Chapter 35: Confidence
How in Merlin's name the cloak is able to cover them all is beyond Cressida's comprehension. Some strong enchantments likely. She's been pushed to the front – a punishment in James' eyes for always stepping on his feet. Now she only has to deal with their oversized ones scraping against her heels constantly.
To say her heart is racing would be an understatement. She can't recall a time she's ever been so nervous for something. Besides perhaps the first time they ever saw Remus in his other state back in second year.
The one thing Cressida wishes she brought is a jacket, but that was hardly part of the thoughts running through her mind back in the tower, but now down in the courtyard, using the walkways for shelter, her bones are practically shivering.
"Could you stop?" Sirius mutters. Already knowing it is aimed at her teeth chattering, she sends him a nasty glare over her shoulder. It softens on the realisation that he's just as nervous as her; blinking rapidly and twitching muscles.
"It's freezing," she defends nevertheless, just as to lessen the tension thicker than flobberworm slime.
"We'll get to the Whomping Willow in a few minutes," James consoles, probably to ease all of them. They reach the end of their sheltered path, leaving the rest of the distance between them and the tree open to the pelting rain. Thunder lights the sky, turning the clouds momentarily gold. "Should we just run for it?" James suggests. "The cloak won't stop the rain."
Cressida glances back up at the castle. There aren't many lights on, and it'd be hard to see them in the dark. "If I slip on mud and land on my arse, none of you are allowed to laugh," she mutters, pushing the cloak off her head.
"As long as the same terms apply to me," Sirius grumbles, also pushing the cloak off. James rolls it back up, handing the potion bottles to Sirius. "Who's going to get that blasted tree to stop?"
James steps forward to the very edge of the stone, eyeing off the darkness of the grounds. Cressida steps in line with him, pulling the sleeves of her shirt down. "It's just the little node, isn't it? I could probably fling a rock at it."
James nods stiffly, turning his eyes towards her. "You're up for it?"
"Unlike you three, I don't mind my hair getting wet," she teases through her chattering teeth. "Besides, you've all done it before and I haven't."
His mouth twitches up, amusement flooding his eyes. "I'm not going to argue. Here." He shrugs off his jacket – denim with fur lining. "Can't cast properly if you can't speak right."
There's no argument from her. The jacket floods her with a warmth that's stayed from his own body. The cuffs end midway down her fingers but the sizing is the least of her worries. "Thank you. I'll try not to get it dirty."
His smile widens briefly. "It is my favourite."
"Get a move on before the storm ends, would ya?" Sirius presses, half smirking.
Not bothering with a retort, Cressida pulls out her wand and without any further hesitation, starts marching down the dirt path towards the large tree. Its branches sway wildly both with its own movements and from the force of the high winds. Almost instantly she stumbles as it blows against her, the wind howling against her ears that are already being drummed down on by the rain.
Even with the jumper, the freezing claws crawl over her skin. Cressida grips her wand tighter in fear of losing it.
By the time she reaches the base of the tree, her hair is two shades darker and clinging to every inch of skin it touches. As though the tree can sense her, its branches become ever fiercer – swooping all through the air and lashing out like a whip.
Blinking hard to wash the water out, Cressida searches the ground for something solid enough to poke the small node. Finding the node is another problem. She pins in on a small grey rock which fits neatly in her hand.
Her attention points back to the tree, scanning its base for the small knob that sticks out almost unnaturally. She's seen it before, having watched the others find ways to tap it. After less than a minute of searching, Cressida spots it between two thick roots.
"Wingardium Leviosa," she casts, pointing at the rock. It floats from her hand, guided by the movement of her own wand. Almost crouching, she dares wander closer to have a better shot. Almost instantly a branch comes swinging at her, forcing her to jump out of the way. In the flush of the moment, Cressida flings the stone towards the node. Her miss is clear when the branches do not still.
Cursing aloud, she immediately starts searching for another stone or branch thick enough. "Come on, come on," she growls, intently scanning the grass. The dirt is turning to mud, slushing under her feet.
With her eyes pinned downwards, it is only at the very last second that she even sees another branch coming her way. It collides with her stomach and the sensation of flying through the air overwhelms her. The air is forced from her lungs as she rams back into the ground a few yards away. Coughing and sputtering, Cressida digs her elbows into the ground, dismally noting the mud on the jacket. "Sorry James," she whispers sincerely to herself. Her wand is still tightly between her fingers, and luck so has it that another stone sits in perfect reach.
Casting another levitation spell, Cressida quickly makes her way back closer. With only a moment of hesitation to consider the risks, she leaps forward, ducking under a branch and thrusts the rock forward with an aim that cannot miss. From the corner of her eye, another brown blur is coming towards her with a speed that could threaten her consciousness. But her rock hits the node.
As quickly as the tree becomes active, it stills. Letting out a large breath of relief, Cressida wastes no time and dives through the small passage and out of the rain. She skids down the slope, taking a few extra steps to balance herself, shaking off the droplets of rain from her hair. In just a few more moments, the other three are sliding in as well, not nearly as soaked through as she is.
James is the first, coming to a graceful stop. "Are you alright?" he asks, gesturing to her stomach with his eyes. Cressida nods, still on the high of adrenaline. There is a thudding pain just below her ribs, but bearable for the time being.
"Yeah," she breathes out. Her smile falters though, twisting her arm around the display the mud marks on the denim. "Sorry about you're jacket. I'll get it cleaned."
"Don't worry yourself." He breathes sharply through his nose in mild amusement, reaching out to pick a stray strand of hair that clings from her forehead to the side of her cheek. He flicks it back over her head as she winces playfully. "Let's get to the shack."
Each of them light their wands, and the sound of pelting rain lessens with each step they take away from the entrance. The tunnel's air is heavy but cool, filled with the sound of thunder from above the dirt. "This is spookier than usual," Peter mutters.
"No lie there," Sirius replies, even quieter than before. "Why are we even going to the shack?"
"So there's no risk of getting caught," James answers, leading all four of them. Cressida eyes off the goosebumps on his uncovered arms, now only with a short-sleeved top. He has muscle that she can only describe as…soft or smooth. No rigid lines of definition, but even still, the skin rises and falls with what's built underneath. "Especially when we have no idea what we'll turn into."
"Sirius could turn into a whale with the amount of food he eats," Cressida cheeks, more to see James' smile rather than annoy Sirius. She hears the latter scoff behind her whilst James cocks his head slightly to the side, revealing a slither of his smile. Cressida turns her eyes to the ground, chewing her cheek.
"I won't be surprised when you turn into a rabbit," is his retort.
"A rabbit?" she gapes. "Could be worse," she adds in a mutter. "Might have to distract Remus with cuteness alone."
"I don't think he's going to care if you look cute as a bunny or not," Peter counters timidly.
James' head tips back with an elongated exhale before he half turns around with a tired expression. "It was a joke, Peter," he says flatly. "We're nearly there."
And so they are. In just a few more minutes, the tunnel comes to an end. Like always, there is the small ladder leading up to the trap door that is locked closed with a deadbolt. Being the closest, James casts, "Alohomora," and it clicks open. "Up you come lads and lady."
With a short but intense draw of air, Cressida grips the ladder, following in his footsteps up into the shack. The thunder and rain sound heavily once more, the wood of the shack almost crying under the pressure of the storm. But its lack of doors and sealed windows means there is no airflow and the air is still dry and warmer.
Cressida folds her arms tightly as James and Sirius light a few of the candles, watching out the window for any sign of life. There's not much to see. "We've all been saying the incantation? Sundown and sunup?"
"I can't wait to sleep right through sunrise again," Sirius grumbles in answer. Cressida looks towards the other two. Peter nods in confirmation. James stares at her a little longer before nodding as well.
Sirius protrudes the potions, each with an initial engraved with the phial they put their own hair in. "We say the incantation again right? Then just drink it up and hope for the best."
"Hoping for the best is a little dry," Cressida says, taking her own phial. "Let's have some actual confidence that this is going to work."
"Of course it will," James grins, raising his phial in a small toast. She can see a crack in his charade, a momentary glimpse of fear behind the glasses. It doesn't last longer than a second. "I'll go first." Cressida can't ignore the tightness in her throat, nor the hand that snaps out to grasp his arm with the potion. He pauses at her grip. What does she say? "It's going to be fine," he chuckles airily. "You're the one who said to have confidence."
She bites the inside of her cheek, nodding feverishly. "I know, I just…"
"Don't want me to be stuck as a half-animal forever?" he finishes off suggestively.
Cressida nods again, even managing a similar airy chuckle to his own. "Yeah." She releases his arm, pulling her own back around her stomach.
James eyes her for a moment longer, likely debating the possibility of her knocking the potion out of his hand. She doesn't move, only sharing another glance with Sirius who's just as rigid as her. James plants the wand over his heart, muttering the incantation one final time. As usual, nothing happens, not even a slither sign of anything magical. "Bottoms up." He doesn't hesitate, bringing the phial to his mouth and tipping his head back to down it in one motion.