Chapter 22: Unveiled

Cressida stands with her head pointed forward, despite being circled by none other than Quinton Lestrange. It is like she is being hunted, with the lions circling the weakest prey that they've isolated from the rest of the gazelle herd. She would be fine to die this way, if it weren't for the terror that the moment is bringing.

Cressida, as Rowena, had been pulled along on a mission of torment with Rosier, the Lestrange in front of her and Crabbe. It was a small wizarding village in west England with a high population of Half-bloods, Blood-traitors and Muggles married to wizards.

She had tried to prepare herself for this event. Moody gave her no specific orders of action, only guiding her to do what she thought was necessary. Her work was for the greater good of all. And she knows Moody hadn't expected her to join in to keep her identity, but she had looked rather suspicious by staying well away from the chaos.

Fire burned the nearby church building. The cloak was ringing with heavy metallic thuds. The air was filled with smoke, cackles, screams and ash. Cressida covered her nose with her cloaked arm, watching from the cover of a large gravestone as the Death Eaters ransacked the town. A few wizards and witches that lived in the area fought back, but most ran and she didn't blame them. She could smell a body burning; a putrid scent that curdled in her stomach.

She didn't know what to do. Merlin, she knew what she wanted to do and that was to stand in front of those people being attacked and fight back. She was in the Order of the Phoenix – that is what she joined to do! But it would ruin her mission and this might be the only chance they can have with a spy so far into the ranks. The information she's been able to pass along to the Order has saved more than a few lives. The Aurors intercepted an attack on the Ministry from her warning that she was able to pass just in time.

The only solution she could come up with was to find a middle ground. She could help those people as long as she wasn't caught. Pointing her wand at the graveyard keeper's hut which he had run from long ago, it explodes into a ball of flames at her spell. If anybody asked, she could at least have some carnage to claim.

Keeping behind the church while Rosier, Lestrange and Crabbe take to the main street, Cressida searched for the people, making sure they are running to safety. A young woman – a mother – ran around the corner of the church. Her eyes grew wide, clutching her babe to her chest. A Muggle woman.

"Wait!" Cressida cried, holding both her hands in the air. The woman stepped back, her mouth trembled. "The forest," she pointed out. "Run to the forest." That is where the Death Eaters seemed to be ignoring. It was quiet in there. The woman looked her up and down, questioning whether to trust to girl dressed as her enemy. "Please."

With no other hope given to her that day, the woman chose to run to the forest. And Cressida took that knowledge that her life was saved and held it close to her heart as she smelt the burning flesh of those she could not. If the woman spoke, she could unravel the span of lies, but it was worth it to her.

She damned near cried at the sight of bright white. The Order. Kingsley Shacklebot was the first to appear, commanding the scene and stunning Crabbe into a wooden building, demolishing the wall with his weight. Elias was the next to show; his shoulders right and firm in a proud display. He was quick to shield a curse, flicking his wand before sending his own stunning curse right back. Frank Longbottom was the third, and the final member to join was someone she had not learned the name of yet.

Cressida watched them fight, knowing that the sidelines were the best option for her at that moment. But she couldn't resist casting her own curses here and there under the cover of the smoke and building.

Cressida glances to Crabbe who stands with his arms folded near the table. A nasty scar crosses his eye. A bout of satisfaction fills her.

She kept guiding people out, praying that they did not focus on her face long enough through the panic that they would recognise her later. She cast protegos from behind the walls at stray spells that flew near the people running.

The moment that stopped her heart was when she turned her head away from the forest, the world falling into a slow tick and the ash floating in the air. Elias laid unconscious on the ground near the gate of the church, his wand fallen from his hand.

She kept herself from crying out his name but could not stop her feet from running towards him. Cressida ducked, covering her head as the bell tower exploded, showering the air with stone and metal. She reached his body, hovering over his face first. There was a gash on his forehead, but his brows were pinched in pain. Pain only comes from life.

"Oh thank Merlin," she breathed. Her eyes gazed around, their figures barely covered by the large fence. Casting a quick healing spell to take the edge off the wounds, Cressida places his wand back into his fingers, dragging him a little further out of sight.

Cressida had not been as so subtle as she hoped. Crabbe had seen her hover over Elias' body. So here she stands, in her own home, being insulted and scrutinised. Alright, perhaps not technically her own home, and perhaps technically the scrutiny is well earned, but it was rather rude of them to storm inside. She barely had the time to gulp down Polyjuice.

"She was hovering over the man like he was a loved one!" Crabbe growl, shoving his fingers in her direction.

"I was not!" Cressida spat. "I was checking to see if he was dead or not."

"News would have reached us of Griffith's death," Lestrange laid out. "It was not your responsibility."

She could see it now. Her blood splattering the walls and an ironically measured out tape on the floor in the shape of her body. "I took the responsibility upon myself," she growled, but for the most part, kept her composure. Quinton Lestrange has an air of authority about him. Almost an unspoken second in command. "I have… history with him. Knowing if he was dead would have brought me great pleasure. I couldn't resist. And I do not know why I am being interrogated about this! Surely you have greater worries to concern yourselves over!"

"Then what were you doing? I hardly saw you," Rosier questions. "I say we get the Dark Lord to look into her head."

"I was doing what you were doing. I could see you; blowing up the tailors shop. Did you not see me bursting the graveyard keeper's hut into a ball of flames?" she demands with malicious venom. "I spread over the grounds while you kept to the already abandoned places."

Lestrange eyes her carefully. Others are present, watching it like a television show right before their eyes. Snape and Regulus stand near each other, the latter dressed semi-formally in an undone black jacket over a white shirt. "Would you believe her a mole?" he scoffs through a lapse of chuckles.

"It is entirely possible," Lestrange snarls, glancing over his shoulder at the younger Death Eater. Cressida curls her lips inward. This is it. Dead. Kapeesh. "We have our own inside the Order that is yet to be discovered. What's to say they haven't done the same."

Cressida tries so utterly hard not to let her shock show. Of course, moles within the Order have always been a possibility, but it would not be through Polyjuice. Unless they have studied the actions of their targets with great authenticity since everybody knows everybody. The Order is a bit like a second family at times. You would notice someone acting amiss.

Regulus shoves his arm out towards her. "Rowena killed thirty Muggle in three days!" he cried in her defence. "I do not think even the best of spies would pull that off just for a bit of intel."

"Perhaps this is not Rowena after all," Rosier suggests with a firm glare. "Did anybody know her before she came to England? Before she received her mark."

"This is ridiculous," Regulus laughs airily. "You are suggesting that she is under the guise of polyjuice potion? Not possible."

Lestrange turns away from her for the first time since he arrived. He folds his arms stiffly across his chest. "And how, Mr Black, would that be impossible?"

"Because we fucked for three hours straight just last week and the only thing she drank was water," Regulus answers with a cunning smirk. Cressida's eyes widen, and she's eternally grateful that their eyes have turned away from her. "And as far as my understanding of Polyjuice, it only has a maximum time limit of one hour. So unless she was able to sneak in enough Polyjuice while I had her fingers clawing at my back, I don't see how that would be a possibility."

The air definitely shifted.

Snape was the first one to reply. "We can knock out Polyjuice then," he snorts with a hidden smirk. "Honestly, I think this is a waste of time."

Lestrange breathes loudly through his mouth. "I think you're right, Severus. Leaning over a body is not as suspicious as Rosier is making it out to be. We're done here." Cressida exhales in relief, but the air catches as Lestrange looks to her. "But if we do ever catch something off about you, it will not be us that does the next interrogation. The Dark Lord has the particular skill of entering one's mind. Do not act in a way that will require that need."

One by one they leave her home. Cressida sighs, tilting back against the wall. Her eyes pin on Regulus who stands still. "How was I?" she questions.

"How were you what?"

"I must have been blackout drunk since I don't recall being with you in that manner. So how was I?" Cressida pushes off the wall again, striding towards him. "What are you playing at? You hardly wanted to even know me and now you're making up lies to save my arse."

"Are you not grateful?"

She swallows. A careful answer. "I could have handled them."

"I made the process easier and quicker." He marches past her towards the stairs.

Cressida widens her eyes, racing after him. "And where do you think you're going?!" Regulus doesn't answer her, opening the doors and leaning in until he finds her bedroom. "Regulus!" He storms inside, going straight to her trunk. The latches lock at his touch.

"Open it," he commands steadily.

"No," she cries.

Regulus turns in his crouch, glaring at her with black eyes. "Cressida, open this damn trunk."

Her bones chill over. She hasn't been called her name in nearly two months. "How did you know?" Her voice is quieter and meek. Seeing his answer forming, she kneels down, opening the trunk.

Regulus rips the lid open, searching through her belongings. "You knew Gregovitch's name. And he liked you. There was something about you before that. I knew I recognised your voice when we were alone." He near empties her trunk. The one thing he takes interest in, in the small ring. "What's this?"

Cressida clenches her jaw. "Whose side are you on?"

Regulus drops his eyes. "I'm on my own side." Shaking his head, he observes the ring once more. "This marking. I know it from somewhere."

Cressida sighs, letting her shins and knees fall to the floor next to him. "I found it at the Riddle Manor. Dumbledore had me searching for."

Regulus narrows his eyes, words forming at the tip of his tongue. "Come with me."