Quiet Internal Rebellions
Warning: contains spoilers for The Secrets of Dumbledore.
The mattress creaked in rhythm with his movements, rocking back and forth with his head bowed, his arms curling around his waist. His stomach had soured from the blueberry cheesecake he'd consumed, but it was worth it. Right down to the last delicate morsel of plump, delicious fruit.
It had been the last item on his food bucket list, as Credence called it. Trying blueberry cheesecake for the first time. Savor it, enjoy it. That's what he told himself, knowing that his failing organs couldn't process solid food anymore. But oh, what a scene he would make during the walk of the qilin ceremony. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that he was dying. Might as well go out with a bang.
Turning slowly, Credence looked out at the grey skies beyond the snowcapped mountains. His smoldering phoenix, perched upon the headboard, leaned in close, nuzzling his cheek. There was heat radiating from his skin, his features flushed beneath the deathly mask of shadow that filled the hollows beneath his eyes.
The bedsprings groaned beneath his weight, his tired limbs aching. Every nerve was screaming with pain, his muscles stiffening, slowing his movements. "Don't leave me," he whispered hoarsely, to which his phoenix responded with a sympathetic murmur.
His phoenix followed him along him the winding staircase, past rows of windows that were laced with frost, the harsh winds swirling the snows outside. When he made it past the boundaries of the castle, Credence took one last look at the stone walls of Nurmengard, knowing that he would never see them again. He inhaled deeply, shivering in the cold, then turned and Disapparated, making his way to the kingdom of Bhutan.
.oOo.
The ceremony was well under way by the time Credence arrived. His mother had gone ahead of him and was standing next to Grindelwald, her silvery fur rippling in the wind. Vinda Rosier stood on her left, alongside Helmut and their master, the undead qilin wobbling on unsteady legs.
Credence watched from a distance, staying hidden amongst the crowd while he waited for the calf to make its decision. It was such a gruesome sight to behold, knowing that the unfortunate creature had long since departed from this world. He could only hope that its soul had found peace in the afterlife, and that maybe the creature would forgive him when he left this world.
Staggering, the qilin approached Grindelwald, a fiendish grin spreading from ear to ear as the dark wizard welcomed the creature into his presence.
This was it. The moment he'd been waiting for. Though his stomach ached and churned relentlessly, Credence forced his way through the crowd, hoping that he would refrain from vomiting until after he'd exposed Grindelwald's twisted scheme.
His steps faltering, the dying wizard looked up at the sound of fireworks exploding overhead. The noise rose in voluminous swells, crashing against his eardrums, piercing his skull and causing him to double over on the steps. He had enough sense to plug his ears with cotton before leaving the castle, but the sheer intensity of the cheering crowd was like a clap of thunder, leaving him temporarily incapable of movement.
Credence seized up on the steps, catching flickers of light on the edges of his peripheral vision. With trembling hands, he reached up and pulled his hood over his head, his long hair still managing to escape the lightweight fabric. And then, knowing his destination point, Credence forced himself to move, keeping his head down until he could hold it no longer, and he cried, "That qilin is dead! He's lying to you!"
All at once the noise began to dissolve, the wizards and witches turning in his direction. His chest heaving, Credence peered out from underneath the rippling fabric, seeing the look of incredulous horror on Grindelwald's face.
"Lies! Quatsch! Nichts von dem, was du sagst, ist wahr!" Grindelwald's voice, echoing Credence's statement, though for an entirely different purpose. He glared at the Obscurial, narrowing his eyes and hissing through his teeth. "You can't prove it, my boy! You're half dead and you don't even know what you're saying."
"You're right about one thing, Mr. Grindelwald," Credence wheezed, clutching his chest with one hand. "I'm barely alive... but I'm still more alive than that poor animal you brought out here."
Grindelwald eyed the crowd, fearing their response. He was beginning to think that he could still walk away with his newly bestowed title when Queenie emerged from the crowd, stating that she had witnessed Grindelwald slit the calf's throat.
That was when the whispers and murmurings began, uncertainty spreading throughout the crowd. Credence listened to their voices, amber on ebony as the ashes of the phoenix tangled in his hair. Nobody would believe Grindelwald now. He would be stripped of his title before completing his first day in office. Credence could die knowing that he had done his part to save the wizarding world from Gellert Grindelwald.
He was given a moment to savor his victory, then up came everything he'd eaten during the last twelve hours, painting the stone floor with shades of sapphire. Neither Grindelwald nor the undead calf were able to escape the flood of noxious vomit. Only Fireflash managed to escape the range of Credence's regurgitated cheesecake. But damn, did it feel good to get that out of his system. Even better when he noticed the absolute revulsion etched into the lines on Grindelwald's face.
Only this time Grindelwald had reached his breaking point, the failed missions and stinking vomit being the final straw that broke the hippogriff's back.
In silence he watched as the dark wizard drew his wand, followed by a flash of green that soared in front of his field of vision, illuminating what should have been his final moments. Credence closed his eyes, thinking that he would never open them again. But when the spell failed to make contact, he opened them to the sounds of vicious combat, seeing his uncle and Grindelwald hurling curses at each other.
The dazzling display flashed before his eyes, if only for a moment before his vision began to fade. He felt his heart tudding against his ribcage, stalling momentarily as his breath caught in his chest. He was only distantly aware of any physical sensation tying him to his body, unaware as his knees struck the earth, unconscious by the time his father lifted him from the ground.
His mother was already screaming, heedless of the battle going on around them. Aberforth didn't know what to make of this creature charging towards him. Was she a servant of Grindelwald? Or something that had escaped from Newt Scamander's suitcase?
With his arms around his unconscious son, Aberforth stood his ground, one knee against the earth, unable to draw his wand. However, much to his surprise, the creature did not attack. She was frantically crying out, "Credence! My baby, my baby Creeds!"
"Your baby?" Aberforth questioned, glancing down and seeing the faintest hint of movement within his arms. It appeared as though Credence was still breathing, though his breath was labored and irregular. "Aurelius is my son!"
"He's my son too!" Dragon insisted, ducking as a stray spell launched itself over her head. "I adopted him! He's my baby!" The winged wolf sniffled and whined, coming to a stop beside the Obscurial. Her eyes were overflowing with tears, dampening her silver fur. "He's my son," she whispered breathlessly. "My baby..."
The quarrel between the former lovers came to a halt, giving Albus time to glance at his younger sibling. There was a moment, lingering and stretching for what felt like an eternity, looking back as Aberforth knelt beside his son. He appeared to be arguing with some sort of beast, though it had not been part of their original plan. They didn't know where she came from. Then Newt stepped forward, addressing the situation with much familiarity.
"Dragon, forgive me, but I don't think now is an appropriate time for this." Newt spoke to her like she was an old friend, and slowly the pieces began to fall into place. He stooped beside her, enough that he was eye level with the monsterous creature, who wept openly in front of her former friend and ally.
The winged wolf practically collapsed against his chest, her chin resting against his shoulder. She could feel Newt's comforting embrace, his arms around her as she howled and sobbed, hiccuping and gasping while the others looked away, giving them a moment of privacy in their time of grief.
But Credence wasn't about to leave this world. Not yet anyway. He choked and appeared to stir, his eyes fluttering open, unable to perceive the world around him.
Aberforth looked down at him, his eyes widening. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy. Take it easy, Aurelius. You're not all there yet, son."
"S-son?" Credence whispered hoarsely, his eyes filling with tears. He couldn't see the face of the man beside him, the shadows eclipsing his vision. "I'm y-your... s-s-son?"
Aberforth pulled him into a loving embrace, only to hear Credence moan as the pressure closed around his chest.
"If you're going to take him home, I suggest you do it soon, Aberforth." Albus approached his brother, looking back at the empty space where his partner once stood. "He doesn't have much time."
"No, I'm not leaving him!" Dragon cried, fluffing her fur. "You can't do this, you're not taking him from me!" She flattened her ears against her skull, baring her fangs as though she would rip this man apart for even suggesting that they try to move her son.
Newt, intervening on Aberforth's behalf, suggested that he take Dragon with them. "She won't harm anyone, I promise." He nervously glanced at Aberforth, briefly making eye contact before having to look away. "She's my creature. I will take full responsibility in the event that something happens. But she's harmless really. Despite her looks."
Aberforth glared at the both of them, warily assessing the situation. In his arms, Credence began to stir once more, his muscles spasming convulsively. They couldn't linger in Bhutan. His son was fading fast, and if they didn't act now, it was possible that Credence wouldn't survive the trip home.
"Alright, she can come with us," Aberforth grumbled, his lip curling in a sneer. "But you'd better have a damn good explanation for this. And you," he shot a scathing look in Albus' direction, "you're a good one to talk about what I should do with my son, after you practically abandoned your own family in favor of that tottering old blighter."
Newt patted Dragon's back, massaging her shoulders and running his fingers through her fur as Aberforth lifted his son off the ground. "It's alright, girl," he whispered soothingly, hearing her whimper in response. "It's alright, you can go with him. I'll explain everything later. And I'll send along your supplies in a bit."
"I'm so sorry, Newt," said Dragon, continuing to weep before the Magizoologist. "I'm sorry... for my involvement in all of this mess. I never... I never meant to hurt you... That night with the pregnant qilin..."
"Now, there will be none of that," said Newt, embracing her once more. "I know that's not who you are... natural, maternal instincts..."
Their voices were slowly starting to fade, growing fainter, distant. Was he really dying? Was it going to end here in his father's arms?
"Pa..." Using the last of his strength, Credence gripped his father's coat, tears streaking the sides of face. "Did you... did you ever think of me...?"
Looking down at his son, Aberforth managed a faint smile. "Always."
