Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)
Assignment #10 - Women's History (Influential Jewish Women
Task #7 - Gracia Mendes Nasi: Write about helping someone to escape.
Warnings: labor complications, brain damage, major character death, child neglect
Further prompts are at the end.
Word Count: 2,693
"Do you know why we came here today?"
Laurel's first instinct's to shake her head no, because she's honestly been wondering that very question all day - she's met the dead person maybe twice because they're third or fourth cousins or something, and it's kind of awkward standing through the ceremonies with all the obvious grieving around her when she's not sad at all because she never knew the dead person. Oh, she could make herself cry easily enough, but that feels kind of- um. She knows the word. She learned it just last week. It's like disrespectful - sacrilegious.
Anyway.
Father's asking her, and he never asks her questions she wouldn't know how to answer, which means she should know the answer, should know why they're here at Lynette Victoria Burke's funeral.
So. Why?
Almost definitely because Father wants to teach her something, because it's unlikely he brought them here for his own sake. But teaching means there's some subject to be learned, and since this is a funeral, there's only a couple options: the person, the person's death, or the impact of the person's death.
Lynette Victoria Burke was twenty-two years old. Originally a Greengrass like Laurel and Father, she married Caractacus Burke, Jr., just after graduating and was unemployed, a society lady. To her family's disapproval and/or quiet acceptance, she had no children.
Not the most influential of witches, in life or in death, which makes the first and third options less likely than the second. And death at age twenty-two, during peacetime, is unusual, so…
"How did she die?"
Father nods slightly, his face as solemn as ever, and Laurel barely keeps herself from beaming because she's no Gryffindor. (Or, technically, no Slytherin or Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw either because she's ten, but whatever.)
"Do you know what a blood malediction is?"
Laurel frowns as she rolls the words over her tongue. The blood part is obvious, but malediction? What does that even mean? Mal- as in bad, but then -diction as in speaking? So blood bad speaking?
"No," she admits.
"It is a curse that resurfaces over generations."
Laurel nods slowly, understanding, but at the same time, not, because why has Father decided she needs to know- oh. Oh.
Over generations - so it's a family curse, and Lynette Victoria Burke is- was - her family, which means that this curse is in Laurel's family, which means that-
Oh, no, no, no-
"You?"
But Father is shaking his head and she's relaxing again as he answers, "Our malediction surfaces only in female descendants."
So… Laurel herself.
"How- how long?" It's only years and years of training to control her emotions that's keeping Laurel from breaking down right here and right now, because she's only ten years old but, if Lynette Victoria Burke's example means anything, she's only got eleven years left-
"It's not for certain," Father says, though that doesn't stop Laurel's panic because then it's up to luck and fate and when has she ever been lucky? "The curse surfaces every three to four generations, and Lynette is a bit of an anomaly - most die at about forty." Not helping, Laurel finds herself thinking, though she knows Father's not telling here these facts to comfort her - he's never been one to sugarcoat. Which is why she actually, physically starts when he says, voice almost gentle, "You might not have it."
"But?" she asks, because of course there's a 'but', and she doesn't want him to shield her from the truth if it's her life they're talking about, here.
"…The curse has not appeared for six generations, in our line," Father says reluctantly. He brings a hand up to stroke through Laurel's hair, and she wonders if this is some sort of test because Father never acts like this, is always imperturbable and calm, no matter what life throws at him. "We won't be able to tell for at least six years, until the curse manifests." And there's an actual, literal, tremble in his voice. What is going on- oh.
With a start, Laurel realizes. She never knew her mother. Father is an only child. Her grandparents died years ago. They've no immediate family.
She's all Father's got left. Which means that if she has this curse, this malediction, if she dies before she's forty, before Father's sixty, he'll be alone. She doesn't know what it's like to lose a child - of course she doesn't, she's ten - but she imagines multiplying her grief when her kneazle died by ten, by a hundred, and she understands.
Forty seems an eternity away, for her, when it already feels like forever before she'll get to go to Hogwarts, but for Father's sake, she prays to whatever higher power's out there that she does not have this curse.
Father dies when she's sixteen, the year before she's diagnosed. When the Healer comes into her ward, face solemn and compassionate, to deliver the news, she cries - of course she does - then dries her tears and vows to make her life one worth living. After all, everyone dies. And maybe she's lucky, in a way, because knowing she's on a deadline kind of just makes her appreciate each day more.
She's already accepted her fate by the time she's twenty, by the time she meets Bartemius Crouch, which is why she doesn't realize that he doesn't know, until they're courting and then engaged and then married and then-
Pregnancy's especially dangerous for women with her condition.
Laurel puts a hand to her abdomen, and it has to be her imagination because she knows babies don't develop that quickly, but she thinks she can feel a tiny kick where her hand is. She's been putting off telling Bartemius because she knows what his reaction will be, with the high chance that he'll lose her in this birth. But the bump's becoming more and more noticeable with each passing day, and she's got to tell him soon, before he finds out on his own. She's got a list of reasons why they shouldn't end this child growing within her that'd be an Outstanding essay, in length at least, in Merrythought's class, but part of her still thinks it's not enough, that Bartemius won't listen, that-
No.
She trusts him. They'll talk this out, like they do with everything. He'll learn to love this beautiful child within her, just as she already does.
"Laurel?"
"There's something I need to tell you," she says, fighting to keep her voice even, though not succeeding like she would've wanted to, judging by the way his eyes grow worried.
"What is it, miting?"
"I'm pregnant."
It takes a moment for the words to register, a terror-filled moment that seems to last forever, before Bartemius's face splits into a grin and he's asking, "You are?"
His reaction is nothing like Laurel would've anticipated, but it's so exhilarating to know that all her worries have been for nothing that she finds herself mirroring his grin, nodding enthusiastically as she says, "Really. The Healers confirmed it. They don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet, and I was thinking, for names-"
"Shh," he interrupts, putting a finger to her lips teasingly. "Slow down, we've got time, remember?" And then, to himself, his joy faltering, "I'm going to be a father."
Laurel knows instantly what's on his mind. "You'll be nothing like him," she says quietly. "I know it. You've got a good heart. You'll do great things, remember? That includes being a great father."
"I- I hope so," Bartemius murmurs, before shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I'm spoiling the mood - this is something to celebrate!"
It's like a dream come true, Bartemius's easy acceptance of their child-to-be, which is why she doesn't realize until she lies awake at night, a tiny itch in her mind saying that something's wrong, that Bartemius shouldn't have accepted her pregnancy so easily.
Which is when it hits her. He doesn't know. She's paging through her memories, trying to prove herself wrong, but nowhere in all that time together, that she's engraved into her mind because they're on limited time, can she remember telling him - and she's certain that she would, if only because of his reaction.
She- she has to tell him. Doesn't she?
But… What about their child?
If he doesn't know… would it be better if she waited? If she let this child inside her grow until it'd be too far along to kill them, first, before she told him?
She can't let this baby, her baby, die.
But then, when will she tell him?
After their child is born, she tells herself. She'll tell him then, after this baby is born and after she's survived. Because she will survive, for this child's sake; won't be like her mother, dying before her child can know her.
But something goes wrong - of course it does.
-oOo-
Bartemius still loves her. Though it's her mind, her wit, that first drew him to her, she's so much more than someone who can keep up with him, intellectually. She understands him like no one else does, loves him even knowing about his father, even knowing what he's done to get where he is now, because he's not a good person.
But.
Because she'd told no one, not even their Healer, about this blood malediction, because no one had thought to check her medical history because there was no sign that anything would go wrong, because Bartemius had never been interested in Healing-
Five months. It's five months before she wakes. Two months of spending every waking moment at St. Mungo's. Three months of throwing himself into his work to try and distract himself from the fact that she's not waking. Five months of fighting the Healers, every step of the way, when they say it might be kinder to let her go. Five months of letting Bartemius Crouch, Jr., the reason she's like this, be raised by house elves.
And then, like a miracle of magic itself, she wakes. She lives.
He still loves her, but she's not the same. On good days, it's almost like before the birth, before everything went wrong, except, when conversations last for more than a few minutes, he can see her tune out; except, her every emotion displays across her face, across her body, that control he's always admired about her gone, and she'll be laughing one moment, tensely anxious the next; except, she'll buy something outrageously expensive for no reason other than, 'it looked nice'. And on bad days, well…
He's not scared of her - he'd never be. But he's scared for her. What if it's one of her bad days and he isn't around? What if someone attacks her - her magic's wild, now, always feeling on the edge of out-of-control - and she isn't able to defend herself? What if-?
Bartemius doesn't blame her for not telling him about her malediction - he could never hate her. But he can hate the one responsible for her condition, because all Bartemius can see when he sees his son is the reason he'll never get the Laurel he fell in love with back. The only reason why Bartemius doesn't do as his own father did to him years ago and disown his son is because he knows Laurel, both as she was and as she is now, would never forgive him.
For her sake, he tolerates Junior.
Junior grows, from a toddler to a Hogwarts-age boy to a young adult, almost before Bartemius realizes it, but with him grows a new Dark force, the wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort.
You will do great things, the Sorting Hat once told Bartemius, just before it shouted Slytherin and sealed his fate, and he thinks that now might be his time, what he's worked for all his life, to be the one to defeat this new threat. They say that you can't fight fire with fire, but you can, if your will can overpower your enemy's, and so Bartemius authorizes Auror use of the Unforgiveables against Dark wizards because limiting Ministry forces has only led to more casualties; pushes through sentences without trial because he knows from experience just how easily the well-connected can escape punishment; decreases Auror training periods because they need the forces, need more bodies out there, and even an untrained wand is better than nothing. But then-
The war ends, and it has nothing to do with Bartemius. A fifteen-month-old baby defeats He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Bartemius is… lost. He's always known that he's destined to do great things, but if that isn't defeating the worst Dark wizard in living memory… then what is he meant to do?
Millicent Bagnold announces she's retiring, and he sets his sights on becoming Minister of Magic.
But that's before Junior is caught with the Lestranges, known and notorious Death Eaters, following the torture to insanity of Alice and Frank Longbottom.
Bartemius doesn't visit the two, not when he's never known them outside of being two young, talented Aurors, but when he starts to skim through the files on Junior and the three Lestranges, he feels sick. How could Junior have done this, when this- this is what Laurel could've become, had the fates been a little crueler. How could he have, could the house elves have, raised a son who would do this, this fate maybe worse than death, again?
He gives them the trial, a mercy he grants to precious few, hoping that, maybe, there's been a mistake, for his own sake as well as for Junior's. Junior pleas to him, calling him Father, which he has never called Bartemius in all his life, and that is when Bartemius knows, that there has been no mistake.
He scarcely recognizes his son. And in his utter disgust, he says what his father once told him, what he swore he would never say to his own child: "You are no son of mine."
He regrets it from the moment after he says it, as he watches Junior's expression fall, then harden, as he sees Laurel collapse out of the corner of his eye, but it's too late to backtrack. He's said it. He can't take it back. And any attempt otherwise would only weaken him in the eyes of his enemies, his allies.
And besides, nothing he said was a lie.
He sentences his own son to Azkaban for life. Perhaps this, this necessary ruthlessness even at the cost of his family, is the greatness the Sorting Hat said he would achieve.
But Laurel is dying, the malediction that broke her mind not finished causing them hurt, and the Healers say she has only weeks left, and Bartemius wonders how this loss, this pain, can ever be the greatness the Sorting Hat promised him. And that's when-
"We're breaking him out."
There's a fire in Laurel's gaze that's so often missing, these days, but Bartemius can't find it in himself to appreciate this glimpse of his wife's former self, because he'd rather have her live, and because- "No."
"We are," Laurel says, "because he is our son."
"He-"
"No. This is what we're going to do."
She details a plan that, to Bartemius's shock and horror, could actually work: going to Azkaban, switching places with Polyjuice, smuggling Junior out. Because Laurel wouldn't last long in the prison, because dementors are blind and wouldn't sense a difference between Laurel and Junior, because no one would care about another dead prisoner.
Except it would never, because Bartemius would never agree to it.
"I've always known I would die young," Laurel tells him, rocking back and forth in obvious agitation but voice steady and unyielding. "Do you know what I told myself, when the malediction was confirmed? That I'd make my life worth living for. Let me make my death meaningful, too. If you've ever loved me."
And he does, always has, which is why he agrees.
Laurel Theodosia Crouch dies in her son's body, alone in Azkaban. With her dies Bartemius's heart.
Autumn Seasonal Challenges
Days of the Year & Religious Events: 31st October - Samhain (Wiccan): Write about the end of something.
Native American History Month: Susan La Flesche Picotte: Write about a Healer/Mediwitch.
Pet Peeves Week: Loud hold music - Trait: impatient
Chemistry Week: Calcium: Caring
United Nations Day: Republic of Moldova - (setting) Azkaban/Prison
Princess Day: She-Ra - Write about someone finding out some hard truths
Writing Club: November
Record Collection: Miserable At Best: (word) miserable
Book Club: Septimus Warren Smith: (genre) tragedy, (trait) apprehensive, (word) freedom
Amber's Attic: My mom who has shown me unconditional love : (genre) family
Elizabeth's Empire: Oatmeal raisin cookies: (emotion) joy
Liza's Loves: Paths of the Dead - Write about an out of body experience, or someone dying
Scamander's Case: (plot point) avoiding someone
Lyric Alley: Stop my heartbreak
TV Spree: Write about faking a death
The Forecast Says… 13th. Rain: Healing someone
EnTitled: The One Hundreth / The One with the Triplets - Write about giving a fake name, or a hidden/secret/new identity
Honeydukes Hoard: Hard Candy - Selfless
All Aboard: Blue Train - Amused
Truth or Dare: Dares - Genre: Angst
Wings of Fire: Skywings: Prompt: Write about a difference becoming a strength.