Chapter 26: The Beginning of Everything to Come

Cressida had to borrow three school owls to send off all her Christmas things. Two are headed to the Potter's, with gifts and letters tied to their feet. She had felt bad for the poor birds and told Sirius in his letter that his present would be awaiting him once he returns. She wishes she'd remember to give it to him when he first left. James' and Remus' were light enough to be flown. The third owl is headed towards Elias, her well-wishes and merry Christmases to the Prewett twins within the same letter.

She expects them to arrive late Christmas day – today – or by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. She hopes they make it. Cressida can see it now through the window: the blizzard that's taken over what must be the entirety of Scotland. The owls had left in a window of calmness, but that could only last so long and so far.

Peter, it seems, is full of unluckiness. A rightfully dreadful cold, Madam Pomfrey had said. The matron had given him what she could, but like the Muggles – a cold is a cold. You live it through. With no reason to go outside the Tower, Cressida finds it perfectly reasonable to join him in the empty boys' dorm and spend her Christmas day huddled under blankets and playing whatever game Peter takes his fancy to. They've stuffed themselves full on tarts, turkey, and all sorts of Christmas treats by lunchtime, and neither can imagine taking another bite by the time dinner comes around.

"Hey Cress?" Peter's voice is muffled by the stuffiness of his nose.

Lifting her head from Remus' pillow, she smiles towards the bed next to her. "Yeah, bud?"

Peter sighs slowly, his lips pressing together but pulled upwards slightly. "Thanks for staying. I know it would've been more fun with the others but I just didn't feel like… I belonged with them."

Cressida turns onto her side, smiling softer. "I know how you feel," she whispers. "I feel it too sometimes."

His eyes widen marginally, a few lines in his forehead erasing. "You do?"

"Yeah," she breathes. "Sometimes, I…" Her words trail off, wondering how she could put what she's never spoken into words. "… I feel like I could be replaced. Like it doesn't matter if I'm there or not."

Peter stares at her with a sense of hope and wonder that she's never seen before. Well, that's not completely true. She's seen it before, just not for himself. She's seen it when one of their plans is working or James is excited about a Quidditch match. But Cressida has never seen such hope for himself. She wonders how much he does think about himself – in the way of his own desires.

Though she had made a silent promise to herself not to lie from now on unless necessary, she counts this as just that. "But it's all in our heads," she says. "We're their friends. They trust us. They're loyal." It's not in their heads. She's watched them blank out their existence. "Sometimes we just see what we most fear because that's our way or rationalising it. To make sure we don't go insane."

If she can offer him a little piece of comfort, then she will, no matter the cost. "Do you think… do you think that the Dark Lord is going to win?"

Cressida frowns at the sudden change of topic, swallowing thickly at the memory of the emerald-hued skull in the Daily Prophet. "I, uh, don't know Pete. I hope not. No I-I-I don't think so. There are powerful dark wizards, but there are plenty of good ones as well to fight him. Why is that on your mind? Is something worrying you?"

Peter shakes his head partially. "No." His eyes pin on the floor between their beds. "You like charms, right?" She doesn't bother to correct him. In a way she does like Charms – she likes that she's good at it. "Have you ever looked into dark magic?"

"Uh, no. I haven't," she answers honestly. She's come across a few darker charms such as the knee reversal hex but nothing that would compare against Snape's sectumsempera. "Only what's in the library." Not the entire library. Her mind flows back to her interaction with Regulus only a few weeks ago now. He had told her how to open the book. Which Snape had taught him how to do. Maybe it would be useful to at least read it, she reasons with herself. You have to know your enemy to defeat them. But Regulus isn't her enemy. Or is he? It doesn't matter about him anyway – it's the rest of the up-and-coming Death Eaters. "Have you heard from them? I haven't gotten an owl yet."

"Nah," Peter sighs. "No owl is getting through that blizzard any time soon." Maybe he reads her face, maybe he just knows how she feels. "Hey, like you said, it's just your fear."

Some sick inkling tells her that one day, her words are going to turn against her.

Xx

James hadn't left the Invisibility Cloak behind but that is barely a deterrent from Cressida sneaking out in the middle of the night. With over three-quarters of the student population not in Hogwarts, Prefect duties have been suspended and as she now finds out, teachers don't bother to pick up the nightly patrols. And that makes sneaking into the Restricted section as easy as pie.

Using her wand as a light, she creeps along the aisles of the murky part of Hogwarts' library. Cressida has been in here before, especially during her earlier years where they made it their mission to explore every inch of the castle. But Sirius had pulled her away as soon as they came across anything with a dark title.

What could be so bad about reading them? It's not like she plans on using any of the spells – especially in Hogwarts – but knowing about spells might give her an advantage in some way. She might figure out how to heal something or know which protection and ward spells work best.

Yet no matter how much she reasons with herself, with inarguable logic, a voice of warning never ceases whispering in her head. Maybe that's why she hadn't told Peter where she was going.

And she won't come back here, Cressida promises herself. This is just to quench her curiosity that had been watered by Regulus, then she'll leave this part of Hogwarts untouched.

And once her fingers finally drift over the title, 'Magick Moste Evile', there's no turning back. She pulls the thick leather from the shelf, expecting it to be covered in a layer of dust as the others are, but it is almost free of any specs. It's the only one that's been used.

She has to hum, Regulus had told her – despite not asking. Otherwise it would scream. Does she have to hum a certain tune? How loud? And for how long?

Cressida places her wand between her teeth with the end still alight and glances over each of her shoulders. The shadows don't move. Sighing, allowing her eyes to shut, she prepares herself for the screaming.

In a croaky and off-tune way, she hums. The sound is eerie against the stillness of the library, making her want to check over her shoulder once more. Cressida trails a finger down the edge of the cover, lifting it partially.

No screaming.

She doesn't stop humming, opening the book up entirely. At first glance, it seems like an ordinary textbook that they might use for Charms or Defence Against the Dark Arts. It is only once the reader looks at the effects of the spells that the contents become dark.

Cressida skims the first few pages but slows her eyes and begins to read the words fully. They're written so darkly. Figuratively. The author knows exactly what type of magic they are playing with, and exactly who his audience would be. It is nothing like their textbooks.

Her feet begin to move without her consciousness guiding them, pacing up and down the aisle. At some point or another, the humming stops, but the screaming never starts.

She paces for so long that her legs tire so she finds a small desk and slides into the seat, eyes never leaving the pages. There's no indication of how much time is passing – not even from her own tire which holds itself at bay.

Cressida isn't sure what she feels whilst reading over the effects of each spell. They're morbid and dark, but also incredibly interesting. Spells to make someone's skin melt off at the point of impact. Another that permanently removes the victim's voice. It makes the spells that her friends use sound like child's play.

And maybe that's because it is. They are a bunch of children – soon to be adults that are entering a world that is emerging into a war. A war against people that read and study these spells as a way of life.

What in the world is stupefy going to do against them?

Her curiosity morphs into frustration.

Cressida doesn't want to use Dark Magic. She just wants to know what exists. She wants to know what they could be up against. What Elias and Fabian and Gideon are against. And now she's put herself in a position of beginning to know, but not knowing what to do with the information.

In one last-ditch of effort, she flips the page. Her eyes skim over it, just wanting the satisfaction of finishing the chapter completely but they fall on something that doesn't belong in the book. An underline, written in ink that looks fresh enough to be written recently. She reads over the single word.

Horcrux.

Someone has taken interest in whatever that is. Cressida reads forward more, but the author only briefly mentions their existence before the paragraph jumps to a conclusion of other things mentioned in Chapter 6.

She flips through the rest of the book quickly, looking for any more markings made but there are none.

With one last sigh, Cressida places the book back on the shelf and scurries out of the library.