Chapter 29: The enemy of Progress

Petunia didn't have classes until her last exam, so she wasn't really a picture of happiness when she went downstairs to scarf oatmeal down. She was half asleep and there were too many people who were talking to her in the morning. Petunia slipped out the back door and went running. She couldn't have a moment to have a breakdown.

Petunia wasn't going to breakdown, not in front of them. Magic was an emotional thing and it could sense weakness. Petunia would not give that to anyone, not when she knew what they could do with magic like that.

Lily had been on a Primal Magic kick lately if the books she asked for where to be believed. The stretch wasn't too far from what she had been originally working out. Lily breathed Magic, the way most purebloods in Damocles circle wished they did. She breathed it with storm and fury. Compulsion came to her like second nature, it was in her letters and Petunia could feel the truth Lily's demanded of her.

She ran up and down hills trying desperately to outrun the panic. Petunia made her way home, cringing at the thoughts that she thought. Soon her license would expire and she would have to think of what moves she wanted to make next. There was no love lost between her and Damocles. Although they had an amicable working relationship that was all Petunia wanted it to be. By drawing this much attention to herself, she was putting a lot of people at risk.

Those moves she had brought on herself. She should have left the world after Eileen's death, but the idea of Wolfsbane held too much glory for her to not be enamoured by the idea. Eileen was the cause for all of this, she thought incredibly bitterly. There was nothing more tempting than the idea of what Magic could do and no science could take its place.

The backdoor was open and people were still milling around. They looked clean and dressed in robes. Petunia felt the overwhelming pressure again. She was going to end up like her mother. Rose was inside her head more than was strictly healthy for anyone to be. There was a scent of healing that brought Petunia back to her days at St Mungo's. Too many inputs and not nearly enough places to redirect them too. That's what it felt like when people talked to her. Petunia answered the right answers but she also wasn't really listening or paying attention. Damocles had promised her glory, but she was now sure that glory wasn't worth this.

Not when the path to glory would never be hers to have. They ate supper together that night and the atmosphere hoarded tension for the lack of a better word. Damocles had wanted to say a lot of this and then held himself back.

"I leave when my license expires," Petunia said. She had thought about it, it was unlikely that Wizgamort would vote in favour of letting them have rights at all. She had heard the grumbling in Gringotts from the Goblins about the raids that had taken place in their homes. It had stressed them out to the point of where Iron Fang had come to her for brewing expertise on wounds that wouldn't heal no matter what they did.

If Goblins were being attacked by all sides of the wizarding world, what hope did she as a Muggle have.

Petunia couldn't stand it much longer. By being around Domacles she was complacent when it came to aiding the separation of the Muggle and Wizard world. She hadn't seen the Dark Lord but she had felt his magic. It felt heavy but tasted like molasses in the same way that Lily's magic tasted of cool, icy mint.

"But we are so close to figuring it out."

They were really close to figuring out how to brew separately from each other when it came to Wolfbane. It was the last step that puzzled both of them. Just before the last step, they added a sliver of valerian root and wolfsbane. Petunia had tried carving runes to the base of cauldrons. The potion stopped telling her what she needed and both of them knew that the Council would not regard it as a valid potion unless one could make it by oneself without the need for assistance. The art of communal brewing, although a tradition as old as Magic, wasn't what many regarded as effective. Petunia had to agree, they were getting nowhere and it was unnecessary to even think about.

She lit a cigarette and made a pot of coffee after washing the dishes. Domacles wasn't terrible when he was by himself. That being said, Domacles sat at the kitchen table, with Gaunt, nursing a brandy while thinking of the same problem.

"Why aren't you studying, don't you have an exam coming up?" He looked genuinely concerned for her academic health.

"I'll be fine, it's not that I'm going to do anything with the marks." Petunia had come to terms with that, finishing her education was just ticking a box at this point.

Over the last three months, Petunia had just barely managed to keep her grades higher than a C, far lower than the A's she had been predicted at the beginning of the year. She wanted it to matter but really tried not to bring herself to care. She wanted to get into a trade school and work at a factory. Maybe live a simpler life back at home in Cokesworth.

"You can't be done with it. No one get's out just like that." Lord Gaunt had spoken, Petunia wasn't going to listen anymore.

That kind of surprised Petunia. School wasn't an escape for Petunia, not in the way it was for many people. She had gone to school because it was the right thing to do, but money came first, it always did. Whether Tobias accepted it or not. Petunia knew her mother would prefer her to leave it behind. But money made the world spin faster. At some point, school had just got in the way of her trying to get more shifts. Sometimes she even resented the opportunity to sit and write her exams.

She would hopefully be free after this last one. Grunnings wanted to move her to the typing pool after the summer. They would be losing a few women there and Petunia did have a certificate. Petunia had made it clear that she would only be considering the option if it came with a raise.

But somehow for her to verbalize why she didn't care all that much about school was a lot harder. It was that school wasn't a good fit for her anymore. A sad truth that she didn't want to admit for herself. The younger her had wanted to study Natural Sciences with a focus on Chemistry.

Now she would be happy just to go on unnoticed and live her life in relative peace. Petunia didn't have big goals or aspirations for herself and that just seemed to make everyone around her angry. Her mom wanted to know why she wasn't interested in bringing the boys she dated home and Domacles seemed to be more eager to blame her for their lack of progress than his own focus.

"Well I am, we're finishing Wolfsbane before the end of the summer and then I get to say goodbye to all of this." Petunia felt strongly about that much. "I have people I need to be there for and a million other things to do. Besides if I stay too long, you're going to drag me into this war of yours." She said it almost jokingly. "I'm serious though, Damocles. The pureblood game you're playing, isn't something your dragging me into. You promised me; you took an oath."

Oaths were sacred things. They also nuanced interactions with those that they bound. Petunia couldn't take a knife to Damocles' throat and he had no authority to force her to kill herself. Both those things were quite common among Master-Apprentice relationships.

Petunia took a moment to make herself comfortable and to find the words to reply. She couldn't find her journal anywhere. The one where she scribbled down potions and notes in an attempt to make what they were doing legible.

"Damocles, have you seen my notebook? It has my maths notes."

The last bit was obviously a lie, which Damocles refused to ignore.

"I have it." The way he said it made Petunia understand that she probably wouldn't be getting her book back. "This, what is this!"

Petunia winced at the sound of his voice. The harshness and betrayal. She knew exactly what he was asking about. The book was opened to the pages of a potion that she had doodled along with the pages and ended up creating.

The idea was simple. A touch of magic would cause the drinker to relive their worst memories. The potion wasn't pleasant. Petunia never intended for it to be more than protection and even then, she refused to make the potion. It also used bits of dementor cloth and that was an ingredient that was difficult for anyone to get their hands on regardless of monetary status.

Why Petunia thought of such a potion, heaven only knew why. Somehow Petunia knew that they wouldn't let it go. Lord Gaunt wasn't hiding anything from either Petunia or Damocles though. Damocles wasn't marked and that allowed mobility. Besides potion makers were hard to come by, especially as one talented as Damocles.

As Lord Gaunt moved away from public life and especially healing, he grew more comfortable around the space within Belby Cottage with its fluctuating temperatures and what seemed like a constant supply of Magic.

Petunia grabbed her book out of Belby's hands. Damocles would put it on her shoulders. The fact that she felt uncomfortable enough to create something like this.

"I'm not making it if that's what you're asking." Petunia scanned the book roughly and almost dropped her shoulders with relief. There were no edits made in the margins.

"You really think you have an option." Lord Gaunt said and it sent shivers of danger down Petunia's spine.

She knew that she would probably be backed into a corner in cruel ways if she refused. Still, resistance was always something that would be noted. Besides, they would have to find a Dementor cloak willingly given and Dementors rarely gave of themselves willingly.

A/N: Hi, sorry for not updating last week, life happened. I hope everyone is taking care of themselves, take a moment to recharge, I'm being serious.