Chapter 7. Broken
As Willa trudged to Advanced Muggle Studies, she remained unsure on how to interpret her mother's advice on Septimus. Especially with the additional input from Elnath. Should she trust her and obey, or was her father's questionable morality something to consider? Could her mother have sent her a coded message, stating "Gamp" to imply the tie to her father, while knowing full well Willa's lineage within the Slytherin common room would be solely under Gaunt?
Furthermore, Willa pondered how she felt about Septimus having any history with her father and not disclosing it to her yet? She was willing to forgive this, she decided, as they had not been in confidence for much time at all. That begged the bigger question of whether or not they even were in confidence. Had she invented all of this flirtation in her head? Was Octavia right and she was just a pawn in Septimus' political schemes?
Willa began to steel her emotions against Mr. Malfoy, convincing herself that he was merely another self-important, manipulative politician who meant nothing to her. It was almost going well until she entered the Muggle Studies classroom.
Professor Albion's face was grief-stricken. Everyone else was already there and Willa hurried to her seat next to Clement.
"What is wrong?" she whispered to him.
"He has not said yet. Some alarming news just reached the Muggle newspaper, the London Times." Clement explained. "Professor Albion is going to read us the article."
"Before we begin, does anyone have friends or family in Paris at the moment?" Professor Albion asked.
Willa alone raised her hand.
"Muggle or wizard?" the professor asked.
"Wizard," Willa said.
"Good. And have you had any correspondence with this person within the past week?" Professor Albion asked.
"No. Should I be concerned? I know the Prussian army was to march on Paris. Is that what this is about? Was the Revolutionary government put down?" Willa asked.
"No, it was not." Professor Albion said. He took a long breath and then said, "Miss Gamp, I am afraid today's class might be very troubling for you. Should you need to leave for the Infirmary at any point, please feel welcome to do so."
Willa turned white. What did that mean?
"Was… Did… Has the French Ministry interfered?" she managed to ask.
Professor Albion shook his head and then added, "I feel confident your wizard friend or family member is safe within the confines of the unplottable areas in Paris."
Willa nodded vaguely. She wanted to believe that, even if she knew better from her own experiences. She did not know, however, if Septimus would be confined to the unplottable areas.
"This article is very graphic, so I will censor some of it for decency's sake. I feel it is critical for us to remain informed about the realities of the Muggle world, even if they are not for the faint of heart." Professor Albion said to the whole class. "To summarize, a series of massacres began in Paris on Sunday night prior and continued through Thursday."
Willa could feel Clement rest his hand on her forearm to comfort her, but she did not react.
Professor Albion began to read from the Muggle newspaper. The article was gruesome and full of horrors. It estimated over twelve thousand people had been massacred. It compared these to a rebellion from the prior month, stating the difference as "on the 10th of August, thousands died in defending their lives—but in this last massacre, there was no resistance; the unhappy victims were butchered like sheep at a slaughter house."
The professor continued to read. The next an account of Princess de Lamballe's death. Even with his censorship, this account of such medieval methods of torture and execution, things like quartering and disembowelment, left the entire class reeling.
As the article went on, there was no question that the aristocracy were the specific targets of this mob justice. The lack of real government was the reason for mob rule, and ultimately the cause of the massacres.
Any efforts Willa had made before to dissuade herself from her overwhelming inclinations towards Septimus proved in vain the moment Professor Albion read, "As every body the mob assassinates is called an Aristocrate, it is highly dangerous for any one to express himself compassionately at what passes. He would then become himself an object of suspicion."
Every millimeter of her skin crawled upon hearing these sentences. A panic set in. She pleaded silently to Septimus to be somewhere hidden, away from all of this. For his excessive wealth to be far, far away from the bullseye of this bloodshed. On a repeating loop in her head, she begged for his life to some unknown force.
Only when the sunshine hit her directly in the eye did Willa realize she and Clement were now in the Forbidden Forest at Care of Magical Creatures.
"How did we get here?" she whispered to Clement.
"The same way we always do. You were… in some kind of daze?" he said. "But you could walk fine, so I just guided you along. Is that all right?"
"Yes, that is fine. Thank you." Willa said. She had no recollection of getting there, even with his explanation, but it was not the first instance in her life in which she had lost time mentally.
She looked around and realized Elnath was not near her, but rather with Group One, and to her surprise, working directly with Quintus on their project. Professor Stump stood beside them and was fielding a question from Elnath when Headmaster Hayward and the Minister of Magic himself arrived. Unctuous Osbert was a wiry, frail man with a beaklike face.
A murmur went up from the class at their arrival.
"Pardon me, Professor Stump," Headmaster Hayward interrupted.
"Headmaster, Minister Obsert." Professor Stump stammered with a polite nod to both men. Clearly he spent little time around people of high importance.
"I need to speak with Quintus Malfoy." Minister Osbert said, his voice much stronger and deeper than Willa had anticipated from his physique.
"What is this about? Does my father know about this?" Quintus asked. His eyes betrayed his fear, even if the rest of him remained unflustered.
"This is about your father." Minister Osbert said, somewhat quieter than before.
"Come, Mr. Malfoy. Your sister awaits us in my office." Headmaster Hayward said.
Quintus turned to Elnath and said, "Come with me. Please."
She nodded and the two followed the authority figures out of the forest.
Willa could not breathe. Clement's hand surrounded hers and she realized he knew about her feelings for Septimus. He had pieced it together from her use of his personal name and her reaction in class today.
She felt Braxton watching them. He stood only two meters away at the edge of his group. She assumed he was angry, as always, but when she looked at him, his face bore sadness. So much sadness that it solidified in her mind Septimus was dead. It was at that moment when Willa fainted.
When she came to she could still smell the forest, but felt herself being carried. She expected Clement's face when she blinked open her eyes, but found Braxton instead. He looked ahead with a stoic gravity that reminded her of Ciaran's expression the day he told her he was leaving home for good and asked her to come with him.
"I should have gone with him." Willa said now.
"With who?" Braxton asked, not looking at her still.
"Ciaran. If I had gone with him then, we would not have moved to Ohio. That night would not have happened." She said.
Finally Braxton looked at her. His eyes full of scrutiny. He continued walking, a steady ease to his gait, as though she weighed nothing at all in his arms.
"You are ill. You should not speak." He said.
"You remind me of him even though you look nothing like he did. Every day it is a little more than the last." She admitted as this realization dawned on her for the first time.
To her surprise Braxton nodded and said, "You remind me of Bethany. Each time I see you, my heart breaks again."
"I am sorry." Willa said softly, even though she could do nothing to change this.
"Me too," Braxton said, equally earnest.
She felt his grip tighten around her a slight amount and closed her eyes, content to be carried by him in silence.
Willa realized she must have passed out again because the next time she opened her eyes she was in a bed at the Infirmary. She tried to sit up, but a strong hand stopped her. The face of its owner came into view, a smile shown on it. Rigel.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine." She said. She felt fine.
"You gave us a scare." Clement said, leaning into view next to Rigel. He wore a smile as well and Willa found herself smiling back at him.
"Where is Braxton?" she asked.
"He left quite a while ago. You have been out for some time." Clement explained.
"How long?"
"Six hours." Clement said.
Willa tried to comprehend that, but she could not. It was a long time to be asleep.
"Where is Elnath?" she asked.
"With Octavia and Quintus," Rigel said quietly. "I will go get her."
As Rigel stood, Willa nodded and said, "Thank you."
Once he was gone, she looked at Clement and asked, "Are we alone?"
"Yes." He said, then threw a look around to ensure they in fact were. He nodded to confirm.
"You cannot tell anyone, especially not Rigel." Willa said, then added, "Not that there is anything to tell. But you cannot, understood?"
"Why would I tell anyone?" he frowned, knowing that she referenced Mr. Malfoy and whatever relationship they might have.
"No, especially not now. That is certainly fair." Willa conceded.
"What do you mean, 'not now'?"
"Now that he is dead." Willa said bluntly.
Clement shook his head and said, "No, he is not. The news was that he is missing. No one has seen him since Sunday afternoon."
"The Minister said this?" Willa asked, hopeful.
"Yes. According to Rigel, who heard it from Elnath, who was there for the entire thing to support Quintus." Clement added with a sly smile, "Can you explain that last part? I thought they were no longer together?"
"I daresay I cannot." Willa laughed.
A clacking on the floor indicated someone was coming and Clement leaned in to say, "Feel better."
Willa nodded and he stood to leave.
"Elnath," Clement said with a curt nod.
"Clement," she nodded back, her tone indifferent.
Elnath filled the seat Rigel had sat in before and held her cousin's hands.
"How are you? I feel so terrible having left you there." She said.
"Do not think on it. I am merely embarrassed for having any drama when real problems are happening." Willa said. She looked at Elnath and asked, "How do Quintus and Octavia fare? Rigel and Clement explained Mr. Malfoy is missing."
Elnath shook her head and Willa noticed her cousin had been crying.
"They are not well. Nothing can console Octavia, and Quintus has become very withdrawn." Elnath reported. "To be frank, I am glad for reprieve from the common room."
"Well, I am happy my fainting has helped someone." Willa teased.
"Clement said you had a friend in Paris. Is it your friend from America?" Elnath pressed.
"Yes. Yes, that is why I was so upset." Willa explained embracing the partial lie Clement had somehow invented for her. "He was meant to be posted in Paris starting in late August, but I have not heard from him since leaving America."
"I am sure he is safe if he is within the confines of le Ministère and Rue des Balais." Elnath said, referencing the Parisian equivalent to Diagon Alley.
Willa nodded and said, "I hope so."
They sat in silence for a minute or two before Willa looked at her cousin with a grin, "So, Quintus needed you with him, huh?"
Elnath blushed.
After a moment she said, "Well, he has known me for a long time."
"My advice is to stay away from him after this is over." Willa said.
"You think they will find Mr. Malfoy then?" Elnath asked with earnest.
"He has to be alive somewhere." Willa said then looked away at the ceiling and added, "I have to believe that."
Before Elnath could respond, footsteps fell on the tile floor causing her to turn and see who was coming. Her posture straightened and she immediately turned towards Willa to pinch her cheeks so they would have some color. Willa managed to sit up to see who caused her cousin such a desire to look presentable. It was Grogan Stump, looking young enough as he crossed the long room to be called by a personal name rather than 'professor.'
"Hello, professor." Willa said to him once he arrived at her bed.
"Miss Gamp," he said with a nod before giving her cousin a nod as he said, "Elna—er, Miss Black."
Elnath blushed and nodded back, saying, "Sir."
He cleared his throat awkwardly and then looked back to Willa.
"Mr. Black informed me you were awake, so I came to return this to you, Miss Gamp." He said, holding out the letter from her mother. Willa took it from him as he explained, "It fell from your robes when Mr. Bagshot lifted you off the ground."
"Thank you, sir." She said, then silently cast legilimency on him and asked, "Did you read it?"
"Well, I—" he started, then changed tone and said, "No. Of course not."
She saw he was telling the truth, but his thoughts were mostly distracted by Elnath's proximity. She decided to play with it.
"Forgive me, but has anyone told you before you are a bad liar?" Willa asked him.
"Wilhelmina!" Elnath gasped reproachfully. "He would not lie to you."
Willa fought a grin as Professor Stump swallowed hard, excited by Elnath's immediate defense of his integrity.
"I am not lying." He said.
"Are you certain? Because you display all the signs of it. You seem quite flustered." She looked at Elnath and then inquired to him, "If you are not lying, then I wonder what causes you such agitation?"
Elnath glared at her, but Willa kept her expression one of innocence. Grogan's thoughts, on the other hand, portrayed little innocence at all as they all homed in on the subject of Elnath. On how she smelled pleasantly sweet like berries; on how beautiful her skin looked in the late day's sunlight; on how that same skin might feel to his fingers' touch.
Willa felt quite satisfied he was as attracted to her cousin as she was to him.
"I am not flustered. I do however need to return to my cottage before the sun sets." He said, his thoughts now turning towards some of the more dangerous nocturnal creatures that lived in the forest.
"Elnath, would you mind going as well? I feel tired." Willa said, finally stopping her legilimency.
Elnath needed no further prodding, though she continued to blush as she came to understand her cousin's ploy. She stood and gave Willa's hand a small squeeze.
"Do feel better." She said to her.
Grogan waited to walk out with her, starting to address the question Elnath had asked him in class right as the Minister and Headmaster had arrived. Willa smiled to herself and closed her eyes, though she was far from tired.
The days to follow passed with a sense of anxiety that slowly crept towards dread. On Wednesday, Professor Albion relayed the latest article from the London Times, which described further atrocities as well as details around the imprisonment of the French king, queen, and their children. The article brought little in way of comfort to any of the students, least of all Willa. Out of respect for the anxieties of the week, Professor Albion canceled that week's essay assignment.
Finally, on Thursday afternoon, an owl came from Paris for the Malfoy children. The letter from their father was brief, but conclusive. He was alive and had been hiding with his friend Vincent Saint-Just in his residence, which was an unplottable hôtel particulier in the formerly fashionable Muggle neighborhood, Le Marais.
The emotion in the Slytherin common room that night was one of silent relief, as though a weight had been lifted from all its members. Willa, for her part, was elated to learn Septimus was alive, but still worried for him. There were questions no one was asking that seemed obvious to her: Why would he have not apparated out of Paris by now? Why had he been with Vincent and not at the embassy or with the Minister himself? What had happened with le Ministère? But most important to her, how was Septimus handling all of this? Was this Vincent Saint-Just enough support for him or was he feeling very alone in a foreign city's bloodied battlefield?
Friday at breakfast she received an owl from Paris as well. This time the letter was much thicker, written in a hand that did not match Mr. Malfoy's, and sealed with a symbol of the pimpernel flower in a vivid red wax.
"Is it from your acquaintance?" Elnath asked her.
"I believe so." Willa replied, unable to mask her excitement.
"Well, go on, open it!" Elnath urged.
"No, I wish to wait until later. I now know he is alive, therefore I can be content to wait until classes are finished and I can truly savor the read." Willa replied.
Elnath nodded despite her disappointment. The mystery behind this acquaintance was starting to test her patience.
"Care of Magical Creatures today." Willa said with a grin after tucking the letter into her bosom, close to her heart. She would not risk losing this letter after having so easily dropping her mother's on Monday.
"Again, nothing happened." Elnath protested.
They were referencing Monday night, when Elnath accidentally walked with Grogan all the way to the castle courtyard lost in conversation, and he was forced to remind her she should be inside the castle after dark.
"Yes, nothing happened in the tranquil beauty of sunset, of course." Willa teased. "I saw what he was thinking. I know how he cares for you."
"You saw?!That is so inappropriate! And possibly illegal." Elnath protested.
"It is not illegal to use legilimency." Willa clarified.
"Still," Elnath said then leaned in and asked, "What did you see, exactly?"
"That he admires you, but hesitates to allow himself to feel anything for you because you are his student." Willa shrugged.
Elnath nodded, glancing at the faculty table to take Grogan in for a moment before turning back to Willa to ask, "Can you teach me how to do it?"
Willa broke into a wide grin, "I thought you would never ask."
They set up an agreement of legilimency lessons and times for said lessons, all to take place in their dormitory, and Elnath giggled with excitement.
"Think of all I can know!" she said.
"It is a world you will regret entering, I promise you that. But it is useful." Willa said.
Despite the warnings, Elnath was all smiles. Her thoughts on Quintus and discovering his true feelings for her and for Catherine.
After dinner, in the privacy of the common room's alcove, Willa broke the red wax seal of the pimpernel flower. The text was a heap of gibberish, so she looked to the signature and found it signed by Percival. Satisfied it was from Septimus, she flipped back to the beginning and the letters began to rearrange themselves into English. As he promised, it was enchanted to only be legible in her touch. She noticed the date had been crossed out and rewritten. The original date was September 8, 1792, and the new date September 12. He had finished it on Wednesday, though started it the Saturday prior, well before she had learned of the massacres. She began to read the contents of the letter:
Dear Wilhelmina,
That I could bring you good news is an impossible task. I delayed in writing you because I did not wish my first letter to convey such darkness, such horrors that I have borne witness to here in Paris. I pray you have not seen the Muggles' London Times, for the reports it bears are accurate, and the full truth is more despicable than any person should know exists in this fragile sphere we call home.
We both know it is too early to divulge my truths in you, but I am without consolation here as the Wizarding community refuses to act in fear of breaching the Statute of Secrecy. Therefore, I must apologize for the stark intimacy of the remainder of my letter.
I am broken. I do not know how else to convey it. My faith in humanity is shattered beyond repair. I witnessed men forced to eat other men. I do not know how to continue in such a world. Every noble truth I held dear, every respect I placed in mankind, it is vanished. The events of the last week in Paris have robbed me of hope. What can we do in the face of such emboldened evil? That hate might course so fiercely through one's veins, to overcome their entire sense of dignity and righteousness, I cannot convey how horrific it is.
The deaths are in the tens of thousands. All innocents. The mobs killing at will and without reason or mercy or justice. Women and children alike. No person here is safe. Even those who fought alongside the Revolutionaries lay fallen to the Jacobin blade. Irrational sickness has fallen this city. I know not how to process such actions. It is a betrayal to our very existence as humans.
You may think me a purist from my blood and lineage, but it is not so. I see no difference in magical and Muggle blood. The blood spilled here aches in me as it would in the Magical communities.
My soul is separated from this world now; it knows not how to belong to such wretchedness. Every devil dwells now in Paris. The demons dance in the streets on piles of bodies. Forgive me, Wilhelmina. I do not wish to trouble you. I am so lost. I wish I never came here to witness this. That I had stayed alongside you at Hogwarts. I know it is not to be, but I long for the safety of those halls, of the Slytherin common room and the green light into the Great Lake. I long for the floating candles and the moving staircases. So confusing at the time, yet so comforting now.
I wonder if I could beg your favor to send something beautiful in return? I have pictured your face every night to calm my anxieties but sleep rarely comes. No fault of your beauty, be certain. Just a vision of you helps me feel alive again. It can only last a moment though. I thought I had witnessed the worst I could prior to this moment, but I was wholly mistaken. I confess that I fear I may never recover. I do not wish to burden you with this heaviness. It is unlike anything I have known, and you are the only one I trust.
All the remaining pieces of my soul,
Percival
Willa regretted reading the letter in the common room and fled from it, tears already forming. She burst into Salazar's Study and immediately recognized she had intruded on an intimate moment. Rigel and Clement did not notice her though, as they were too involved with one another to do so. She swallowed her tears as she took in the scene—Rigel gripping the desk with his trousers undone, Clement's hand down the front of them, their lips heatedly upon each other's.
Both boys' actions over the past couple of weeks suddenly made sense and she gasped quietly as everything clicked. This was enough noise to make Rigel turn and see she was there.
"Excuse me." Willa said hastily, backing up to the door and averting her eyes.
Clement turned away from her at the sound of her voice.
"Wait," Rigel said, closing his trousers.
Willa paused.
"You cannot tell Elnath." Rigel said. "She will feel compelled to tell my mother, who will have to tell my father. And he will disinherit me, or worse."
"I will not tell anyone." Willa promised. "I only wished to find somewhere private to be alone."
"You should try the Room of Requirement." Rigel said.
"Where is that?"
"The seventh floor, on the opposite end from Gryffindor Tower." Clement said, finally facing her. "Across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet. You simply walk past the wall there three times while thinking of what you require, and the door will appear."
"Thank you. And again, I apologize for the intrusion. Though I believe you underestimate Elnath's allegiance to you." Willa said.
Rigel shook his head and said, "Would you risk it, if you were in my position?"
Willa shared a look with Clement, who knew her secret; a secret she had not entrusted to Elnath. She turned back to Rigel and said, "No, I would not."
There was a moment of silent understanding between the three of them.
"Forgive me for taking up so much of your time." She said with a small bow before she left the chamber.
As Willa made her way to the seventh floor, she could not help but fall into laughter. Any concern lingering in the back of her mind that either boy held affections for her was of no consequence. Clement merely had been plotting her help in obtaining access to Rigel all along. She let out a giggle as she thought to ask him if he was certain he was not a Slytherin with such cunning.
She reached the seventh-floor corridor, found the silly tapestry in question, and began to think of her requirements. A quiet place where she could produce something beautiful to make up for the ugliness in the world. To her delight, a door appeared in the wall on her third pass.
She pushed it open to find a cozy space with different seating options. Settling into a plush chair, she opened Septimus' letter again to reread it. Midway through, she heard the sound of a melancholy song being played on a piano. Alarmed and confused that she was not alone, she cast a Disillusionment charm on herself and listened. The music came from inside the room, but through a door that she had not seen upon first entering. She stood to investigate who else shared her precise requirements.
Silent and hidden, she entered the adjacent room. In it stood a grand piano and little else. The piano appeared to be playing itself except for the occasional sliver of a finger stroking a black key.
Curious. Willa thought, approaching the piano bench. It was large enough for two people. She closed her eyes and focused her sense of touch, trying to feel for body heat. Eventually she recognized it and sat in the cooler air beside whoever was there on the piano bench.
The person continued to play, either unaware of her camouflaged presence or ignoring her. As she listened, she began to compose an accompaniment to the piece in her head. Suddenly the music stopped with a frustrated bang on the keys.
"It is not right. It still lacks something." A male voice groaned. Willa knew it in an instant. It was Braxton.
He drew a deep breath and began again. At the second lull of the song, Willa began to play her accompaniment. Braxton let out a gasp, but continued to play his piece. They worked through the song, Willa trying very hard to support him and not overshadow his parts. Finally the natural closing notes were touched by Braxton and she could hear him sigh contentedly.
She debated to reveal herself until he said clearly, "Thank you. This castle will never cease to amaze me." He spoke to the piano itself, as if the instrument had produced such ingenuity. Willa said nothing. Braxton's small relief was exactly what she needed to feel a sense of calm.
He stood and pulled off what she surmised was an invisibility cloak, despite never having seen one before. Someone at Ilvermorny her third year was rumored to have one, so she knew of the magical item's existence. While Braxton folded the cloak neatly, she took in his features. He had been crying, and intensely from the puffiness of his eyes. She felt compelled to go to him and hold him, as if it were the only logical thing to do. But she refrained, certain he wished to be alone. He slapped his face a couple times to return color to it, then gave himself a pep talk.
"Another day done, Braxton." He said. "You can make it to the next one. Come on, come on."
Willa felt the hot liquid of her tears dripping down her face. She knew this pain. She knew this struggle. One day at a time.
Braxton took three deep breaths and then forced himself to laugh. It sounded hollow and he yelled at himself, "Do better!"
He laughed again, this time felt more genuine. From that laugh he rolled into easy quips, using Arlo's and Clement's names as he did. Willa felt her heart breaking as she was forced to witness him practice being human because he could no longer remember how. It was too familiar. Something she had been through a year ago at Ilvermorny. Once the initial grief of Ciaran's death wore off. Once everyone else had moved on.
Finally Braxton left. She waited to hear the outer door close before she allowed herself to truly cry. The sobs came heavy, and the piano bench proved insufficient to support her emotions, so she slunk to the ground. Her back against the piano leg and her chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs. Her mind was a blur, fuzzy with grief and terror and guilt. She longed to comfort both Braxton and Septimus. As she was overcome with emotion, her ability to maintain her Disillusionment spell was lost and the charm faded away.
Broken.
It seemed the only word that could encompass this moment.
Eventually her tears stopped and she became aware of how uncomfortable her position was. She stood and moved back to the sitting room, finding a writing desk stood there now. She found it equipped with parchment, quill, and ink, and she slid into the chair to begin her response to Septimus. Instead she found herself drawing the lines to create sheet music and then transcribing the song she and Braxton had composed that night.
When she finished the final markings, she determined this would become part of her response to Septimus. She would build out a small portfolio of music and sketches of what he longed for in the castle to send him alongside her words. Finally, she started her letter to him. It was more forthcoming than she initially felt it could be, but his letter's vulnerability assured her it was appropriate. Thirty minutes later she signed it "Truly yours, Willa."
A/N: The articles Professor Albion reads from the London Times are actual articles from September 10, 1792 and Sept 12, 1792. They were transcribed to the internet in February 2000 by a member of the University of California - Santa Barbara English Department. You can find it easily by searching for "Paris massacres London Times 1792." Both are very graphic. I edited down almost all of the graphic elements from the actual articles for inclusion here.
The London Times started publication in 1785 under the name The Daily Universal Registrar and changed to its current name in 1788. For reference, The Daily Prophet has been in publication since at least 1743.
