DAHLIA felt a wave of dizziness wash over her the moment their feet touched down on the stone walkway near the school, and for a moment, the witch wondered how it was that they could have Apparated in such proximity to the school, and then she remembered.
"Dumbledore," she breathed in a whisper so low that Quirinus did not hear. Somehow, the ancient warlock with all of his knowledge and all of the secrets that he kept close to his chest must have sensed they were coming and had lifted the enchantments.
She felt her cheeks turn clammy and hot as she gingerly pulled away from Quirinus and hesitantly lifted her gaze to his.
Suddenly, her ears were burning, and her heart was in her throat and when she attempted to swallow it back down, it was like she was swallowing knives. Barty mentioned to him losing his memories, and she could tell by the look on the wizard's face, how the skin of his brow was pulled taut and tight, that he was confused and looking to her for answers.
She wished that she could tell him everything but knew the consequences of doing so would be catastrophic if all of the man's memories were restored at once. He likely would not be able to cope with that sort of stress.
"Quirinus, I…" she started to say and then trailed off, unsure what she could say that would ease the wizard's mind or give him the answers he was so desperately seeking.
"H-he mentioned my memories being restored, Miss Raywood. What was Crouch talking about, Dahlia?" Quirinus demanded, and she flinched as she realized the wizard almost sounded angry with her. Though she would not blame him if he was.
Quirinus had every right to be furious with her, as she had just as much a hand in this as Barty had done.
"I…I can't say, Quirinus, to tell you the truth would only upset you. I—I was bound to secrecy by your Headmaster. If you've questions, you should take them up with Professor Dumbledore, I don't think I should be the one to answer them," she whispered, shamefaced, and bit down on her bottom lip as she felt it start to tremble violently. Warm water brimmed at the edges of her eyes as she furiously blinked her lids rapidly in the hopes of quelling the salty liquid back. She did not want to witness him viewing her cry.
She watched out of the corner of her lowered gaze as Quirinus's cheeks immediately flared up, likely from embarrassment or anger, perhaps a combination of both, and she flinched, but only because he did so as his features twisted into a pained grimace.
He raised a shaky hand to the scarred side of his face and tenderly brushed the pads of his fingers over the horrific-looking burn mark that marred the young man's handsome face. Any movement of his facial muscles had to hurt, she realized with a jolt and bit the wall of her cheek as she cursed herself mentally for being so careless with Quirinus.
She did not like how the man was suddenly unsteady on his feet, as if he did not sit down soon, then he would keel over, likely from stress and exhaustion at what they had both narrowly just escaped.
"You—you should sit down, Quirinus," she explained softly. "You aren't looking well," she pointed out and was disappointed when Quirinus shook his head no.
"I'm fine," he told her as he looked at her incredulously, the edges of his mouth turning up into a twisted sneer that immediately stuffed the chills down Dahlia's throat. She was reminded of her fiancé, former, she tried to tell herself, and tried to shake away the image of Barty's face in her mind's eye.
Her offer denied, she stepped forward and gently guided him towards the stone bench in the Courtyard of the magnificent school.
She briefly glanced towards the towering parapets of the castle, wondering if any of the Hogwarts staff had spotted them below, judging the two of them, and wondering what on Merlin's green earth they were doing here. She was starting to wonder that too.
She gingerly slipped her arm through Quirinus's and was grateful the wizard did not protest as she led him toward the closest bench so he could rest. Helping him to sit down, she then proceeded to back up a few paces and turned away from him. She could not bear to look Quirinus in the eyes right now. Quirinus leaned against the backrest of the bench and closed his eyes, willing his temper to cool a little as he thought best how to ask the witch the many dozens of questions that were burning through the tip of his mind. Dahlia cringed, hating how loud her thoughts were in the growing silence that stretched between the two of them passed the point of comfort. The tension between them was nearly unbearable and she could stand the silence no longer and spoke to Quirinus.
"A-are you alright?" Dahlia questioned, distressed, to which Quirinus shook his head no without even opening his eyes to look at her. He knew his neighbor was keeping something from him that pertained to his memories though what that thing or those things might be, only Dahlia Raywood knew for sure what it was, and he would get his answers from her, Quirinus hoped she'd tell him.
"Why were my memories modified, Dahlia? What could possibly have happened to me that is so terrible that Dumbledore would swear you to secrecy on my behalf? What is he protecting me from? And…why are you engaged to Barty? What happened to you?" he asked, already fearing the answer that would pass her lips, he thought he did not wish to hear, but he had to get the question out.
"What?" Dahlia whispered, slowly turning her profile to the side to eye her friend curiously from the corner of her lowered gaze as she studied the ground in too engrossed a manner. She was not prepared for the question at this moment, and her only concern was getting Quirinus inside, perhaps having the Head Matron of the Hospital Wing to tend to him.
The man did not look well at all, though for him to inquire after her engagement to Barty was not the question she had been expecting to hear, and she was ill-prepared to reply. Quirinus opened his eyes and shot Dahlia a rueful look.
"The ring on your finger is enchanted, Dahlia, he's forced you into marrying him, has Crouch ever hurt you? I know what sort of a man he is, and he's not a good one, Miss Raywood, you'd do well to stay away," he snapped with a bark to his voice that had not been there before.
His statement sounded more of an accusation than an inquiry, and for a moment, Dahlia was rendered speechless.
"He…we…I…" she stammered, the words in her mind not forming as well as she hoped for. She did not know how much of their shared past she could divulge to the Obliviated wizard and thought that perhaps a half-truth could not hurt. She exhaled a shaky breath and struggled to collect her thoughts, all the while casting her gaze to the glowing ring on her finger and feverishly twisted it while chewing on her lip, trying to pry it off, but it would not budge. "I thought that I loved him, but…I was wrong, Quirinus."
Dahlia watched as Quirinus sat back against the bench, his shoulders almost sagging in disappointment as if the wizard had been anticipating she would say something completely different to him. He looked both relieved and puzzled at the same time, and to be fair, in her defense, it was an odd question to seemingly blurt out of the void, but Quirinus had never asked this of her before, not even when he still had his memories and they were friends, and yet, it was crucial, as he decided what to do next.
"What changed your mind about Crouch, Dahlia? Or….who?" he asked, sounding hesitant and suddenly so unsure of himself.
Quirinus noticed how Dahlia could only blink owlishly as she stared at him, the furrow of confusion between her brows deepening. There was not much else he could gauge from her reaction, nevertheless, the moment the question was ripped from her lips, she turned her head slightly before after what seemed an interminable pause, she answered his query.
"I…" She squeezed her eyes shut. She let out a little breath she had been holding slowly. Suddenly, she felt sick. She knew that eventually, whether it be from her or someone else in his life, the whole truth would come to light, and she would rather her friend heard it from her than anyone else.
The time had come to tell him the truth, at least a careful portion, for she did not want to upset him to the point it would cause him to do something stupid, like hurt himself. However, she trudged on, albeit reluctantly.
This was what Professor Dumbledore had asked of her, to help him heal, and a part of his healing was emotionally healing, not just his physical wounds that remained. "I…You did," she whispered, shamefaced, ducking her head.
She had at least steered the ship of their conversation in the right direction, but nothing more could be resolved between the two of them if Quirinus did not want to converse.
Quirinus felt his stomach drop and his knees go weak. Had he not already been seated on this bench, he felt sure that he would have likely collapsed as the strength below his knees gave out. He felt what little color was left on his face leave him.
"Wh-what?" he spoke in a hushed voice barely above a whisper, hardly daring to believe her words. Quirinus stared at Dahlia, his head spinning, and the entire world of the school's Courtyard seemed to roll in and out in waves beneath him.
Surely, he had heard the witch wrong, he had to have.
"What?" he repeated. "What did you say, Dahlia?" He spoke through a mouth that had suddenly gone bone dry, his tongue in his mouth rendered heavy and useless, feeling like heavy clay in his mouth. His black eyes grew wild and manic, as he desperately searched Dahlia Raywood's pretty features, clambering for any morsel of the truth that he could find now.
But by the look on Dahlia's face, Quirinus could tell that he had not misunderstood the witch. The truth was the only spirit left in her eyes, and he knew then that she spoke the truth now.
"You warned me about Barty a year ago, Quirnius, you and I, we were…we were friends at school, from the beginning of our second year and past the point of graduation, my friend," she repeated compassionately, nervously playing with the edges of her pinkish-tipped fingers to keep them warm in the chill as a storm was brewing on the grounds of Hogwarts, thunder rolling in the distance.
The edges of his mouth turned down into a twisted grimace that he was sure looked monstrous, judging by the way the pretty redhead flinched away from him. He thought bitterly that it was seemingly fitting that the weather matched his current mood. He parted his lips as if to speak to her, however, all that came out were a few strangled attempts at speech as his breaths caught in his throat, but after a moment, the wizard managed to regain control of his voice, though it was laced with a horrible, antagonizing hurt.
"We were…we were friends?" Quirinus repeated in a breathless voice as he struggled to comprehend the entirety of circumstances that swirled around in his mind until finally, the former Ravenclaw realized what this all meant.
Something had transpired in his life that was so terrible, so traumatic, that the executive decision had been made for him to modify his memory, to alter his memories so that he would not remember. His hand instinctively drifted to his burn mark, and he felt something dark and ugly shift within himself just then as his black eyes narrowed and his gaze hardened as he looked at her.
"Why did you not tell me the truth?" he stammered, looking up at Dahlia in confusion, unable to keep the bitterness and hurt from seeping its way unbidden to the surface of his voice now.
His voice was no more than a whisper, but he knew the moment his words had hit their mark by the way Dahlia flinched. His question had cut her like glass, or like a paper cut across a finger, the damage was done so quickly that the witch had no time to register the pain until it was already too late for him to take back his words. She'd never heard him sound like this.
"Tell you what?" she whispered, knowing full well that the former Ravenclaw was no simpleminded fool, and she realized soon enough what the wizard was referring to. When Quirinus did not reply, Dahlia, summoned every shred of courage within herself to look up, wishing she had been a Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin when they were in school.
She thought she could have used some of that famous Gryffindor lion courage about now. Any nervousness within herself as she lifted her gaze to Quirinus's quickly disappeared as something else replaced the hurt and confusion on his face.
Quirinus was not upset with her.
"Does it need saying, Dahlia?" he demanded, his voice sounding waxy and hoarse as he all but glowered at her, his black eyes remaining fully fixated on Dahlia now, as though the world were devoid of all other distractions and all that remained was her and her alone. The intensity and scrutiny of his stare made her feel uneasy and she wanted to look away, but she could not look away.
Dahlia felt her hopeful expression sidle off her face like water falling over rocks. Quirinus was upset, yes, any fool could see that, but there was something else in the wizard's countenance too, as the man was staring at her in a way that he had never had before.
Not even the night they had rowed about Barty in the man's backyard had he looked then quite the way he was looking now. Quirinus was furious.
"Quirinus—" she started to say, but he angrily cut her off and rose from the bench, and began to stalk towards Dahlia.
"What happened to me? Why were my memories stolen from me? Why were you with Barty?" His voice reverberated through the deserted Courtyard, his tone rising as the man's solar flare of a temper ignited as the man came to a halt a few feet in front of her.
Dahlia was silent, her lips pursed, unsure what to say to that. Of the many ways that Dahlia had envisioned Quirinus would react when the truth came to light, this was not it. For a horrifying moment, her mind went blank, and the witch was unable to process just exactly what was happening. She had been preparing herself for the fact that Quirinus might behave coldly towards her, perhaps, or annoyed or hurt, but not for the man to be downright seething and furious.
His anger would suggest that he cared about her, but at the moment, she could not let herself contemplate such an idea.
"You are ashamed," he told her, his voice hard and cold. "You are ashamed of me, somehow, Dahlia, that is why you cannot even bear to look at me, even though you don't want to admit it," Quirinus told her with a sneer.
"No, Quirinus, th—that is not true! I—I want to tell you the truth, I—I'm trying!" she desperately cried, her voice warbling as she stretched out a hand to rest it on his shoulder in the hopes of comforting him, but he ripped away from her, almost violently, as though her touch had burned him as good as Harry Potter's hands had done.
But Quirinus tensed away from her and drew backward away from the witch who had once called herself his friend. He was not sure what to believe anymore, or who.
"Don't touch me!" he roared in agony.
Dahlia jumped, pulling her hand back as though the wizard had burned her. She was more than upset and angry at herself, and furious at Albus Dumbledore for modifying his memories without the man's consent, despite his intentions being good, not wanting to see his colleague suffer so terribly. But at the moment that it took for Dahlia to summon the courage to look Quirinus in the eyes again, she was quick to understand that she too had been one of the ones who had hurt him by not telling him the truth.
All she could do was watch, hurt, as Quirinus's fear and discomfort grew worse. His knuckles clenched into shaking fists at his side, growing white with the effort to keep from drawing his wand and lashing out at something close by in anger.
The closest target would have been her.
He clung to the backrest of the stone bench to support himself on legs that could barely support his weight. The man's legs shook, and he looked as though he had been hit with a Jelly Legs Curse with how badly Quirinus's body had started to involuntarily convulse.
Dahlia wished that it were her hand for which her friend had reached and felt a pang of pity for the wizard.
After a moment to regain his bearings, Quirinus finally looked up at Dahlia with stricken and hurt eyes.
"You do not seem to understand, Dahlia. You or Dumbledore or anyone else who had a hand in this decision. It's clear to me now that my feelings hold no bearing on the matter. All of you seem to have made up your minds on what you think of me, and I cannot change your perceptions and I would be foolish to try," he spat, spite and contempt dripping from his tone as he spoke. "Not only don't you understand me, but I don't think you even understand yourself, Dahlia," Quirinus barked. Her friend's words sounded foreign, coming from him, and his black eyes had taken on a glossy and distant look, as though he were watching a scene from some other place, someplace where Dahlia could not follow her friend and had no way of finding him. She could only wait in fear.
"I deserve to decide my fate. Perhaps, if I truly was attacked by a Hungarian Horntail, I should have died. Perhaps it would have been better off than to live and suffer this," he sneered, gesturing towards his burn mark. "None of you respect me. I see that now, Dahlia. So, remaining here would be fruitless, in any case, though you should remain and inform Dumbledore about Crouch."
"Quirinus, no, please don't do this! You-you cannot go back there, he'll kill you!" she pleaded, feeling the beginnings of warm water brim at the edges of her eyes, stinging, and blurring her vision as she came to understand that Quirinus fully intended to go back home. Back to Crouch. Worry wormed its way into the pit of her stomach and her heart was in her throat as she realized, as the wizard paraded his back to her and refused to look at her, that this was like watching him leave her all over again to go to Albania to prove himself to her, and just like last time, she was just as powerless to stop Quirinus from leaving, or from changing his mind.
"I'm dead if I stay," he barked, and she did not know what he meant by that. She itched to follow the wizard, though her feet felt like heavy lead in her shoes and Dahlia could not bring herself to move an inch.
Quirinus paused in his retreat and slowly swiveled his head to regard Dahlia Raywood with black eyes that were devoid of any emotion she could discern, and for a moment, she was reminded of the Potions Master, of Severus Snape. He continued to back away from her as though the ground around them were on fire and he was burning. Quirinus's countenance practically screamed with his neighbor, if she had even been telling the truth in that regard, that Dahlia would not attempt to follow him.
If Crouch were to kill him, then he would rather Crouch kill him and him alone, but he did not want this woman to suffer any more than she had on his account. Quirinus ground his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, and shook his head, trying desperately to clear his mind and rid his brain of thoughts of the witch. All Quirinus could think to turn was turn his heel and Disapparate since Dumbledore had likely not replaced the protective barriers around the school just yet.
He willed his body to continue propelling himself forward, though he felt as though he were hardly able to move. Somehow, by a miracle of Merlin Himself, stiffly, he forced himself to put as much distance as possible between himself and her.
Thunder rolled and the clouds above their heads darkened, and Dahlia's heart ached to think at the thought of Quirinus leaving again. She wanted nothing more than to follow him, to tell him the truth, that she thought she could love him if he would but give her a small chance to prove herself and try to make amends for what had happened to him.
Though her legs had turned to stone and were useless. Dahlia could not bring herself to even take a step forward.
She stood there rooted to her spot, frozen, paralyzed as if Quirinus himself had hit her with a Stunning Spell. She could only stare hopelessly as her dearest friend walked away from her, leaving her once more in the same pain that he had done the night he'd left.
However, Quirinus barely made it five paces towards the grounds of the castle at a safe enough distance away to Apparate, when the man's world went dark and the wizard collapsed in a heap, his limp body crumpling to the ground, Dahlia looking on in horror.