Chapter 87: Release


Dear Maggie,

I'm sorry about the filthy parchment. Hopefully, the next letter you receive isn't in this state. I have relocated and I'm in the closest place I can be to get what I need, if you catch my drift. I've gained the trust of a cat I believe to be part kneazle. He didn't trust me at first – animals can sense when one isn't like them – but I found a way to communicate with him. He's going to help me. That's all I can safely tell you. I'm okay. I'll be careful.

I will hopefully see you soon

Love, Padfoot

Maggie folded the letter and closed Tenebris Magicae et Usus. "Dora!" she yelled. Moments later, her sister appeared at the door, curious expression on her face.

"Was hollering across the house necessary?"

"Yes," Maggie responded, holding the letter out. "You'll want to read this."

Dora's lips formed an o shape in understanding. She sat next to Maggie and took the letter. Her eyes scanned over the contents quickly. She shook her head bemusedly and gave the letter back.

"He's at Hogwarts. He's got balls going back there. It's not even two months since he broke in."

Maggie nodded, frowning. "Do you think he's a bit… unstable? Ron told Charlie that Sirius slashed the Fat Lady's portrait to pieces on Halloween when she wouldn't let him in… and he's back already?"

"I mean, after twelve years in Azkaban, who wouldn't be? Relax, Maggie. Dumbledore doesn't know he's an animagus. The only person who does is Remus, and we both know he won't tell a soul. Sirius may be unstable, but he's a man on a mission. Don't underestimate that," Dora replied reassuringly. "And he's befriended this cat now – he's not alone. That'll help."

Maggie still felt uneasy. "I suppose so." She picked at her fingernails as she thought about how desperate Sirius had been in Azkaban, and how complacent freedom had made him. He was lucky, but would that luck run out?

"What are you up to anyway?" Dora asked, changing the subject.

Maggie shrugged, inspecting her nailbeds. One of them was bleeding ever so slightly. "Reading up on spells."

Dora squinted at the title. "Why dark ones?"

"Why not? Something to do."

Dora didn't say anything to that. "Have you got any assignments for work?"

Maggie rolled her eyes. Work was a touchy subject. She had taken days off in the past few weeks, finding that her drive had dwindled. "I'm essentially just a worker in a bookshop. I'm going nowhere with it. What's the point in working for Pureblood Power Abolishment if no pureblood power is being abolished? It's a great idea in theory but not in practice."

"But with that attitude, of course it'll only be a good idea in theory."

"Honestly Dora, I don't care. Maybe I was being overly ambitious to think that this would work. Maybe I should have just become an Auror. Systematic change us not something a small organisation could affect. The only thing that might is a war. Might being the operative word."

"Well go into Auror training then! I'd love to have you there."

Maggie rubbed her eyes blearily and sighed. If only it were that simple. "Maybe."

Dora looked at Maggie seriously. "What's been up with you? Ever since the ball you've been off."

"Well yeah," she shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "I got evidence that my whole line of work is a waste of time. Thanks Lucius."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?"

"I haven't been sleeping well since. That potion isn't doing much."

Dora nodded, understanding. A crease appeared between her eyebrows. Her expression was frustrated. "Why do you think that is?"

Maggie chose her words carefully. She didn't want to completely omit the truth from her sister. "Remember when Lucius attacked me with his enchanted cane? I have no idea what spell he used on it. I have no idea about any dark magic. That's why I've been reading. I don't feel safe."

Maggie looked away from Dora, not wanting to see the worried expression that was undoubtedly etched on her face. For over a month Maggie had avoided this conversation, even though Dora had broached the subject many times. But she was tired. Part of her wanted to ignore what was going on and put on a brave face for her family, but another part screamed out at her to just talk about it. Release, that's what her mind needed. But it was hard to let down those walls.

"But you're safe here," Dora reminded her gently.

"For now," Maggie retorted, irritated at Dora's generic response. She didn't divulge her insecurities to be made to feel as though they were irrational. "I'm not just thinking about now."

"Okay, but let's think worst case scenario. Do you think we would let you be put in danger again? Do you think we wouldn't protect you with our lives?"

"I don't doubt that. That isn't what this is about. I don't feel safe. I want to make myself feel safe."

"But you don't have to learn that type of magic to feel safe. Let me help you – there's bridging courses you can do to get the extra NEWTs for Auror Academy. I can talk to Mad Eye and get him to owl you with the details. Learning about that type of magic will terrify you and make you worry more, trust me. We briefly touched on it in training, and most couldn't stomach it."

"Do you even know what spell Bellatrix used on you when you were a baby?" Maggie asked quietly. "The spell that almost killed you?"

"No."

"Well, you should. Because if you're faced with it again, you could defend yourself – but not with the type of magic you know."

"Those spells are obscure. The chances of needing to know about them let alone defend yourself-"

"How can you say that? The first encounter with magic you ever had was an attack with dark magic!"

"Because I don't remember it, I guess. Because I feel confident enough in the magic I know."

"I know the chances of needing to know dark magic are low. But I can't stop thinking about the fact the chance is still there. Besides, I'm not actually performing this magic. I'm just reading about it. I don't see the issue."

"Do you think reading about it is going to help you sleep at night? I'm just worried about you."

Maggie rolled her eyes. The content of the books she read was the last thing anyone should be worried about. "What keeps me up at night is the great unknown. So I'm doing what I can to help that."

"But you're just scaring yourself more," Dora insisted, pained expression on her face.

"Are you in my head, Dora? No. I find it interesting. It gives me something to do. If it scared me, I wouldn't be reading about it," Maggie stated simply, trying to keep the irritated tone out of her voice; she knew her sister meant well.

"You said yourself you should have become an Auror. So why don't you contact Mad Eye and look into it? If you've lost passion in your work but want to know how to defend yourself, isn't that the obvious solution?"

"I suppose it is."

"Then what's the issue? You're not happy with your job, it's obvious you don't want to work there."

"It's not that I don't want to work there. It's just… look, you won't understand," Maggie sighed, beginning to pick at her fingernails again.

"You don't want to work at all?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to tell us what's going on with you?"

Maggie bit the inside of her cheek. Two parts of her mind were having a fierce battle; the part that wanted to keep everything locked inside was winning. "I told you. I can't sleep because I don't feel safe."

"It's more than that," Dora replied with a certainty that pained Maggie to hear.

"Again, Dora, you're not in my head."

"Why don't you feel safe? And don't say its because you don't know enough magic. It's more than that."

Maggie felt the words form in her throat before she could stop them. Dora was merely concerned, and Maggie knew that her sister wasn't naïve and would have an idea what was going on, but she was on the defence before she could even register why. "Why are you prying for answers to questions you already know? Why are you trying to make me talk about it?"

"Because if you talk about it, you'll feel better, and we can come to some sort of solution!" Dora exclaimed, eyes pleading for Maggie to understand.

"The only solution I can think of is quitting my job and spending time trying to figure out what I want and need. But I don't have time for that. I'm supposed to be an adult," she snapped back.

"Fuck what you're 'supposed' to do, I think you've got the right idea. You should talk to Mum and Dad about it, I'm sure they'll agree, they're so worried-"

Dread burst through Maggie. "No, Dora! It isn't about what I want and need! Kingsley has payed for us employees out of his own pocket and despite my own feelings, I can't just throw my position away. So there is no real solution. I'm just going to stick it out."

"You know, Maggie, you are sometimes selfless for the wrong reasons and it makes you completely selfish. Kingsley isn't going to blame you for not being okay; there's a reason you were able to help that organisation as much as you did, and he won't hold it against you that you're struggling because of it. The only people you will hurt by soldiering on are yourself and us. We've watched you suffer for weeks."

"Yeah, and I don't want you to see me be any weaker than you already have," Maggie countered, feeling her face burn. "I don't want to be unemployed. I don't want to have to rely on Mum and Dad like some burden incapable of holding responsibilities-"

"When is it going to get through to you that you are a part of this family!" Dora yelled angrily. "So stop acting as if you 'owe' something to Mum and Dad! It's okay for you to not be okay – it isn't weak, you aren't a burden. You're being selfish."

Maggie heard footsteps coming up the stairs and grabbed her wand, with half a mind to hex Dora. Now her parents had heard the argument, which was the last thing Maggie wanted. She glared daggers at Dora, who stared back obstinately.

"What's going on?" Ted asked from the doorway. Andromeda was behind him, concern and confusion etched upon her features; Maggie and Dora rarely fought.

"Nothing," Maggie snapped, stalking past her parents and down the stairs into the kitchen. She could hear Dora frustratedly explaining the argument to their parents. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of wine, pouring herself a generous glass and sitting down at the dining room table. She took a large gulp and scowled out the window.

This was the last thing she wanted. Whilst Dora meant well, and Maggie knew in her heart that her words resonated true, she did feel as though she owed a lot to her parents. If it weren't for them letting her in at eleven, she didn't know where she would be. Miserable, alone… and what if overtime, the pureblood doctrine had seeped into her beliefs, and she was nothing but a mindless robot not knowing that there could be more to life? She knew that her parents didn't let her in, but rather took back the child that was rightfully theirs, but the complexity of the situation left Maggie feeling as though she were in eternal debt. To give up her responsibilities would feel like a poor way to pay them back. They had been so proud when she got the job.

And yet, she knew that her misery had not gone unnoticed. She knew that her parents wanted to see her happy, and that right now, she was the furthest from it than she had ever been in her life.

Maggie had finished her glass by the time her Mum, Dad and sister had walked down the stairs. She refused to look up at them, but softened her angry expression. She heard the scrape of three chairs and finally looked up to see the apprehensive faces of her family.

"I'm sorry," Maggie said to Dora, feeling ashamed at the red that rimmed her sister's eyes. "I didn't mean to snap."

"I know," Dora replied, understanding. "But I wasn't going to let you continue to avoid the conversation."

Andromeda moved her chair closer to Maggie's and gently grabbed her hand. "If you need time to figure out what you need, you can always take time off work," she said gently. Maggie was soothed by the tone of her voice. "Kingsley will understand."

"But what about money?" she argued, knowing it was feeble, and knowing what the response would be.

Ted laughed, but not unkindly, and shook his head incredulously. "You're our daughter. We're not going to leave you flailing."

"You can take as much time off as you need," Andromeda added. She stroked Maggie's hair out of her face. "We just want you to be okay."

Maggie didn't want to flout her responsibilities as an adult. But on the other hand – and she wouldn't admit this to her parents, and was grateful that Dora had spoken to them before this conversation – she knew she just couldn't continue to maintain her responsibilities for much longer. Her body ached with exhaustion. She cringed at the thought of her colleagues like Harold, who would presume that she no longer believed in their works ideologies, and Leonie, whom she could vividly picture shaking her head in disappointment. Andromeda and Ted were watching Maggie closely, clearly trying to decipher what was going through her mind.

"Alright," she finally resigned. "I'll go in tomorrow and tell Kingsley."

"I think that's a good idea," Ted said, giving Maggie a warm and comforting smile. She returned it half-heartedly. She felt like breathing out a sigh of relief; so much pressure had been taken off her shoulders. But at the same time she felt immense disappointment. She wished she could compartmentalise her mind from what was bothering her and what she needed to do to live a functional life. She recognised that perhaps she had been doing that for as long as she possibly could. "You've helped a lot. You've given a lot of information on Death Eaters; that won't go unused."

"If anyone ever wants to listen," Maggie replied ruefully, standing up and walking to the fridge. She opened it, pulled out the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. She returned to her seat at the and took a sip. Her chest immediately felt warmer and she settled into her seat more comfortably.

"I know you're disheartened, but you would have progressed that organisation further than anyone. And I doubt anyone there had as much reason to be there as you. You should be proud at how much you put into what you believe in. I know it wouldn't have been easy to betray the people who raised you." Pride blazed in Andromeda's eyes. "But one day, I promise you, everything you documented will be looked into. Maybe not soon, but sometime in the future."

Maggie nodded. The wine had relaxed her tense muscles and dulled the feeling of failure. Maggie knew that she would be implicated if the information she gave Kingsley became public knowledge, but her very existence had been threatened by Lucius, so it was the least of her concerns. Her bigger worry was if it was all for nothing.

"I'm not going to bum around the house and do nothing. So take a step back on the cleaning, Mum," she said, changing the subject.

Andromeda laughed. "You're awful at cleaning spells, dear. But you'll have plenty of time to brush up."

With more than just cleaning spells, Maggie mused. The stretch of time on her hands didn't seem mundane, but was an opportunity. She could teach herself different types of magic, read up on potions that may be of help to her, but most importantly, rest.

"I suppose I will. Thank you for understanding," Maggie added, looking down at her glass. She couldn't completely shake her embarrassment even though she knew it wasn't necessary.

"Thank you for accepting what you need," Ted responded, giving Maggie a small smile. She looked up and returned it, feeling the full effects of relief wash over her.


That night, Maggie received a letter from Charlie.

Dear Maggie,

Tim and I have almost finished our project on dragon nesting. I think we're going to get a great mark on it. He wants to join me on one of my adventures into the mountains after the holidays, to see what we've spent the past few months studying in action. It'll be harder for two people to sneak out of the Institute unnoticed, but I think we'll be able to do it. He's going to be amazed at the sheer amount of dragons he'll see. During pracs, we never venture far into the forests of the mountains, and the dragons there aren't as dangerous – well, not exactly, but they're more used to humans – but the deeper you venture, the more wild they get. I'm excited to show him. I wish you were here and I could take you into the mountains. I came across a clearing the other day where the ground was literally blanketed in pink flowers. It was unreal. They're called dianthus callizonus. I enclosed a few in the letter for you.

Tim and I have become acquainted with a few of the students in our year. We drank with them last night. They're alright. What Draco said to you has merit and it made me realise how quick I've been to judge anyone who learned the Dark Arts. The students I hung out with are decent people, and they don't agree with the war going on in Romania, nor have they ever used the magic they were taught at Durmstrang. Talking with them has opened my eyes a lot. One of the people I hung out with last night, Elena, told me how her parents died because they refused to use the dark magic they learned in school during their duties as Aurors. They didn't believe it was right. I think if there's another war in Britain, if one side is equipped with an arsenal that the other isn't prepared to use, that side will have more fatalities. War is a moral grey area and yet the 'light' side wants to maintain that goodness and purity which in the end does nothing but cause more fatalities, and people like Elena who have to grow up without parents. When you told me you were going to teach yourself about the type of magic that was forbidden at Hogwarts, it didn't make sense to me at first. But now it does. In fact, it makes me less anxious knowing that if you get yourself into trouble with people like the Malfoys again, you will be able to defend yourself. You could have died that Christmas. I thought about that a lot last night – not just that part of it, but the other part too. I really miss you.

Dora told me that you've been different lately. I know you don't want to talk about why, otherwise you would have. But don't shut your family out completely. They're worried.

As of writing this, it's ten days until I come home. By the time you get this, it'll be less. Dora invited me to stay at yours for half of my break. I said yes. So I'll see you really soon.

Love,

Charlie

Maggie felt the first genuine smile she had had for weeks unfurl on her face. She held the delicate flowers in her hand. They were pink with spiked petals and a ring of a darker pink patterned with pale yellow speckles near the middle. She carefully placed them on her desk and cast a preservation charm on them, before returning to her bed and clutching Charlie's letter close. She breathed in deeply and could just catch a whiff of his scent on the parchment. Letting out a sigh, the smile on Maggie's face widened. She had expected to visit the Burrow this Christmas. Of course Dora had arranged something even better; she knew Maggie didn't want to leave the comfort of her house at the moment, but would have happily pushed through the discomfort for Charlie. Instead, she would get half the Christmas break with him! Maggie felt like a teenager again, giddy with happiness as she thought of Charlie. Two years had been too long apart, and she didn't know what to expect of their reunion. Maggie sighed and sat up, not allowing her mind to run wild with fantasies. She summoned a piece of parchment and a quill and settled herself in a comfortable position to compose her reply.

Dear Charlie,

Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful. I would love to visit Romania and see dragons in real life. You should find out if I can come visit the Institute during Easter Break. Because after Christmas, I'm not going back to work for a while. I have been different lately, but I'm not shutting my family out any longer. I can't pretend to be okay. I've made myself believe that I'm strong and always put together and I think I've overwhelmed myself. I think Snape was right. I think the sleeping potion was a bad idea. I haven't faced anything that I need to face head-on, I've just put on a façade and lately things have happened that have proved that façade to be weaker than I thought. And maybe I'm not ready to face the mental side of things, but one thing I can physically change is the magic I know. Maybe if I feel safer, I'll be ready. I'm taking time off work for me. I think the expectations I envisioned my parents to have of me are just the expectations I have of myself, and that they aren't realistic, and my parents would rather me be realistic than overexerting.

I agree with what you said about war. Pain and death are a part of war, and 'immoral' actions fall into a grey zone. No side comes out unscathed with all their purity and morals intact. There's no use trying. I imagine the situation is very different in Romania to the war that we experienced, but the same principals apply. We may have 'won' the last war, but our side has suffered more greatly. No Death Eater children were kidnapped. No Death Eaters were tortured into insanity. No Death Eater children are orphans. Half the amount of Death Eaters died compared to the Order of the Phoenix and affiliates. Maybe if Dumbledore was willing to play the game the way the other side were playing it, things would have turned out differently. If the Dark Lord didn't begin his tyranny, there would have been no need for the Order of the Phoenix; they didn't start it, they were trying to end it. So does it matter how it's done, if in the end, the side fighting for a good world suffer less? It's not immoral to react to the actions of evil people. If one side plays dirty, you play dirty right back, to no more and no less than the extent that they did. Fuck 'morality'. I'm being cynical, I know, but sometimes I imagine that if a member of the Order kidnapped a Death Eater child, a trade off could have occurred. Maybe I could have had a normal life. You know I don't agree with the atrocities the Death Eaters committed during the war. The stories I heard in the manor. But in some regards, I do agree with their perception that our side was weak. There's too many Death Eaters in Azkaban that should be dead. But it's wrong to kill someone, right? Even if when – and it will happen – they escape there will be far too many innocent deaths. But if there's one thing I've learned from Pureblood Power Abolishment, it's that heads turn the other way when there's the slightest hint of something that could tarnish the fantasy land they live in. What happened to Ginny last year is proof that the fantasy land won't last forever, and the end may be sooner than anyone is willing to imagine.

I'm angry. I'm glad I have an outlet. Obviously, I'm not going to practice any dark offensive magic. But I will learn everything I can learn. I – literally – won't sleep until I do. Because I can't. I feel vulnerable. I hope this helps. But I'm okay right now, because it's a week until I see you, and I don't have to play pretend with my family anymore. When I read that you were going to stay here for half the break, I felt happier than I have in a long time. I thought that we would be visiting you. But this is so much better. I miss you too, Charlie. In every way.

Next time I hear from you, it'll be in person.

Love,

Maggie

She reread the letter, surprised at how open she had been. The words had flowed from her quill without much thought behind them; all her walls had crumbled down as if Charlie had been in the room with her. Maggie felt an ache in her chest as she remembered just how good Charlie had been for her. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness enveloped her. Charlie was making friends, and whilst she was happy for him, she didn't want her spot in his heart to be replaced. For two years, she had felt with certainty that that would never happen. It was selfish, but before she read Charlie's letter – before she found out he wasn't as alone as she was in the friends department – she felt better about the distance between them. Now she felt as though she had yet another worry to add to her list… but she thought of the certainty in which Charlie had told her forever and that he loved her, and it brought her a small comfort. She wondered, though, how much two years had changed the two of them. They still felt the same way about each other, but Maggie worried that he would see the circles under her eyes, the jumpy mannerisms she had developed, the way her hands always seemed to shake, and see her as a shadow of her former self. She looked across her room at the flowers Charlie had sent her. No, she couldn't truly believe that Charlie, who had seen her at her worst, who had forgiven her for the mistakes she had made, would feel any different. But she didn't know what would happen between them when they reunited. The thought was both exciting and scary.

As she prepared for sleep that night, she felt somewhat liberated of the stress that had been wrecking her body for weeks. The mask she had put on wasn't necessary anymore. She could take a break. And she would see Charlie. Upon reflection, she realised that much of the stress she felt had been put on by herself. Her sleep that night wasn't as nightmare filled as usual, and to her surprise the next morning, she had slept through the whole night. It seemed as though admitting she wasn't okay was the first step to becoming okay.