Chapter 8: The Shack and the Ring
Little Hangleton is an outlying village on the greater town of Big Hangleton. A rather uncreative name in her fine opinion. The pair weave through the Muggle town, dressed down and blending in with the Sunday market crowd. It feels like they've been transported back a few decades, with barely any cars on the road and the ones that are, are fashioned from many years before.
There is a clear distinguishment between the classes, with most falling into the lower class. Their clothes are well worn but of good material, lasting through hard agricultural farm work that the town runs its economy off. There are a few men and women in finer attire, their homes not hard to miss in the distance; manors and estates. Old money, passed down from the days of nobility, no doubt.
There's even a flock of sheep being herded down one of the lanes, a young boy on a bike peddling after them.
"The Riddles grew up here?" Elias murmurs with a dash of disdain. He isn't usually the one to judge a place with such pessimism with so little evidence, but her own brows are pinched, watching where her footsteps.
"Not Tom," she adds. Tom and Voldemort. Two different people in her mind. "He grew up in the orphanage. From what I've heard about the place back when it was running, this probably would have seemed a paradise to a regular boy."
"But he's not. He's a raging lunatic." The pair glance at each other, ghostly smirks humouring the other. "The Riddle Manor has a plethora of wards around it. I got through only a few last time I was here. I've studied more since."
"And we're looking for a stone," Elias continues, adding slowly, "inside a mansion."
"Yep," she agrees, popping her 'p'.
It seems her venting to Elias about their minuscule slither of knowledge given to them has gotten under his skin as well. "Big stone, little stone? Glowing stone? Black stone?-"
"Gemstone?" she adds just to goad. "Well, luckily you don't have to worry about it. You're here to watch my back."
Elias smiles softly at her as they turn off the main street and onto the abandoned dirt path that would lead them to the manor. "I am worrying about it."
Cressida tries not to pass too much time by holding onto those words, knowing that the stone isn't his responsibility; it's hers. But she spoke her mind and that's pulled him into her thoughts. And he's trapped in them with her.
The manor's bulky exterior appears in the distance after a short hike of twenty minutes. It is squarish and lined, encircled by a garden that is long overgrown and turning to mulch. Elias ensures he keeps pace with her, never stepping forward as he has no idea what would face them as they stride closer to the gates.
The gates are crooked and rusting, but the magical lock is still sealed. Cressida had broken through a few of the barriers, but she came to a blockade at the one of concealment that forced people away whenever they strolled too close.
The pair can feel the magic surrounding it, and Elias doesn't need her to know when to stop. "I'll get to work," she mutters, kicking away debris of dead vines away from the Riddle gates. Elias pulls his wand from its holster (which she hasn't hidden her admiration for) at his upper leg, usually covered by his faded blue-grey coat.
His head has been kept clean shaven, letting his structured face take precedence in his appearance. If he would ever ask her opinion, she would tell him that she thinks he's handsomer than ever.
Pulling her own wand, spells fall as murmurs from her lips, a wispy swirl of white light delicately snaking out from the tip of her Holly wand and seeping into the magical barrier. Elias keeps his eyes on the horizon, the threat of setting off a silent alarm ever-present. Cressida hasn't taken any down yet, but she knows they exist.
"Do you know where Sirius and the twins went?" She may as well ask.
"Do you really want to know?" he counters with a tone that answers the question.
Cressida swallows her gut instinct. "He'll either come back and tell me himself or die on the job and Moody will tell us."
Elias crouches down at her side, wand twirling between his fingers. "He's trying to chase down Bellatrix Lestrange."
A pang of true fear swallows her stomach, twisting and churning it until it becomes a reality inside her head. "I thought Frank was hunting her down," she spits. "He's a trained Auror, Sirius isn't."
Elias glances off to the side, squinted eyes against the sun. "Can't blame him for wanting some family vengeance. And you and I both know how capable a dueller he is. You were extremely aroused by him when he came to help us practice."
Cressida gaps at him, forgetting her spellwork to smack his arm. Elias sniggers loudly, falling onto his backside, hand scraping the earth covered in dry and cracked leaves. "I was not," she adamantly hisses, blushing furiously. "You boys always have your head in your pants."
"Hmm," he hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Too bad he's gay, right?"
Sirius had never officially made an announcement of being gay, but he also never denied the accusation. Often he just shrugged. He was quiet, but truthful about himself. It was acceptance. The only 'coming out' he needed to do was with his closest companions, and once he had their acceptance and love, he never sought it out anywhere else. So if people asked her about him, she simply nodded and said yes.
Cressida pinches her brows, raising her wand and the white stream of wispy light slithers out once more. "Too bad? Why's that? Marlene got a crush on him or something?" Elias watches her with a crooked smile. "What?" she laughs. A barrier breaks under her counter charm so while Elias is busying himself with staring at her face, she starts a new charm. This one is the alarm, she had to be careful.
"You can't tell me you never had a crush on him."
Cressida keeps her half-smirk, but it folds into something more serious and pointed, staring back at him. "Is my love life seriously that interesting to you?"
"Quite, actually," he drawls. "Considering we went out because you needed something to help you get over James, I've sort of been pulled into the curiosity of Cressida Hawthorne and the wild way her mind works."
Cressida rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the wall of magic which is now shimmering with visible waves, reaching high in the air where it would no doubt arch in a dome around the property. "I thought you were rooting for James and me," she says meekly after a few pregnant minutes.
"I am," he replies easily. "But I'm not oblivious to how close you and Black are."
"And you're not the first person to bring that up," she quips back, more to herself than Elias. "I honestly don't mind joking about this stuff with you, but please don't even hint to something like that in front of James. He was quite upset around this time last year about this stuff."
"Wouldn't dare to. That would be a douchebag thing to do." He leans against the thick blocks of stone the hold the gate in place. "Did you though?"
Cressida smacks him with her non-wand hand again. Her brows furrow, feeling resistance against her countercharm but she takes out the frustration through her conversation. "I don't understand why people are suddenly thinking that more. It was a pathetic rumour in Hogwarts but now I actually have people asking me directly since they know Sirius is gay. It's like they want to know if I'm disappointed or something."
She falls back into a thick layer of concentration, ignoring the feeling of unanswered questions lingering between them. Have people just expected her to grow feelings for him? Why didn't people expect that of her and James? Or her and Remus, or Peter? Did she unconsciously look at him in a way that gave people that impression? Fuck… what is James thinking? Is that why he grew to be upset at them.
Just as the puddle of her thoughts morphs into a lake, Cressida feels the physical snapping of the last enchantment keeping them out of the manor breaking. "I did it," she whispers, watching as the transparent shield that only reveals itself with a soft glimmer disintegrates.
"You did it," Elias repeats with a little more confidence in his tone. He gestures for her to take the honour so she steps forward, hands pressing against a metal plate on the gate. It opens with a creaky grinding noise. Just as her boot melds into the overgrown grass on the new side, Elias pinches her sleeve. "Hey, I'm just prodding and teasing you. I know you love James."
Cressida's head falls forward in a mellow nod. "I guess you aren't immune to the questioning." Her boot's sole finds the uneven brick path underneath the weeds and leaves. She falls back to fourth year, when people's eyes would lay on her and Sirius whenever they entered a room together. Fabian and Gideon always spared a moment to update them on the latest version of the rumour, sending her friends into sniggers. They always found it hilarious whenever someone conjured something so ridiculous. "Sorry," she sighs, realising how stiff she is becoming. Their eyes are peeled, watching the mansion grow closer. Just because they had to break through the barriers, doesn't mean others couldn't walk through. "I honestly don't mind usually joking about it. But, like I said, James gets sensitive about it and I feel like I'm upsetting him even though he isn't here."
Their wands stay pointed near their waists, listening for any sound other than the soft Spring breeze rustling against the foliage.
"Don't be sorry." His voice is flatter as their attentions neglect the dying conversation. "It was a dickish thing to bring up anyway."
No threat appears as they arrive at the stoned stairs. One of the tall columns on either side, holding a balcony for a room on the second floor is cracked and crumbling. Cressida peers up at the foundations, shrinking her nose. "Let's be careful what we stand under."
The manor is like the one she and Moody went to many months before in the sense that it is filled with dust and remnants of a past life which now crumbling and rot away. The rooms are wider and larger, built to accommodate large numbers of guests that she doubt ever came. A broken chandelier hangs from the entertainment room's ceiling, the jewels washed across the carpeted floor.
They search the manor for as long as they can, opening every drawer, searching for more enchantments. Elias pulls out boxes of jewels from one of the bedrooms which engulfs their excitement. There are many stones in them, but none that would give her the pit in the stomach she knows she'll have to face when she does find it.
"I'm ready to go home," she announces blandly. Her wand holds a bulb of light at the end, covering the kitchen in a soft blue hue. She's ready to yell at Moody about putting her on another mission that doesn't include searching for this damn thing – and she'll have a go at Dumbledore if given the chance. She's doing his dirty work. How would a stone help them win the war?
"Me too. You broke any apparation shields down, right?" Elias questions, sauntering into the kitchen. Cressida doesn't answer, her gaze turning outside through the window. Just past the thick foliage of a mangled garden is a wooden shack. It reminds her of the shrieking shack, only it is two stories instead of three, and doesn't sway in the wind, despite looking just as decayed.
"I did," she finally says, "but I want to check out that place first."
Elias follows behind her as she jogs out of the manor, dancing down the back steps into the courtyard garden. Her wand's light shrinks, but she doesn't let it drop. They reach the shack within a minute with her fast set pace. There's something about it that she can't leave alone.
The shack door is closed but not locked, letting them in like welcomed guests. But from the moment they step inside, any warmth of welcome washes away like a gust of wind swept through. Without a word to her partner, Cressida darts through the shack, letting her instinct guide her. Her brown eyes flurry, moving from spot to spot with urgency. "Something's here," she mutters, needing an outlet for her mind which is running too fast. "Something's here."
Her hands stain with dirt and dust as she runs them along the walls and furniture, spinning around, trying to see the shack entirely as though her mind could see through the walls and floors.
A board of wood creaks underneath her boot and suddenly the busy flurry stops. Cressida leans back again, hearing an echo of the first creak. Hesitantly, as though she hadn't been looking like her life depended on it moments ago, she looks down. Underneath her foot is two rotting floorboards that have nails out of place. She can feel the magic.
Dropping to her knees, the tip of her wand hovers over the wood. Elias drops down next to her, his own wand held up. "What is it?"
Her voice cracks. "I can feel it." There's magic oozing from between the grains of wood, crawling its way up like whatever is beneath it can't hold its power contained. "Reducto."
The floorboard bursts into a small explosion of splinters, revealing a dark crevice underneath, thick with cobwebs. Relighting her wand, Cressida stretches her arm down. A glint of metal is the first sign. Placing her wand back on the floor, she reaches straight in, her fingers running over something flat and metal. But instead of a cool and smooth surface, her skin meets metal that has been held in flames.
"Ahh!" Cressida pulls her arms back with another hiss, the burning sensation lingering well after releasing the box.
"Hey-hey," Elias gasps out, an arm reaching across her as though to block her from an incoming attack from the box. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Cursed," she mutters, frustrated at another barrier. But it means that it is something valuable. Pulling her sleeves down over her reddening palms, she reaches in once more, this time prepared.
"Whoa!" he cries, holding her arms. "Aren't you trained to break these curses?!"
"Don't know it," she swiftly answers. "It'd take too long to figure out. And I've broken down all the barriers around this place. Who knows who might come searching after us."
Reluctant but knowing her logic is true, Elias sighs heavily, leaning back on his ankles.
Biting her cheek, Cressida feels the scorching heat through the fabric of her shirt. Her fingers wrap around thin handles on either side, tugging on it fiercely. It resists, stuck into the ground below. Determined and desperate, she keeps pulling, small cries of pain escaping her lips as the heat sinks underneath her skin. Like a boot lodged in mud, the chest wriggles loose and finally releases with a lurch.
It flies from her hands, both from force and her willingness to let it go. A small metal box, stained with dirt skids across the floor. Cressida falls back onto her hind, holding her burning palms close to her chest.
"Let me see," Elias orders, pulling on her wrists. Tears spring to her eyes as he pulls down her sleeves. Her palms are a searing red, already beginning to blister. "I can't heal those. It's Dark Magic."
"Doesn't matter," she hisses, reaching for her wand. Her hand screams as it closes around the thin branch of wood Pointing it at the chest, more counterspells fall from her lips, ignoring the pain that's only continuing to grow. It's like fire is being held right to her palms, even though she has let go of the box.
She can sense the protection around the box, knowing the spells to break through it. They are nothing she's learnt from school, but span across the many books she's taken to in her spare time.
"Cressida?" Elias draws out slowly. She keeps going, the heat travelling through her fingers and to the back of her hand which now glows a bright red like a sunburn. "Your hands," he adds urgently.
"R-Releasio." A final spell that simply opens the lid of the box, releasing its contents now that she has broken through layers of protection that usually would have taken her longer to break through. The metal box tips, a single ring falling from it, not even bouncing and spinning. Heavy. Cressida shoves her wand in her pocket, diving for the ring.
It is a gold band with no engravings or design embellished. But the band is not what is precious. It is the near-black stone it decorates. A stone with a strange symbol engraved into it.
The pain becomes too much, eliciting a gargled cry from her mouth, near dropping the ring. On the back of her hands, which never touched the chest, are now blistering as her palms were. Elias snatches the ring, shoving it in his jacket pocket and grasps the bones of her elbow. "It's spreading."
Cressida stares at her arms, watching the redness, soon followed by the blistering and weeping travelling down towards her wrists. Her arms blur as she shifts her focus onto Elias behind them. "It hurts."
Shameless self-promotion - New Avatar story on my profile UnFaithful Beginnings (please bare/bear(?) with the name - I always get confused).
Just a quick announcement: I have tried to do research on things relating to the First Wizarding War, but I have also taken liberties and made small changes. So unless something is inconsistent in regards to the story, then just ignore it please.