January, 2018
Chapter 17: The Boy from the Platform
"How much of life could he spend aching?
Aching is not a stable condition; it must resolve into something."
― Arthur Phillips, The Song Is You
Hazel swore she would never do it again...it was a mistake, a rash decision...but had it been? Even after Mitsy had kindly brought her a hangover potion, the witch felt drained, still reeling from her confrontation with Ridgeway and too much firewhiskey. She had two whole, bloody bottles...She groaned, putting her head in her hands at the reminder. To make matters worse, she'd had another nightmare that same night. Not one, but two bottles…
The nightmare had started with blue and purple fire, burning around her, searing heat licking at her skin. She saw a village burning, screams echoing over the crackle and hiss of the flames. Blurs of color moved in the sky as people tried to apparate from the destruction before they crashed into the ground with a sickening thud. Someone's arm landed beside her, and Hazel felt a wave of nausea. Blue flames seemed to form into shapes, striking stone and wood and anything it could hit. Surrounded by chaos...death. Smoke filled her vision as it climbed up her throat till she could scarcely breathe or move or think.
Suddenly, she was in a familiar room; a dragon egg sat in the hearth, photographs and books and objects strewn around the room. Her and Kes's room. Screams and crackling fire rang in her ears as she ran, practically tripping over herself, down the stairs. Something is wrong, not right, very wrong. Everything hurts, burning, it hurts, make it stop. On the floor was Kestis, mismatched eyes unseeing at the chaos around him. Dead. No, no, no, this isn't right. Two feet stood mere inches away from the body, and Hazel followed the dark, polished shoes up to the eyes of Marcus Ridgeway. Instead of dark brown - so much like her own - the wizard stared at her with pale eyes, wisps of hair slowly changing to match the snowy color. She launched spells at the wizard - Was she screaming? She couldn't tell - but each attack turned to water, then steam, dissipating before they ever reached their target. Murderer.
"Why?" She heard herself yell over the fire. Despite the heat and fire that burnt the house around them, his voice chilled her to her very bones, "He was a traitor." Hazel tried to throw more spells at Ridgeway - or, the man that had once been Ridgeway - but they liquified the moment they left her wand. "You seem to forget, Mrs. Jackson," Ridgeway stepped around Kestis's body, each step taking him closer to the sobbing witch, "I taught you everything you know," His eyes, like shards of ice, seemed to sear into her, "but not everything I know." Hands grabbed her roughly, pulling her into a harsh hug as utter, pure pain ripped through her mind. It was like she was back in the Lodge, burning and writhing, screaming silently as strips of flesh were ripped and burnt, nothing to relieve the endless agony.
Hazel floated above it all, seeing the ruins of the Ministry, surrounded by strange, dark masses. Nausea returned, threatening to choke her as she noticed hands and limbs and faces. They're all dead. Dead, gone, burned. She recognized the Auror, Harry Potter, then her friends...family. Tim. Cormac. Miranda. Henry. Edward…Mason. Thousands of eyes stared sightlessly up at her, covering the very ground. Around her, black particles seemed to sway to an invisible breeze. She realized it was silent, save for the sound of someone sobbing. In the middle of it all, Ridgeway laid in a shaking ball on the floor. To his right, back turned towards her, stood a white-haired man, Elder Wand sitting in his hand. She tried to open her mouth, to call out to the professor, but heat suddenly filled her lungs again.
The witch woke up coughing, which quickly turned into the need for a trash can, or bag, something. She smiled weakly at the clearly worried house elf, who had miraculously brought her what she needed in the nick of time. Thank Merlin for Mitsy. Groaning, Hazel waved away the mess with her wand and slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. Looking around, she realized two things; one, she was still on the couch she'd passed out on last night...two, Kes wasn't home yet. The house seemed too quiet (though it seemed that way more often than not the past few days). The news about Ridgeway had changed something between them, something yet to be spoken. It wasn't the first time she felt this way.
It wasn't until she'd finally stood from the couch, potion kicking into effect, that Hazel noticed the small owl at the window. Rushing over, the brunette quickly let Anu in, heart racing at the sight of the letter clutched in it's small talons. Mason's reply. After giving Anu a small treat, she unfolded the parchment to read five, messily scrawled words, "Let's Meet. Hogs Head. Tomorrow." Tomorrow. Glancing around the room, Hazel quickly folded the note and stuffed it into her pocket. She picked up the small owl - who only gave a small hoot of indigence, but did not move - and made her way upstairs.
The day passed without any sign of Kes, except for a letter in the evening. She had nearly dropped the pan of sizzling eggs as Leon had burst into the room; like Mason's, her fiance's letter was brief. Be back in two days with Tim. Yours, Kes. With a sigh, Hazel stared at the letter, ignoring the sinking disappointment in her gut before moving to keep her meal from burning. She'd known how he would react to the news; even before Paris, Kes had always been...wary of Ridgeway. Shortly after the village had been established, Kes had commented how it looked less like a "cult" with houses and shops. While they'd both passed it off as a joke, tension lingered between the couple for the remainder of the day, words better left unsaid.
To top it off, the witch had been shocked when Kes returned home the month after, almost two feet shorter. Her fiance told her how he asked Ridgeway to shorten him from eight to six and a half feet tall. They nearly fought, then; how could he make this kind of decision alone, and why would he suddenly trust Ridgeway after years of hesitation? She couldn't understand why he had done it; she loved him for the half-giant he was, and there could've been serious medical ramifications to that level of permanent transformation. He hadn't understood how worried she'd been. But Kes and Hazel didn't argue, never truly had; she had begun to feel better thankfully… at least, until the news of Grindelwald's memories changed everything. She hadn't even told Kes where, or who, she was going to meet.
It felt like it'd only been a few hours as she went through the motions - ate, showered, slept with the help of a few potions - but soon enough, it was time to go. To meet Mason, to talk about...Ridgeway. She still had no idea what to do, so help her Merlin. Using a portkey from Henry - who, in exchange, told her all about his ideas - Hazel Cross found herself in a haunting familiar scene.
Hogsmeade was almost as she'd left it; young children in colored robes milled around the small village. Laughter followed two students as they walked, hands intertwined. Even with the sunshine, crisp snow covered the ground beneath her, and a breeze chilled her exposed ears and hands. For a moment, she simply stood there, feeling as if she had traveled back to third year….Before the death and betrayal, before the pain and fear and confusion...there'd been this. For that moment, Hazel tried her best to blink away the threatening tears, her smile contradicting the ache of nostalgia and grief.
Slowly, Hazel walked towards the Hogs Head. While she'd never been there during her time at school, everyone knew about the old bar. During the summer before third year, Markus had told her the story of how - at the mere age of fifteen - he had stolen a bottle of firewhiskey from a terrifying bartender at Hogs Head; apparently, even Edward had joined Markus and Henry in the age-old ritual of teenage boys getting absolutely piss drunk.
Two familiar faces walking away from the very bar she was headed to broke her out of her daze, and Hazel met the eyes of the Lithgow twins. She recognized the boys - much older, taller now - as not only the sons of the previous...and now deceased...Minister, but knew them to be the twins who Mason had spent so much time with. He had told her about the trio's friendship and the disappointment when they hadn't walked through the flames in Paris together.
"Hazel, right?" One of the twins called as they approached, waving. Huh. Nodding, Hazel greeted the wizards with a confused smile. As if in response to her silent question, the same twin spoke up again, "We've heard a lot about you." About….her? Hazel swallowed, pushing down the strange rush of nerves at the comment. Unable to form a proper reply, she instead asked, "What're you doing in Hogsmeade? I certainly didn't expect to run into anyone from our year." One smiled, while the other replied "Same reason you're here, I reckon." Oh...right.
"How is he?" She regretted the question as soon as it had fallen out of her lips. The pair exchanged a glance, before the shorter of the two, Gabriel - that was his name! - spoke quietly, "He's...strange. Sometimes he's Mason, like nothing has changed. Other times...he's not." Hazel's mouth felt dry, and found it difficult to speak. Mason…She remembered yelling for Kes to watch out, remembered the vivid flash of red striking the wolf as he leapt in front of the spell, in front of Kestis; heart breaking howls echoed over the chaos as a Death Eater tortured her friend for what felt like hours. She knew she had screamed his name, had been running towards them, but only could watch as Mason's limp body slowly shifted back into his human from, bloodied and still. She hadn't seen him since, not even at the village, or her engagement party.
At some point, the twins had begun to walk past her, as if aware the brief conversation was over. Quickly turning, Hazel called a simple "Take care!"...for what else could she say? Before the wizards had disappeared over the hill, Gabriel turned to yell, "He wasn't a bad man, our father. He thought he was doing the right thing." Something in his voice made her chest ache again, reminded of her own defense of Ridgeway. She hoped she was doing the right thing...They were gone before she could come up with something to say in return.
Rubbing her face, Hazel wondered what was wrong with her. Was she still hungover, somehow? With a small sigh, the witch entered Hogs Head. A glance around the room immediately told her there was no pale-haired wizard. She moved towards the bar, where a rather young-looking barkeep was polishing glasses. "One...no, two firewhiskey, please," She smiled at the man, who simply asked for two Galleons. Handing over the coins, Hazel looked around for Mason once more. Not here. When the brunette asked about Mason Whitehall, the barkeep warned her to 'be careful' as he pointed her to the first room to the right, second floor. If she'd been paying attention to anything besides her suddenly pounding heart - why was she so bloody nervous? - Hazel would've noticed the strange expression on his face as she carried the two drinks upstairs.
The door opened after a single knock, revealing a small, drab room. It was surprisingly barren, with two chairs facing an empty hearth across from the bed and a single nightstand. The only decoration seemed to be a photograph; with a start, Hazel realized it was of her and Mason dancing at Miranda's wedding. The pair in the photo swayed side-to-side, smiling at one another before picture-Hazel waved at her. Her own lips lifted at the memory, though she couldn't explain why she felt...sad at seeing the photograph hung by itself. Placing the drinks on the windowsill, Hazel looked to the silent wizard to her right.
Mason Whitehall looked tired. As he stared out the window, his body leaned against a small walking stick. A shock of scars crossed his face and neck, disappearing into his collar. The cutting curses must've hit him while he was in his Animagus form. He appeared paler than last she'd seen him, almost gaunt, cheekbones cutting sharp shadows across his face. He'd even grown a bit of a beard, though she noticed both his beard and hair were patchy, as if whoever had cut them had been moving….Oh. It was strange, being here. She could recall studying his younger features when they'd studied by the fireplace at the Lodge; the Mason before her now looked as if he'd given up with the world entirely. Something in her chest ached at the sight…Oh, Mason…
As he turned towards her, Hazel tried to smile cheerfully as she lifted the two cups, "Whiskey?". His lips rose at the corners, but there was no amusement in his eyes as he shook his head, "Can't. The potions." Immediately feeling a stab of guilt - how could she have been so stupid? - the witch lowered the cups, "Right. Sorry." With Mason facing her, she could see a massive scar across the left side of his face. Though his eyes were the same, intense shade of grey, they appeared almost bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept in a long time. Which might very well be true, she thought with a pang. To fill the silence, Hazel rambled softly, unable to pull her eyes away from his probing gaze, What was he thinking? "How have you been Mason? Er, well, it's been awhile since we've seen each other-" "Months" He cut across her softly, and Hazel paused. Unable to form the words she wanted to say, Hazel stepped forward to pull the wizard into a tight hug, eyes pricking with unshed tears as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. The pair remained like that until Mason moved away.
Concern flashed through her as she noticed his cane begin to visibly shake. Silent, Hazel watched the pale-haired man pick up the walking stick, gripping the contraption tightly, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. Mason...what did they do to you? Blinking back the tears, Hazel nodded towards the chairs behind them, stretching almost dramatically. "Can we sit? I used a portkey from Henry and I think it did something to my leg. He's working on these new portkeys that can take you multiple places, but they keep exploding in his face." What was she saying? There was no way he was going to buy such a stupid story, even if the latter was true.
To her relief, Mason agreed. As they sat by the fire however, Hazel's heart broke anew at the sight of Mason's failed attempts to light the hearth with magic, curling into himself as he wove his hands tightly through his hair. He'd been struggling, alone, like this...for months? Merlin, she was a terrible friend. Quietly, Hazel lit the fire and moved to kneel before him, placing her hands ever-so-lightly on his knees. I'm sorry, Mason...I'm here for you now. I promise.
"Mason?" She waited, worriedly watching him slowly rise, grey meeting brown. "I'm fine," He said, almost gruffly, and she dropped her arms. Should she act normal? How could she help him? She didn't know what to do now...Hoping to distract him, Hazel leaned back in her seat on the ground and told him about her meeting with Ridgeway. At one point, she'd had to turn away from those grey eyes to pretend to watch the fire; sometimes, it felt as if Mason could see right through her. And it terrified her. After she had finished speaking, Mason let out a humorless chuckle, "It's because he's won. He doesn't have to hide anymore now that he's got public support and is the Minister of Magic. There's no one to stop him; Ridgeway is free to do whatever he likes."
"I don't know what to do, aside from joining him, though I'm not sure I could talk reason into him, at this point." He shrugged at her suggestion, looking down at her, "It could work," The wizard looked thoughtful at the idea, "You could be his conscience, of sorts," Mason continued, "but he'd have to believe you're fully invested. He's been programmed by betrayal, abandonment. If he thought you would leave him, he would cut you out before it could hurt him." While she knew he was right - Ridgeway had invaded her mind, turned his back on her, and just as quickly, asked her to join him - she couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing...or if she even knew what the right thing was, anymore. The most dangerous are those who believe they are acting in the right, on the side of good.
Mason clenched his hands to hide the tremors, and Hazel felt a flash of pity towards the man in front of her. He'd been through so much, and had no one there to help him. Ridgeway had betrayed Mason as much as the others, and he clearly wasn't over it, judging by his dark words and bitter tone. Not that she blamed him. They had trusted him….to some degree, Hazel still did. Maybe the plan could work….or, maybe she really was just a fool. As Mason's hand began to quiver, Hazel covered it with her own without thinking, squeezing softly in the hopes of comforting the young man, "You'll be okay."
Wrong choice of words, it seemed. Mason pulled back, standing from his seat with a sudden clatter. Alarmed at the movement, Hazel quickly scrambled to her feet as the agitated wizard began to pace, leaning heavily against the cane. "You don't understand, Hazel. You're trying to act as if nothing has changed, but it has. I'm different, and I-I'm trying not to be, but I am." He turned to face her, eyes blazing, "I've had time, and treatment, and I'm, I'm not better." Hazel barely realized she had moved towards him till they stood less than a foot apart.
Mason's eyes locked onto hers as his voice dropped into a near whisper, "Do you know what the worst part is? I'm, I'm like this, injured," scoffing, he waved his free hand at his shaking limbs, "because I saved a man I hate." Stunned at the vitriol in his voice, it took Hazel a moment to realize he was talking about Kestis. She knew he didn't approve, but hate..? He continued forward, "I hate him….and yet, I would do it all over again." Mason….Hazel was barely awake of her pounding heart, or the shallow breath that left her parted lips, silent as Mason Whitehall poured his heart out.
"Everything that I've done, Hazel, I've done to impress you." He moved closer, now mere inches apart. She hadn't realized how tall he was until she stood in front of him, wide-eyed at the man before her. "When I first saw you on the train platform, when you'd nearly tripped." She saw a young boy with pale hair and grey eyes smile apologetically at her. "Then we were sorted into different houses. Slytherin was...difficult, sometimes, but I tried to be a good person." She noticed a vaguely familiar boy across the Charms classroom. When he glanced up at her inquisitive stare, Hazel turned bright red and refused to look at the Slytherin side of the room for the remainder of class. "I went to ask you to Hogsmeade, but you'd already been asked." The friendship was an unexpected, but pleasant, turn of events. Ever since her breakdown at the Lodge, Mason and Hazel had gradually grown closer...Hazel stuffed the cookie into her mouth, and the pair made quiet eye contact before simultaneously bursting into laughter, fireplace crackling beside the small couch. "I believed in Ridgeway, but one of the things that drove me there...was you." She was surprised to see Mason Whitehall walking down the stone steps. As he passed, Mason gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning towards the blue flames….He grinned at her from the dock as she sputtered out cold water, laughing. "All my damage," He smiled this time, soft breath brushing against her face, "comes from you, and I'm fine with that." The white, bloodied wolf threw himself in front of the cructiatius curse, in front the man he couldn't stand, for the woman he loved.
Hazel hadn't realized she was moving until her hands found either side of his face - don't do it - and closed the remaining distance between them. Eyes sliding shut, she could feel Mason's hand slip around her waist as they kissed by the fireplace. How long had she wanted to do this? She wasn't sure how much time passed in that room, electricity running through her where his hands touched, lips brushing against one another. The firewhiskey sat on the windowsill forgotten as Hazel waved a locking charm on the door, laughing as Mason threw his cane to the floor to pull her closer...She slipped his shirt off, dropping the material to the floor as they met in the middle, with messy hair and bruised lips and subdued gasps. Hazel traced the scars down his face and neck with her lips, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind as she left her engagement ring on the table with a quiet clink. She really was a terrible person. No longer holding back, Mason swept her off her feet - literally - as they fell onto the small bed, intertwined. Much later in the night, right before she fell asleep in his arms, she could've sworn that Mason whispered something against her skin as he placed a soft, momentary kiss on her forehead. For once, she fell asleep without any potions or spells or alcohol, without any nightmares. Briefly, shortly….all was well. And the world was turned upside down.