Chapter Thirty | Through Thick and Thin
Heel planted firmly on a bench, Catherine stretched her legs, keeping an eye on the door to the Room of Requirement as she readied herself for what felt like a fight. Words were difficult for her, strange, unwieldy things that left her flailing in the dark and stammering out a useless mess of half-apologies and thinly veiled derision.
It was like that, that the two dozen or so members of the D.A. (she'd never counted, actually, but judging by the heads milling about it was a close guess) found her, contorting her arms and shoulders, the muscle deceptively wiry as she pulled her limbs this way and that.
She didn't really get the opportunity to stretch when in Yharnam, the pre-game routine hardwired into her after five years of Quidditch. Although, there wasn't very much point in stretching when every ache of her body would be only a faint memory once she'd had her throat slit, skull crushed, or guts pulled from her belly in long ropes, laid across stone mired in gore and dirt from the hundreds of others who had been killed before her.
With a measured gaze she looked over the members of the D.A. that she hadn't seen in what felt like months. It had been for her at the very least, the others having watched her pass out after obliterating some hapless wooden bust perhaps two weeks ago at the most. She noticed that some of them winced upon seeing her scars close up, the majority of them having only heard of what happened through the grapevine of gossip that wound its way through the school's halls, or having only managed passing glances in the corridors or during meals.
It was that, or the glaringly obvious Skeeter article detailing the woes of her instability. How terribly sad it was that one of their heroes had lost her mind and tried to end her own life in such a tragic, but poetic manner.
If Catherine found herself stepping towards beetles she'd spied on the warm floors of the castle corridors, only she knew why.
The Gryffindors had… not grown familiar with her scars, the uncomfortable silence that hung over their heads like rain clouds still something she could smell in the air, taste on her lips. No, not familiar, but no longer piteous or fearful, and that was something she was thankful for in her own, quiet way.
"Is everyone here?" she asked aloud, turning her head to Hermione, who peeked quickly at the crowd of students before nodding at her. Cheeks puffed, she let out a gust of air, pushing her anxiety with it - or she imagined that to be so, the spinning in her gut barely slowing. "So."
Catherine's jaw clenched and unclenched nervously, before she finally cast away her doubt. "There's going to be some changes to the D.A."
"That's what you have to say?" Padma shot out. "You… you tried to-"
"Kill myself. Yeah." Flinches echoed out across the room, silent but far, far too obvious in the way everyone's shoulders hunched, their brows furrowing. Catherine raised her hand, one fang digging into her bottom lip. "Regardless of what the Ministry and Snape say, I've never had a good life. A while ago I reached the tipping point and made a very, very bad decision."
She didn't put voice to the fact that were she to be told that if she died this second she would die for good, the only thing that would stay her hand would be the knowledge that she would be leaving her friends and Dumbledore - and McGonagall, she reminded herself - behind.
"I see that look on your face Zach, don't start."
The boy scowled, crossing his arms.
"I've grown up with relatives that would rather me dead. I've spent the last five years with the knowledge that the most powerful madman in Britain wants my head on a platter and has been trying to do so since I was hardly a year old. Every major newspaper in the country has spent the last six months dragging my name regardless of the fact that I am fifteen years old and just watched my friend get murdered in front of me."
Raising her wand, she pointed it at a dummy to her left, only Ron and Hermione noticing how she'd switched hands since her fall, knowing full well the reason was because she preferred to feel the weight of a blade in her right.
In a flash, the dummy's arm cracked, bent backwards at a sickening angle and only belying the true damage a living, breathing person would bear through the splinters scattered across the floor.
"What I'm going to be teaching you from hereon won't be stunners and disarming charms, but bone breakers, cutters, and other hexes and curses." She raised her hand again as a murmur broke out, some of the students looking beyond horrified at her proclamation. "I realized a short while ago that stunners aren't going to cut it against Death Eaters, because that's who's going to be coming after muggleborns, halfbloods, and anyone else who stands in Voldemort's way... or so much as sneezes in his direction, petty as he is. If you're not comfortable with this, I understand, and you can leave now if you'd like. I won't hold it against you, but - and this is why I've made this decision - I know that I won't be able to rest at night knowing that if one of you dies because I taught you the wrong way to defend yourself, to fight, then that blame will rest on my shoulders."
"You can't be serious," Zacharias spoke up, his face twisted in revulsion. "You're expecting us to, what, kill people? We're not soldiers, even if this study group is called a bloody army."
"I don't. But, if you want a demonstration on why what I've been teaching you so far is useless, then I'd be happy to show you."
"Like you could-"
"Stupefy."
The charm struck Zacharias in the chest, knocking him backwards into Michael Corner, who swayed as he tried to steady his classmate.
"Someone revive him. Go on, Michael, you've got him already."
Eyes bugging out, Michael pointed his wand at Zachariah, whispering rennervate and sighing in relief as Zachariah flailed, arms waving as he steadied himself.
"What the hell was that for?"
"An example." Catherine pointed at him, looking out over the group. "Imagine he was a Death Eater. You can bind him, yes. You can knock him out by hitting him over the head, but he'd be back up and ready to fight in five minutes, less than that if one of his companions could, and would take the time to revive him. Death Eaters are veterans, not students like us, not to mention they never work alone. They know their way around a fight far better than any of you, and are more than willing to kill. The only way to put one down for the fight is to break arms, legs, ribs, or cut a muscle through.
"Again, if you're not comfortable with this, that's fine. I get it. This is beyond any of us, not to mention far too much responsibility for anyone not directly involved with this fight. Myself, Hermione, as well as Ron and his family are already in too deep to do anything but fight this way. All of you, on the other hand, have a choice." Exhaling through her nose, Catherine drew herself up, finding the confidence that she thought lost but a few minutes ago. "You don't need to make this choice now, you might not need to ever make it, and I hope you don't. But, there's also the chance Voldemort reveals himself and makes his first move within the next year, a very good chance at that. There's already been reports of muggle-baiting and torture out in the countryside, and we all know who's to blame for those attacks."
A shaky hand rose at the back of the crowd, and though Neville was tall he seemed to be only a twig amongst the trees. "D'you think he'd attack Hogwarts?"
"If given the chance? Definitely. It wouldn't be easy, not with Dumbledore here, but he's not infallible or all powerful. Voldemort is a terrorist at heart. He thrives off fear, and if he could lay waste to the next generation of magicals in Britain? He'd take in a heartbeat."
"I'm out," Zachariah growled, throwing up two fingers as he stomped towards the door, turning to hiss out the last word. "Still trying to kill yourself, huh? Don't think you can go dragging everyone else into it."
"Love you too, Zachariah."
His face twisted into an ugly glower as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
"Anyone else? Now's the time to go."
"What'd you mean, 'they know how to fight better than any of you?'" Cho asked, her face still ashen from the mention of Cedric's death.
"Because the only Death Eaters I'd have to worry about right now would be Lucius or Bellatrix, or maybe a few others, like MacNair," Catherine spoke honestly, although she knew the instant the words left her mouth she'd sound a braggart. "Sorry, I didn't mean for that-" she sighed, blinking slowly. "I've had to fight a lot. Since my first year here. What I learned the night of the fourth task was that most of the Death Eaters go for shock and awe. This doesn't mean they're not skilled, but they'd be highly unprepared for a fifteen year old to come running at them trying to break their bones."
A few more students left the huddle, Catherine spotting the tall form of Hannah Abbot among them. Not much of a surprise, after the bitter words she'd heard her speaking for the last three years.
"If you'll let me, I'd like to teach you how to put a Death Eater down for the count. Not for five minutes, but until the next fight at least. Broken bones can be healed from, yes. We can regrow bones, trust me on that," she said, waving the arm Lockhart had left flopping like a dead eel in her second year. "But shattered ones? Muscular damage isn't something you can come back from so easily."
"But what if- what if they do die?"
"Who would you rather see six feet under if you were forced to fight? A Death Eater, or a loved one?"
That seemed to quiet the remaining students, perhaps fifteen or so of them left, and Catherine could see a scant few remaining at the back still debating whether to stay or go.
"Again, I fully understand if you want to leave. I won't hold a grudge. I won't feel anything except concern, because over the last half year I've gotten to know all of you. I've had the opportunity to learn alongside you. I care about you, and I will do everything I can to not see you hurt, if not for your sake then for mine."
Taking the opportunity, Ron and Hermione stepped forward, Fred and George following quickly behind. Ginny lagged in her motions, shellshocked by the whole display, but was beckoned along all the same by her siblings.
It didn't surprise Catherine that the next to follow were Luna, Neville, and Cho, who tried to drag a vehemently opposed Marietta with her. More came in turn. Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, Dean Thomas, the Creevey Brothers.
Hell, every Gryffindor stayed except for Cormac McClaggen, who had found the opportunity to slip out the door at some point during her speech.
Catherine watched as a few people came and went, surprised to see Angelina and Katie hesitating. She offered them a tight smile, nodding to the door as if to give them permission, although that seemed to only bolster them, the two coming to a silent agreement and joining the remaining members of the D.A.
"Alright." Clapping her hands together, Catherine began to dive right into her lesson plan. "Let's get started."
-::-
The class went smoothly after that. Or, as smoothly as it could go after the intense revelation that Catherine intended to teach them semi-lethal methods of defence.
Neville was suitably shaken, though earnest as he always was. Ginny jumped into things with a fervor that Catherine had come to associate with her, all bright eyes and fire. Angelina and Katie stuck to each other like glue, and were just as accurate against the dummies as they were on the pitch.
All in all, Catherine was pleased with not just the number of people that had stayed, but how well they had taken to her lesson.
There were some hiccups here and there, namely Cho trying to have Catherine correct her form which, now that she'd been told by Luna of that unhealthy fixation had been accomplished as platonically as she could, Hermione sending Catherine an understanding look as she taught Cho the motions for a splintering curse.
After she had finally assured herself that one of them wouldn't accidentally blow themselves up she took to practicing herself on her own dummy by trying to string together a barrage of spells as accurately as she could manage, deciding that a combination of speed and precision was to be her focus outside of Dumbledore's tutelage.
The way that man moved from one spell to the next was as much an art form as it was raw, technical prowess, and Catherine believed that if she could learn to accomplish even a fraction of that she'd have done well for herself.
The spells she was teaching the D.A. were all carefully curated, explicitly chosen among those that could be found in the late O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. curriculum, so as to avoid any fallout in the case that one of those many students who had left today would take their case to Umbridge.
Oh, it certainly fell into a gray area, but there was nothing that could really be done about her teaching combative spells when by all means they were to be taught to them anyways, regardless of whether or not those books had actually been assigned in the last three decades since the legal curriculum outline.
Moody, or rather Crouch, had actually assigned those same textbooks just last year with the express approval of the Board of Governors, so she already had precedence.
Just because they were pushed forward by a madman masquerading as their professor didn't mean their approval was now defunct. And sleepless nights spent finding ways to work within the system, cheering quietly to herself once she'd finished pouring through those texts to see the exact spells she thought useful were an unintentional blessing Catherine happily took advantage of.
God, she was beginning to feel like a bureaucrat.
Catherine looked around the room as the class started to settle down, walking around and offering pointers and congratulations to those who managed the spells, not quite consoling those who failed but encouraging them nonetheless.
She wondered what they saw when they looked at her. Did they see the pain of war tattooed on her flesh? The muted shine of death lingering in the back of her gaze? Something no woman, no child should ever grow so deeply familiar with, but all the same Catherine had long since become... not friends, but perhaps acquaintances with death. Catherine knew that cold intimately. She could speak its language and dance its frantic steps, and that - that her classmates could see.
No one commented on her systematic dismantling of dummy after dummy, taking fingers, arms, legs, or leaving splintered wounds that bored through the chest from front to back and just so happened to miss any organ one might find themselves needing if they wished to live a long and fruitful life. But they saw her motions all the same, heads turning to catch the sound of footsteps that never reached above the din of slow whispers that carried across the room.
They filed out one by one, Catherine thanking them for staying and promising that if they chose not to come to the next lesson she wouldn't be annoyed, only worried.
None made eye contact, though some snuck furtive glances at her scars as she beckoned them out of the room, only to have their curious expressions morph into outright horror to see how truly deep those scars ran, how twisted they looked winding across her face.
A few stayed behind, to chat she assumed. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and… Cho.
Damnit.
"Hey, guess you wanted to stick around a bit?" she asked, shutting the door behind Susan Bones, who Catherine was pleased to find didn't stare at her, nor did she avert her gaze from Catherine's own. There was no challenge, only a soft understanding in her eyes, and Catherine had to wonder if that was because of who her aunt was.
No one spent time around Auror's without seeing a few scars, and Moody (the real one) was sure to be someone who spent some measure of time at the Bones household.
Fred clasped his hands together, leaning on George's shoulder, though the two were missing their usual bravado. "Oh Kitty Cat, we were just wondering…"
"...why our sister in all but blood has been avoiding us?"
"I thought you were avoiding me." The room shifted as she spoke, changing slowly from the standard training quarters into more of a lounge, a chilled bucket of butterbeers appearing on a small tea table set between a mismatched collection of sofas.
Must have been poached from the kitchens.
"We were giving you space."
Catherine looked to Ron as she sat down, who awkwardly shrugged. "You disappeared after your… attempt, and then showed up and started acting like nothing really happened. Or, you didn't want anyone asking questions, and you kinda' scared off everyone who even looked at you, so…"
"Oh," she uttered. "Shit."
"It's fine." George collapsed into the sofa, Fred following soon after, levitating two butterbeers over and cracking them open with another wave of his wand. "You've been through a lot."
"No jokes?"
"Only trying to ease the tension."
She snorted, reaching over and grabbing her own butterbeer, wondering if it would taste any different after her changes. Catherine didn't notice the looks she got as she flicked the top off with the nail of her thumb, sending it flying across the room. "You don't need to walk on eggshells around me. I'm doing better."
"We may be jokesters but we're not arsholes. At least, not like that."
"Are you sure about that?"
The twins looked at Neville, before laughing uproariously. "He does have a point," George said, prodding his brother.
"He really does," he replied, grinning at Neville.
Hermione settled down next to her, and Catherine smiled, carding her fingers through the mane of bushy hair tied behind her head and unraveling it. "I know you're not. Just… don't pretend to be anything else around me, okay? I want to be treated like you've always treated me."
"With taunting?"
"Poorly timed jokes?"
"What about mentioning that cute little bird you've got wrapped in your arms?"
The two leaned forward, chins resting on laced fingers like a 50's gazette pinup, if it weren't for the fact that they were sitting down and not lying on their fronts with their legs twined together. "Dear, do tell us about this riveting news."
She sighed, laughing quietly as Hermione giggled to herself, unable to stop herself from sharing in her amusement. "What, we're just friends."
"Like Sappho and her friend," Hermione echoed, worming her way in closer and sighing contentedly.
"Sapph-who?"
Luna raised her hand as if she were in class. "Sappho from Lesbos. She was a poet, and it's where the term lesbian comes from."
"Five points to Ravenclaw."
George grinned. "So…"
"So?"
"Took you long enough."
"Am I the only one who never realized Catherine fancied me?"
Sheepishly, Ron and Neville raised their hands. Luna simply smiled, while Cho looked immensely uncomfortable.
"That's because you're oblivious, oh brother of mine."
"I didn't either," Ginny offered. "I thought Catherine was-"
"Straight?"
"Yeah."
"Is that why you never made a move gin-gin?"
She buried her face in her hands. "Merlin."
Catherine took a slow sip of her butterbeer, relieved to find it tasted as it always had, rich and sweet. "Um. Has everyone near my year fancied me at some point?"
"Yes," Fred and George said in chorus. "Yes, they have."
"The both of you?"
Fred drank half his butterbeer in one swoop. "We're in love with our work."
"Not to mention those lovely Chasers," George amended.
"Angelina."
"Katie."
They pretended to swoon, laying across the sofa like it was a fainting couch, Ron swearing loudly when Fred tried to wrap his arms around his waist, Neville watching the two with horror and amusement. "Get off me!"
"How did I never notice this before?"
"You're a bit oblivious, but it's been more fame-chasing than anything from everyone else. You're well known, people are going to fancy you even if they don't know you."
"That's…" Catherine took another sip, shaking her head. "I don't like that one bit. Also, none of you… none of you mind?"
"Do we look blonde? No offense, Luna."
"None taken."
"No, I… alright. Cho?"
The somewhat stunned girl shook herself. "I know that C- Cedric told you about me last year."
"Yeah. Shite. I'm sorry, I know we haven't really talked at all, but-"
"It's fine, really." Cho sighed heavily. "I didn't say anything either. Sorry, I feel like I'm intruding, should I go?"
"No, no. I think we all need more friends, yeah?"
Cho nodded solemnly and Catherine repeated the motion, squeezing Hermione's shoulder and hoping that after seeing the two of them together, Cho would be able to move on from whatever feelings she had for her, unhealthy or not.
She knew what it felt like to latch on to a person and pray they'd make her troubles go away, only to have those hopes dashed away in the span of twenty-four hours in her third year. That, and Catherine was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that apparently most of her classmates had, at some point, looked at her with romantic interest.
She hated being famous, but she supposed it made sense. She'd have to ask Dumbledore about it the next time they spoke.
"I don't mind either," Neville muttered, fidgeting with a bottle she hadn't seen him take, too focused on the twins antics. "I know I'm from an old family, but we're not like that. I'm sure gran would look at you strangely, but she'd never say it."
"Thanks Neville, and sorry for scaring you all. I've had a few talks with Ron and Hermione about everything, but… things were dark there for a while. They still are, sort of, but not the same."
"You don't need to apologize, Catherine." Luna reached over and took a drink of her own, passing another to Cho who thanked her quietly. "We're just happy to see you safe."
Ginny grunted her agreement, biting her lip. "Scared us really bad."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Ron chided her, but his voice held no anger, only friendly annoyance. "Seriously, if someone talked about the way you talk about yourself, I'd give them one of Hermione's right hooks."
"Excuse me?" Fred spluttered. "When did this happen? Who did Hermione punch?"
Blushing, Hermione tried to hide her face in the crook of Catherine's arm, groaning loudly. "Ron!"
Ignoring her, Ron beamed. "Punched Draco right in his git mouth. I'm telling you, it's the greatest thing I've ever seen."
Fred and George howled, Ginny joining in, while even Luna and Cho cracked quiet smiles at the thought of it.
Zeroing in on Hermione, Neville's eyes widened. "Was this in third year?"
"Yeah?"
"I saw Draco walking into the school with a black eye, I thought- wow. Wow."
"Glorious," George proclaimed. "Absolutely brilliant."
Finishing his drink and grabbing another, Fred pointed at the two of them with the unopened bottle. "If you two weren't a thing, I'd be asking for her hand here and now."
George pushed his brother aside, Ron cursing again as Fred was thrown into his lap, this time spilling butterbeer as he took the lid off. "Damnit, George!" Completely unbothered, he got down on one knee, he presented his bottlecap to Hermione with tears (when did he learn how to cry on command?) in his eyes.
"Miss Granger, would you do the honour of marrying me?"
Hermione, not at all pleased, pointed her wand at the bottlecap and sent it flying across the room. "Enough."
"Ah, you're no fun."
As much as Hermione could try and argue, she couldn't help the smile tugging at her face. "I'm perfectly happy right here, with my- my girlfriend," she uttered, blushing furiously.
The twins cooed, Ginny slapping George on the arm and garnering a muted 'Hey!' from him, as he rubbed the spot sheepishly. "Terrifying, that one is."
"Poor Michael Corner."
"Michael Corner?"
"Ginny's wonderful boyfriend."
"Huh. Oh, yeah." Catherine looked to the girl, vaguely remembering having heard the news at some point. "He nice?"
"He's… alright. I'm thinking of breaking up with him."
"So, not that nice?"
"He's fine, he's just so, so… dull." Waving her arms in front of her, Ginny stuttered. "I don't know. He's kind, but I don't think there's anything there."
Meanwhile, Ron looked immensely uncomfortable with the road the conversation had taken. "You didn't know she was dating Michael Corner?" he asked.
"Nope. I've been a bit in my head. I think I remember someone telling me, but I must have forgotten."
"Yeah, um. That's been going on for how long?"
"Before Christmas."
"If any of your brothers give you trouble, let me know," Catherine offered, knowing how protective they could get. "Unless they already did?"
"Ron got into a bit of a fit about it, but Bill sorted him out."
"I still haven't met your older brothers. Are they going to be…" She trailed off, wondering if she'd even be welcomed into the Weasley home anymore by the time summer came around, with the things she was planning on doing. "Visiting during the summer hols?"
"Charlie, maybe. Bill is always really busy on digs and can't get away from work unless it's for an emergency. I think he might have a week off, but summer is peak season for curse-breakers, trying to make sure tourists don't go and get their head lopped off by an old Egyptian curse, or sectioning off digs to make sure they don't wander into one trying to explore the desert. You'd be surprised how many think it's a great idea just to walk into the sands."
Straightening in her seat, Cho looked over. "Your brother is a curse-breaker?"
"Yep. Works for Gringotts n' all. Our other brother, Charlie, works at a dragon reserve in Romania, so there's some big expectations for the rest of us."
Snorting into his drink, George smirked. "Mum'd rather us work for the Ministry with Percy and Dad than anything like that. Charlie and Bill were the rebellious ones, even by our standards."
"Wow."
"You asking because you want to be a curse-breaker? We could see if he'd want to talk to you, if you'd like."
"Really? That would be- that would be amazing if you could. I don't know if I want to be a curse-breaker, but runes and charms have always been my best classes and I've always wanted to travel for work." Cho smiled, the first true smile Catherine had seen on her face since the fourth task. "Thank you."
"Should be no problem. I can send him a letter tomorrow and see if he writes back. No promises, though."
"That would be amazing. Really, thank you so much."
"Hey, it's no problem. Just be warned, as soon as he figures out you're into curse-breaking you'll never get him to shut up."
"No, that's fine. I've never been able to talk with someone who's in the field. My parents are protective, especially after…"
"Don't worry about it."
Luna patted Cho on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll make a wonderful curse-breaker. You're very clever."
"Th- thanks Luna."
"It's no problem. You know, there haven't been any nargles about lately. Thank you for that."
"I'm not a fan of bullies."
"I know."
Watching her friends with Hermione huddled up beside her, the two of them having their own, quiet conversation, Catherine felt herself smiling, more relaxed than she'd been in months, even before the mess of Yharnam came knocking on her door.
"Thanks," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Hermione's head.
"For what?"
"For being understanding. For being you."
Hermione returned the smile, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Catherine's ear. "Any time."
