Chapter 29: Curse-Breaker

"What are you writing?"

Cressida glances up sheepishly from the book she's been hunched over for nearly the past hour. Slughorn is still talking, having an entirely theory-based lesson today and giving Cressida the luxury to think to herself. Well really, she should be writing notes or at the very least listening, but as soon as James had gestured for her to open the diary, the lesson for her had ended.

"Things," she answers, looking back down at the paper as another word is scratched on by someone else's hand. Smiling into her fist, she writes another word down just next to his.

"Mirror?" Remus questions. Cressida's head snaps up, her arm moving to hide the book. That was the single word she just wrote down.

"I thought only James and I could read it," she blubbers. Concerned about how much she's written while James wasn't in the same room as her.

"And I can't," he assures with a short sigh. "I could only see the word while you're still writing it. Once the quill leaves the paper is turns into random lines." He turns on his stool, facing Cressida more directly. "Was Sirius right the other morning?"

She blinks, careful about their next series of interactions. "About what?"

"About fancying someone." He hunches over slightly, their voices hushed in the near-silent classroom. "It just got me thinking. I mean, if you do and you haven't told me then I'd assume it's because you don't want me to know which makes me wonder why. But then again, you're going out with Griffiths on Saturday so maybe you don't fancy anybody. But then again, if you asked him out, then you like him, however you still would have told me." He pauses mid-thought as both Cressida and his own mind try to figure out his words. "You get me?"

Cressida shakes her head slowly, not sure whether to be amused or concerned. "You think too much. Sirius was wrong, I don't particularly fancy anybody. I just thought he was nice and good looking, and it is a chance to get to know him better."

Remus frowns in thought, turning back in his seat before Slughorn catches him. Cressida takes the pause to do the next word in her and James' story which is being added with one word at a time from each of them. She waits for the next word to come, staring at the page but it never does. Glancing upwards, Cressida looks towards James and Sirius' seats which are on the far end of another large table, facing towards her and Remus, the front of the classroom on her right.

A hesitant and perplexed smile drifts over her mouth as James is staring already right back at her. The quill is still in his hand, tapping against the wood next to the book. From beside him, Sirius rests his chin in his head, sending longing glances down at the page, only growing grumpier each time it shows the same mess of scribble.

Running her tongue over her lips, Cressida looks back down at the paper. Dipping her quill in fresh ink, she scrawls a 'what?' in the top corner of the page, away from the half-finished story. Thinking that's enough of a signal, her eyes land back on James but he's still staring at her with a smile that is somewhere between arrogant and genuine. Maybe it's both. He could probably hear her heart hammering from all the way over there by now. The side of his mouth pulls upwards even further as he finally looks down at the book. Just as she was thinking she'd have to physically point down to it.

Cressida stares at the paper, eagerly waiting for his response. The ink appears just under her question.

'Nothing.'

Then he starts writing back at the story.

"Who do you think Sirius was talking about then?" Remus wonders.

Cressida refrains from laughing at James' story suggestion, adding her own before answering Remus. Her lips press together in a mournful smile. "No idea," she whispers. And truly, she has no idea since her feelings remain under the lock and key owned by her brain, the cell inside her heart. And there is no way that Sirius Black could know that.

Xx

McGonagall's office is not usually a happy place to be for Cressida. And it is usually along with at least one of her companions, resulting in detention of some form. But today she is alone and without a single inkling of how it is going to end. Well, she isn't quite in it yet.

The hallway is empty as it typically is on this part of the grounds. Sunlight filters through the large stained-glass windows that are high above their heads, shades of the sky and earth barely visible.

Next to her shoulder, which leans against the wall, the wooden door unlocks, and another fifth year Gryffindor walks out. "You can go in," she says, pointing with her head.

Cressida offers the student a flat smile, leaning her turn into the wall and pressing her hand against the door before it can click close. "Professor."

Professor McGonagall's office is as homely as ever. Large bookcases lining the farthest walls with trinkets and statues scattered over it – Cressida imagines in some type of order that only her Head of House is aware of.

There is a neat fireplace on one side and a small kitchenette on the other with a jar of biscuits and brewing items for tea. It would feel more like a stone cabin than an office if it weren't for the desk that has stacks of paper and folders spread across it. McGonagall adjusts her glasses, greeting Cressida in a light tone. "Ah, Miss Hawthorne. Let's see where I put your information."

Careers counselling. Just before the winter break, all fifth year students filled out a form detailing everything from what subjects they are undertaking this year, their expected grades based on past performance, to what they wish to undertake at NEWT level. And then what career prospects they have looked into.

Truth be told, Cressida hadn't, and still hasn't looked much into it at all. Her short list is based off of Remus' rambling of suggestions, picking the ones that sounded the most interesting.

McGonagall finally sources the slightly wrinkled parchment, holding it slightly down to peer through her think frames, refreshing herself with its contents. "I see one of your choices is a Curse-Breaker."

"Yes," Cressida agrees. Placed right at the top of her list.

A Curse-Breaker is employed by the banks, specifically Gringotts in England, to hunt down artifacts and treasures that would profit the bank. The Curse-Breaker's job is to research, adventure out and source down these artifacts then break whatever magical curse lays upon them and bring them back.

"But I read on a pamphlet a few weeks after that I would have needed to take Arithmancy," she adds quickly before McGonagall can do it for her. "Obviously that's not a class I'm doing so we can move onto the next."

McGonagall places the paper down on her desk, folding her arms over it. "Quite on the contrary, Miss Hawthorne." Cressida's chin perks upwards in interest, suddenly not so disengaged from the meeting. "I believe you would make a fine Curse-Breaker."

"…But I'm not taking the class."

"No," McGonagall agrees. A fond smile slips onto her face. "You are adventurous, intelligent, and at the top of your class in Charms. These are all the things I know are needed. Now, the bank may formally require you to have taken NEWT level Arithmancy, which you will not be able to due to not undertaking it this year, but in light of recent events, I have heard that they are alleviating some of the requirements, providing that the candidate suits the role."

This is not the way she thought this meeting would go at all. She'd expected her Professor to suggest studying harder and try for some low-level Ministry job. "In light of recent events?" repeats Cressida.

McGonagall nods grimly. "Many have quit their jobs; others have died while on it." The fond smile has dropped back to something grimmer and more serious. Far too grim for a typical meeting about jobs. "I'm sure you're aware of the dangers that the job entails, Miss Hawthorne." Cressida nods. The nature of the job is dangerous – everything from animals they might encounter, spells backfiring, other wizards trying to retrieve the same thing, being killed by the curses. "With the dark power on the rise, there is a greater risk of coming across dark wizards. There's a shortage of Curse-Breakers."

Cressida nods slowly. She knew the most of that, but she hadn't considered the rise of dark wizards becoming more of a threat. "Forgive me, Professor, but why are you encouraging this when it's growing more and more dangerous. I would have thought you'd advise me not to."

"And usually I would," McGonagall answers quickly enough. She leans back into her chair, the grimness only continuing to grow. "Just because there are more threats on the rise, doesn't make those artifacts disappear. And while some of them are simple treasures, others are not." Cressida shifts in her chair, leaning forward against the table, listening now more than ever. "There are some…objects, that are dangerous even in the right hands, and I fear what they will do if they are found by the wrong ones."

"You're not talking about being employed by the bank, are you Professor?" Cressida realised that while Gringotts is safe, it also has no loyalties. And no loyalties means deals can be made with any side. If McGonagall is suggesting such a dangerous job at a time like this, it isn't simply to recklessly put her students in danger. It is to benefit their side.

McGonagall shakes her head, the fond smile returning but still regret lingers on it. "No, my dear." Her chair suddenly scrapes against the floor, the smile turning wider but not as genuine. "I think you have enough to think about. Study hard and if you have any further questions, send me an owl and we can sort out another appointment. You would also do well in Quidditch if any recruiters are interested."

Compelling a causal smile to appear, Cressida says, "I think that would be more James' thing. As much as I love it, I don't imagine myself on the pitch every day." Cressida is many things – many Gryffindor things, but she's certainly not one to push the Head of House's buttons on topics like this. Sirius would, she mentally snorts.

"I'm very aware," McGonagall sighs remorsefully. "I had no choice but to make him Captain unless I wanted him in my office every morning demanding why it wasn't him."

Cressida eyes off her Professor, almost forgetting the previous conversation. A smile that is meant to tease rises. "No choice because of that, or no choice because he's the best Hogwarts has to offer?" Her smile grows as McGonagall rolls her eyes but also chuckles softly.

"I suppose there's no denying it. Do be a dear and retrieve Pettigrew after you let Abbott in."

Cressida nods, striding out of the office and flicking her head towards back inside for the girl waiting at the front. "Curse-Breaker," she murmurs to herself. "I think I quite like that sound of that."