Chapter 55
3 March, 1959 Headmaster's Office, Seventh Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"I once loved a boy named Gellert Grindlewald."
Dumbledore was staring across the tea table at her. Dorcas could do nothing but stare back mutely.
That he'd confessed to love a boy in the same way she'd loved Tom didn't surprise her. There were many in the Muggle and Wizarding worlds who would condemn him for his love; in fact, it was against the law in both realms for someone to be with a person of the same sex.
Dorcas had always found this to be a backward notion. Let everyone be who they were and love who they love. That was Dorcas's view on the subject.
But that Dumbledore's devastating love was the most famous dark wizard of the age had taken Dorcas aback.
When Dorcas didn't appear likely to contribute to the conversation, Dumbledore continued.
"You mentioned my sister, so I gather you remember what happened to her?"
Dorcas nodded, but remained mute. None of this was lessening the fear she had for Ryann's safety.
"She was not well after she was assaulted by three Muggle boys. They'd seen her doing magic. You are acquainted, I'm sure, with the tendency for magical children to display early magical abilities that they cannot control, having two children of your own?"
Dorcas nodded again. "I began to hear the thoughts of other people. Ryann could summon things to her. The biscuit tin was never safe again."
Dumbledore laughed at the image of Ryann as a little biscuit thief.
"The three boys spotted her doing magic and attacked her. My father did magic against them to punish them for their cruelty. He went to prison and later died there. But Ariana never performed magic again."
"I've never heard of someone becoming a Squib. I thought they were born non-magical," Dorcas said, thinking of her Uncle Morty.
"Not a Squib, Dorcas. Something far more dangerous. An Obscurus. It's the magical ability that is contained within a body that will not allow it to manifest properly. Because Ariana was traumatized by the attack, she was afraid to perform magic, to release it. The magic became a sort of dark parasite that was harder to cage and control as she aged. My mother did her best when she was alive to mitigate the effects of the Obscurus in Ariana. But one day, Ariana lost control and the Obscurus killed my mother."
Dorcas gasped. "I'm sorry, professor."
Dumbledore shrugged off the sympathy. If they had been in her office, Dumbledore lying on her patient couch, she would have written in her notes that he may feel undeserving of sympathy.
"That left me, the oldest sibling, to care for my brother and sister. I had just graduated from Hogwarts, top of my class, the world stretching out ahead of me. I wanted to explore and challenge my magic, test my mettle against the most formidable adversaries. I was young and selfish."
"That's a lot of responsibility to place on an eighteen year old," Dorcas responded.
"It's true. But it was my duty to my family. And it should have been my privilege as well. But I didn't see it that way. I allowed a charismatic and enchanting boy to turn my head and twist my thoughts. He encouraged my selfish thinking and pushed me to assert my own will over my family's well being."
He removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and busied himself polishing them on the hem of his sleeve. Dorcas guessed he was stalling in order to give himself a minute to compose his emotions.
"Aberforth, my brother, wanted to wash his hands of me. He was going to leave school to take care of Ariana and told me that I could "Bugger off the face of the earth". I couldn't allow him to terminate his education. I grudgingly looked after my sister. Aberforth was always better with her, getting her to eat when she didn't want to, or calming her down when she flew into a rage.
Gellert came into my life at a low point. I was wallowing in the loss of my grand plans and resentful of my siblings for tying me to a humble and dull existence. Gellert was a bit of excitement in my world of playing nursemaid to my frail sister. After a time, he turned my head with the possibility of pursuing the Deathly Hallows."
"The Deathly Hallows?" Dorcas repeated skeptically. She always thought that Dumbledore was a serious and pragmatic wizard. She was shocked that he was taken up in a foolish legend like the Deathly Hallows.
"Indeed. We were intrigued by the idea of mastering death, as the legend promises. I convinced myself that this was a fanciful notion that allowed me to take my mind off of the mundane responsibilities of my life. For Gellert, it became an obsession. A scheme to make Muggles subservient to the Magical. I confided in him one drunken night the story of how my father came to perish in Azkaban. Gellert stoked the rage I felt for the three Muggle boys whom I blamed for shackling me as a young man to the care of my younger siblings. If they hadn't been cruel and ignorant–as I believed most Muggles were in my youth–I would be piling up experiences and accomplishments and covering my name in glory.
But one hitch in the plan became apparent: Ariana.
Aberforth was still in school, Ariana could never be left on her own. I was considering taking her with us as we set off to pursue the Hallows. When Aberforth learned of my foolish plot, he confronted me. There was a duel between me and my brother. I was outraged that he would not see sense and allow me to take our sister along. I felt the gates shutting on my aspirations once again and I began hurling angry curses at my brother. He had not yet graduated from Hogwarts and I was the superior wizard. It was not a fair fight. Somehow, Gellert became involved in the fracas and it was two against one. I believe Ariana wanted to step in to help Aberforth because he was outmatched."
Here Dumbledore paused and stared into the flames flickering in the grate.
Dorcas didn't say anything. Just like she would with a patient on her couch, she gave him the space to work through the experience in his mind before he could express his thoughts aloud.
Finally he continued.
"I justified Ariana's death as an accident. There were curses and hexes flying. It was the only explanation that would allow me to sleep at night. But I suspect that Gellert saw an opportunity to free me of the ties to my family that held me back from a life of adventure with him. I think he directed a hex at Ariana, knowing that her death would release my obligation. And Aberforth could walk away from me, blaming me for our sister's death and severing the last family bond I had."
Dumbledore looked from the warm blaze in the fireplace to stare at Dorcas.
"When I learned of the deaths of your mother and uncle, a part of me wondered…"
When Dumbledore trailed his sentence into silence, Dorcas felt a chill that had nothing to do with her light clothing and her march to the castle in the snow. She could hear Tom's voice as he tried to comfort her. "We're both orphans now, Birdie."
"My mother and uncle died when a burglar broke into our flat," Dorcas argued in a hollow voice.
Dumbledore nodded, but made no attempt to contradict her.
Dorcas narrowed her eyes at the old teacher. "If you wondered whether Tom murdered my family, why didn't you intervene then?"
"I have no proof of that. An old man's suspicion is not enough to accuse someone of murder, especially a young wizard with his whole life ahead of him. I suspected Tom of the crime and others, but I didn't want my bias toward him to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I hoped, selfishly, that his friendship with you would have a positive impact on him."
Dorcas sat up a little straighter in her chair.
"Why selfishly?"
"Because you would then be a moral guide to him that I was incapable of being."
"I was too easily swayed by him, professor," Dorcas pointed out dryly. "Tom exerted a tremendous amount of control over me. I wasn't the positive influence on him that you hoped that I would be."
"I'm very sorry. There are a lot of things I'm sorry for. Hundreds–maybe thousands of people died at the hands of Grindelwald–"
"My father," Dorcas informed him, cutting him off as he spoke.
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Your father?"
"Yes, Corbin Clerey was one of the Aurors that didn't make it back from Paris in 1927."
The professor nodded sadly. "I'm responsible for his death. When I knew what Grindelwald's capabilities were and I didn't stop him. I became responsible for all of their deaths."
"So I am responsible for Tom's victims?"
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair and focused on Dorcas intently. "No, my dear. He was also my responsibility. But I need your help to act against him. I need to uncover more memories from witnesses to his plans, his murders."
"That's not possible, sir," Dorcas answered bluntly. She stood from her seat and turned her back to the professor.
She was resolved to scour the whole school to find her daughter. It was time for them to leave this place.
"Dorcas, it's the only way! Why won't you help me?"
Dorcas felt her blood boiling. Tom was not her responsibility. And she resented Dumbledore for his manipulation of her. It was clear that this Grindelwald comparison was meant to impress upon her the necessity for her to act against Tom.
She stopped next to a spindly-legged table with shiny silver, bronze, and crystal magical instruments on it. Placing a hand out to steady herself, Dorcas turned again to the professor.
"I won't help you because he will come after my family! The memory that I uncovered of Tom assaulting me was not an isolated instance. It was only the first among many times that it happened. Do you know what he said to me the very last time he raped me, professor?"
She watched as Dumbledore cringed at her use of the word rape.
Dorcas couldn't be sure who had done it, but one of the former headmasters had tisked at her; either in response to her bold use of the word rape, or her tone that she took with Dumbledore. She couldn't tell, but the admonishment set her off.
She reached for the first fussy little object she could find, it looked like a tiny orrery with crystal orbs suspended on golden pegs. Snatching it from the table, Dorcas hurled it at the collection of portraits behind the professor's desk.
"What did he say to you, Dorcas?" Dumbledore asked evenly. He spoke as if she'd not just flung an expensive possession of his at his colleagues.
"He said that he can get to me anytime, anywhere. And I believe him because he was posing as my husband when he said it. When he was holding me down while I struggled against him."
Dorcas felt anger building up in her again at the memory of Tom's words. It had felt good to smash that artifact. She hoped it was priceless. Irreplaceable.
She placed her palms under the table and upended it, sending the lot crashing to the floor.
"That's why I won't help you assuage your guilt for neglecting to mentor Tom. Where's my daughter?"
As if in answer to her question, there was a knock on the door.
Dumbledore stood, but Dorcas beat him to it, wrenching back the solid oak. It was not Ryann, as she'd expected. It was Cal.
He stepped into the room and immediately surveyed the damage.
"Dorcas! I was worried about you," he said, out of breath. He must have sprinted up the stairs.
"I'm fine," Dorcas said dismissively. Turning back to Dumbledore, Dorcas screamed, "WHERE'S MY DAUGHTER?"
Cal removed his coat and placed it around Dorcas's shoulders.
"My love, we can discuss this at home. Let's leave the professor in peace."
"Fuck the professor's peace, Cal!" Dorcas raged. "It's not safe here and I'm taking Ryann home with me!"
"Language!" one of the headmasters' portraits commented with disgust.
Dorcas swiftly stooped and collected a fractured Foe Glass from the mess at her feet and hurled it at the group of portraits, noticing with satisfaction that only three brave souls had dared to stick around to face her ire.
"DORCAS!" Cal shouted, pulling her upright as she bent to retrieve another broken item to fling at the former headmasters and headmistresses.
To Professor Dumbledore, Cal turned and muttered a rapid apology as he struggled to keep Dorcas from charging at the frames and ripping them from the walls. "I am so sorry, Professor. I will pay for everything that–"
Dorcas cut him off. "DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR ME!" To the headmaster who watched her struggle with an infuriating amount of calm, she yelled, "I AM NOT SORRY, PROFESSOR!"
Dumbledore nodded, his tranquil blue eyes regarded her with understanding. "I do not expect you to apologize, Dorcas. Smashing every precious object in the Department of Mysteries would not suffice to compensate for the failings of myself and your other teachers. But I will assure you once again that your daughter is safe here. Her protection is my top priority."
"I don't believe you," Dorcas said thickly, emotion and embarrassment over her tantrum was beginning to regulate her response. She wondered if Cal's presence had anything to do with the detente of her temper.
"Let's talk this through," Cal urged, loosening his grip on her waist, comfortingly rubbing her back. "I think we should hear what Ryann has to say. We can't just pull her out of school."
"I will do what I think is best, Cal. She's my daughter!"
Cal nodded, trying to show her that he was on her side. Dorcas was having none of it.
"She's my daughter too, sweetheart. Let's discuss it first."
"She's not yours, Cal! You can't tell me what's best for her. I don't want her here anymore. You saw the memory that I uncovered! How can you possibly want her to stay here?"
Cal dropped her hands and staggered back a step as if he'd been slapped.
"Mama?" Ryann's voice broke into her tirade and Dorcas spun around. "Daddy? What's wrong?"
She saw Ryann standing with Professor Lin in the open doorway of the headmaster's office gaping at them and the mess at Dorcas's feet. Dorcas wondered how much Ryann had heard.
"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. Your mother and I were having a conversation with Professor Dumbledore," Cal lied.
Professor Dumbledore stepped to Cal's side and added, "While they were here, they wanted to look in on you and see how the semester was going."
"Professor?" Cal asked, turning to Dumbledore. "Do you mind if Dorcas and I had a moment alone with Ryann?"
"Of course you may!" Dumbledore agreed.
He turned and flicked his wand at the mangled metal and shattered glass, repairing the magical instruments and righting the table that Dorcas had flipped. Then he followed Professor Lin out of the office and closed the door behind him.
"You don't want me to stay at Hogwarts?" Ryann asked, looking from one parent to the other.
"No. I want you home where it's safe," Dorcas said, pulling her daughter tight against her side.
Cal took Ryann's hand. "Nothing's been decided. Your mother and I need to talk things through first."
He gave Dorcas a pointed look, begging her with his eyes not to make any more rash decisions.
Dorcas felt a knot forming in her throat. Hot tears began to spill down her cheeks.
"I just want her safe, Cal. It's not safe here!"
"Dumbledore has promised to look after her," Cal reassured her, lifting the hand that wasn't holding Ryann's to wipe Dorcas's tears.
"I'm safe, Mama. Nothing has happened. Why are you crying?"
"Your mother just misses you. She didn't get to say goodbye after the wedding when you came back to school," Cal covered.
Dorcas pulled Ryann tighter against her and wondered if she would ever be able to let her out of her sight again.
"Are you okay?" Dorcas asked. "You would tell me if anyone hurt you, right?"
Ryann looked up at her, perplexed. "Like on the Quidditch pitch? Mum! It's just a game!"
Dorcas sniffled. "No. I mean in school. Don't walk alone anywhere and always keep your wand with you. Do you promise?"
Cal placed a hand on Dorcas's back and rubbed. He whispered faintly, "Don't scare her, Dorcas."
Dorcas ignored him. "Don't worry about getting into trouble for using magic. If you're in danger, you use magic to defend yourself. Don't hesitate!"
"Mum!" Ryann's eyes were wide with shock.
"Dorcas!" Cal's face mirrored Ryann's. "She's fine. No harm will come to her. Are you satisfied?"
"No." Dorcas hugged Ryann tighter. "I want her to come home with us."
"Mum, I want to stay!" Ryann pleaded.
Cal pried their child from her grip. "Let her get back to class, my love."
"Don't hesitate!" Dorcas said again as Cal freed their daughter. "Right between the eyes, Ryann. Don't let anyone corner you. And don't go anywhere near that secret room across the corridor."
"Okay, Mum!" Ryann said, shaking her head at her mother.
When Ryann disappeared once more from the office, Dorcas felt the levy on her tears collapse. Cal pulled her into his chest and let her cry all of her tension and fear out.
:::
7 February, 1942 Ravenclaw Tower, Fourth Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas emerged from her common room and into the bustling corridor. Busy buttoning her coat, she was taken by surprise when a strong grip seized her upper arm and pulled her forcefully out of the throng of students heading down to the Entrance Hall and out into the lane toward Hogsmeade Village.
"Birdie," Tom's agitated voice rang in her head before she'd had a chance to find her voice to protest. "Where have you been? I've been waiting an eternity!"
Dorcas was confused and didn't know how to answer his question or respond to his impatience.
Tom didn't have any plans to go into Hogsmeade today. In fact, if it wasn't necessary for his Horcrux hunt, it was deemed wholly superfluous to Tom.
"I didn't know you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, Tom. I was planning on meeting up with–"
Tom cut her off, completely uninterested in her plans.
"I don't care," he fumed. "I need your help. Your plans will have to wait!"
Dorcas pulled in a calming breath and allowed herself to be led by Tom, her feet working double-time to keep up with his long strides.
"What has happened? Why are you angry?" Dorcas asked, wrenching her arm out of his grasp, massaging the place where his fingers had dug into her skin despite her winter layers.
"Not here!" Tom hissed at her.
She followed him in silent annoyance until they came to a quieter and more deserted part of the castle. Dorcas realized they were in front of the girls' toilet on the second floor, the secret entrance into Slytherin's chamber.
"Tom," Dorcas protested in a defiant tone. "I'm not going down there again. I already told you–"
Again, he cut her off. "Shut up, Birdie. I don't need you to go with me. I need you to get that blubbering imbecile out of there so I can get to the basilisk," he whispered, his eyes flashing a threat as he tried to master his rage.
"Who, Tom?" Dorcas asked, speaking in a calming voice. Tom was a cornered animal when he was angry, likely to lash out at even a friendly attempt to help him.
"That infernal Warren girl! She's always in there hysterically wailing about something or other. I can't get to the serpent and I NEED THAT FEATHER, BIRDIE!"
He was barely whispering, spitting the final few words at her as he trembled with impatience and anger.
Dorcas held up a hand to shush him. "Alright, Tom. For heaven's sake, get a grip!"
Tom's eyes narrowed and flashed at her again, his jaw tensing as he bit back a reply.
Dorcas turned away from him and pushed into the lavatory. The sound of Myrtle's wailing reverberated from the tiles on the walls and amplified them.
"Myrtle?" asked Dorcas tentatively.
"GO AWAY!" Myrtle shouted in reply. "I WANT TO BE ALONE!"
"You don't own the lavatory, Myrtle," Dorcas reminded her, removing her coat and throwing it across the sink with the snake on the faucet. "Why are you upset?"
Dorcas felt a twinge of guilt for how impatient she sounded when she asked. She hoped Myrtle didn't pick up on her tone.
She rolled up the sleeve on her jumper and surveyed the angry red marks that Tom's fingers had left on her bicep as she waited for Myrtle to answer.
"I miss my parents! I want to go home!"
Dorcas caught her own reflection and the involuntary roll of her eyes. She wanted to ask Myrtle why she'd come back this year if she hated it so much.
Instead, she heard herself ask, "Tell me about home, Myrtle. Why do you miss it?"
"I live in London with my mum and dad. Well…" she paused and sobbed. "My mum and I live there anyway. My dad's away."
"Where is he?" Dorcas asked, interested now.
"France," answered Myrtle.
"I have a friend fighting in Africa," Dorcas replied. She felt a little thrill of danger mentioning Jack with Tom lurking just outside the door. But, he couldn't hear Myrtle's thoughts within the school's wardings.
The sobbing stopped.
"Are you afraid for him? Or is it a her?" Myrtle probed.
Dorcas smiled. She supposed women filled some roles in the military. It was thoroughly circumspect for Myrtle to ask for gender clarification.
"He is in Egypt. I am frightened for him. I got a letter a couple of weeks ago where he described a dangerous situation he was in. It made me very afraid."
She hadn't spoken about Jack to anyone. It felt good to confide her fear to Myrtle. Myrtle probably needed to talk about her own fears too.
"I thought all army personnel fled France," Dorcas continued. "Is your father a prisoner of war?"
There was a hiccup and then the click of the lock on the cubicle disengaging. Myrtle's red, splotchy face peeked around the divider and eyed her carefully.
"No. He's helping the French Resistance," explained the second year girl.
Dorcas spun to face Myrtle, stunned. "Myrtle, is your father Section 6?" She blinked and gaped as Myrtle nodded.
MI6 was something fabled. Dorcas had heard of them, but had never known anyone closely connected to the covert military spy agency. She had a million questions pop into her head all at once, but she shoved them down with a great effort.
"Your father probably wants to be home more than anything else in the world, Myrtle. But we need men like him fighting for us and helping the Resistance. We're not going to win this war without them."
Myrtle sniffed and came out of the stall. "I know you're right. My mother reminds me to be brave all the time." Big teardrops threatened to fall once more, but Dorcas rushed to Myrtle and wrapped her in a tight hug to keep her from dissolving into sobs again.
What she heard in Myrtle's head nearly threatened to make her cry too. As the other Ravenclaw hugged her back, she luxuriated in the feel of the embrace, noting that no one had hugged her since her mother had seen her off at the train platform in London.
It broke Dorcas's heart to realize how lonely and friendless Myrtle was. She vowed to be a more sympathetic and compassionate friend to Myrtle in the future.
"I almost forgot!" Dorcas said, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. She pulled back but kept Myrtle's hands clasped in hers. "I was coming to find you to see if you wanted to go into Hogsmeade with me."
Myrtle brightened. "You were coming to find me?"
Dorcas's insides twisted with guilt. "Yes!" she lied. "C'mon. The others are probably waiting downstairs."
When they exited the bathroom, Dorcas heard Tom before she saw him casually stroll around the corner and past them.
"What took you so long?" he mentally spat at her.
Dorcas made a rude gesture behind her back. One look inside Tom's mind told her that he'd caught it.
"Nice! Real ladylike, Birdie!"
:::
3 March, 1959 14 South Audley Street, Mayfair, London
When they returned home, Dorcas and Cal retreated to their respective corners of the house.
Dorcas was stewing in her office, sifting through the box of trinkets once more.
Cal silently went to his study to write a letter.
Thinking over the conversation with Dumbledore, Dorcas continued to stoke her own anger. He hoped that she'd be a positive influence on Tom. Yet, it had been the other way around. She was a sacrificial lamb because Dumbledore saw too much of Grindelwald in Tom to guide him properly.
It was bizarre to Dorcas how her own outrage turned to anger on Tom's behalf. If Dumbledore had not been so caught up in the parallels that existed between his dark paramour and Tom, what could Tom have turned out to be? If Dumbledore had moulded the brilliant boy into a kind and more selfless individual, it would have spared Dorcas so much heartache.
She picked up the alabaster bird pendant and let it dangle before her eyes.
There was a soft rapping on her open door and Dorcas dropped the necklace back into the box.
She stared at Cal as he stood in the doorway. His face was fixed with a neutral expression, but there was a cloud of hurt that was reflected in his eyes.
"Can we talk?" he asked mechanically.
"Of course," Dorcas said, closing the lid on the trinkets. She stood and gestured toward the sofa.
Dorcas sat and noticed with a hint of regret when Cal chose the chair opposite her instead of the spot beside her.
"Did you mean what you said to me in Dumbledore's office?" Cal asked.
Dorcas nodded. "I don't think Hogwarts is safe. I want both of my daughters under this roof where I can keep them safe."
"There you go again," Cal sighed, leaning on the arm of the chair.
Dorcas shrugged. "What? What did I say that was so unreasonable?"
Dorcas was tired of feeling like her fear wasn't real. She disliked the way he always swept in to mitigate the disaster that was Dorcas. She had a legitimate reason to fear for Ryann's safety at school.
"Your daughters, Dorcas. They're mine as well. That's what I mean. Were you intentionally trying to hurt me when you said that Ryann was yours and not mine?"
Dorcas didn't remember what she'd said in her frantic quest to try to pull Ryann out of Hogwarts.
"No, Cal. Of course I didn't mean to hurt you. But I can't believe that you would want her to stay there after you saw that memory! How can you think she's safe there when you saw what happened to me at that school when I was only fifteen?"
"What memory?" Cal asked, his eyes narrowing at Dorcas.
"The one I saw you viewing in my Pensive last night," Dorcas answered in an accusatory tone.
Cal flinched. "Do you think that I sneak into your office while you're asleep to look at memories that you obviously don't want me to see?"
"Don't you?" Dorcas challenged, raising her eyebrows and holding his gaze.
"No. Dorcas I am reviewing my own memories. God! You think so little of me!"
"I assumed you wanted to know about the most recent attack, the one that upset me yesterday."
"Of course, I do. If you want to tell me. But you don't. You'd rather Theresa helped you. That's your choice. But I'm sorry that you don't trust me with your memories."
Dorcas sighed. "It's not that I don't trust you, Cal. It's that Theresa is so far removed from Tom and everything that happened at school. I just don't want you to experience things like that. I know it will hurt you."
"Dorcas, I can take a little hurt. I'm strong enough to handle it. Why do you want to keep me at a distance? You always have. Haven't I proven to you how much I love you? Can't you trust me after all we've been through?"
He punctuated this statement with a thought that hit Dorcas in the gut. She heard him as he thought, "Sometimes you're impossible to love."
Dorcas straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. She hadn't begged him to marry her. She hadn't trapped him with a pregnancy as his parents had suspected. He had entered into this relationship knowing full well that she did not love him at first. She never misrepresented the way things were.
"Say it out loud, Cal. Don't be shy," she barked. She wanted to sound strong and unflinching in her convictions. But her voice broke on his name.
Cal shook his head. "Don't sift through my mind looking for ammunition, Dorcas."
"Don't say one thing and think something different, Cal," Dorcas shot back.
Cal hung his head and was silent for a moment. "Do you know how hard it is to keep from thinking things that will make you angry or hurt you if taken out of context? Do you know how exhausting it is to have to be perfect all the time because you're afraid you'll never be good enough for the person you love?"
"Cal, no one expects you to be perfect–" Dorcas argued.
He looked up at her and Dorcas saw how deeply hurt he was. "Don't you?"
When Dorcas didn't answer after a few moments of thick silence, he stood and left her office.
:::
7 February, 1942 Entrance Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Do you have any siblings, Myrtle?" Dorcas asked as they descended the main staircase to the mostly empty Entrance Hall.
"No. It's just me and my mum at home now."
Dorcas noted that there was no hint of the tears Myrtle had been crying now. Just a little bit of friendship and positive attention had turned her attitude right around. She was even asking Dorcas questions companionably.
"Where do you live, Dorcas?"
"I live in London with my mum and my uncle," Dorcas explained.
"No siblings?"
"No. But my uncle is only twelve years older than me, so he's like a brother. Did your mother let you come home to London in the summers? Or did you have to go and live in the countryside?" Dorcas asked.
"I stayed with my grandmother for the past two summers, but my mum let me come home for Christmas this year because I was so miserable away from her," Myrtle replied.
Dorcas nodded. "I had to stay away the summer before last. When the bombing was very bad."
"I remember," Myrtle agreed. "I cried for my mum every night. I was convinced she would die if she had to stay in London by herself. But she didn't."
"I was worried for my mum and uncle, too," Dorcas agreed, reaching out and squeezing Myrtle's hand.
The second year squeezed her hand back and flashed her a shy smile. Dorcas thought she looked rather sweet when she wasn't wailing uncontrollably and yelling at passersby.
"There you are!" Jonas's voice called up the stairs. He was pacing by the large oak doors, waving his scarf in front of him, fanning himself. "It's been ages since the others left. Hi Myrtle."
Dorcas frowned. "Everyone left?"
So much for friends, she thought darkly.
"Hi Jonas," Myrtle returned, giggling a little.
"Cal and Anneliese wanted to wait for you, but Cherry was keen to get to Honeydukes. She's convinced that the Pepper Imps will all be gone if she's not the first one through the door."
Dorcas made a face. "Doesn't she know she can order them by owl?"
Jonas shrugged.
Out in the snow, Dorcas found herself turning up her collar against the biting wind.
"What took you so long?" Jonas asked over the gale.
Dorcas was concentrating so hard on avoiding patches of treacherous ice that she answered honestly before she could catch herself.
"Tom," she huffed in annoyance.
"Tom?" Jonas repeated, giving her a questioning look.
"He needed help with something before I left," Dorcas hurriedly recovered. "And I wanted to find Myrtle and invite her along with us."
"Are you and Tom Riddle an item again, Dorcas?" Myrtle chimed conversationally.
Dorcas balked. "No. Of course not!"
Jonas made a derisive noise next to her. She could tell in his thoughts that he had no qualms with Tom as a person. But he hadn't liked the way Tom had abandoned her to handle Wes Rookwood and Oliver Nott on her own last spring.
She hadn't liked that either. That was the reason she'd broken up with him.
"Oh. I thought you'd be thrilled to have him take you back," Myrtle added.
"Take her back?" Jonas snorted.
Myrtle looked between Dorcas and Jonas. "But I thought he broke up with you last year because you kissed Evlyn Rosier. That's what I heard, anyway."
"Merlin!" Jonas swore.
Dorcas felt her cheeks heat in the stinging cold. "You can't believe everything you hear, Myrtle."
"Where did you hear it? Out of interest," Jonas asked.
Closing her eyes, Dorcas wished that when they opened she would be anywhere else. It was mightily uncomfortable dispelling rumors about her and Tom and Evlyn. She thought that all of this had been put to rest months ago.
Myrtle shrugged. "June Riley, Wes Rookwood, your sister."
Dorcas's eyes flew open and found Jonas's. His eyes flashed with rage.
"Jonas, leave it alone. Tom said he handled it. It's bad enough you're not talking to your best friend anymore because of me. I don't want you to start something with Gemma too."
"If Tom had handled it, Dorcas, Myrtle wouldn't be repeating that rubbish!"
"Sorry!" Myrtle murmured, looking down at her feet.
Dorcas felt sorry for her. She'd been excited to be a part of a conversation and had gotten carried away. Dorcas didn't blame her for believing the rumors. Tom was very handsome, and it was more believable that he'd been the wronged party. The girls at the school would want to believe that Dorcas was a villain in their breakup.
"It's okay, Myrtle," Dorcas soothed, placing a hand on the girl's arm, even as Jonas seethed on the other side of her.
"NO IT'S NOT, DORCAS!" he raged.
"Alright, Jonas! It's not. But I'm asking you to let it go!" Dorcas wanted to diffuse the tension quickly and move off of the subject of the rumors that she was a slag. Why couldn't they just die already?
"Dorcas–" Jonas argued.
"Jonas, I'm asking you to let it go!" Dorcas spoke slowly, her teeth gritted.
She was worried that Jonas might confront Tom about the reemergence of the tales about Dorcas and Evlyn. She wanted to avoid anyone being taken down into the chamber to have the stuffing scared out of them like poor Clay Atwood had.
What Jonas said in reply was drowned out by the whine of an aeroplane's engine. The sound was at odds with the idyllic castle grounds of Hogwarts.
The trio stopped in the lane, stunned as their eyes met a strange sight just over the treetops.
"That's a Martin Marauder!" Jonas gasped.
"American?" Dorcas asked, her jaw going slack as she watched the fighter sink toward the Forbidden Forest, smoke trailing behind it.
"It looks as though it's lost an engine," Jonas commented with academic interest.
Dorcas saw him crane his neck and extend himself to his toes to follow the plane until it arced out of sight with a tremendous crunch of timber and metal.
"Do you think the crew's survived?" Myrtle asked, fear creeping into her voice.
"Maybe," Jonas answered. "But if they survived the crash, they're less likely to survive whatever's in there."
Dorcas knew Jonas was right. The Forbidden Forest housed all sorts of magical creatures, many of them deadly.
"Myrtle, run back up to the castle and get help. Professor Dippet or Dumbledore. Anyone!"
Myrtle nodded, looking relieved to have a task that would take her in the opposite direction of danger.
"Come on, Jonas!" Dorcas called to her cousin.
"Dorcas, don't!" Jonas shouted after her as she plunged into the thick green cover of the trees.
A moment later, she heard Jonas's footfalls as they trailed behind her.
:::
3 March, 1959 14 South Audley Street, Mayfair, London
Dorcas felt as if she'd been ripped in half after the conversation with Cal. There were many times that they'd fought. And Dorcas sometimes lashed out at Cal when she felt insecure.
But he'd never looked as defeated in any of their arguments as he had when he walked out of her office an hour ago.
Dorcas heard Theresa's advice to her when she was distraught over the memory of Tom's assault that they'd uncovered yesterday.
"Think of a time when you felt safe and loved."
There were so many memories that she had of things that Cal had done to make her feel this way. He was easy to love. Maybe he had a point when she thought about how difficult she'd made it to love her in return. And yet, everyday he made the Herculean effort. At least he tried.
She stood and walked over to the Pensieve, wand pressed to her temple and pulled the first memory that came to mind, tipping it into the basin of swirling mercury liquid. Placing her face against the cool, misty surface, Dorcas felt the familiar feeling of tumbling into the memory.
She was stirring from sleep next to Cal. Ryann's infant wailing came from the other side of the wall in their small Watford flat.
Eager to make up for the times she'd refused after Ryann's birth to have anything to do with her care or feedings, Dorcas sprang up from the bed before Cal could wake and insist on going. He'd come home late from St. Mungo's and would have to be up early again for an eight a.m. class.
Somehow, a profound shift had happened in her heart. Two weeks ago she'd heard Cal talking to their infant daughter, excusing Dorcas's neglect and her depression, imploring the tiny baby to give her mother time to recover from her heartache.
Dorcas realized at that moment that she loved Cal. And she loved her precious baby.
"Bring her in here, my love," Cal said sleepily as she padded quietly from the room.
Dorcas thrilled at hearing his new endearment for her. Her acceptance of him, emotionally and physically, had made him more confident in his expressions of the deep love he'd always felt for her.
"I will," she reassured him with a whisper.
When she returned, having scooped Ryann up into her arms, Cal was sitting up in bed. The covers were pulled back, inviting Dorcas to cuddle against his chest while she fed Ryann.
She'd avoided nursing in front of Cal before the shift in her feelings for him. They slept in the same bed, but she never invited intimacy. During her pregnancy and after giving birth, she thought she might have to beg off sex with some excuse about the physical discomfort. But he'd never pushed her or even suggested anything physical.
When she finally decided that she loved him and wanted him, she was the one who couldn't seem to keep her hands off of him. And the privacy that she'd rigidly maintained in the early months of their marriage dissolved when she became less guarded around him.
Settling back against his reassuring warmth, she shifted Ryann to her left arm, feeling Cal's arm under hers, wrapping around her waist and helping her to support their child.
With her right hand she undid the buttons on her nightgown and bared her left breast for Ryann. The crying infant quieted immediately and latched on to nurse. Cal's right arm crossed her shoulder and his hand rested on Ryann, her little fingers curling around his index finger.
Cal kissed Dorcas's cheek and thought about how truly happy he was in that moment.
"I can hear what you're thinking," Dorcas whispered as she watched Ryann's eyes slowly close, her mouth busily sucking, a little bubble forming at the corner of her lips.
"I know you can," Cal answered.
"But I'd like to hear you say it," Dorcas encouraged.
Cal squeezed her closer to him and nuzzled his chin into the space between her shoulder and neck.
"Everything I love most in the world is right here in my arms. You've made me so happy, Dorcas. I don't deserve it."
Dorcas's fingers found his hand as it rested beneath Ryann on her stomach and intertwined his fingers with hers.
"You deserve every bit of it, my love," Dorcas answered.
:::
Dorcas knocked on the door to Cal's office.
"You don't have to knock, Dorcas. You're welcome to come in whenever you want," Cal answered, a sad note in his voice.
Dorcas was crying before she could get her apology out. She stood uncertain in the doorway and watched Cal lift his head out of his hands as he rested his elbows on the desktop.
He stared at her, a wounded expression on his face.
"I'm sorry that I'm impossible to love," Dorcas began. "I know I haven't made anything easier for you. I didn't mean it when I said Ryann isn't yours. I'm so grateful that you love her and want to be her father, Cal. I was just so scared for her. I don't want her at that school."
She swiped at the tears falling from her cheeks.
"You're not impossible to love, Dorcas. I don't believe that. Thoughts pop into my head just like anyone else's. Most people get the chance to filter bad thoughts and discard them before expressing themselves. You get to see all of me laid bare, no filter. It's so bloody hard sometimes to keep the hurtful thoughts out."
Cal pushed back from the desk and held his arms out to her.
Dorcas crossed the room quickly, nearly knocking over a side table as she rushed to him. She sat in his lap and kissed him hard on the lips, feeling his arms pull her flush against him.
"Cal," Dorcas sighed as she ran her fingers through his hair. Did he feel the magnetic pull that she was feeling at this moment? A quick probe of his thoughts told her he did.
Dorcas shifted her weight so that she straddled him, taking his face between her hands, she placed another kiss on his lips, more urgent and frantic than the last one.
Cal groaned low and deep, gripping her backside and pulling her against the hardness that was beginning to form in his lap. His hands quickly abandoned her backside for the buttons on her shirt, pulling at them, peeling the fabric away from her collarbone, placing his lips against her flushed skin.
Dorcas's hands dropped from Cal's hair to his lap where she began to unfasten his trousers.
Cal panted against Dorcas's lips, saying her name like an incantation.
When Dorcas plunged her hand into Cal's pants, he began to wilt almost the instant she gripped him in her palm.
Cal pulled away from her and grabbed her wrist when she began to stroke him back to attention.
"Dorcas, we shouldn't," he sighed, pulling her hand away.
Dorcas sat back, tugging her shirt closed and crossing her arms over her chest.
She could see in Cal's mind that he was trying to push down the memory of seeing Tom use his body to rape his wife.
Nodding in agreement, Dorcas leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. He was right. It might be too soon for intimacy. She remembered when he'd become aroused in his sleep and rolled over onto her, the feeling of being trapped against the mattress caused her to panic.
Cal swiped tiredly across his face with one hand then wrapped his arms around Dorcas. She felt him shudder as she clung to him.
"It's okay, Cal. You're right. Maybe it's too soon."
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I love you, Clerey."
Intellectually, she knew Cal was not rejecting her. But she still felt a wave of humiliation come over her. Cal had never reacted that way to her touch before.
He was always ready for sex when she initiated it.
She supposed that she was not the only one who had some trauma to work through. Tom had terrorized them both.
"I think I hear Wren and her tutor," Dorcas lied, hopping lightly off of Cal's lap and hurriedly buttoning her blouse.
"Dorcas," she heard Cal call after her. She didn't turn around. Her desire to remove herself from the painful and embarrassing moment was all that she could think about.
:::
7 February, 1942 The Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Dorcas!" Jonas half-whispered, half-snapped at her. "There's a reason it's called the Forbidden Forest. We're not supposed to be in here!"
"So we should just let them die? I hope someone helps you one day if–heaven forbid–you crash your plane somewhere!" Dorcas huffed over her shoulder at him. She continued to run ahead through the densely packed woods, leaping giant roots and rocks as she went.
Jonas thought, "I won't be such a bad pilot."
Dorcas only shook her head at his hubris and kept going.
When she tripped into a hole and came down on her hands and knees hard, Jonas was right behind her hauling her to her feet once again.
Dorcas turned around, brushing her hair from her face, opening her mouth to thank him but stopped abruptly when she saw her cousin's face.
Jonas's eyes were fixed on the hole Dorcas had tripped into.
"What d'you suppose made that?" he asked in awe.
Dorcas looked down and saw that she was standing in the middle of a large, four-toed print. There were ominous gouges terminating each of the toes where large claws or talons might have scored the earth.
She swallowed but was stunned into silence. She had no idea what could have made a mark like that.
"Let's not stick around to find out," Jonas replied, grabbing her hand and pulling her deeper into the forest.
The air was becoming thicker with smoke and Dorcas could still make out the sound of propellers in the near distance.
A wing became visible moments later, torn from the main fuselage of the aircraft by a mighty oak.
Dorcas and Jonas slowed and tentatively crept toward the smoking hulk of the B-26 bomber. The markings on the severed wing were repeated on the tail section. Blue stripes and a white star on a blue background.
"You were right, Jonas. It's American," Dorcas whispered.
Jonas made no reply, but his smug thoughts were loud enough. "Of course I am!"
Dorcas didn't know enough about planes to assess the damage to this one.
It was clear that there was damage to the engine on the far side of them, smoke continued to billow out in front of the intact wing. The twin propellers continued to spin. Dorcas took two more steps toward the wreckage.
She felt Jonas grab a fistfull of the back of her coat and yank her backward.
"Don't go any closer, Dorcas!"
She shook him off. "They might be hurt, Jonas. Plus, they're on our side."
"What if that engine explodes?" Jonas shot back.
"Then we'll have to–" Dorcas began to argue. She stopped when sounds from the cockpit reached them.
There was a banging sound followed by the click of a catch being released.
Dorcas and Jonas stayed close to the undamaged section of trees, keeping close to the cover of the vegetation. When Dorcas slowly arced toward the front of the plane, she noticed the blood smearing the glass of the nose section.
"Jonas," she whispered. "Who goes there?" She pointed to the bloody nose.
"The bombardier, but it looks like he didn't make it."
"How many more crew do you think it has?"
As she asked, a loud bang echoed from the interior of the plane, causing Dorcas to jump and clutch her cousin's arm tightly.
"That was a gunshot," she whispered.
"Right. We should go," Jonas replied, pulling Dorcas back the way they had come.
The pilot and co-pilot seats were empty when Dorcas moved closer, shrugging off Jonas. Dorcas took her wand out and cautiously approached the crash.
She could hear a muttered conversation from within. Two male voices exchanged words, but she couldn't make it out.
Dorcas reached inside of her coat pocket and took out her wand.
"They're Muggles, Dorcas! Put your wand away!"
She turned to shush her cousin and moved into the shadows beside the fuselage's door, the mangled stump of the aircraft's wing twisted in front of the portal. Dorcas knew she would have time to run if someone tried to open it. It would jam and need to be forced.
Extending a tentacle of consciousness, Dorcas reached for the minds of the two men talking inside. She connected with an airman who was standing over an injured crew member.
Dorcas felt an urgency to get the door open and help the survivors, even as the engine that was ablaze popped threateningly.
She felt Jonas's presence beside her.
"What's going on?" Jonas asked beside her. "I can't hear them."
In the airman's mind, Dorcas watched him raise a pistol and fire a shot. The injured crew member slumped in the seat he was still strapped to.
Dorcas gasped. Jonas jumped at the sound next to her.
The door groaned as it was forced, the top of it catching on the hulk of twisted metal that was once the wing.
"Go. Go. Go!" Dorcas urged, pushing Jonas ahead of her as she retreated back to the tree cover.
"Why are they firing their weapons?" Jonas whispered.
Dorcas shrugged. They watched as the door budged little by little until the hunk of steel blocking it gave way.
She continued to press into the man's mind, finding it easier now that she could lay eyes on him.
He wore a blue uniform and a flak jacket spattered with blood. Dorcas couldn't be sure if the blood belonged to him or the crew member he'd just killed.
But a scan of his mind told her that he was not an American.
Forgetting herself, Dorcas gasped in horror as she replayed the memory in the man's mind of murdering the crew of this aircraft in some distant field somewhere, perhaps in Scandinavia, where it had crash-landed previously. Was the man he'd been arguing with the last survivor of the American crew?
"Hello?" the man called in a perfectly nondescript American accent. "Who's there?"
Dorcas kept her eyes trained on the pistol in the man's right hand at his side.
"You there. In the bushes." He moved toward her and Jonas.
Knowing they'd been spotted, Dorcas moved out of the cover of the low-hanging branches, Jonas following her.
Jonas's mind was humming with plan after plan, trying to think of a way to get them out of this predicament.
Dorcas decided to play the innocent country girl.
"Are you an American?" she asked, keeping her wand tucked against her side, hidden in the folds of her coat.
"Yes. We crashed when the engine was damaged. What is this place?"
The soldier looked around, surveying the forest and, finally, his plane.
"This is a school," Dorcas answered helpfully. "Are you hurt?"
The man shook his head. "My crew though. I think they're dead."
Yes, Dorcas thought, and you helped two of them on with it. Jonas stood silently beside her, listening to the exchange.
"We can go and get help, sir," Jonas offered, adopting the same innocent child tone that Dorcas had.
The man shook his head. "You're not going anywhere," he contradicted, raising his pistol in their direction.
Dorcas raised her wand. In her periphery, she watched as Jonas did the same.
The imposter looked between them both and laughed. "What are you going to do? Impale me with your little sticks? You'll have to come closer."
"Accio Pistol!" Dorcas shouted.
The firearm flew out of the man's hand. Dorcas didn't catch it, instead letting it fly over her shoulder and land impotently behind her. She only registered the danger of flinging the weapon toward her and Jonas after she'd had time to reflect on her actions.
"What did you do?" the man asked, looking from his empty hand to the sticks he'd laughed at moments before.
His practiced accent slipped in his surprise.
"Aguamenti!" Dorcas called, this time pointing her wand at the blazing engine. It whined as the metal cooled in the torrent of water.
"Hexe!" the imposter gasped, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at Dorcas.
Dorcas didn't know German, but she could see in his mind that he'd made a connection that he didn't quite believe. Witch!
"That's right," Dorcas confirmed. "Stupefy!" she yelled so forcefully that her throat scratched.
The man crumpled to the ground as Dorcas raced forward to check that he was magically restrained.
"Let's check for any more survivors," Dorcas shot back at Jonas, who was silent for a moment.
"He was German?"
Dorcas was already climbing into the smokey fuselage. She saw the dead crew member slumped in his seat. Another, lying face first in a pool of blood, blocking the narrow passage to the tail of the plane.
"How did you know he wasn't American, Dorcas?" Jonas demanded, stepping into the wreckage behind her.
"HELLO?" Dorcas called, ignoring Jonas's question.
"DORCAS!"
"What, Jonas?" Dorcas turned impatiently and faced her cousin.
"How did you know?"
"I heard them arguing when I came up to the door," she lied. She turned away and stepped over the dead man in the aisle so that she didn't have to make eye contact with Jonas.
"Hello?" Dorcas said again, making her way into the tail section of the plane. Passing through a bomb bay with massive artillery shells lining the walls, Dorcas slipped further into the back section.
"The radio operator is dead," Jonas called from the front of the aircraft.
"Keep looking for others," Dorcas encouraged. There was a ladder just past the aft bomb bay and Dorcas hesitated before it. She looked up into a dorsal turret but couldn't make out any signs of life.
"Hello? Your aeroplane has crashed. Can anyone hear me?" Dorcas called up the ladder.
She reached for a consciousness and found none.
Then a groan came from further back.
Dorcas abandoned the dorsal turret and followed the noise. "Who's there? Are you hurt?"
She came to a crew member that lay in a heap before the tail machine gun position. The gunner appeared to have two broken legs and a terrible gash above his right eye.
"JONAS!" Dorcas called, stowing her wand and kneeling beside the man, placing her woolen glove over the spot where blood dripped from his head wound. "JONAS!"
"The navigator's dead too," Jonas replied, stepping through the bomb bay and into view.
Dorcas nodded impatiently. "He's in bad shape. I don't think he can walk."
"I think my leg was crushed when we landed," the gunner confirmed. He pointed to a large shell that had come loose from the bay.
Dorcas imagined that it must have been horrendously painful for it to fall on his legs.
"We could try to heal him," Jonas offered.
Dorcas shook her head. "If his legs were crushed, I don't think I could do it." She was reminded of the time she healed Tom's ankle, when it was pinned by a large piece of debris during the air raid. The injuries that this man had sustained looked far graver.
"Heal me?" the gunner repeated, confused. "How are you going to do that?"
Jonas exhaled in frustration and shook his head, ignoring the American. "Where is Myrtle? We need a teacher or Madame Higgins."
"Sir, we're going to try to carry you out of here," Dorcas explained, looking alternately between the man and Jonas. "Jonas, come around here and hold my glove against this wound."
Dorcas traded places with her cousin, mostly so she could move around behind the ariman and take her wand out without him seeing.
"Stupefy!" she said, watching the American slump into Jonas's arms suddenly.
"We're going to cast the Featherlight Charm and carry him out of here. With him stunned, he won't feel the pain–which has to be excruciating–" Dorcas added, with a sympathetic look to the unresponsive man. "That way, he'll just think he passed out from the pain."
"Okay," Jonas agreed, looking more relieved that Dorcas had come up with a plan that didn't have them flaunting magic in front of a Muggle.
"What about the other one? The German?"
Dorcas shrugged, unconcerned. "He posed as an American and killed two people that we know of. Who's going to believe him when he says he was caught by a witch?"
Jonas continued to staunch the American's bleeding wound. "I hope you're right."
Dorcas cast the charm that made the airman light enough for her and Jonas to lift. They supported him each under one arm and pulled him from the wreckage.
"Miss Clerey! Mr. Rackharrow!" Professor Dumbledore's voice called from the clearing ahead of them. "Is he alive? Are there others?"
Dorcas nodded to the Transfiguration teacher as she and Jonas laid the crew member beside the stunned German imposter.
"This one's a Jerry," Jonas said, pointing at the prone airman. "Pulled a gun on us."
"Keep your wands out," Dumbledore ordered, leaving them and ducking into the plane to have another look for survivors, his robes swirling behind him. Dorcas could only think of one word for the sight of Dumbledore in a combat bomber: Surreal.
Dorcas knelt in the slush and mud, taking over pressing on the head wound of the serviceman they'd rescued from the plane while Jonas pointed his wand at the motionless German.
Professor Slughorn, Professor Lin, and Madame Higgins arrived moments after Dumbledore disappeared into the smoking fuselage. The school's hospital matron replaced Dorcas beside the stunned and bleeding man.
"Madame Higgins, both of his legs were crushed by a massive artillery shell," Dorcas supplied, in case the matron didn't detect his other injuries.
"Madame Higgins will take over from here, Miss Clerey," her head of house instructed. "You and Mr. Rackharrow will go with Professor Slughorn back up to the school now."
She didn't wait for a response from Dorcas or Jonas. The Arithmancy teacher turned and ducked into the wreckage behind Dumbledore.
"That was heroic, indeed!" Slughorn said, smiling at the two and waving them back through the forest ahead of him. "You shall have fifty points for Slytherin and fifty points for Ravenclaw," he added. "But the forest is out of bounds for students."
"Yes, sir," Jonas said, casting an I-told-you-so look at Dorcas.
"Sorry, sir," Dorcas replied, shooting a penitent look back at Jonas.