heard about the trial today, and I'm here to see my daughter. Why else would I be here?"
"She is not your daughter anymore," Blythe sneers at him, taking a step forward. "You made that clear when you ruined everything."
"Blythe, come on, now. Don't be like this, dear."
Her mum laughs heartily. Cress is relieved at how empty the hallway is. No one can hear this, or see Cress stewing in her own mortification.
"I will not let you stand here and try to justify your actions, Amos Diggory. I am being nothing but a mother who is protecting her daughter, something I should have been a long time ago. Do not stand there and accuse me of being something awful when the sinister one here is you!"
And Amos snarls, but then his face clears, and he says he misses them. They were a family. What happened? It was all ruined. And it was his fault. He did it. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, but his voice slurs, and Cress just wants to know how he knew she had a trial. She wants him to leave more.
"Crescent," he coos to her next, and she flinches away. Blythe sounds almost as animalistic as Sirius does with her snark. "Crescent, please, you need to understand — I never meant to say those things. It was wrong of me. You have to know, I was grieving, I just missed Cedric —"
"Don't," Cress says.
Amos tilts his head. "Crescent?"
"Do not say his name. You out of all people do not have that right! You'd be the person he'd be disgusted with, if he — if he could see you now!" She balls her hands up and steps forward, suddenly angry that he's here and using Cedric's name as though he is entitled.
There was a time where Cedric went up to a fourth year Ravenclaw who was telling a first year that they weren't smart enough to be friend with their sister, and that they should just stick to their level of intelligence. He said that it wasn't kind, and then, when the fourth year tried to defend themselves, Cedric told them he was horrified that they would try and defend themselves after being so horrible to that person. It was the first time Cress saw Cedric truly disappointed, truly angry (besides the time that Lee pushed Cress into a fucking puddle).
Later, when Cress told him she saw him, he said, "It was wrong, Cress. Don't ever let someone try to defend their actions, either. When they do something shitty, they do something shitty. No excuses."
She holds onto these words as she glares at Amos. "There is no excuse to what you said to me. You weren't the only one grieving! You weren't the only one who lost him!" And it's all spewing out of her like it wanted to that night when she was afraid and shattered. Cress is still broken, but she's not shattered, anymore. She's healing, and she has a lot to say. "You don't get to say his name when you're part of the reason he's gone!
"His whole life you've groomed him to be the best! You were distraught when Harry Potter took the spotlight away from your precious legacy! You kept pushing and pushing him to be something he didn't want to be. He wanted to do the tournament, sure, but who's the one who pushed him to win when him even being a champion was enough? It was you. Who was the one who acted disappointed when he didn't do the best even though he tried his hardest? You. You even had something to say about him and Hamlin!" Cress lets out a broken laugh, her tears hot on her face. Her glasses are fogging up, and her hands are clutching her head, but she feels good. She needs this. There's a fire in her body that she hadn't felt, a warm spring transforming into a geyser, spouting through the cracked surface and flooding her with steaming water.
"The only person Cedric had ever been happy with is Hamlin! But you pushed and pushed and instilled in his brain that he needed to be with Cho! He had to— for your approval. If Cedric didn't have your approval, you made him believe he had nothing!
"So, he pushed himself, and he had to win the tournament! Because you wouldn't let him think anything else! You wouldn't let him try and fail and be okay with it, and that's why he's dead! He's dead because he had to touch that blasted Portkey! Because you told him he needed to!"
Amos replies with nothing, and that feels good. Rendering him speechless feels amazing, makes her bones rattle and her lungs fill up with euphoria. She feels good, but she knows she was wrong. Her words were mean, and they cut to bleed, like a butcher slaughtering a cow. She hasn't felt this good since — since the tournament and Cedric and the lack of him in her life.
But this, this right here feels absolutely thrilling. A current of electricity washes over her, and Cress smirks, and its mean, but Amos looks heartbroken, and her voices are pleased about it.
Amos finally, after a few moments of gaping in the corridor, opens his mouth to respond to Cress. Blythe cuts him off. "Amos, whatever you're going to say to try and justify your awful actions, please refrain. I will not berate Crescent for what she said because most of it is completely true. What would be best for you now is to walk away and reflect over everything you have put this family through. And do not come on your own terms. You will come when Crescent wants you to, if ever. Are we clear?"
The corridors are dark, but Crescent can see the exact moment when Amos deflates. His shoulders fall, and Cress feels lighter when he resigns, nodding silently. There is nothing else he can say; he knows that he can either walk away, or Blythe will make him suffer the consequences. Sirius rumbles low beside Cress, and she thinks he probably wishes he could be doing something rather than that — probably wishes that he could use his words as a weapon since his wand isn't allowed.
When he leaves, Cress sags against her mother, and cries. It's not loud, just tears falling down her cheeks in quick recession. Blythe holds her easily, and it's warm, and she still doesn't know how Amos knew, but she doesn't care. Amos isn't here anymore.
She feels good.
She feels good when she goes into the trial, too. Cornelius Fudge is there, and he tries to smile at Cress, but she glares and almost flicks him the bird until Blythe steers her towards the seats. That feels immensely good, the way he knows he's done wrong. There should not have been a tournament, the consequences were fatal. All of the worries they brushed off had ruined him and the Ministry, in the end.
Sirius comes with them, too, and there's a woman in pink robes who asks, "Hmph. Hmph. What do we have here? Why do you have a dog? The Ministry does not allow animals in the premises."
Cress wants to ask why she has that atrocious hat atop her head, but apparently only one of them was raised with manners. She's about to tell her that if animals aren't allowed, then perhaps she should be removed from the room, but Augie saunters in next, slams a paper down in front of them on the desk, and tells them that the dog is St. Mungo's certified; they took a page out of the Muggle book and gave Cress a therapy dog. Studies showed that inducing people with Potions that made them feel at ease and happy didn't have long term effects the way that therapy dogs did. (Cress isn't too sure how Augie even knew she would be bringing an animal, but she figures that Augie has a third eye and knows everything about the world. It would make sense.)
Horrible pink woman isn't pleased, but they have to get a move on with the trial. Cress doesn't smirk at her, but her stomach boils like it does when she passes Draco Malfoy in the corridors at school. Everyone else is in regular dark red robes, and this woman is a sore thumb in the sea of them. She looks awful, and the thick material of her suit is hurting Cress's eyes.
"Very well, then," Fudge says. "The subject is here. Shall we finally begin?"
Percy Weasley is here. Dread makes Cress's stomach sink. Oh, god. She does not feel good, not anymore. She looks down at her lap. He's going to tell everyone. No one at the house knows about her problem except for her mum, Sirius, and Professor Lupin. She thinks perhaps Mrs. Weasley has an inkling that there's something going on, but the woman never says anything, just smiles at Cress cautiously whenever she sees her.
But Percy is here, and he's their family, and he's going to tell everyone about Cress's problem, and then they're going to think she's a disgrace to the world. With the way Percy is glaring at her, she thinks that he won't spare any details, either. They'll know, and they'll hate her, just the way Percy already does.
The paper in front of her crinkles as her muscles spasm. Fudge continues on. "Eleventh of August. Hearing for Crescent Hope Diggory regarding her status at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Any questions before we hear from the Specialist?"
No one speaks up. Fudge nods amicably and regards a man sitting on the far corner of Cress's table. She hadn't noticed him before, but now, staring at the rigid man sends a wave of nausea through her. Not good. He stands swiftly, back stiff, and says, "Crescent Diggory has been confirmed as a Vacua. It has come to the knowledge at St. Mungo's that she is the sixth known one in existence. While we do not know how she has lost her powers, we are certain that they will not come back."
Though Cress can barely hear it, Augie interrupts, sounding angry. "Objection! There is no way of knowing if they will or not! St. Mungos has little to no knowledge of how Vacuus work. There is no way of knowing that she won't get her magic back in the future."
"But the fact that she lost it in the first place is concerning itself," someone murmurs apprehensively. "Who's to say there isn't Obscurial qualities lying beneath the Vacua façade?"
"How dare you—!" Blythe shouts.
"Silence, Mrs. Diggory. You have no authority to speak," Fudge speaks breezily, not even sparing her mum a glance.
Cress clears her throat and listens to Augie continue the argument. Everything feels bad again, like she's fallen into the core of the earth and is burning over and over again, her skin healing itself just to blaze off once more. There is magma in her veins, and it makes her flush with embarrassment and shame.
"As far as we are concerned, Vacui are completely opposite of Obscurials. Where an Obscurus is formed from a witch or wizard knowingly repressing their magic, a Vacui is a witch or wizard who has lost the essence of magic altogether. That means that there is no trace of magic in one's body anymore. Simply, it has disappeared."
"That is not to say it won't come back!" This time the shrill outburst is from the woman in pink. She sounds too cheery, like she has already seen the outcome of this horrendous meeting. "And once it does, who is to say it won't take on the same characteristics of an Obscurus. It will be like a child gaining their magic for the first time should it even come back. Though, that is highly unlikely, it would be a threat to send her back to Hogwarts with that darkness lying in her."
The congregation mutters in agreement, people turning to their neighbor to whisper about the danger Cress possesses. She doesn't speak up, and her mind chastises her for it. It wants her to shout at these idiots that she'll be no trouble; her magic is gone. It disappeared, and it won't be coming back.
She devotedly keeps her mouth shut.
Fudge hums, and the crowd quiets. "And what do you think, Healer? Do you believe Crescent Diggory should be allowed to go back to Hogwarts when there is an unknown danger lurking at the very thought of her getting her magic back? After all, you have been the one rehabilitating her for these short weeks."
"Yes," Augie replies without a beat.
Biting her lip, Cress clenches Sirius's fur. This has been more difficult than she had thought. The high that telling Amos off had given her has worn off, and her body is sluggish, and her heart is weighing down her chest, pressing down into her lungs like water forcing itself against a tank already full of it, cracking until everything spills in — until it all erupts and soaks everything in ice.
"No," the Specialist denies, sounding appalled that the option was even on the table. "You can't send a monster like her back to school! She'll end up rampaging on the children! No, it's best if we take her to St. Mungo's and run tests and see if she is a threat or not!"
"Enough of you, Xavier! You were assigned to this case only because you hounded your supervisor until she allowed you to handle it, although begrudgingly as it was. I will start by stating that Crescent is no monster. Not in the way you are!" Augie shouts, her cheeks blotting a dark purple. "She is kind and compassionate and deserves to have a chance at redemption! She did not put this upon herself. So, why should she not have a chance to go back to Hogwarts?" Augie asks, looking oddly confused. "I do not care about much, Cornelius Fudge, but I do care about my patients a hell of a lot. Crescent Diggory is one of my strongest ones yet, and this is not going to set her back. I do not care what bullshit the Specialist spewed to you; he did not work with her closely. He did not build a relationship with her. He is nothing to this case. If you wish to believe his lies because they are biased then go on. I will have you know that I will not take it lightly should that happen. There will be consequences for an unfair trial here."
A woman huffs indignantly. "Do not threaten the Minster! Who do you believe yourself to be?!"
"A Healer," Augie snaps. "I Heal. It is my occupation, and my passion. I love to heal. And if someone wishes to get in the way of my Healing, I will not stand by and watch it happen, Minister be damned. And Cornelius, forgive me, but I will not apologize for any of the words said today. Nor will I be fearful of any repercussions you may force upon me. I believe myself to be in the right therefor everything I say remains factual and absolute.
"The best way for Crescent to get a chance of finding her magic again is to return to Hogwarts! She will be surrounded by her friends everyday, and there will be magic all around her. It should spark something in her! Allow me this, Minister. Allow me this, and I shall ask for nothing more."
Blythe cries from her seat beside Cress. She is gripping Cress's hand like a vice, but it's comforting. Percy Weasley is still glaring at her, and it's probably because Augie is having a go at his Minister, but it still feels bad, makes her ache with the need to crawl underneath the earth and burrow away in the darkness. Sirius snuggles into Cress's other side, and everything still feels heavy, like that one time Cress used a spell wrong, and it felt like gravity was weighing down on her rather than making her lighter as it was supposed to do.
The crowd breaks into a frenzy of whispers towards one another. Cress watches them all confer with each other, stomach flipping. She sends a grateful smile towards Augie, feeling secure in the grin Augie give her. The Specialist does not seem pleased in the slightest, but that's okay. He doesn't matter. It's like Augie said, he doesn't know Cress. He is no one.
They are no one, her voice supplies, encouraging for once. Really, if they say no, what's the worst that could happen? You act as though you won't sneak onto the Hogwarts's Express if it comes down to it.
Cress sags helplessly. She has thought about it, for a brief moment, when she thought she wasn't going to see Axel or Mallory again. Now, with the way Fudge is glancing nervously in her direction like she's a ticking time bomb that's about to detonate, Cress thinks she actually might have to hop aboard the train when no one is looking.
Damn. She rubs Sirius's ear, adjusts her glasses, and then shoves the wetness out of her eyes.
"Quiet." Fudge raises a single hand, silencing the crowd. He turns to stare at Cress and says, "Albus Dumbledore was to be here for this meeting, but alas he had more important matters to attend to. Rather than changing the date, we have received an official letter from him stating that you are welcome back at Hogwarts should you chose to come." For a moment, Cress feels immense gratitude towards the man, but Fudge keeps speaking. "However, we still have to vote on whether or not it would be wise for you to go back. Regarding that, I believe we're ready to vote."
Vote?! They're voting for this?! Cress despairs in her seat, and it feels like someone dumped a whole entire jar of jam on her. Her body is clammy and sticky, and she dreads everything. She closes her eyes, and even her mind can't argue with her. She's not going back to Hogwarts. She's going to be deprived of an education, and forced to get a job early. But then no one will take her because she's got no magic, so she'll have to live in the Muggle world, and then she'll die there because she doesn't know anything about it.
Cress puts her head down as Fudges asks who is not in favor of her going back to school. And guess what? A majority of the hands go up; Cress can see through her fogged up glasses.
"And all in favor?"
Seconds feel like years until finally — finally hands are going up. And—oh, Godric... No... Cress throws her head down with a thump, her glasses creaking with the movement, and she lets the sobs wrack her body.
✦✧✦
a/n: this is long overdue. so basically, it's the trial with amos's idiot self mixed in there. i knew she'd have to face him before school and i'm glad i did it there even though it was a bit out of the blue. and also sirius black is cress's godfather? wow, but like i had that coming for awhile now because blythe and sirius are best friends okay, and he was THERE when someone wasn't. I love it and I love Sirius and Remus so much, goodness as always, let me know what you think and a big shout out to toxicghxst for all your support! thank you so much your comments meant the world to me and i'm so sorry i didn't respond to them i feel like a gank :/ i love you sm
thank you all, and let me know what you think! i love you all! <3