Chapter Ten: Emancipation
Brooding Phoenix
Somewhere in the commotion, she had broken away from the crowd.
Blaise wandered aimlessly from the field. Stumbling over the uneven path of moss and rock. Nothing coursed through her brain. No thought, no emotion … just this numbness.
"Blaise! What happened?!" A voice called from the stands as she passed. She didn't lift her head.
What happened, indeed. And just as she mulled the question over in her head, certain things sprung to mind. The scrying pool, the dreams, the feeling of foreboding, her uneasiness around Moody -- Blaise felt her chest cave in.
She could've stopped this.
"Blaise! Wait for us!"
She broke into a run, as if escaping it would change everything. It's all moot. She witnessed it happening … she was just too stupid to know the signs.
She threw back her head and roared, pulling at her hair until the tears burst from her eyes. She pumped her arms faster, pounding her feet on the grass, as the brush scratched at her skin. The grass turned to pebbles, then to pavement. Until she found herself running up the road to Hogsmeade.
Grunting, her feet pounded faster on the dirt road, shaking her head roughly when his lifeless face flashed in her mind. The more she tried to blank it out, the clearer it appeared. The flash of light, Potter's grief-stricken face, the touch of Cedric's cold hand. Blaise bit down her lip until she tasted blood. The pain meant nothing. It was this. This heavy thing weighing on her chest, her shoulders, her heart.
Out of breath, she bent over her knees. She dabbed her lip and stared at the blood smeared on her fingertips. Why is she here and he's not?! Her lungs burned as she struggled to breathe and hold back the ache. Part of her wanted to push the pain away. The other part – the stupid one – wanted to hope. Hold on just a little bit longer. She clenched her fists, feeling her fingers dig into her palms, until nails broke skin.
"IT'S DONE!" She yelled punching her bleeding fist into the air. "I'M DONE! I GIVE UP! IT'S OVER!" She kicked at the ground and sent rocks flailing across the road. "WHY CEDRIC?! WHY, GOD, WHY?!"
She yanked her robes off and threw them on the ground. She sunk to her knees unable to stop her trembling, her anger, her sorrow.
"Is there even a god?" She whispered staring blindly at ground. She wanted to say yes, because it gave her something to believe in. But to believe that would mean she'd have to accept that Cedric wasn't coming back. There was no potion, no spell, no miracle out there that could bring him back to her. He was gone. And she couldn't understand. Why did she see it and yet couldn't save him? No, don't believe in a god. Not in one with such a perverse sense of humour.
She shivered as she knelt on the road. She could see the taverns of Hogsmeade ahead. Lanterns dimly lit the windows, while the stale wind rolled dry leaves across the path. No moon in sight, tucked somewhere in that puke-brown horizon. It didn't feel like a summer night at all. Everything felt cold, quiet. Dead.
Footsteps neared her. But Blaise remained stoic. The fight in her was gone. A pair of stiletto-laced boots stood before her.
"Get up, sweetie." A warm hand pulled at her arm. Blaise stood to find Oma standing over her.
"W-what are you doing here? And without your beard?"
Oma surveyed the road with her steely violet eyes. "We're leaving." She pulled Blaise close to her. But Blaise back away.
"Why?" She narrowed her eyes. "You heard what happened? Did you see it coming?!"
Oma swore under her breath.
"No. All I know is … Voldemort's back."
Blaise allowed Oma to drag her back to Hogwarts. No one noticed the old Auror stalk up the castle doors and open them with a raised palm. Everyone had sectioned off into cloisters of gossip-mongers. Analyzing the tragedy, commentating on the victim's short life, all the while drawing attention to themselves, as if by showing their sympathy they were immediately better people. Blaise overheard the Weasley Twins debating whether Potter and Diggory had tied or not. The buzz sickened her, so she kept her gaze averted to her boots. Her dumb, inanimate boots.
"Keep your chin up, girl," Oma said curtly. "This's the beginning of a war. I feel it."
Blaise wrenched her arm away from Oma and scowled at her. "What bloody war?! What do you mean Voldemort's back? Is that all you care about?! My best friend is DEAD!"
"Calm yourself down, child!" Oma snapped. But Blaise caught a soft shimmer from her pale eyes. "Of course, I'm angry about his death. But we're not going to get anywhere standing in this corridor spitting tacks. I'm taking you to Padre."
"W-why? What did I do?" Blaise murmured as Oma gripped her arm again.
Oma kept her face turned away as she maneuvered them through the castle, passing unnoticed by the faculty and lingering spectators.
"What did you see, Blaise? You did see something, didn't you?" She mumbled as they circled around a vacant hall.
"What kind of question is that? I see as well as my eyes provide me."
"And the visions you saw at the scrying pool?" Blaise bit her lip.
"What of them?" Oma's grip tightened.
"Your friend, Draco, told me that you revealed some startling visions."
"And how would I know what they meant? No one tells me anything!"
Oma rounded her eyes on Blaise. "Are you serious? After all I taught you and all your parents have confessed to you, you still think you're deprived?!"
"Don't switch this around!" Blaise blurted. "How do you expect me to have everything figured out at fourteen?! And never, NEVER did you say that the visions I had meant something. So what now? It's MY fault that Cedric's dead? Because I couldn't SEE into the bloody future?!"
"No, that's not what I meant!" Oma released her grip on Blaise and kicked a nearby gargoyle. "Bloody hell! Where is that stupid office?!" She leaned against the wall, cradling her face with trembling hands.
Blaise held back her tongue as Oma turned her back to the girl and seemingly searched for a different passageway. She noticed now that Oma had avoided her eyes, since she found her on the road. Their steps through the castle seemed without direction, frenzied, aimless circles. And no matter how steady Oma held up her own chin, her hands still shivered.
"So … Voldemort's back … as in alive again?" Blaise murmured. They stood in front of three archways, identical and all empty. Oma cursed under her breath.
"Not alive again … he had never left. Yes, he haunted these lands as a shadow. But tonight, his presence has been felt again." She suddenly cringed. Slowly, she locked her eyes with Blaise. "The Ministry is far from our worries now, child. He's back, and he's stronger, angrier. Cedric will not be the last victim if we don't act quickly." Blaise looked away. She forced the lump in her throat back.
"It's not your fault, Blaise. None of this is your fault. I'm sorry for giving the impression of that. Voldemort's return was inevitable. It was always just a question of when and how. Some thing's cannot be stopped no matter how much effort one puts into it. This Dark Lord's comeback is one of them."
Blaise rubbed the temples of her forehead. She finally began to feel the night's toll on her. But she was afraid to sleep. The morning would only take the last moments of him alive further away from her.
"I have to see Dumbledore immediately," Oma mumbled steering Blaise into a different corridor. "We need a new location. The Villa's security was breached in Fudge's raid, but I think Rusty and I can get it back up. But it'll take months developing new encryptions and time is of the essence. No, we need a new place fast. I wonder …" Blaise stopped Oma's rambling to pull her into the correct stairway. "Oh, there it is. It's been a while since I've been here."
They rounded a corner and nearly crashed into someone speeding down the corridor.
"Rhonda! What in Merlin's name--?" Professor Dumbledore braced Oma with his two hands. His gaze locked with hers. "There you are, Blaise. I was looking for you. I hope you could provide testimony that you witnessed Moody's impostor perform the Imperius Curse. I'm off to meet with Fudge now, so he can interrogate our suspect. You don't have to be there. Just let me have you sign a parchment …"
"Moody had an impostor?" Oma gawked at Blaise. She seemed outraged that the girl didn't mention that. Blaise shrugged.
"Sure. If it means the real Moody won't be held responsible."
"Ah well, very good," Dumbledore sighed. Blaise felt his gaze linger on her, probably trying to gauge her emotions, see if she was about to fall apart. This time Blaise lifted her chin level to his shoulders. He backed away with a thoughtful expression.
"I take it you've spoken with this impostor?" Oma said hurriedly. "Did he mention the resurrection of our well-known foe?"
"Yes," Dumbledore's voice suddenly turned gruff. "Voldemort has returned. He performed some ritual involving Potter's blood. We'll discuss it later." He implored to Oma with his eyes. "We need to convene quickly, Rhonda."
"I realise the old location will not do. For many reasons," Oma said curtly. "I'm on it, Albus. I have only one request. Let me take Blaise with me."
"Pardon?"
"What?" Blaise echoed.
Oma's jaw tensed in an effort to stop her voice from shaking. "Hogwarts' security has been breached. I would feel safer knowing my family is safe. And safe would be with me." Dumbledore shook his head.
"Harry and Cedric," Blaise flinched at his name, "were taken away by use of a portkey, none other than the Tri-wizard Cup. Please, Rhonda, believe me. Blaise is safe here."
"Albus, please," Oma bit her lip. Her voice sounded strained in the plea. Dumbledore sighed but shook his head.
Blaise suddenly saw herself standing in her dorm, facing her friends, passing by the Ravenclaws, the Gryffindors, hearing the whispers, recoiling from the sappy sobbing and condolences. She didn't want to linger in this place either. The halls had been easier to walk through knowing she'd catch him on the fly.
But his lop-sided smile will never greet her across these halls anymore, now would it?
"I want her to come with me,"
"Rhonda, we must be rational."
"Excuse me," Blaise cleared her throat. "If it isn't much to ask … I want to be with my family. Please … Padre?"
Dumbledore's beard twitched into a soft grin. "I haven't heard you call me that in a while. I had thought the novelty had worn off." He sighed and pulled off his spectacles wiping them with his robes. "This's a terrible loss for everyone. Forgive me. Of course, you may be with your family. You all should be together for Cedric's sake."
Oma returned a stiff smile. "Ah, yes. Blaise and Cedric w-were very close."
"Indeed they were," Dumbledore fixed his gaze on Oma. Blaise thought she imagined a look of sternness in that glance but it quickly disappeared. "We will talk soon, Rhonda. The both of you. Now be swift. I will not have Fudge arrest you here. In fact, I have many tasks to assign."
"What more will you have me do?"
"I have already a handful of people I know we can count on. Old and new. You just do your part and we'll discuss more later."
Suddenly shouts came from the corridor. Blaise felt her skin prickle as Oma gripped her shoulders. Padre swept his arm over his shoulder letting his robes billow behind him, covering the two women.
"Headmaster, Fudge has made a grave mistake. He's heading towards Potter as we speak," Blaise heard someone say.
"Lead the way, Severus." His robes flowed back to his feet allowing Blaise to catch a peek of Professor Snape's silhouette speeding down the hall of the Hospital Wing. "Make haste," Padre said to them as he swooped after the younger man. Oma tugged at Blaise's sleeve.
"You heard him. Let's go."
So the Insane Need Friends Too
Blaise expected they would head straight to the Villa. She pictured herself buried under the blankets of her canopy bed, or sitting along the cliffs watching the blue waves below. She needed that place more than ever. To look out to the sea and feel, feel something apart from the emotion she wanted to avoid.
But once they emerged from the Travlas Orb, Blaise found herself standing in front of a series of rundown buildings. The dimly lit street reeked of sewage and diesel, while music blared weakly from one of the houses. The residents' shadows beyond their windows showed no signs that they noticed two witches standing on their street. Blaise turned to Oma.
"Where are we?" She whispered, wrinkling her nose when a train passed along some tracks. It sounded just a few blocks away.
"We're in London." Oma pulled out something from her cloak and slipped it over her finger. It looked like a long, silver thimble for the index finger. Encrusted with tiny rubies, it had a sharp point that with closer observation resembled a snake's head. Oma then pointed her bejeweled finger at a narrow space between two houses. They waited.
Suddenly, a misty-blue serpent's head the size of Blaise's fist shot out from nowhere and clamped its mouth on Oma's hand. Blaise stifled her scream with a quick look at her grandmother's face.
"It's supposed to do that. That crazy old hag always had a sick sense of humour." Oma winced as the vapory serpent sipped the tip of the thimble. Blaise grimaced noting the thing had drawn blood from her grandmother.
"It only takes pure blood," Oma sighed. "Barbaric. But we have to endure this. This place will have to do." Suddenly, a black door emerged along with an entire house seemingly squished in between the muggle buildings. Blaise noted that Oma had seen the house the whole time she wore the key-ring. Once inside, Blaise immediately disapproved. The snake décor, the moldy tapestries, the shrunken elf heads, all screamed Dark Wizard territory. But the snakes, she had to admit were hip … in a morbid, wicked sense.
They walked several feet until they came to a long corridor lined with drawn curtains. Blaise squinted through the cobwebs and dust. There she spotted the most wretched, decrepit-looking thing approach them.
"Who goes there? Who disturbs my Mistress' home?" It hissed with a wheezy voice. Oma aimed her wand at the thing. Blaise barely could tell it was a house elf. It cowered from Oma's sparkling wand.
"Oh, my poor Mistress! If she could see the traitor here now. The traitor comes with her spawn. But what can Kreacher do against the nasty silver-haired witches."
"Back away, elf," Oma snapped. "Call me what you will. Your precious Mistress actually bestowed me the key to this forsaken place. Now, scoot!" The elf sneered.
"Kreacher does not follow orders of nasty old witch. Kreacher follows orders of those who belong to the noble and most ancient house of Black. Nasty old hag and her brat would best leave. Kreacher take orders from no other purebloods." Oma responded by swinging her wand closer to the elf. Kreacher scurried away mumbling and throwing murderous glances at them.
Blaise fidgeted as Oma walked over to the fireplace and ignited some flames into the pyre. "Whose house is this? Did that thing say Black?"
Oma bit her lip and turned to Blaise. "Yes. This's the Black's home. But we are safe here. The owners of this manor have long passed. The Mistress Black had taken a perverse interest in me, as her estranged brother, Alphard, was my best friend. I admit I used it to help spy for the Order. When sixteen-year old Sirius Black ran away from this home, Alphard entrusted me to watch the boy from afar. He was the boy's godfather." Blaise dusted off an old armchair and sat gently on it as Oma threw some wood into the flames.
"I saw some good in Sirius. He had chosen his friends wisely. So determined to walk his own path. I had your father become pen pals with him. I grew fond of Sirius and his friends. And I vouched for them to join the Order. All four boys. Dumbledore had thought they were too young. The Potter's just barely started a family, but I insisted. Not a day goes by that I wonder if I had merely enabled Voldemort's plans."
"Is that why you tried to help Black escape?"
"Yes. And more. I knew the boy was innocent."
"But … but Papa told me that he had betrayed the Potter's. Black was their Secret-Keeper."
"You're father knew wrong." Oma closed her eyes. "Dumbledore had seen to casting the charm on Sirius. But I … I aided in switching the charm from him to a Peter Pettigrew." The flames danced eerily along Oma's regal face. "Alphard was dead by then. And Sirius, well, he was the spitting image of my friend. I wanted him to live a life out of seclusion. It was what Alphard would've wanted. So, I betrayed the Order. I convinced Sirius that switching with Peter or Remus would be a better diversion. And it blew up in all our faces, since it turned out Peter was our mole all along."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Oma snorted as she tossed a torn rag into the flames. "Guilt. The plan would've been flawless if I had not intervened. I was too proud to face everyone and admit I had been wrong. Throughout the years in the Order, I spent most of my time proving I belonged there than contributing something productive. Alas, they were all right. I was the downfall."
"But you tried to fix things."
"Yes, I tried to help Sirius out of Azkaban. And I failed. Dementors were never my specialty. Still, once in court, I saw no benefit giving the real version of events. Who could back my story? Sirius? He was guilty before the gavel was dropped. And Peter? Well, I truly thought Sirius killed him. God knows I would've blown him up if I had the chance."
"People believed I had gone mad. And I honestly can't deny it. I was mad, as in angry, as in, frustrated that the Order's demise came from my brilliant idea. That an inept sycophant like Pettigrew had fooled us all. Frustrated that Voldemort affected my life again by hurting those I cared for. We almost lost you then too." Oma closed her eyes, as she swept her hand over the flames, almost embracing the pain the heat gave her.
"No one has set foot in this house for years, and I feel its anger bearing on us. The walls are getting restless. We'll be out of here as soon as I'm finished surveying this place. Keep your eye out for that elf. Stun him when you get the chance. I'd feel safer disposing of him before we go."
"Y-you mean Kreacher?"
Oma nodded curtly. "You won't have to witness it. Although I'm sure the thing won't show a wee crook of a fingernail now. He was always on my list. Alphard and I hated him. I need to check the rooms. I believe Phineas' portrait is here somewhere. If so, that's convenient …"
Staring blankly into the fireplace, Blaise rubbed her forehead as Oma checked the other rooms. There were too many names to follow in the story. People who were guilty were innocent. People who were dead sound like they never were. But it still didn't explain why they were here. After what seemed a good hour and a half, her grandmother returned.
"I never thought I'd set my foot again in this hellhole," Oma mused dusting off her robes and standing by the fire. Blaise did the same. "But if it's one thing Sirius' father was good for, it was providing a safe haven far from wizards and muggles alike. Unfortunately, we can't use this place until one of the kin is living here. If we should even attempt it, this house will devour us in our sleep." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a pouch filled with powder. "This line was always ridiculously secure." Oma threw a pinch into the pyre.
"Lupin residence!" She barked into the flames. Blaise stood off to the side as images swirled in the fire until the weary, grey-haired head of her former Defense instructor stared quizzingly up at Oma's face.
"Rhonda? I take it you've gotten word?"
"Yes, and I have a location. Albus just briefed me. Is our friend there with you yet?"
"Indeed," Lupin replied. He disappeared and another face emerged in the flames. Blaise immediately recognised Sirius Black.
For a year, she had longed to see this man and challenge him. Throw every hex she knew at him; curse him for bringing her family's ruin. But Oma's story finally clicked in her head. And the object of her loathing was no longer Sirius Black. It never was.
It was Voldemort. He had killed the Potter's, Cedric. He had ruined her friends' families and hers. He had created that army of Death-Eaters. He was the cause of the heaviness in her heart. He was the reason she could never bring herself to mourn. To care. Anything remotely caring would make her vulnerable.
"Rhonda? What have you got?" Black's voice crackled over the flames.
"Good news and bad news. I found a location."
"Bloody swell."
"It's number twelve, Grimmauld Place." Sirius cursed under his breath.
"I was disowned. I can't lay a foot in there." Oma raised her hand. The thimble key was still on her finger, dried blood stained the silver metal.
"But I'm the Key-keeper of the most noble house of Black," she replied with a snort. "Your dear mum gave me orders to keep this key within your family until a worthy kin comes to claim it back. She never said the person had to be worthy in her eyes. You know what you must do, boy … but if you decline, I will not think less of you. This place is insufferable."
A long sigh followed. "I'm on my way."
Perfume and McGee
Blaise missed the last month at Hogwarts. She spent the bulk of it in London, not in the Order of the Phoenix's new headquarters but with Hong's family. What the family lacked in wand-expertise, they excelled in the art of potion-making.
Her connections to Oma did have its benefits, and Blaise found herself sitting in the first several meetings of the Order where they managed to recruit several Aurors into the fold. She blended in with the rest of them, not asking questions or lifting her head. Her behaviour seemed very crotchety, like a female Moody. So maybe the others simply didn't realise she was a child sitting among them.
Every night for that month, she'd have dinner with the Nguyen's. And nestle into a dreamless sleep next to Hong. Blaise couldn't be more grateful for the family. Hong and she were friends during the years Blaise studied at the muggle school on Oma's island. So she didn't know much about Cedric, only that he was Blaise's friend that sadly passed away.
The family spared Blaise from the questions and futile condolences. They gave her a small job in their boutique located along the same block as the Leaky Cauldron. Junko even gave her a discount for some new dicey undergarments that she probably won't wear for another 10 years … or until she's broke for cash and hits the streets.
It was at this boutique that Blaise's past caught up with her. The past that Hong's family was conveniently oblivious to.
The bell chimed just as Blaise crouched under the front counter to find something to fasten her waist-long hair into a messy bun.
"Welcome to Naughty Bits and Charms! How may we help you?" She called from behind the registrar. She secured her bun with a gnawed chopstick and stood. She almost fell backwards to find McGee staring at her with a pale face.
"Uh, hi, McGee. Interested in some edible lingerie?"
McGee's jaw tensed as Junko passed behind her with a raised brow. "No. And I doubt girls your age should be either." Blaise motioned for the older girl to take the registrar. She sheepishly stepped out into the backroom with McGee close behind.
"What are you doing in this place?" McGee blurted the moment Blaise drew the curtains. "Selling those perversions to muggles?! You know they might be Squibs but the Nguyen's know their potions. The Ministry could shut this place down if they knew half the ingredients they used!"
Blaise felt her cheeks burn. "The Nguyen's are a decent family, McGee. Who cares if they are Squibs? I've seen more talent in Hong's pinky than half the schlimazels that go to my school!" She crossed her arms in front of her. "They've been very accommodating and I-I won't have you say that about them!"
"I'm sorry. I have nothing against the Nguyen's. Honest." McGee made a long sigh. "Blaise, just come home."
"No," her lip trembled. "We've discussed this already. I don't want to go back to Creer Upon Libby."
McGee rubbed her forehead. "The wake w-wasn't that difficult. All of your friends visited. They asked about you. I know Dumbledore let you go on a bereavement leave. Working in this lingerie shop in the middle of London isn't exactly mourning, is it?"
"We all have our ways of dealing with grief," Blaise said stiffly.
"I know," McGee bit her lip. "And my way of dealing with it is to have you home. Where you belong."
"Look, McGee," she scratched at her nose. "I'm fine where I am. Why do I have to be there? I know it's Cedric and all, but I'm not comfortable living there anymore. So much has happened. So much negative stuff. Everyone in my family is gone from there. What's the point?"
McGee's face grew paler. The girl just remembered something … she had always considered the Diggory's a second family. And when things were rough, they were always her home.
Blaise wished she bothered not to talk. But judging from the woman's hesitant gaze, McGee herself wasn't ready to admit to the truth. And shouldn't it come from her? Just come out and say she was Blaise's real mum, she had an affair with Zon, and they both had lied to her and Cedric all these years. Van had known. Mama Vanessa who was now strapped in a padded cell. Van, the mum Blaise had tried to please and "fix" for as long as she could remember.
She had to be careful. She had to choose her arguments, her debates. This wasn't the best time to accuse McGee of keeping secrets. And … Blaise knew she couldn't handle it without Cedric there. That's what tore into her the most. He never knew. She never got to say it. He'll never know.
Everything Blaise knew about herself had stretched out as far as she could take it. Was she McGee's daughter now, or was she still Van's daughter? Was she ever Van's child? Why couldn't Papa just keep it in his damn shorts? Why couldn't Cedric know, blah, blah. But as exasperated as she was with the whole thing, she decided to continue playing dumb. Even if her reserve grew thinner each passing day.
What IS the point in anything anymore?
"The point?" McGee whispered. "The point is you don't give up, Blaise! The point is you keep on walking after you've been kicked in the teeth! You stay who you are. You keep everyone you love close to you and then, you move on."
Again her face grew hot. "You don't have to do this. I know my father made you my guardian and all, but after what's happened … it doesn't feel right. I want to be on my own. Or at least live where I choose, with supervision I approve of."
"Blaise, you're not thinking straight. You've got a lot on your plate, I know. But you have to listen to me. I'm practically your mother--"
Blaise's eyes widened. "Don't force me to choose between you and Vanessa! She was there for me. She tried. And even if she's like that now, you can't just step in and take over--" McGee tried to pull her close but Blaise backed away.
"I only meant … I didn't mean. I'm sorry. I wasn't forcing you. It's just you are my responsibility--"
"It's time that I claim that for myself." McGee paused.
"What? I-I'm not complaining."
"Well, I am."
"You're only 14."
"Going to be fifteen very soon."
"You're just a child."
"You know as well as I do, I grew up a long time ago."
"I won't grant it. As your guardian, I won't support it."
Blaise folded her arms again. "I'm not going back with you. Not even if you stun me and shove me into a carriage. I will just find a way out. The Ministry has its hands full to bother spying on my actions. And if anything, I'm just a silly kid to them. You said to keep walking. This's how I want to do it. I'm not shutting anyone out of my life. I'm trying to take control of it."
McGee groaned and sat heavily on a stack of boxes. "This's not supposed to happen. The two of you were supposed to grow old together. Not as a couple, but together. In each other's lives. This's not supposed to happen …"
If the cards were played right, I wasn't supposed to be born, Mum … Blaise thought bitterly to herself. "Maybe it's wrong. But let me have the freedom to make the mistake."
"No," McGee said jerkily. "I won't have it. I already lost my son and I won't lose you."
Blaise reached for McGee's hand. It pained her to see the woman try so hard to be her mother, yet keep it concealed. She wondered if she should just tell McGee she knew. But then, it's probably better this way.
"You won't lose me. I just can't be the one to fill the void he left. I'm not changing myself, McGee. This's who I am. I figure things out on my own. I move on my terms. And even if we're apart, you are always close." She grimaced inwardly, loathing the sentimentality behind those words. But why? Why did she resent herself caring about people?
"You're too stubborn for your own good," McGee sighed. She brushed the hair from Blaise's eyes. "But you're right. You grew up a long time ago. I know you don't need me to hold your hand." The woman's smile trembled. "I-I guess I need the hand-holding. It's tough … being a mum. I invested my whole life into my children's future. When that's stripped away, who am I supposed to be?"
"You're Gwenyth Diggory. You're the rock in your family. And … in my eyes, you'll always be my McGee."
McGee finally smiled. A real smile that made her grey eyes crinkle, the same way Cedric's did. The same way Blaise's eyes did.
"Blaise, you will be a woman soon. I-I'm so excited for your future."
Blaise didn't know what that meant. Whether it meant, McGee was granting her permission to live on her own or was she just happy she stood up to her. She temporarily let her guard down when McGee pulled her in for a warm hug. She honestly didn't remember the last time Vanessa or Zon, or even Oma embraced her like this. The gesture was so loving and trusting that she almost pushed McGee away from the swell of emotion she felt. The tears were beginning to brim at her eyes and the last thing she wanted was to cry like a baby. Especially when she's trying to prove she's ready for adulthood.
"Err, thanks," she said gruffly, patting McGee gingerly on the back. The tension lifted from her lungs when they released each other.
McGee wiped away a tear from her own cheek. "Look at me blubbering," she snorted. She gazed misty-eyed at the young girl, who was already equal to her height. "I guess this's good-bye then. I have to go back to the village … We're, Amos and I, are visiting Cedric's grave this weekend. You're welcome to come with us. Maybe it'd be easier for you if we were there for moral support."
Blaise felt the heat rush to her face again. But it wasn't out of embarrassment. She couldn't tell what her emotions were. "Thank you for offering. But … I don't think that would help. I don't … I'm not … I can't do it. I'm sorry." McGee shook her head soberly.
"Don't apologise, child. Baby girl, you're finding your own path." She held Blaise at arm's length almost hesitantly. The she said the words that Blaise needed and dreaded the same time.
"I give you my blessing. You will have your independence."
Blaise watched McGee leave the boutique and walk down the streets to the next row of stores where the Leaky Cauldron lay sandwiched inside. She watched until she could no longer pick the witch's cloak from the crowd. A part of her wanted to run after the woman. Ask her to hold her a bit longer. But as quick as it came, the urge immediately evaporated. She had grown dependent on Cedric's comforting. He's gone now. She shouldn't seek it from anyone else.
"Was that your mum?" Junko asked across the shop.
"No. That was Cedric's mum."
"Oh, sorry, mate," Junko clucked her tongue. "Good thing I didn't say anything. I was gonna ask you to offer her our new fragrance."
She managed a smile while Junko resumed labeling the jars on the counter. Blaise gratefully indulged in Junko's ignorance. Hong's older sister found Cedric's death sobering, but she barely knew him, so the news wasn't paralyzing or depressing. Yeah, it was for the best Blaise didn't let McGee know she knew the truth. Maybe … it'll hurt a little less when he's just a neighbor and not a childhood mate. Maybe it's more endurable when he's the best friend and not her brother. Maybe McGee will see it that way, too. Hopefully.
The doors to the shop swung open again and Hong strolled in juggling a letter and a small vial in her hands.
"Special delivery. Just nabbed it from Zephyr. Well, your owl gave it up after I bribed him with a crumpet." She tossed the parchment to Blaise. Hong waved her wrist in Blaise's face, making her nose wrinkle. "New scent. I think you'll like it. Inspired by your Villa back on the island."
Blaise tore the envelope open as she sniffed Hong's wrist cross-eyed. "Hey, not bad. It reminds me of the ocean but this time no fishiness."
"Yeah, I goofed on the first one," Hong shrugged. "But really you like it?"
"Yeah," Blaise smiled. She pulled out the letter inside. There were no words written. Only a feather was folded in the parchment. Blaise frowned.
"Well, since you like it. And since it was inspired by you, you can name it."
Blaise picked the feather with her thumb and index finger. This was odd, she never had a delivery like this before, but the feather looked like it belonged to a phoenix.
"Hello?!" Hong snapped.
"Oh! Umm, call it Home, I guess."
"Home? How lame."
"Well, it's inspired by me."
"In that case, lame it is." Hong snickered heading to the backroom. "Are you going to stare at that thing all day? Shake a leg, Blazy-pants. We like you and all, but you are a working guest."
Once Hong closed the door behind her, the feather sizzled in Blaise's hold. Her eyes widened as a quiet voice said in her head, "Your presence is requested at six in the evening tomorrow night. Hope you are well, Blaise. You're going home soon."
The feather then shriveled into dust.
Next morning before the sun rose, Blaise left Hong's house. Rusty had the carriage waiting for her as she stuffed the vial of perfume Hong gave her into her robes. She stuck a small note on her friend's vanity and pulled the covers over the sleeping girl's head. Not for sappy good-byes, both girls knew how much the other's presence benefited them.
When proposed the option to live in Grimmauld Place, Blaise had flat out declined. She had met Mr. Black, found him gruffly charming and tragic all at once. But she couldn't forget that this ordeal had ruined his life as well. He reminded her of a slightly younger and darker version of her father. She would rather stay in Durmstang, but Zon said Karkaroff's disappearance left the school in disarray. Even he wasn't safe. Her other options were Creer Upon Libby, which she avoided for obvious reasons. Villa Monteverde was her sanctity. But until Oma and Rusty reworked the security parameters there, the castle was off-limits. So when Oma offered Blaise to stay at any one of her friend's homes, Blaise knew the only place she could go to with no hassles about Cedric or school in general was Hong's home.
She took one last look at the Nguyen's stacked bungalow. In the back of her mind, she knew she might never come back to this place. With Voldemort back, she might never see Hong again. And even though both girls never sat down and discussed what happened, Hong knew something bad had occurred. The whole family knew the wizard community would be in jeopardy soon. Blaise closed her eyes, as the perfume's dewy scent rose from her robes. Hong concocted this, perhaps knowing she won't see Blaise again for a while.
"Thank you, friend," Blaise whispered, hitching her wand into her holster and securing her pouch of beads onto her belt.
This's the first and last time she ever puts the Nguyen family in Harm's way.
Sparks a Flame
The feather had carried Dumbledore's voice. But before heading to the Order, she had to make a quick stop. Well, a preferably quick stop, because she had promised herself to avoid the place. But Dumbledore and Oma both insisted. She resented that they double-teamed her. Even if she didn't want to visit Vanessa in the sanitarium, she'd do it. It's not like she'd throw a tantrum. She wouldn't have gotten away with it anyway.
"Miss Zabini," the nurse greeted as Blaise stood from her chair. "It's been a while since we last saw you. Vanessa has been a handful but we're tending to her every needs. Sometimes, we're just a bit confused as to what they are," the nurse chatted away while they walked down the grey hall. The scent of ammonia flared Blaise's nostrils. Each click of her heel sounded off sharply against the linoleum floor. Each step made the walls look taller.
She didn't know what to expect as they stood before Vanessa's door. "We had to sedate her," the nurse said almost apologetically. "She's been high strung the past few months. But I'm sure they're wearing off a little. You can probably talk to her. If you need us, just ring the bell."
Blaise nodded. She sighed deeply before she twisted the knob. Then she peeked inside.
The small padded room had a slim cot and little else for furnishings. Blaise noted the undisturbed sheets. She spotted Vanessa huddled in the far corner behind the bed, right under the tiny barred window. Her mum's back was to her. The gown she wore exposed her back and there Blaise saw the source of Van's new anxiety.
Maybe the Muggle staff in this sanitarium didn't see the magical Mark of the Death-Eaters. But Blaise, herself, had never seen it. She had relied on Oma's descriptions and her parents' cryptic discussions about it. But there it was now. Burning and glowing on her petite mum's back. As if she had been held down and branded against her will. Blaise swallowed the lump in her throat. For all she knew, Van probably was.
The past months suddenly surged back into Blaise's mind. She heard her shuddering breaths as she ran down to the field. Her wand aimed at the impostor's heart, Potter emerging from the maze with her lifeless brother. And all that fear, pain, and anger she had tried to push back surfaced again. Everything stemmed from this seemingly insignificant tattoo. But just like every tragedy she knew of herself, of a friend, everything stemmed from one man. One evil.
Vanessa stirred from her corner as Blaise sat on the foot of the bed.
"Come to stick another needle up my arm?" Van hissed, scrunching herself closer to the corner. Blaise cleared her throat.
"No … I-I'm a visitor. I'm your … I'm your visitor," she said deciding Vanessa might still not recognise her. The woman twisted around suddenly and gasped at the young girl on her bed.
"B-Blaise?" She barely whispered. She reached a trembling hand toward the girl. "Y-you came back to me."
Blaise flinched as Van's hand caressed her cheek. Guilt quickly replaced whatever reservations she had had. How long was Mama in this frame of mind? If she remembered Blaise, she remembered she had a family. A family that rarely visited her.
"Mama? How are you?" Van responded by pulling Blaise into a fierce hug. She allowed the woman to hold her. She closed her eyes, keeping her tears at bay. "I'm s-sorry. So much has happened."
"Shh, it's okay. I know, sweetie." Vanessa's voice sounded strong despite her weak grip on Blaise. "The Dark Lord is back. We've felt it. I've felt it." She held Blaise at arm's length and did the eyes, nose, throat check. Something Blaise used to squirm away from, but she welcomed it now. "Let me get a good look at you. You look just like Zonarius … and Gwenyth." Blaise's eyes widened. Of the three adults involved in the triangle, Van was the last one she expected to talk.
"You know the truth now, don't you?"
"Yeah," Blaise whispered. A tear fell down her cheek to her chagrin. "That doesn't mean you're not my Mama anymore." More tears fell. "I j-just couldn't come here. You didn't know me." Vanessa kissed her on the forehead.
"I know. And believe me when I say I will always remember you. Just know this, hear my words, child. I am not myself. I can't stop what's happening to me …" She suddenly stiffened and her gaze skewed. Blaise cupped Van's face in her hands.
"What's happening, Mama? No … don't leave me yet. You can do this. Fight it. Whatever it is, fight it, Mama!" Van shuddered and locked her gaze with Blaise's again.
"It's not safe here, baby girl," she whispered hurriedly wiping the tears from Blaise's face. "You must tell them to get me away from here. The muggles aren't trustworthy. Dumbledore will know where to put me. Trust him." She shivered as if resisting something that pulled from inside her. "Don't come to me anymore."
"What?"
"Don't come to me anymore, child. Don't listen to me. I'm not myself." Her fingers began to dig into Blaise's arm. She winced but did not push Van away. "You're my baby. I'm sorry this's happening. I'm sorry for everything."
"Don't be, Mama. Don't think like this."
Vanessa suddenly jerked her head and Blaise backed away. Tripping over her robes and landing on the floor. Vanessa whimpered pulling at her hair.
"Ne plus! Ne plus pas," she begged to an invisible force. Blaise scrambled to her feet and held out her wand.
"What is it? What's happening?!" She cried trying to pull Van's hand from her face.
"You won't have it!" Van suddenly screamed punching the wall. "I won't give it!" She jerked, chest heaving heavily, as if her very heart was yanked. Blaise stood back, unable to tell if this was one of Van's tantrums or something was really attacking her. Then the mark on Van's back flickered. Blaise made a decision.
She pulled out a bead. Envisioning a protective shield around Van, she flung the bead and snapped her fingers. The shield surrounded the woman. And then Blaise suddenly gasped as she felt whatever she deflected pounce on her.
What do you know, mon petit? A familiar voice growled in her head. Blaise froze in shock as several faces flashed in her mind. Faces she had no attachment to, they were faces that belonged to several people in the Order. Sirius, Sturgis Podmore, Moody, Blaise reeled back realizing what was happening. The faces were being extracted from her. She wrenched herself from the force. A voice cackled. The voice that long haunted her nightmares.
A poisonous rage swept over Blaise as she clenched her fists. The room began to smolder. The cackle withered as the intruder seemingly noticed it wasn't Van's mind he had pried. It tried to pounce on Blaise again.
"Oh no, you don't!" She snarled. And suddenly winds picked up from her cape and swirled around her. They intensified blocking the intruder's spell. It felt like a tug of war of sorts. Only Blaise was pushing against the force as it tried to break her defense. The pressure pushed Blaise onto one knee until she heard Vanessa scream again.
"Leave her alone! It's me you want!" Mama cried. The pressure lifted slightly, veered onto Van, and slammed the woman into the wall.
"Oh hell no," Blaise hissed.
She began to growl. The hot winds whipped around her, around the room. The angry gales reverberated through the whole building, making the unsuspecting muggles brace themselves. The spell felt like a vacuum against her mind, trying to drag her thoughts into the void.
"So you try to fight again?" The voice taunted.
Blaise had enough. With a spark from her eyes, the winds flared into a blinding inferno just as the spell pounced in her again. Instinctively, Blaise shot the flames into the void. The spell broke amongst the intruder's agonizing screams … probably miles away but she still heard him. As if he still stood over her. Taunting her, mocking her.
"Ne plus pas," Vanessa mumbled trembling in the corner again. Blaise reached for her.
"Mama?" She pulled Van into her arms. Van's eyes dilated, her lips chapped.
"Can't have … Not bend … Merde … aucun ne viendra pas ensuite … ne plus. No more, frere. I won't give. N-none will come -- No, I won't do it. I won't."
"It's okay," Blaise lied rocking Van in her arms. "I'll make Padre get you out of here. It isn't safe here anymore." She bit her lip, barely noting that her nose began to bleed.
There's no place safe, is there?
***********
The Blaze of Blaise Zabini, Nengski 2004.