Chapter 43: An Auror with a Sense of Humour

They lost the Map. They were caught with it on their return from Hogsmeade by Filch who saw the ink before it disappeared. Fortunately, he hasn't destroyed it from their understanding, but unfortunately, he doesn't have any magical abilities. That's unfortunate for them because they enchanted the Map to conjure insults that they pre-decided to anybody who tries to open it by force. And it would have been thrilling vengeance to see the steam pouring for the old coot's ear.

Compared to the rest of the year, their exams are held early in order for their graduation process to take place. So while the rest of the school is still enjoying their last few classes, the seventh years are spending all-nighters in preparation for their final exams.

It's a bittersweet process that Cressida isn't quite ready to end. Hogwarts brought her to a new life, and leaving it behind will take its toll on her.

"That was dreadful," Remus grumbles, his head slouched into his hand, the food on his fork barely making it to his mouth. They just came out of their Transfiguration exam.

"I didn't find it too bad," Cressida muses. "Charms was the worst," she adds. Unexpectedly, the Charms exam had been worse than she was imagining. There were questions that she had only read the answers to once or even none at all and had to improvise.

"See, I liked the Charms one," Sirius shrugs with a smile. "It was pretty breezy." Cressida glares at him from across the table. Does he really have to throw that in her face, especially when she's known for her Charm work? "What?"

"Don't kid yourself. If I struggled with it, you did too."

Sirius gives her a bemused expression. "I mean, yeah it wasn't the easiest thing I've done but it wasn't that bad. Question eight was literally explaining the consequences of the unforgivable curses. And if you don't know that-" he laughs, glancing at everyone "-then they shouldn't bother with the graduation."

"I didn't have that question," Cressida notes flatly. What is Sirius on about? Did she? Is her mind just that frazzled? "I think I'm just sleep-deprived."

"Aren't we all?" James sings lowly.

Peter has a vacant expression on his face, staring at the opposite side of the Great Hall. "In Herbology, they made us write a page on gillyweed. Gillyweed is the most boring thing I've ever written about."

"I don't know, the letters you send are pretty dull," Sirius sniggers with a crooked smirk. Peter's face falls slightly but he plays it off with a quiet chuckle. Cressida's foot stretches out underneath the table, finding Sirius' foot and digs her heel into it. "Ow," he mutters, sharply tugging his foot away.

She is about to reprimand him even further but a soft and gentle hand lays on her back that doesn't belong to any of her friends. "Miss Hawthorne," McGonagall greets professionally. "Dumbledore would like to see you in his office if you don't mind."

Cressida nods instinctively, glancing around the table but she's only met with shrugs and pursed lips. "Of course, Professor." McGonagall smiles in a thin line, gesturing for her to follow along. She follows her Head of House throughout the castle all the way to the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Professor McGonagall holds both her hands up to the narrow towering staircase that is yet to appear. "Liquorice wands." The stone statue moves as it always has, turning to reveal the stairs that lead to the hidden office. Cressida moves onto the platform and McGonagall follows right behind her. She doesn't know whether it is concerning or not that her Head Teacher is coming up with her or a blessing to have a comforting figure present. Maybe she's done so poorly in her tests they're holding her back for another year. If the others stayed with her, she's not sure she'd argue that.

Dumbledores' office is an assortment of both typical Headmaster belongings such as desks, books and strange contraptions, but also a visualisation of Albus Dumbledore himself. A Phoenix sitting on a bird stand. A pensieve next to a large cabinet of glowing vials.

"Albus?" McGonagall calls.

"Ah!" A rather cheery response comes. Dumbledore appears from behind a large pillar with a painting of a young family on it; from her view, anyway. "Cressida, my dear. I hope I didn't pull you away before you had a chance to eat."

"No, sir. I had a really nice bowl of tomato soup."

"Good, good." He gestures to a seat in front of his desk. "Thank you, Minerva." Cressida takes the offered position, eyes flickering between the older wizard and witch. Dumbledore takes a relaxed disposition on his side of the table, McGonagall coming to stand next to him, her hands neatly clasped in front of her dark emerald robe. "I should ask, how have you been finding your final exams?"

Surely, they have not brought her up here for idle chit-chat. No. It will build into something else and she's going to have to wait. "Difficult," she answers truthfully. "But manageable. I studied hard."

"I'm sure you have." Dumbledor pauses for a moment before his next question. "How did you find your Charms examination."

Cressida's eyes narrow. An oddly specific question that is clearly no coincidence. "Hard," she says. "Very hard."

Dumbledore nods, feigning nonchalance. "I'd imagine. I requested the Filius provide you with a unique copy of the examination. One that would test you far beyond what was tested of others."

The first thing she feels is relief. She wasn't going crazy. She had a different test. The next is annoyance. How would that affect her overall grade? Have they ruined her chance at some jobs that she might have chosen to apply for?

The final thing she feels is confusion. They would have given her a different version of the test simply for their own entertainment. "Why?"

McGonagall is the one to answer. "Do you recall my proposition that I presented you? It was two years ago now but-"

"Curse Breaker," she finishes. "You told me that you think I would do well as a Curse Breaker."

McGonagall says nothing about her rude interruption. "Yes," she nods. "And today, we'd like to formally extend you that offer on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix." Order of the Phoenix. The same order that Elias is working with. Gideon, Fabian, Dorcas. "I must admit, I am not an active member of the organisation myself, as my duties at Hogwarts are of priority but I do speak on their behalf."

"The Order is a secret group that is oriented at assisting in the defeat of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore explains, despite her already sound knowledge from Elias. Though she doesn't say that, considering it is supposed to be a secret. "We believe having someone as a Curse Breaker in our midst, and a well-versed charm caster and dueller, will benefit us in more ways than one. There are objects of great power out there that I believe Voldemort will try to source."

"And you want me to find them first."

Dumbledore nods once.

"It is strictly volunteer," McGonagall continues, "so they cannot offer you pay and I'm sure they'd understand if you cannot assist but-"

"What were my results for the Charms examination?" Cressida intercepts once more. Sitting straighter in her chair, she folds her hands in a similar manner to McGonagall.

Dumbledor peers to the side, over his crescent moon glasses to McGonagall with a mirthful glint behind them. His white-bearded lips part once he looks back at her. "Outstanding."

"Then I'll do it." Unfolding her hands, she rests them on the arms of the chair, slouching more and crosses one leg over the other. "Money isn't a problem, and I might get to face the wizard or witch that killed my parents along the way plus potentially help take down the greatest dark wizard of all time."

"She has the brains and the balls."

Cressida near screams as an unfamiliar voice comes from behind her. Spinning her chair, she finds a strange man limping towards her. His dirty blonde hair falls just short of his shoulders, aged and as worn as his skin. The man is not lithe by any means – burly, in fact, but not with muscle. His shoulders are cloaked in a faded black leather trench coat filled with rough patches and signs of magical repairment.

"But does she have the foolishness to do this?" he finishes. There is a dangerous air about him. Everything tells her that she should be wary of this man: but she isn't. He stops right beside her chair, peering down at her. "Alastor Moody."

"Cressida Hawthorne."

"Alastor is one of the wizarding world's finest Aurors," McGonagall explains. "And one of the leading members of the Order. We asked him to come here today and meet you. If you agree to join, you shall be working under his orders."

Cressida glances up at Moody then at Dumbledore. "Forgive me as I don't mean to insult anybody, but I wouldn't be working under you?" she questions Dumbledore. She had always been given the impression that Dumbledor is the leading figure in the Order. Though nobody has ever stated that outright.

"I have many matters to attend to," he answers with a straight smile, "both within the Order and out. Alastor will be available when I am not, and his line of work will be of great assistance to you."

"It won't be like school, girl," Moody warns her. "You don't get second chances out there. Albus gives me his trust that you're capable enough to hold your own."

Her mind runs through everything that she's been through leading up to this point. "I am. I didn't exactly do well in Divination, but I can tell you that I'm going to kick some Death Eater arse."

McGonagall tries to hide her amused smile, but Alastor Moody doesn't bother. "So she does have the foolishness," he muses to Dumbledore. There's a pregnant pause that she looks between all three of them, waiting for something. "Let's hope this one doesn't get killed."

Cressida raises her brows, tilting her head up at the Auror. "What?" she demands with a tight smile. Dumbledore laughs softly but it is drowned by Moody's strong cackles of delight. She looks to McGonagall who is the only one just as unamused as her. "He's joking, right?"

"Alastor has a peculiar sense of humour," the Professor mutters, giving a stink eye usually reserved for misbehaving students to the school's guest.

"When you see the green sparks of the killing curse every other day, Minerva, a sense of humour is sometimes the only thing that keeps a man going."

Cressida bears a small smile, strangely enjoying his presence. She has a feeling she'll grow to like him. Moody leaves after another half an hour of discussion, Cressida explaining her living conditions and her plan to move in with Sirius but her close connection to James will probably have her at the manor for amounts of times as well. After he leaves and Cressida senses her own dismissal coming, she finds herself asking, "Can anybody join the Order?"

"We only take those with a skill that will keep them alive and not put risk to others. This isn't a club, Miss Hawthorne, this is an organisation of spies, Aurors and very talented witches and wizards," Dumbledore explains. "Not to mention that it has the highest level of secrecy amongst it."

Cressida nods in understanding. "Of course. I just mean to suggest that perhaps James and Sirius would be deserving of a position. And Remus and Peter. They're skilled in duelling, brave, and I know they want to fight or at least take part in this war."

"Miss Hawthorne, I can assure you that they are already under great consideration. It is very likely that they will receive a personal request sooner rather than later."

"Good."

Omg I wish I could insert pictures, because I had someone from another sight actually make me four drawings for this story and I love them so much.