Words surely were powerful. Madeline clutched her letter in awe, her eyes stuck on its content, as she read Mother's elegant writing once again to confirm her comprehension of Mother's words.
Mother forgave her. Just like that.
She stared at the letter, dumbfounded, not sure on what to do.
Madeline had written to Mother an apology letter, one that she had tried to write over and over again for nights. The memories of dread Hermione's parents felt when she didn't write to them for months due to her being petrified made her realize how awful she was by not responding to her family's letters. It made apologizing a lot more difficult when one understood the gravity of their mistake.
But mother easily forgave her. Hell, Mother even forgave her for stealing her books - on a side note, no less!
Of course, there was a reason for her easy forgiveness. Madeline told mother in her apology letter that her nightmares were acting out again and she didn't want to worry her. She told her that it was her reason for suddenly not responding to the letters, which was true to some point, but Mother must have known that she bent and omitted some truth here and there. Yet Mother still forgave her, and she went on fussing over her sleep, over her rest and her health. She fussed over her well-being.
It made Madeline want to cry. She didn't deserve her.
Barty also forgave her, though his words indicated that he was, to a certain degree, still angry at her for breaking her promise to write every week. She had to earn his forgiveness and Madeline didn't expect anything less.
She chose to sneak through one of Hogwarts's many secret passages to go to Hogsmeade on the weekend after she received their letters. As she could not find a batch of the polyjuice potion for her to disguise herself, she simply brew an ageing potion to hide her age - it was laughable how easy it was to steal the ingredients she needed from Slughorn during one of the potion classes - Passing the inspection of the old man in Honeydukes' counter, Madeline successfully acquired all variants of chocolates and candies. she did not forget to buy her own supply of sugar quills while she was at it.
The treats were not the main tool of bargain for Barty's forgiveness - Barty was never that shallow - No, what she needed was knowledge. Information. So, Madeline subtly informed her little brother how she came across those sweets in her letter, and she enlightened him of some of Hogwarts' many secrets, one of them being a secret passage to Hogsmeade. She implicitly promised to divulge its location to him once he was attending hogwarts.
Barty was amenable to the bribe, as he continued on to share his days in his next letters.
When November drew to a close, Madeline busied herself with the piles of assignments the professors bestowed to them in liberty as the winter holiday was fast approaching. She also asked for some extra credit paper to do during the holiday, something that Hermione Granger routinely did every week. While Madeline Crouch didn't want to take it to Hermione Granger's level of swottyness, she couldn't help but feel that she wasn't doing enough for her classwork, hence the need for the extra credits.
She wasn't the only one who had her mind drowned in assignments. Madeline had gone to the library the other day and she was astounded by the number of students filling it. She didn't get a seat, pushing her to evacuate to the room of requirements and use only the books she brought from home for the reference on her history essay. She couldn't afford to repeat the same action today, as she intended to finish both charm and transfiguration assignments and she purposefully left the books she knew Hogwarts had in those subjects at home.
Which was why she floated down her dorm room stairs, her steps quick and steady, as she raced to the entrance of the Slytherin house with as much grace as she could muster. If she wanted to go to the library earlier, then she must push her work out schedule earlier too.
"Crouch?"
Her step halted at the call, her heart stuttered as she did not expect anyone to be up. It was 5.45 AM, after all. She turned to the source, catching the sight of a grey-eyed boy and his faithful friend sitting on the sofa nearest to the fireplace.
It was Sunday morning and both boys were wearing a casual emerald shirt, looking like they were not intending to go anywhere public with their hair - it was actually the first time she saw them looking far from impeccable - They both had thick tomes on their lap, and the bags under their eyes told her...
"Did you pull an all-nighter?" She blurted out.
Black blushed at her question, one of his hands self-consciously went up to his hair, trying to tame his curls to look more presentable. Lestrange was more composed, his shoulder squared as he replied, "We did. The upper years told us just last night that Binns likes to hold a pop quiz just before holiday starts."
Black, with his usual confidence as his hair was back at perfect state (How on earth did he do it? There hadn't even been a minute!) added, "It was an impulsive decision. We slept through all his lectures, you see."
Hermione nodded in understanding, "so you panicked. I suppose i could see where you're coming from." She too would descend into panic if she heard the word 'pop quiz'. Fortunately, she already knew about Professor Binns' routine pop quiz, and as she had them memorized, Madeline didn't see the need to fuss over it.
Her reply met silence and it was just then that she realized that the boys were not the only ones looking not presentable. The boys finally noticed her running clothes, which were an oversized red shirt and shorts that barely covered her thigh. Lestrange was staring curiously at them - It wasn't a proper set of clothes for a pureblood witch after all - as Black, again, was red faced. It made her flustered, and she reached for her wand to transfigure her clothes to acceptable robes.
Black's blush vanished in a blink at this, his back no longer leaning towards the sofa.
"That's nifty," he commented in wonder. "Transformation magic for something woven won't be covered until the end of next term..."
She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. Lestrange too seemed to be distracted by the sudden show of her magical skill. Madeline hoped they didn't ask why she was dressed like that.
"I know. I read ahead. Well then..."
Lestrange tilted his head, "Are you going somewhere?"
Damn it.
Madeline maintained her polite smile as her mind screamed. She couldn't tell them she was exercising. Wizards and Witches did not exercise - at all . It was ingrained in them that they only needed their magic to do anything and they also didn't need to maintain their health through exercise when they had various potions to heal them. Entertainment was the only reason Wizards would subject themselves to such common activity like exercising -Oh, Merlin, what if they thought she was into quidditch?
She put on a smile as the lie escaped her mouth. "No where, really. Just a bit of detour around the castle before finally going to the library. It's been awfully packed recently. You won't get a seat if you go there past 9. I suppose everyone wants to catch up with their assignments."
Lestrange hummed, his doubts apparent, meanwhile Black was more gracious, giving her a leeway for her lies with a firm nod.
"Quite so. Do you want an escort?"
This time, the corner of Madeline's lips pulled up genuinely.
After the fiasco that was Sirius's birthday which involved one confusing letter from Lady Black and a huge owl, Black often acknowledged her presence, giving her a form of greeting or engaging her in a small talk. Their new state of acquaintance however had made him insufferable in his insistence of propriety. He started to offer to escort her everywhere. It led her to confront him on this, as she told him she would only have an escort for her convenience and not for the sake of propriety. Black changed his wording after that.
'Do you want an escort?' sounded less stifling than 'may i escort you-' in her ears. Their compromise was a success. Still, she made a point of lifting her chin up, a gesture of pride from her Hermione Granger days.
"I am capable of going to the library by myself, but I thank you for the offer."
"Of course," Black conceded.
Leaving the dungeon after one last nod to her classmates, Madeline continued her walk to the seventh floor. There, the room of requirements provided her with a track for her to run, and Madeline casted a finite on her clothes.
A couple of hours later, Madeline had taken a bath and brought an apple to eat. She went straight to the library.
The smell of old parchments and leather bindings stuck her senses and Madeline inhaled a long breath. She examined every inch of the library closely to look for a nice seat, only to find that many of the tables were occupied by older students. Madeline did not feel comfortable to share a table with them. She could freely read advanced books around the lower years students due to their ignorance, but the upper years would raise eyebrows at her books. She finally found a table near a window, where a pair of a boy and a girl around her age sat in silence.
As she approached them, she soon realised that the pair were not just some strangers that shared the same castle with her. She knew one of them, once upon a future, and the other one was someone whose name was extremely familiar to her. She hesitated, her breath quickening.
She had half of her mind asking her to just turn around and find another seat. On the other hand, the promise she made passed by her mind, reminding her of it. She had promised - to let the future, her past, go. She promised to not let her past hinder her new life.
Bracing herself, she moved onward.
Looking at the sullen boy and the fay-like red haired girl, Madeline pondered quietly. She had known since a month ago about her previous potion professor's friendship with Harry's mother. It was mind boggling to find out, and Madeline couldn't help but wonder how their friendship would turn out. Would it survive? Or would it crash and burn? Snape joined the death eaters, after all.
Though, she frowned, Harry was looking very odd when he walked out of the pensieve, fresh from seeing Snape's memory. What did he see in it? He must have found out about his condition as a living horcrux in it, as he went straight to the forbidden forest to meet his death afterwards... so did Snape told him about it? Did that mean Snape was on their side all this time?
She arrived at their table, clearing her throat. It led them to look up from their books to her eyes. She gestured to one of the seats at their table, one which was farthest from the pair.
"Do you mind?"
"Not at all!" The female occupant of the table beamed in no time.
The boy beside her, however, did not seem to agree, and he transparently expressed this. He scowled, unhappy that his thoughts on the matter were not considered at all.
Noticing this, the girl leaned in, closing their distance by bit. "The library is full, Sev. Please try to be nice."
The boys scowled again, but given the satisfied face of the girl, it must be another type of scowl. A scowl of acceptance, perhaps? Madeline smiled her thanks and took her seat.
She tried to focus on her assignments, ignoring two links to her future that sat right there, so close to her. The transfiguration essay was a piece of cake for her, as Hammock's principles on transformation was something she already mastered and practiced daily. She added the Elemental principles of transfiguration and its example in practice to support her arguments, even though it was definitely not found in first years' reading. She even briefly added a case they covered in History about a witch who transfigured her dress to go to a royal ball and got it untransfigured in the middle of it, due to the spell not being casted strong enough for the fabric to hold together for a long time, to support one of the principles.
She remembered Hermione Granger had done this essay with an extra two feet from all the quotes she took from the first year books - something she definitely did not want to repeat. As she grew older, she realised that quoting a whole bunch of passages did not mean that her essay would be good. Quoting different books stating the same fact over and over without providing a different point of view would only make the essay repetitive and not so good to read. No, as Professor Mcgonagall once said, a good essay got its point crossed. The length didn't matter as much. Some well-rounded arguments and supported evidence were definitely enough. She kept this in mind as she did all of her assignments.
It was on Friday of the next week that the consequences of this action was brought to her knowledge.
Madeline had gotten used to Slughorn's excitable state of being, and his giddiness was something she thought couldn't get worse. She was wrong, obviously, as Slughorn looked like he was in the cloud-nine, more so than ever, as he approached her before class started, her essay on the forgetfulness potion on his hands.
"Marvelous! Oh, marvelous! Another splendid essay from you, Miss Crouch!"
His loud exclamation invited the attention of the surrounding students. She owed it to Mother and all the pureblood lessons as she stayed still and proud, and not squirming from embarrassment like she internally wanted to do.
Slughorn remained oblivious.
"I must say, your work is easily better than any OWL-level students, with all the meticulous assessment on all the steps - And your deep understanding of all the magical properties and nature of the ingredients! Why, I found some NEWT-level reading in your references! You must be very well-read - Just like your father! I remember him being very diligent in his studies. A great student, your father was. Pity I didn't get him in Slytherin - How is he? He must be very busy, being the head of such a prestigious department in the ministry. Send him my regards, would you?"
Upon these words, as if her sight was cleared, she realised why the professors had called her the brightest witch of her age so early in her school year.
Looking back, Madeline had found Hermione Granger's earlier essays appalling - but she had forgotten that Hermione had received an Outstanding for each of it (except for some essays on potions, of course - heaven forbid Snape gave a Gryffindor a straight Os) This realization trapped her in a trance, as she realized now how unbelievable she was being in the eyes of others. An eleven years old, writing an essay worthy of OWL-level? No wonder they called her that moniker again!
Not to mention, she glanced at the side to where a pair of boys sat, she couldn't imagine the feelings of other genuinely clever students as they were compared against her - A mentally over 20 years old woman!
It was unfair to them.
Demurely diverting Slughorn's attention to all the other talented children in her year, Slughorn immediately caught the bait, as he turned his sight on another.
"Quite right, my dear! Oh, it reminds me of someone almost as talented. Mister Black! An extraordinary outlook on Valerian sprigs! Your deep study on its effect on human's nerve was simply - "
She exhaled in relief as Slughorn found a new target. Madeline settled in her seat, ignoring Wilkins questioning eyes from beside her. It didn't stop the boy from quietly asking, his tone was of befuddlement.
"NEWT-level?"
"I like to read," came her short reply.
It was the last day of class. She was supposed to pack her things to prepare for the holiday. But because of Slughorn's words, Madeline found herself unsettled.
Would someone catch on that she was not who she claimed she was? Or would they just deem her another prodigy, like how Barty seemed to think she was the second-coming of Albus Dumbledore (she read that letter, alright. It was flattering, but completely undeserving in her opinion). She didn't want to dumb herself down but to be called brilliant just because the years of experience she had ahead of her supposed yearmates?
She really didn't know what to think.
Come night, Madeline was still restless. She had run out of her potion and thought that she could last a few days without drinking it, but her state of mind tonight made her unsurprised when her sleep this night was disturbed once again.
It started just as fine, her mind floated in darkness, her body locked, unmoving. She was free from the invasive memories of sorrow and loss, of the burden of her responsibilities, of her fears.
She heard Barty at some point. His undiluted joy of laughter from his earlier years. And suddenly he was there, running to her with a parchment of scavenger object list in his hand.
Mother's voice, telling them to be careful, could be heard from the side and Madeline was content, knowing that her mother was there.
She didn't know if she ever played with Barty in her dream. She didn't know how long this tranquility passed, because all of the sudden, all her joy was overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding as she felt everything around her collapse.
Then it was just Barty, Mother, and her. And Barty...
"You're not Madeline, aren't you?"
Barty's inquiry stabbed her, erasing all the good things there was, as ferocious dread ripped through her. She tried to dispute his words, but she couldn't speak. It wasn't like her usual nightmares where she could vividly remember her own screams left her mouth, even if it was unheard by the others in her dreams. No, this time, she couldn't speak - couldn't even move her mouth.
"Who are you?" It was Mother's turn this time, her usual soft voice sounded piercing and cold. "You're not our Madeline."
She reached for her jaw, massaging it to just - to make it move. Because she needed to talk to them. She needed to reassure them - She was their Maddy, all along.
"I-"
She tried again, delighted at the success. " I - "
But Barty and Mother was fading away, She didn't want them to fade away-
"N - no! Don't g-go - "
- and they were gone.
.
"No!"
Her mouth finally worked. Madeline could hear her own scream, loud and clear - but she was facing off the ceiling of her dorm room, her bed's surface soft to the touch, with her hands clutching the blanket.
She woke up.
She stayed on her bed for a long time, laying on it as her eyes stared off, unfocused. The dim lam was glowing under the natural darkness of the dungeon, and Madeline's head spinned.
It was not as horrifying as her usual existential nightmare, she wryly thought. There was no Harry, no Ron. She didn't even sweat that much. No piercing scream, she didn't become a ghost. It was an improvement.
Yet, her mind flew to Barty, it was also worse. Her nightmares had always been about her past, something she deduced happened because her deeper consciousness couldn't let it go still. Now that she stopped blaming Barty and Mother for her being here, those dreams weighed lesser in her mind. But then her dreams changed into this - Barty and Mother accusing her of not being their Maddy - which was true to some point, but couldn't they see it had always been her the whole time? They never met the real Madeline! - She grimaced at this thought, feeling more guilty than ever for stealing the girl's life.
"Nightmare?"
She jolted, her head snapped to the source. The occupant of the bed next to her was awake it seemed, her black hair blended with the darkness but her pale skin gave her position away. It was Orpington. Madeline let her tension loose.
(Thank Merlin it wasn't Parkinson or her group.)
Madeline looked away, pondering if she should answer the other girl's question. She wasn't obligated to tell her anything but... she was tired. And it wasn't like this was a valuable information or anything, so... "Yes," she eventually sighed.
Her answer met silence.
Then,
"Is this a normal occurance? I notice you always put a silencing spell on your bed."
She had no intention on answering the first question but Orpington's second sentence was worth paying attention. Madeline blinked, her focus sharpened once again. So someone noticed. It was either orpington was more observant than the others or that Madeline was not discreet enough when she casted the spell. She turned to look at her and asked instead, "Did i wake you up?"
The girl shrugged, "Don't think about it."
Madeline frowned. Did she forget to cast the spell last night? She couldn't remember. She was too distracted, she supposed.
"Are you alright now?"
"Yes." Madeline replied, her tone clipped. "Yes, I'm fine."
It was 4 am, according to the tempus charm, and Madeline decided she might as well start her occlumency meditation. As she sat, her mind spiralled to one last thought before she started clearing it.
In one way, she understood that depression or a traumatic event could cause constant nightmares to an individual. She didn't study it much, but she had read that dreams could tell you what your subconscious hid. Madeline sure did a lot of bottling up, and her fears were certainly real and big enough to haunt someone everyday. It was not surprising that she had nightmares, really. But looking back, she had always gone through some traumatic events as Hermione Granger, and never did she sleep as restless as Madeline Crouch. Was there some kind of difference in her body function that made Madeline Crouch more prone to have nightmares or were there something else?
She kept these thoughts away as her mind started to organize itself. Breathing in the cool air of the dorm room, with a whiff of lavender from her nightwear caught in her sense of smell, her meditation started.
.
The train to home felt quicker than when she first departed to hogwarts. Perhaps it was the anticipation, or maybe she enjoyed the solitude more than she enjoyed Hopkins' company - The Hufflepuff had chosen to ride the train with her fellow housemates you see, and Madeline was secretly relieved at hearing this. She wasn't in the mood to chat mindlessly.
When she spotted mother's fair hair and her burgundy robes in the station, Madeline made a beeline towards her location in haste. She saw the exact moment Mother caught sight of her, and Madeline watched Mother bent down, informing Barty of her presence.
She quickened her steps.
Madeline knew that tackling people just wasn't done in the pureblood etiquette, but she would sooner care about erumpent's mating habit than she would care about propriety in the face of her beloved. She hugged them tight, and judging from Mother's own tight hug around her, she knew that Mother agreed with her.
It had been too long.
They stayed like that for a long time. It was only when she felt Mother's kiss on her head that Madeline started to loosen her arms around them, giving them a sheepish smile.
"Hi."
Barty hugged her once more at her voice, and she had just realised that he had grown a bit - almost as tall as her now- and Mother, again, leaned down to kiss her head.
"Come on," Mother said, her soft voice soothing her. It melted all the tension and anticipation she built just before, leaving her only with fondness and longing. "Let's go home."
Her past mistake didn't seem to change anything. Mother was acting as usual, delicate and proper with a bit of mother-hen attitude while Barty was as cheerful as ever. He was telling her about how he had finished the Hogwarts preparation material as they walked to the dining room, and come new year, Mother had asked the tutor to cover all Hogwarts first year material.
"I'll be ahead of my yearmates by miles!" He proclaimed excitedly. "Just like you. Then I can have all the fun and not the hardship when I get to Hogwarts."
"Sounds like a plan," she smirked. "Just be cautioned that it will get boring soon enough if you're way ahead of the curriculum."
"I'll play harder, then."
She laughed, exasperated.
Their dinner was filled with stories. Barty told her all the troubles he got into without her, with Mother clarifying things here and there, seeing as Barty was too dramatic to stick to the true story. Mother told them of funny stories she got from her luncheon, some were recommended by Barty for her to hear as he had heard of them. Madeline, again, described the wonder that was Hogwarts castle. She skipped the mundanity of her daily school life and shared them some interesting events, such as that one time when half of the Gryffindor second year class blew up their cauldron and Slughorn's inebriated self walking through the dungeon on one saturday at 10 in the morning, chanting to Celestina Warbeck's song.
Of course she also shared some personal stories.
"-And then I used a cleaning spell on her mouth." She ranted, regaling them with her mishap.
"Maddy!"
Mother had paled, looking horrified as she wondered if she needed to send an apology letter to the girl's parents, but Maddy was happy to entertain her little brother. Barty had his hand on his stomach, guffawing until his cheeks red as he was delighted to hear someone getting obliterated by his sister.
Madeline kept her smile innocent. "What? She keeps saying filthy stuff."
Mother was not impressed, her lips set on a line. "I didn't raise you to be such a brute."
"I'll try to do it with more sophistication next time."
"Next time?!"
The indignation in Mother's shriek set Barty off again, and Madeline sat contently as she watched his delight. Barty's happiness always managed to lift her mood.
After he calmed down, Barty grinned at her, his blue eyes glinted under the light, and said, "Hogwarts sounds fun."
It was, in sum, a lovely evening. They didn't even mention Barty Crouch Sr.'s absence, much to her satisfaction. With how well the evening ended, Madeline could almost forget all her problems.
Of course, it was a mere wishful thinking.
Late at night, Mother visited her room, carrying with her a batch of dreamless potion. Madeline had just changed into her nightwear and the sight of the potion reminded her that her life was not as perfect as the evening. The fact that Mother prepared the potion for her kicked her in the guts, as she remembered how bad of a daughter she was. She waited until mother put the potion on her nightstand.
"Here."
"Thank you," she said.
Wetting her lips, she looked up hesitantly to meet Mother's eyes. She knew she had apologized, but mere words on paper seemed so superficial... "And I'm sorry. For October."
She saw mother's face twisted in pain, and Madeline was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace.
"Oh, my sweet girl. I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you have to endure nightmares night after night."
She shook her head. Mother had nothing to apologize for. "You don't have to feel sorry, Mother. I'm fine."
"You are not fine," Mother hissed, her anger at her own helplessness seeping through, "You are drinking dreamless potion more than a witch as young as you should."
Madeline grimaced.
Mother had a point. There was no way that her situation was healthy. First, there was the fact that drinking dreamless potion more than a witch her age should could lead to unwanted side-effects, such as losing focus during daylight or worse, having seizures. Madeline had always been careful with how much she drank, but daily consumption was really risking it. Madeline had been aware of this fact, yet as she couldn't do without a restful sleep, she consciously chose to ignore the dangers.
And second, well - there must be something wrong with her if she constantly had nightmares, weren't there? She really needed to start investigating these nightmares.
"Please tell me of your dreams," Mother pleaded, loosening their hug - and the loss of warmth pulled her out of her thoughts. "Perhaps I could help."
Madeline only smiled sadly. Mother must have known that it was a fruitless endeavor to ask about her dreams. She had never shared them with her, not even when she was merely a toddler. Still, it needed to be said.
"You can't." She said, gently. "It will stop on its own, just like it did before."
Mother deflated.
Feeling discouraged, Mother stayed at her room for one more hour, combing through her hair and spoke of sweet nothings that soothed both of their raging minds. She reminiscenced on some anecdotes of her earlier years and, to Madeline's delight, Barty's earlier years. There was something enjoyable in talking about the best part of the past. Perhaps it was the hindsight, knowing in certainty that the memories would stay good. Or maybe they were just two sentimental people.
Late at night, long after mother had gone back to her room, Madeline was laying on her back with her blue eyes wide open. She couldn't sleep. There was someone else she had to apologize to.
Her feet brought her to the room beside her - Barty had insisted on moving his room to the one next to hers soon after their first meeting - and she opened the door slightly, peeking through the slight gap.
The lights in his room had been turned off, and the still figure on his bed told her that she was too late. Barty had fallen asleep, his blanket moved along his steady breaths.
Madeline sighed. Her apology could wait.
She closed the door.