Imago Dei

"Lord, I ask of you, from my soul to kindly aid Lucille. She is seen as a follower of The Adversary but I don't believe such accusations, Heavenly Father. I ask for forgiveness of my Sisters ignorance, admittedly they are clouded and I have tried to aid them and to help them grow from this vice they live in, Father. But alas, I would begin to believe it is the most difficult vice; People become completely confident when they believe they are right and become blind to see anything that would prove them wrong. I will continue to aid Lucille, and give her time and healing. I do believe she is simply learning the world, as we all are. I ask of you to give me the opportunity to show my strength, the opportunity to show my faith, and the opportunity to do better. Amen."

Joseph didn't believe the teen girl, no older than him, was truly a follower of Satan. Simply because she chose to wear pants and had green eyes, or because she wasn't 'lady-like' as the Sisters called it. Joseph believed everyone, no matter who and no matter where, was created in God's vision. He noticed the lighting crackle outside the church windows, flashing a variety of colors into the heavenly walls as the thunder raged on. He wondered how Father Angelo would take the lightning, would he say, 'The Devil child conjured it!' or 'He intends to smite the bastard daughter, I only hope he does it soon' Joseph morbidly thought. He didn't intend to become more than a follower of God, the idea of becoming a priest didn't sit well with him, simply because he would have to confine himself within the church. Joseph believed that he could help others outside of the church, that he could provide charity even if the person in need didn't follow his own religion. He simply did it because it was the right thing to do.

And so Joseph returned to his bedroom, limping and leaning on his right leg all the way, he had managed to give Lucille her own quarters instead of the empty chambers that he knew all too well from his youthful days. He pulled the thin covers over himself, not bothering to change out his formal shirt and trousers. He closed his eyes as he listened to the storm rage on, 'Lord…I only ask for one more opportunity to help Lucille. It is my last request before I succumb to my own illness. I do so selfishly and with transparency. Thank you, Amen.' He thought before he began to drift away, his eyes growing heavy and his muscles relaxing.

Revelations

His eyes cracked open as he heard the thunder once more, had the thunder really continued for hours, even till the day? He had expected it to fizzle out by morning. Joseph groaned as he blinked his eyes, clearing out his vision. He wasn't in the church anymore. Rows upon rows of people stood covered by bags, many of them weren't even covered. Was this a dream? He tried to walk but he felt his ribs aching, it almost felt as though would collapse under the slightest of pressure. He looked down, under his somehow dirty dress shirt to see bandages covering his ribs. Now he had to get some answers, he needed them. It was simply too…real to be just a dream.

To his left was a woman, using a dirty rag to clean what seemed to be a rifle, her sleeves were pulled up and she had a handkerchief tied around her arm that showed presumably the French flag. He slowly made his way to her, careful to not touch any of the corpses, it unnerved Joseph, they way they seemed to become a portrait when they died, their mouths hanging open, or sometimes they would seem at peace, finally at rest, but sometimes their bodies were too mutilated that they had to be covered, Joseph knew what they looked like though. Skin turned into jelly and their bones seemed to be nothing but putty, blood seeped from their bodies like tears. Joseph knew this sight all too well. It was war, and he was no stranger to it. Joseph shook his head as he returned back to the present. The woman didn't even seem to notice his existence until he was right in front of her, "Excuse me ma'am."

"Oui, qu'est-ce que tu veux, garçon?" French? Maybe, he didn't understand it at all, and quite frankly, he felt very out of place.

"Erm, I can only speak English, my apologies ma'am." The woman only sighed as she muttered something to herself, she put her rifle aside as she looked at me from head to toe while taking a drag of her smoke, "You've got another?" The woman only raised her eyes but she passed another cigarette to him and lit it up. Joseph found solstice in the poison, forgive me lord.

"Yankees, ignorant. All the same."

"That, we are. I admit," He paused to take another puff from the cancer stick, "I'm out of my depth, but I'll tell you this," Taking another puff before he finishes the cigarette, and putting it out on with his foot, "I can handle a gun." The woman only looked into his eyes to confirm what he said, it was a silent notion of agreement, they were equals, both understanding of their current situation, "I want to help as well, anything I can do."

"I will put you to work when I can then.."

"Joseph, Philemon." She grunted in acknowledgement before she continued.

"Your bag, it is beside your coffin, we had thought you died, but I suppose the bombs were not enough. Although it seems you managed to stray from death this time, do not go out until the bombs are done, but I have feeling you will not listen, look like the type" The woman said. Joseph only smirked, this was someone he could get along with, even though he was barely fifteen, experience does that to people that have no business knowing more than they should. Joseph left the woman to her own devices and examined his…bag. It was more akin to a pouch than an actual bag, it had a strange bird symbol on the side of it, seemingly drawn in black ink. He shrugged as he opened the pouch, Joseph's eyes were bugged out of their sockets. Inside contained a variety of books and for some reason a large cauldron? The pouch was also able to stretch an impossible amount. Joseph quickly put it all back before he got too curious and took it out, he was merely digging through the bag, it wouldn't do him no good if they started calling him a devil spawn, although that never did stop his father from doing so. Joseph assumed it was the work of the Lord, although it did seem out of place to use…magic, but it was indeed an ability the Lord possessed. Joseph quietly thanked him as he took a sip from a canteen that was also in the pouch.

Joseph looked around again, he was in what looked like to be the front lobby of a bank, or the remains of one. Soldiers sat on chairs away from the doors and behind the bars that were settled on the counters, acting as barriers. Rows of dead people were aligned along the floor, some of them even had what was probably someone they loved hovering over them, mourning their death. What unnerved Joseph the most was that he was laying on a sheet, just like the ones with the dead bodies, his coffin, the woman said. Jonathan had finally come to the realization that he might've died, or perhaps he was dead and that the Lord–the Lord. No, he didn't die, or maybe he did, he didn't understand his Heavenly Father, and he doesn't proclaim he does. But what does know is that he's here now, his Lord had placed him here and Joseph would adapt to it.

He had sat on an empty chair, a fair distance away from the woman he had met here, waiting for the bombs to stop dropping, and eventually, they did. Although Joseph didn't even realize they had stopped dropping until a multitude of people began to exit the bank, likely looking for food or water. A girl with long black hair that seemed to absorb the light was among them, she looked like the only one near his age as well. She wore tattered black trousers and a dirty white long sleeve that was ripped on the right sleeve. She looked extremely skinny and her skin was pale as a ghost. Right then and there an idea popped in his mind, quickly he untied his pouch, grabbing a canteen full of water he walked up to the girl tapping on her shoulder, "Would you like some?"

The girl turned around to him, seemingly surprised before she quickly cooled her expressions. She eyed him up and down carefully, looking for something, but he couldn't figure out, she eventually looked at him with disgust, "No, now leave me alone."

Joseph's eyebrows shot up not expecting her answer, after a few moments he palmed his face, she must've thought he was trying to…get something. His face turned red before he decided it was best to leave her alone for now, lest he embarrass himself even further.

Joseph pushed his thoughts back down, unwilling to just sit down and do nothing, right now he needed to find someone in charge to figure out what he could do to help the people here. It seemed like they established a mini stronghold within the bank, the main quarters being held within the vault. He spotted the same French woman from earlier giving out pieces of bread to a group lined up outside. He walked over the broken glass, but before he could ask her, planes rumbled through the city, unlike the rest of them they traveled at an even pace, but instead of bombs the planes dropped crates that deployed parachutes soon after they were released, he noticed that the planes had a red, white, and blue–the American flag on the side of them, "It's a US plane, they're probably dropping cases of food and water." Joseph said, just loud enough for the French woman to hear. She quickly marched him with a fiery determination in her eyes, Joseph couldn't help but notice the same pale black haired girl from earlier stealing extra pieces of bread as the French woman approached him.

"You said you wanted to help, Yankee? Do this then, go get the packages, I cannot abandon, I need to be ready for my commander's orders, but we are in need of supplies. Will you do this?" Joseph nodded curtly in agreement.

"Although I'll need at least a gun, and someone to guide me through the city. I'm unfamiliar with the layout and I have no way of avoiding the patrol routes or post."

"Emily!" The woman called out, "Here, we cannot spare anymore rifles but we can at least give you a pistol." I strapped the pistol to my side. The same black haired girl returned, she was holding a piece of bread, but what struck Joseph was that she too was carrying a pouch with the same bird symbol strapped to her belt, "You are to help, Joseph. You say you need shelter? Then earn it just like everyone else. Bring the package and you'll be given aid…in full."

The girl–Emily snarled at the woman before marching past Joseph, she eventually turned around to the boy, "Are you coming?" She said harshly.

Stammering, Joseph walked, catching up with her. Together they followed toward the package as it slowly descended into the city. He looked at the girl trying to gauge how she was but she was definitely no open book, she was as closed off as one could get, not to mention that she probably hates him for earlier. But Joseph couldn't take the awkward silence, he'd rather die–again than go through the entire trip with this, "I'm Joseph, Joseph Philemon."

The girl simply kept walking alongside the buildings, careful to not stray far from the walls. Realizing he wasn't going to get a response he tried to clear the air, "I-I didn't mean anything untoward earlier, when I offered you water." The girl stopped for a second, slightly turning around before she kept walking at the same pace, never slowing down and never speeding up, "Would you still like some? I know it's becoming more difficult to come by, I don't mind sharing–"

"Do you ever shut up?" She said, abruptly turning around, Joseph slightly flinched at the harsh tone that came from her.

Composing himself he said, "I've been told that I could talk someone to death."

"I believe it." She said non-committedly. Joseph smiled to himself, he was getting somewhere at least. He wondered idly how they would reach the package, they were in fact going in the opposite way from it, perhaps there was a large watchtower? He wasn't privy of such information but he would have to trust Emily. Suddenly she turned right, entering a store.

"So, uh, how are you?" Joseph cringed at his own social awkwardness, The girl raised an eyebrow at him, then she paused? Suddenly her face turned stone cold again, she was staring at his pouch.

"Oh! Would you like some water now? I don't know how it fits inside the pouch but–"

"Did he send you? Tell me. Did. He. Send you?" She said through her teeth, with barely repressed anger.

"W-Who sent, what?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't play coy with me, you know exactly who I'm talking about. Your pouch is a product of Diagon Alley, now tell me. Why did he send you? To finish off the job and kill me? To do what the bombs couldn't?"

"W-What, I-I'm sorry I don't–"

"Answer me! Or else I will skin your body like cattle!" She threatened…with a stick? Unnaturally afraid, Joseph took a step back clutching his pistol, she seemed to seep fear from her instilling something akin to a phobia, although he was genuinely confused at the her drastic shift, he knew she didn't like him and that was okay with him but he didn't think this much anger was warranted. And he was quite confused, who was this, Dumbledore? Before he could answer though she raised a piece of stick at him. It was so ridiculous that he uncontrollably let out a chuckle, it seemed to have even caught her off guard.

"...what? What is it? So he did send you–"

"I don't know who 'he' is! I'm so confused, it-it was just, I don't know, random to fight with a…stick? You'd be better off with your fist at this point."

"...You aren't with Dumbledore?" Joseph only quirked his eyebrow at the confused girl.

"Look, we probably both have a lot of questions I'm guessing, so how about we do this? I'll answer all of your questions, if you also answer mine–quid pro pro." She looks at him for a long minute, he isn't able to see behind her stone cold facade but there was something underneath it, he just didn't know what.

"I…accept your proposition. Emily…Riddle, that is my name."

"I'm Joseph Philemon, but well you know that. So uh, what do you want to know?"

"Do you know of…Grindelwald?" Joseph's eyebrows could practically jump out his head, past his hairline from the random question.

"No? I don't know this…Grindelwald guy or Dumbledore. To be frank their names sound ridiculous–should I know their names?" The comment about their names seemed to bring a chuckle out of her, but Emily quickly buried it, internally embarrassed she continued to question Joseph. He seemed to be completely ignorant of the magical world, in fact he seemed to be ignorant of, well, everything. He didn't know the date, what war, or where he was. He guessed France or London but she knew his one off guess was based on something…else, as if he knew this city was important. She was practically seething with curiosity, and Emily knew he wasn't lying. She could tell when someone was lying, or at least not sharing the entire truth. He even answered truthfully when she asked how he'd come across the bank, he simply woke up there after praying to God. He even answered if he had killed someone, he did. Apparently he fought in a war as well, he was only discharged due to a leg injury, not because he was barely fifteen.

The thought did occur to Emily, perhaps he isn't lying because he truly believed what he thought, that he illusioned his own mind–a fanatic of god, but there was only one way to tell. Joseph was strange to her, he seemed to be familiar with war, yet he still kept a chirpy attitude, it was like watching a flower bloom surrounded by locusts.

The sun had set and the bombs had continued to rain again, they wouldn't be able to venture for a while, it could be days or even a month before they stopped, and that didn't even count if they were unlucky and the kraut decided to do some…extermination. Although they hadn't quite breached into the city, yet. Emily had asked him, due to his over trusting nature, if he would allow her to…perform magic onto him, not like she needed it but she would prefer she not get shot. It was almost disturbing to see how excited he was, it was like a puppy dashing to its own death. She hadn't told him what she was doing, although she thought it hardly mattered, he was too trusting, too…pure. She had given him truthful answers, hoping that the inevitable realization that his pathetic god didn't exist, she was hoping his whole world would come crashing down, although it seems he hadn't realized it.

They both sat on opposite ends of the room, on top of mattresses, the store had a flat above, a meager space to live but only temporarily. Emily steeled herself as she sat in front across Joseph, she looked into his eyes as she whispered…legilimens.

He's lying down on something wet and soft, it seems to envelop his entire body as he sunk into it. Mud. He could see the bombs dropping right above him, bullets were flying past him and men were screaming and fighting for their lives, yet, he didn't hear a single thing. Slowly, he crawled over to cover on instinct, but the ground was beginning to collapse, and eventually he sank, drowning in the mud.

Lord, give me strength.

Give me the opportunity.

Forgive me.

For I know nothing.