June, 2018

Chapter 25: Twisted Bliss

"It wasn't necessary to win for the story to be great,

it was only necessary to sacrifice everything."

― Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

Although she had intended to go alone, Hazel found she was grateful for her friend's presence. Knowing he had other things to do - only 18 hours left - the witch appreciated Tim's quiet comfort, especially now. Squeezing his hand gently, she turned back to the healers' questioning stare. They didn't understand why she wanted to do it in the first place, but there were more important things to focus on. After explaining her desire - if you could call it that - to use a switching spell, someone had been sent to secure a surrogate. It might be difficult, they had explained, to find someone willing at five months pregnant. She had resisted the urge to comment, as if she didn't know. This was the best thing for her son, even if…

If she was emotional before, it was nothing compared to the tearful embrace when Miranda had walked through the door. Dropping Tim's hand, Hazel had moved to her, confused. "They told me about what you wanted to do. This way," The dark-haired witch took her hands, smiling softly, "You can always change your mind...if you wanted to raise him." Tears, once more, were streaking down her cheeks as Miranda spoke. She was a mother, too. She knew what this would cost her, even if she didn't understand why Hazel was doing it. "If not, you can always visit us, and Markus can have a little brother." The pair had then clung to each other tightly, all wrinkled fabric and muted tears and unspoken words.They'd been friends for years, but eventually, had become family. Thank you. Merlin, was it wrong to feel grateful? "Thank you," Hazel laughed, wiping her face again. Miranda ruffled the witch's hair before she could duck, replying, "No worries, pipsqueak." Her lips twitched at the familiar nickname.

The process itself was surprisingly painless, at least in terms of physicality. Hazel had closed her eyes, Tim's hand in her right and Miranda's in her left, as her entire body tingled with foriegn magic. Something in her heart lurched as she felt her son kick her stomach, then….The brunette saw Miranda place a hand on her own stomach, saw the small imprint of a foot. It was done. Her son...She hadn't realized she'd collapsed until her knees hit the floor, tears staining Tim's shirt as he held the shuddering, grieving woman. She felt empty, hollowed out...but it was the right thing to do, it had to be. For her son, for a better world, for him. It would always be for him, in this timeline or the next.

With only nine hours, Hazel insisted that Tim return to the Cottage. She knew what she had to do, what needed to be done. Miranda had returned to Henry; Hazel almost wished she could see his reaction, though she knew he'd be a good father to her son. He'd always be her son, no matter what. Despite Tim's protests - she didn't have to steal the lantern alone, they could come with her - Hazel believed that this was something best done by herself. Besides, she had added with a wry smile, it wouldn't be as suspicious if it was just her. Conceding, Tim gave the witch a small nod and smile before disappearing. Hand on her stomach - much too flat, too still, too strange - Hazel entered the quiet manor. After Ridgeway returned to his original home, the remaining Corre had been established as the Secret Keepers; this meant only Ridgeway and the three wizards could allow someone inside. This was something she had to do alone.

She'd been taken aback by how...easy it'd been to get to Ridgeway's office. There was no one else in the building, lights off and doors closed. Everyone was at meetings, or in the Village. By now, it was nearly evening. Less than ten hours, now. Stepping through the door frame, Hazel paused. This would be considered a betrayal by Marcus, if he found out. Once she had the lantern, she had to leave. Immediately. Moving towards where she knew the compartment to be, the witch was reminded of the time Ridgeway had shown her the various wards around the home. There was much more than just the Fidelius Charm, meaning she couldn't simply apparate out of there. Maybe with the Lycaereum, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to risk that. It'd be too obvious, he would know it had been used. Marcus, I'm sorry, but this is for your own good. The magical lantern felt heavy in her hands, and Hazel quickly closed the compartment before turning towards the door. Bloody hell. Her heart dropped.

It was none other than the very wizard she was avoiding. No, no, this wasn't going to end well. For Merlin's sake, couldn't she catch a break? This was supposed to be the easiest part of the plan. Marcus Ridgeway stood, hand resting on the doorframe. As his eyes flickered to the artifact in her hand, an uncharacteristic sneer crawled across his face. Betrayal. Anger. Shock. "What are you doing here?" The wizard stepped into the room, hand sliding to fall to his side as he kept his dark eyes on her. Hazel swallowed, mind going absolutely blank. Bloody hell, think of something, say something, Hazel. Anything. This silence only makes it seem worse. Say something! "I, uh," Caught off guard - she probably should've prepared for this - Hazel glanced down at the lantern before trying her best to smile at her professor. "I, well, I needed the lantern to help heal Kestis. He left but just returned this morning, and, um, he didn't want to go to the healers here. You know how he is."

Merlin, her mouth felt like sandpaper. Ridgeway took another slow step. "He walked into the Nundu cage, despite my warnings. Absolutely fascinated by the creature, which is fair." Her smile trembled in place as the anger only appeared to deepen the creases on his forehead, the lines around his downturned lips. Angry and betrayed. Who was she fooling with this pathetic lie?

A low chuckle cut through her, the noise only increasing the dread and nausea as Ridgeway tilted his head at the witch. "Hazel...You're like a daughter to me. I've seen you grow into the witch you are today...Do you really think I wouldn't be able to tell that you're lying?" As he spoke, his voice dropped, shivers running across her as they stood, scarcely five feet apart. And yet, they were further than they'd ever been from each other. Practically father and daughter, and yet...With her heart thudding violently, Hazel slowly moved backwards, her free hand brushing the desk behind her. Trapped. This wasn't going to end well. She couldn't exactly duel him, she wouldn't stand a chance. But they needed the lantern. "I'm sorry Marcus, but I'm doing this for you. To save you, and countless others -" Another cold laugh stole her breath as Ridgeway shook his head. She noticed his hands were tucked behind his back, but that changed nothing. The man could easily cast a spell before she could even react. Hazel was outmatched. She could feel the magic changing in the air around them, around the building, shifting. "Is that really what you believe? That your betrayal," His eyes flashed white as he took another step forward, then two, "can be justified?"

She was out of options...Maybe it was a good thing she'd already said her goodbyes. Should it be this...easy? Hazel supposed knowing made the realization a little more bearable."I'm doing this," The witch repeated, her voice trembling as much as her body. She gripped her wand and the Lycaereum tighter as she lifted her chin, mustering any remaining courage she had to meet his piercing gaze, "to save you, Marcus." The white seemed to disappear, leaving only familiar, brown eyes. So close to something she feared, and yet, she wasn't crying. How strange. This couldn't be peace, but was something else entirely. With that, a mere echo of a smile on her lips, Hazel Cross tried to apparate out of the manor.

She was reminded of Dolohov's curse, the purple flames that tore and licked at every nerve ending. It'd felt like she'd been there for eternity, but this…..Hazel had recognized the wards raising, felt the magic in the air, but still apparated. What other choice did she have? She had meant it when she said she would die to save them, to save him. To change the world to be better for her son, for the people she loved. That's what it all came down to, didn't it? Unlike the curse, this wasn't endless...this pain was sharp, sudden, quick. Not burning, but a violent twisting, ripping. As the world blurred around her, Hazel wasn't sure if she was screaming or not.

At the best of times, apparition was an uncomfortable experience. It began with a pressure from all directions, keeping her from breathing or moving; normally, it felt like she was being compressed, shrunk into the smallest possible form until she finally landed. Even with the lantern, however, the apparition had gone wrong. As she knew it would. Instead of squeezing, there was pulling. Her joints seemed to burn as invisible hands ripped at her body, limb by limb. Pain, ripping, muscle and blood and bone torn apart, she couldn't feel her legs, then her arm, only the pain, tearing, piece by piece. She couldn't -