Chapter 30: Small

Credence and Percy

Percy sometimes wondered if his mind would overflow. He had spent most of last December trying to break out of his house so he could go out and enact revenge on the woman who had caused so much harm. Only one very overprotective sister had held him back. Since then he had only seen Mrs. Barebone in his mind, and in his dreams. Carrying the memories of one twelve-year-old and one all-powerful, destructive monster was nothing to sneeze at. Sometimes it was very hard to remember that these things in his head were not his own. Every feeling, every experience he had seen in that one, quick flash last year had all seemed so real. Well, it was real, but it wasn't his real.

Seeing Mary Lou Barebone in person for the first time had made it seem very, very real. For a while there, he had been pulled back into December.

"We should hurry. It's supper time. They're probably wonderin' were we are." He said as they hung up their coats and hats.

"You go." The words sounded like Credence had barely opened his mouth to say them.

"Where you gonna be?"

"I don't know."

"Then how will we –"

"Just -!"

Credence didn't finish the sentence, but Percy fell silent anyway. If he was overwhelmed with the sight of Mrs. Barebone, how must Credence feel, having to endure that and engage in a shouting match with his sister and endure monologues from paranoid a Auror? Sometimes Percy had to remind himself, in these occasional spirals of self-pity, that if he thought he had it bad, there was someone else who had it much, much worse.

When Credence reached his guest room, he lit the lamp only to change clothes, and then blew it out again. His stomach felt like an empty cave, but he couldn't bring himself to go down and face the family at supper. He would rather be hungry. In just the last few days of visiting, it was impossible to be alone, except for at night when he went to bed. But he had to be alone now. He couldn't stand another ill-fated meeting.

Everything had happened too fast. Mr. Graves, Ma, and then Chastity. It was her eyes that haunted him the most. The way she had looked at him… not like a brother, more like a huge spider she wanted to stomp on but was afraid to get near. What had he done? Had he really left the Barebone's lives in such a wreck?

"I didn't mean to," he whispered allowed, as if by speaking it they might be able to hear him and believe. It was always an accident, wasn't it? He didn't mean to do these unforgivable, destructive things; and yet he kept doing them. Even Percy had admitted it: Credence had hurt him. Mr. Graves had speculated that Dark wizards would want to use the Obscurus as a weapon. Maybe it was good that Obscurials always died young. His power should have been smothered years ago. Yet, here he was, still living. No less an Obscurial, but still living on, and on.

You have friends now, part of him reminded himself – the part of him that was starting to want the lamplight back on. Yes; he had Ravina, and Professor Hodges, and Percy. There were others who were nice to him too, like Liviana and Dibon and the rest of their friends, and some of the professors. But, thought Credence, his mind circling back to the look on Chastity's face as she was describing "that gaping hole", they're not really better off from knowing me, are they?

The doorknob creaked and jiggled back and forth. Finally, a few quick raps interrupted his silence, and a young, muffled voice said, "Credence? I know you're in there. It's just me. Can I come in now?"

There were too many voices calling court in his brain right now. He didn't need his talkative friend to add to it.

Percy's voice continued, "I brought leftovers from supper."

It took a few minutes of arguing with his stomach, but Credence finally unlocked the door. The aroma of baked pork chops had finally weakened him. Behind Percy, a tray floated in midair holding two large plates of meat, mashed potatoes, and green beans, while two more held individual slices of chocolate cake with white frosting. Percy pulled on the levitating tray to float it into the room.

"This is creepy," he said.

"I'm sorry."

"No – I didn't mean that."

He quickly lit the lamp and pressed the tray until it was on the ground. Then he put his back to the bed and picked up one of the plates to balance on his knees. Credence slowly took his as well, wondering if he might be able to eat his supper without having to talk about what had happened that afternoon.

It wasn't until five minutes of silence had passed before that Credence suddenly realized what had seemed wrong with this picture as soon as Percy had come in. "Why didn't you eat with your family?"

"They had started before I got there," Percy said, "And I heard them talkin', and… I went to my room."

"You went to your room?"

"Yeah." Another few minutes of silence passed. At last Percy set his plate down, but didn't reach over to grab the cake. Instead, he stared forward, his dark eyes looking black as the tiny pinpoints of light from the lamp gave them their only color. "I hate your family," he finally said.

The Obscurus moved formlessly. Credence felt it come to attention at the passion in Percy's voice, and he realized why. He shouldn't have forgotten. They hadn't really spoken much about Percy's perspective since that time after his second detention with Finn. It was… too weird, and they both knew that. But maybe Percy knew more than he let on. Maybe he knew more than even Credence did.

They finished the meal in silence, except for the sound of chewing and utensils and the rain outside. When their plates were empty and stacked back on the tray, Percy pulled it up, muttering, "I hope it ain't all gonna be like this."

Credence was worried that if he let his friend leave the room, he would never say what he wanted to say, so he called to him when he got to the door, "Percy, wait."

Percy looked back expectantly

"Do you… know why the Obscurus kept me alive?"

For a second, Percy looked confused; then the shadows reappeared in his eyes. "I don't think it wants to kill you, because it dies too if you die. I think the other ones just kill their hosts because they get too strong for 'em. But yours; you stopped feedin' it with magic a long time ago, and you got with us wizards, and you made friends. You got stronger, and it couldn't keep up." He rubbed his chest with his free hand, the place where his gray scar was underneath his clothes. "When I felt it, it was tired. I mean, excited, but small. It used to be enormous, but it got small. Like it got thin." He looked at Credence, "I think you're killing it."

A/N: So, I want to make something clear that I might have spoken of before, but it's easy to confuse: Percy got all the memories for the Obscurus not Credence. That is why he is able to have this other perspective. And Credence's question didn't come from nowhere. If you'll remember, it's something that he's been wondering about since he passed his eleventh birthday. Please review!