April, 2018
Chapter 22: See the Light
"Justice could be as blind as love."
― Toba Beta, My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut
Two days after the rally, Hazel woke to flames, panic rising, choking her, unable to breathe. Gripping her sheets, it took the witch a moment to realize there really was something burning. Bloody hell. Coughing at the faint smell of smoke, she quickly slipped out of the bed, transfiguring her clothes as she sprinted downstairs. It wasn't until her feet touched snow that she realized three things at once; one, she had forgotten shoes. Secondly, it was the middle of the night. And three...The Lodge was burning.
The brunette ran across the clearing as vivid orange flames reached towards the sky, bursting through windows and cracks in the walls. No, no, no, no, what was happening? As Hazel moved closer, another explosion rocked the house, sending her backwards into the snow. Around her, people from the Village approached, some with wands already raised. There was something...strange, about the fire. Despite the jets of water directed at the Lodge, the intense flames seemed to hiss and strike towards those who got close enough. At one point, she could've sworn she saw a fiery snake wrap itself around a chimney. Bloody hell, it wasn't just any fire….Someone had conjured fiendfyre. Who the hell would cast such a highly unstable curse? It was near impossible to put out, if control was lost.
Squinting from the brightness of the billowing flames, she could scarcely see a figure standing precariously close, both arms raised. Ridgeway. Scrambling to her feet, Hazel tried to remember what she could of the enchanted fire; the shape of a chimera lunged at a couple who'd attempted aguamenti. Her spell hit the ground between them before the cursed flames could reach them, the snow exploding harmlessly in front of the pair. It wouldn't stop the fiendfyre, not even close, but should give them enough time to move out of range...Merlin, it could burn down the entire village. Her heart thudded in her ears, nodding at Ben and Carly as she ran past. Unfamiliar spells shot from the Elder Wand as Ridgeway stood, shadows dancing across his face. "Marcus!" Hazel called, panic slipping through her voice. Why was she moving closer? She didn't know how to stop fiendfyre, this wasn't a good idea.
"Marcus!" She tried to yell over the roar, ducking underneath a fiery snake that flew just above her head. Too many close calls. She couldn't lose anyone else, please. "Stay back!" Ridgeway's voice cut through the chaos, head turning briefly towards her as he waved the wand. The air in front of her burned as she fell to the ground; the chimera leapt past, barely missing the witch. Memories of burning, endless pain and burning echoed in her mind as she stared with wide eyes, suddenly frozen despite the heat that surrounded them. Purple flames, burning, licking at every nerve and muscle, ripping - Someone yanked her arm roughly, dragging her away from the scene.
"What the hell are you thinking? Ridgeway almost has it under control," Henry cast a quick protection charm as he pulled her out of striking distance, the anger on his face emphasized by the flickering light from the Lodge. His eyes dropped purposefully to her stomach - at three months, her pregnancy was beginning to show. Hazel wasn't sure if the tears that brimmed her eyes were from the smoke and heat or the ache in her chest as they watched the professor battle the flames. Henry's hand remained around her arm, as if to keep her from running towards their mentor again. She'd been bloody useless, how could she possibly help him? She was always just watching, watching the people she loved get hurt...or worse.
It felt like hours before the fiendfyre slowly shrunk and, eventually, disappeared. It'd likely only been thirty minutes, maybe even less. As soon as Henry's grasp loosened, Hazel surged forwards. Ridgeway. The man's hands dropped to his sides as more and more people moved towards the wreckage, Henry, Ben, and Carly close behind her. Her arms were wrapped around him before Ridgeway could fully turn, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest as the witch hugged him tightly. Regardless of what he may or may not have done in the past, Marcus was family. Merlin, she thought she'd lose him. She couldn't lose anyone else. Slowly, Ridgeway freed his hands enough to hug the woman back, "I'm alright, my dear. Don't fret." With a shaky sigh, Hazel pulled away, embarrassed.
His smile fading, the pair turned to look at the ruins of the Lodge. Behind them, what had once been a manor, been a home, was….nothing. Merlin...The two-story building was gone, leaving only piles of ashes and burnt metal that twisted up from the carnage. Briefly, Hazel thought she saw another, strange smile flicker on his lips before he turned to the mass of concerned witches and wizards around them. One his hand tucked behind him, Ridgeway gestured to the ashes. "The first actions of the Order of the Phoenix have begun…." Hazel's eyes widened. Merlin, no, Tim wouldn't have done this. "Another attempt on my life, against the cause, has been taken. As the Daily Prophet will soon report, the International Conference of Wizards is...dead, murdered by muggles. I am grateful to have returned safely, though I cannot say the same for my fellow brethren." She barely felt Mason move to stand beside her, barely felt his hands steady her.
"Brother and sisters, no more. No more lives will be lost under the name of hatred, of prejudice. No more." She couldn't pull her eyes away from Ridgeway as voices echoed around them, "No more! No more!" This time, Hazel saw the smile on his face as he nodded at the wizards, "We will begin...the Order of the Phoenix waits." Dark eyes met hers, and her heart leapt into her throat. Before she could speak - what would she even say? - Ridgeway had moved into the mass of people, providing soft words of comfort and small smiles as he went. "-azel, Hazel, love, can you hear me?" A hand gently cupped her face, breaking her increasingly blurry focus on the professor. Concerned grey eyes watched as the witch swallowed, nodding as she covered Mason's hand with her own. With the swirl of thoughts and fear and worry and burning, always burning, Hazel found it difficult to speak.
The next two months, Hazel kept herself busy. It was strange, she realized, without Kestis or Tim in her life. Her boys were gone, off….somewhere. Stranger still, she'd nearly cried when she learned that it'd been Cormac Lawrence and Bill Weasley, consumed by the fiendfyre, that had attempted to murder Ridgeway. She blamed the pregnancy hormones for her tears, or tried to. Thankfully, Mason often came by the house, either with dinner or as a show of comfort, of support. Over the weeks, it became an unspoken tradition to eat meals together or take walks through Blackthorn. Where the Lodge had resided, the portrait of the Corre from Rio stood on a small platform. She had openly cried at the memory that had miraculously been saved from the flames, at the men who waved at her in the portrait. Mason had even insisted on helping her take care of the magical creatures in the Sanctuary, especially when he failed to convince her that she should be resting instead. He had quickly realized it was a losing battle, much to her amusement. Secretly, Hazel was surprised by how much she missed her weekly visits with the Irish healer. Maggie - a sweet, older woman - was a lovely healer and witch, but lacked the sharp tongue and teasing that Cormac was known for. Had been known for. Merlin, so many people had died.
In addition to the Sanctuary and her check-ups, Hazel had convinced Ridgeway to include her in future meetings. No more standing by, watching the world burn around her. She had to do something to help...to try to do the right thing. Whatever that was. The week before, she'd been shocked to see Ridgeway on a television screen; the muggle footage showed the dark-eyed man in Westminster Abbey. "Muggles, you do not know me. My name...is Marcus Ridgeway, and I am the Minister of Magic in Great Britain." Her cup had fallen to the ground, though she hardly noticed the ceramic shatter at her feet. "You may laugh and call me a liar. Many will claim this is a stunt, an illusion. This is no trick." The camera had pulled away from the solemn expression on the wizard's face, and Hazel had to rush to the sink, nauseous. Bodies scattered across the floor, blank eyes unseeing at the ceiling. The muggle Prime Minister, and so many others. Dead at the feet of Marcus Ridgeway. It was worse than her nightmare, than the horrid dreams of her friends dying or burning. This...was real.
"On this day," The wizard had levitated into the air, lantern and Elder wand in hand; the footage trembling as the camera rose, too, "everything changes. Magical brethren, it is time to step out of the shadows...and into the light." The video abruptly stopped, the last image of dark eyes lingering as the camera had been crushed by magic. Bloody hell, she wished this was just another nightmare. Things hadn't gotten any better after that...Marcus had transfigured the iconic Big Ben in London, literally melting the building to the ground before it rose once more. Now, the tower was covered in darker metal, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows carved in iron where the clock's face had been. Followers took to the streets, some willing to hurt muggles in order to 'prove' their existence. Despite the increasing horrors in the world around her, Hazel had been grateful for the Village of Blackthorn. While the wizards no longer hid their magic in nearby muggle towns, it'd been nothing but peaceful. So far. How the hell was this her life now? Had she missed...or ignored, the signs? Now, it was much too late. She was, as always, too late.
Hazel missed her family desperately, and her nightmares often included their blank expressions as they fell to the ground, dead. Once, she had fallen asleep on the couch beside Mason; she had terrified the poor wizard with her panicked gasps after he'd been forced to shake her awake. This wasn't healthy for the child, either. This stress or...the world they were currently living in. What kind of life would their child lead, like this? Tears had welled in her eyes when she later received a letter from her parents. Everyone was safe, hiding in the lockdown somewhere in America. Across the country, they'd written, muggleborn witches and wizards were banned from attending school or even casting magic in public. At 16 years-old, Esther was disappointed, but Hazel was glad that her little sister was out of harm's way.The news in the global community hadn't fared any better, either.
France remained neutral, or so they claimed, while the Nordic countries and Russia had openly joined the Minister. Britain, of course, was a complete mess. With no muggle government, chaos reigned as muggle politicians attempted to gain control and the debate on the threat of wizards raged across the country. Across the world. Not only had magic been revealed, but Ridgeway had openly murdered the entire British muggle government. In comparison, the Village of Blackthorn was unusually peaceful. There was underlying tension, but Hazel had realized it was for different reasons than her own stress. Everyone in the village was mostly...fine with the murder of numerous muggles, but were wary about the Order of the Phoenix. For Merlin's sake, they hadn't even acted since the last rally in the Ministry, since...everything else went to hell. She loved Ridgeway, but...this, this wasn't right. That much was clear.
Ridgeway himself had been busy, returning to his original home that she'd first seen the lantern and memories during her summer of third year. Hazel primarily only saw the man at meetings, and occasionally, for dinner with Henry, Miranda, and baby Markus. With an adorable and rambountous one-year-old, Henry and Miranda had "retired" from the cause, only leaving the village when Ridgeway was accompanying them. She found it hard to look Marcus in the eye, sometimes. Other times, she let herself pretend the man she considered to be a father wasn't a murderer. Wasn't responsible for the madness in the world. Did the good truly outweigh the bad? It was clear that the wizard was trying to keep the Corre together, even with his many duties as Minister. At least she could blame some of her nausea on the baby. Why couldn't she forsake him completely, after everything he'd done? Why did she still care about him? This couldn't be right...but maybe she'd forgotten what the right thing was a long time ago.
Unbeknownst to the pregnant witch, a cottage sat by an empty beach, shells scattered across the sand; miles upon miles away, wards glittered silently in the air as a sharp crack broke the silence. An older, blonde man walked up the dirt path to the entrance. A dark weasel with green eyes watched him before scuttling inside a crack in the wall. Moments later, a woman opened the door, brown eyes widening in shock. With a small smile, Draco Malfoy held up a small, golden object, "I think I have something that will help."