January, 2018
Chapter 16: Fire(whiskey)
"There is nothing like wounded affection for giving poignancy to anger."
― Elizabeth Gaskell, Wives and Daughters
They had survived the battle in the Ministry. Relatively…Edward and Mohinder were killed by Death Eaters, with those that had thankfully recovered from their injuries. Hazel had somehow survived the…darkest...time of her life, which had apparently only lasted for twelve hours…Still, an incredible number of changes had occurred within the following seven months. Ridgeway had gone from criminal to Minister of Magic, Kes had proposed – she'd said yes, why wouldn't she say yes? - Miranda gave birth. The Village of Blackthorn formed around the Lodge, growing with new shops and wizards alike. There were so many, many good things that were happening, which only served to make Hazel wonder...why did she feel like crying? The memory of Ridgeway's back turned to her, piercing words, and foreign smile flashed through her mind; it'd been six hours since Tim had told her, and only two since she'd confronted the professor about Grindelwald's memories. Now, 'unease' felt too mild to describe the interaction.
She was sick of crying; it had done nothing to protect Markus, or Edward, or Mohinder. It hadn't helped her fight Dolohov or kept her friends from getting hurt, or from avoiding that curse….Hazel Cross was many things, but she refused to be someone who just sat and moped and did nothing to prevent further tragedies (not that she'd done much to prevent anything that had come to pass). And yet, here she was.
Ridgeway had used legilimency on her. After she had brought up Grindelwald, he seemed...colder, and yet, it was the same professor who had helped her transform into an Animagus, who had grieved Markus with her, who had - in some ways - been more of a father figure than her own father. He'd spent twelve hours saving her life, removing Dolohov's excruciating curse, bit by bit, strip by strip of skin and fire and - Hazel took another sip of her drink, with only the reminder of the village's sharp-tongued addict slash healer keeping her from downing several potions to help her achieve some semblance of sleep. Ridgeway was a good person who fought for equality for muggleborns and the mistreated. The phoenix was proof of that, if nothing else. And yet, the professor had described Grindelwald as "great", somehow twisting the conversation to where she still felt the lingering sense of guilt for doubting him. I need you by my side, once more...will you help me, my dear? Come home. It was clear that, if the news of Grindelwald practically living inside Ridgeway hadn't, the man's reaction had shaken her faith in him. This wasn't the first time she'd felt like this, though it was certainly much worse, now.
Hazel took a large, slow gulp of the firewhiskey, appreciating how it burned down her throat, warming her unusually cold insides. It reminded her that she was alive, that this body was hers, even with new nerves and skin and…. Shuddering despite the alcohol, the witch took another sip and glanced out the window, hoping to see Anu with Mason's response. After the meeting, Hazel had quickly sent a letter to Mason about what had occurred. While she knew she should've spoken to Kes - who had gone out with Tim for a 'boys night' - Hazel wasn't even sure what she'd say. Remember when you doubted Ridgeway's intentions and I left with him while you could scarcely even breathe? Well, now you may be right. At least, partially. Pulling her hair from its bun, Hazel let her hair fall over her shoulders, reflecting over the strange events that night.
Tim arrived with little notice; the quiet crack of apparition had rung out in the hall as the rather pale wizard stumbled into the room where Kes and Hazel had sat down for dinner. Waving away their offers of tea or food, Tim had relayed what he'd learned from the Order of the Phoenix, of the memories displayed from Newt Scamander and Harry Potter. Marcus Ridgeway had the memories - and potentially, consciousness - of the infamous dark wizard, Gellert Grindelwald. Hazel laughed, unamused, into her drink. And here she'd thought figuring out that he was an Obscurial with possession of the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone had been news.
Of course, she had gone straight to the professor afterwards; he was her mentor, her professor, her family. He'd saved her from burning under the purple flames for eternity, or potentially dying (though she wasn't sure which would've been worse). Why wouldn't she talk to him about something this massive, this ground-breaking? Now, Hazel wondered if it'd been the best idea; there was a reason she hadn't been sorted into Slytherin. Initially, Ridgeway had greeted her as normal as they discussed the lantern (which he'd stolen from the Ministry - she reminded herself that five people had died that night).
However, his demeanor changed when she told him she knew, and asked whose memories he was storing in the hidden compartment. Whilst he remained calm - as always - the wizard had straightened in his seat, lips twisting into a…sinister smile. It was the only way she could describe the subtle shift at the mention of the dark wizard. Instead of answering her, the man had asked her about her source; when she refused to say, Ridgeway had used legilimency on her to pluck the answer from her mind. He used magic to invade her mind, to take something that hadn't been his to know. It had felt wrong, like invisible, probing fingers inside her head. At the memory, Hazel downed the rest of the firewhiskey bottle, hardly paying attention to the concern on Mitsy's face as she brought a second bottle.
The conversation had only gone further downhill from there. Ridgeway commented about Tim, ignoring the shocked look on her face, the implications of his sudden knowledge, the slight rush of betrayal that raced through her. Instead of confirming or denying it - though they both knew it to be the truth - the dark-haired wizard slowly rose from his chair, asking her if it would mean anything if it was? In Hazel's hesitation, Ridgeway told her how he had found the memories and grimoire of Grindelwald when he was seventeen, and wouldn't she have noticed by now if he had been acting under the dark wizard's influence? Wouldn't he have...changed over the past few years?
By then, the pair had stood less than a foot from each other, brown meeting brown. Ridgeway had softly, slowly put his hand on her cheek with a smile that was both familiar and not. She'd felt as if she returned to Paris, frozen out of awe or fear or respect or something else entirely, unable to pull her eyes away from the professor. He continued in her silence, acting as if it was reasonable to consider Gellert Grindelwald "terrible, but great". She'd snapped out of her...unease, enough to ask - how was a mass murderer and dictator, who planned on revealing the wizarding world with no thought for the implications, great?
In the following moment, Ridgeway became unrecognizable as he stepped away from her, hands clasped behind him as he turned his back to her for...for the first time that she could remember. While she was aware that he might've been manipulating her, the move still tore at her insides, an ache settling inside her at his near rejection. Grindelwald or not, Ridgeway was family, and that was why this whole...encounter had shaken her so.
The worst part, Hazel considered, was that he'd made sense, somehow, in that office. He hadn't shown obvious signs of changes as she grew to know him, and the majority of his words and actions alike pointed towards a man fighting for his loved ones, against the injustices of an archaic society. She couldn't even fully refute the concept of revealing magic to muggles; the combination of muggle and magical medicinal practices could save thousands of people. It was then that he had returned to her, cupping her face, and asked her to join him in a soft, heart achingly familiar voice. The voice of a man who'd lost his brother, who simply wanted to make the world a better place...did he?
"I need you by my side, Hazel, once more...Will you help me, my dear?" Ridgeway had practically whispered, tearing at her heartstrings. Come home. This was her professor, how could she have doubted him so easily? Still, it was with a sense of dread that Hazel agreed, only able to form the two fateful words, "I will." Despite her following insistence to not be kept in the dark - no more secrets, she'd demanded - Ridgeway had been vague in his plans, simply nodding before inviting her to see him at the next rally. When asked about what he was going to do, the dark-eyed man had only replied, "What needs to be done."
Looking around the darkened room, Hazel realized that the fire had gone out. Moving to take another drink, she also realized that the second bottle of firewhiskey was completely empty. Whoops. As the room began to move towards her - she was falling, no one to catch her - the inebriated and confused witch tried to lean her head against the couch's armrest, nearly hitting her forehead with the effort. She closed her eyes, as if she could block out the memories - twelve hours of torture, burning, pain, stop, please, make it stop, Ridgeway's eyes boring into her soul, Kes's eyes filled with tears, Jack's wand glowing green, the whisper of something is wrong, not quite right, come home, Hazel, the cursed child, ready to die, history forefold, something is very wrong...Join me. Hazel didn't want to cry anymore, but a single tear ran down her cheek as she slipped out of consciousness.