Chapter Text
For some time following, it seemed like everything would be okay.
MC’s secrets would stay exactly that, secrets- information kept frustratingly close to the chest. Isolatingly so, but they wouldn’t hear any counter arguments on the subject. After finally being able to talk to MC about that night in the foundations of the school, their waiting had been for naught as MC revealed the most minimal of information, remaining tight-lipped to any of their questions.
It had taken nearly a week for their strength to regain enough that Noreen was comfortable pulling them out of the coma- perhaps in part due to the overwhelming demand for their attention that was met when MC woke up. Between friends nearly beating down the Hospital Wing door, and Professors angsty to discuss with them what happened in battle that day- it had been no surprise that the Nurse kept a tight leash on visiting hours, and a tighter leash on MC’s recovery.
A strict regimen of potions, rest and getting ample nutrition- something visitors were more than happy to enforce on MC whenever they stopped by, unswayed by their friend’s pouts and complaints of it being ‘overkill’. Although next to a growing pile of gifts and letters, their whining was slightly harder to take seriously.
Even upon their release, it had not been without conditions- further check-ups with the Nurse herself, an agreement to ‘take it easy’ for a while and keep up with their health.
The professors, and their friends, suspected this had not been complied with by MC- if their immediate absence from their dorm room that night was anything to go by. But, they were forced to let it go.
Especially when they didn’t have proof of wherever MC had disappeared off to. For all they knew, MC could have been hiding from their peers in some alcove of the school. It wasn’t as though anyone could blame MC, even with the words of warning from their professors and friends, nothing could have prepared someone for the amount of attention MC had received upon their release.
As predicted, news of their victory over Ranrok had spread like Fiendfyre, and not just within the safety of the school walls.
Matilda was tired of chasing off journalists hoping for some scoop on MC, or a moment of vulnerability they could capitalise on. Perhaps almost worse, was the persistent questioning from the Ministry, the want of officials to talk to the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ themselves.
She could admit, she hadn’t predicted quite this level of interest- that had been her first mistake.
The second, had been assuming every front MC put up was to be believed.
When MC had been cleared to return to classes, their behaviour made it almost impossible to remember that they had lost their mentor so recently, had endured a traumatising battle and nearly lost control of their magic in the aftermath of mourning.
Their professors had expected a muted and withdrawn student, one still overtaken by the throes of grief. They had planned for it, to support their student through a healthy way to mourn, to ride out the waves with them.
But instead, they were met with the same student they had known before all of this transpired. One that was the quickest magical study in the room, who walked out of class with their friends and met all assignment deadlines with no room for error. Perfectionistic, even when the world had given them every reason not to be.
In light of this, perhaps they had been too quick to brush off the way MC’s brows furrowed as they cast a spell, the white-knuckled grip on their wand shaking ever slightly as they practised a new incantation. The strict way MC held themselves, mindful of every eye in the room, the magic crackling under their skin. Everything about their actions was about control, control, control-
And they had missed it.
So ready to believe that MC was healing on their own, handling things as they had all year- independently, but competently. It had been Eleazar who kept them right, but now Eleazar was gone, and they didn’t know how to help.
So they hadn’t, not past the occasional welfare check, the sympathetic glances when they knew MC wasn’t looking, the meetings with other staff about their behaviour and vehemence with which they kept external attention of journalists and Ministry officials off their backs.
It was easier to believe MC had it handled, than to believe they had fallen for yet more of their student’s lies, and they were out of their depth in knowing how to handle it.
Maybe if they had kept a closer eye on where MC was sneaking off to after curfew, they could have caught this sooner, helped them accept their pain in a healthy way.
Maybe, if they had been looking closer at MC during Phineas’ mourning speech for Eleazar, they would have seen the rigid control with which they maintained their composure, the careful tremor of their hand as they raised their goblet in his memory- a giveaway to anyone paying close enough attention that their absence of tears wasn’t honest, that they were barely holding back a wobble of their lower lip.
Looking at MC that day had been selfishly unbearable for their professors, who had failed them both- so they had missed the signs that MC was barely keeping it together. That the dam they had built was close to breaking its banks.
Instead, MC carried on shouldering their grief stubbornly alone, their professors and friends remained blissfully ignorant- until it all broke down at the worst possible moment.
The sun beamed down on a sea of black, the blossoming of spring a painful contrast to the sombre mood of the day. It felt ill-fitting for the nature of today’s gathering- but surrounded by the blossoming greenery, against the setting of scenic tranquillity, Matilda couldn’t help but think that Eleazar wouldn’t have wanted anything different for the day of his funeral.
Well, he likely would have preferred to go without the grandiose collection of guests- he’d never cared for Ministry affairs and traditions, and undoubtedly would be grumbling about it from beyond, if he could see the mix of Wizengamot members, Ministry officials, and old-money pureblood families amongst the seating. The thought of it brought a bittersweet smile to Matilda’s face, one she quickly schooled away.
An unfortunate byproduct of Eleazar’s achievements in life, was the insistence on a formal funeral arrangement ‘suiting to his titles and character’. Spare her, Phineas.
It had taken far too long to arrange, organising arrivals and sending invites to the relevant individuals- it had been one of the few tasks the Headmaster had been willing to take on himself, which suited Matilda just fine. She spent the time negotiating for a funeral that would have better suited Eleazar’s wishes, one that he would be at peace with. In the end, the Ministry had agreed to allow the will reading and burial to be a smaller, more private affair at a location of his next-of-kin’s choosing, a counter Matilda had rushed to accept.
It wasn’t without its complications, not given who the will details as Eleazar’s next of kin- but MC had taken the weight of that responsibility with only a flickering break in their composure, even as Matilda offered to take the burden of choice for them, before excusing themselves hastily from her office.
Their decision had been quick, without hesitation. A plot beside Miriam, who was buried on the outskirts of the Fig family home. A shared headstone.
The will reading would have to be done today, after the formal funeral affairs had taken place. Matilda had yet to talk with MC about that part, too focused on making sure everything went smoothly in front of their external guests.
Today would be hard enough on them, it felt cruel to add to that burden with a will reading- but the decision was out of Matilda’s hands.
She is pulled from her thoughts with the increasing volume of murmured chatter. The empty greetings of Ministry officials and the social elite, gathering in their cloaks and outfits of clean black, not a speck of dust out of place, nor a hint of colour. Eleazar would have rolled his eyes in amusement for their stuck-up attitude; Merlin, Matilda missed him.
Relief came in the form of her colleagues, leading a small crowd of Hogwarts students down the field towards the gathering. The funeral was an optional arrangement for Hogwarts students, having already attended the Memorial Ceremony, but it seemed a considerable number had chosen to attend the stuffy affair regardless. The scuffs on their shoes, wonkiness of their ties, caused something of a warming jolt in Matilda’s chest.
As they got closer, the students held back, not quite willing to join the fray of adults and high-ranking officials. Only a few slipped through the crowd, children of well-to-do families, seeking to join their parents who had been allocated seats, seeking the comfort of their loved ones or perhaps just happy to flaunt their position over their fellow students.
Well, not all of them.
Matilda spotted the telltale red pulse of Ominis Gaunt’s wand, but he made no effort to join his parents on the other side of the clearing, where they stood talking to fellow Wizenagmot members. Instead, she watched as he murmured something to his friends, with a slight shake of his head. Whatever it was, Sebastian Sallow gave a small chuckle, and even MC managed a laugh.
The sight of MC, donned in all black and looking uncharacteristically small reminded Matilda painfully of their first day at Hogwarts. The same student, in the same neutral-toned Hogwarts uniform, with a cut on their face and singed tips in their hair, looking lost in the sea of peers who had been here longer than them, fighting to maintain some composure against the uncertainties of what came next.
Another pang hit her chest as Matilda spotted the small distance MC was maintaining between themself and the rest of their peers, standing in the front corner, isolated from the rest of the group as much as they could allow. They likely weren’t even aware of it themself.
With her other professors focused on student crowd control, Matilda was happy to allow one of them to guide MC to their spot when necessary, and prepared herself to turn back around and play Deputy Headmistress to their guests.
Until she spotted someone making their way to MC, all professionality and self-assuredness he made a beeline right for them, cloak billowing behind him.
Faris Spavin. Minister of Magic.
Oh no .
“You must be MC! Terribly sorry for your loss, I understand yourself and Eleazar were close, I can’t imagine how painful this must be for you.” His hand reached out for MC’s own, not caring about their hesitancy, the way they tensed in his presence.
MC ducked their head slightly, looking rather unsure of the whole situation. They didn’t pull back from the Minister’s hold, allowing him to offer the gesture of condolence, “Thank you, Minister.”
He let out a false chuckle, “Please, call me Faris, Eleazar did.” No doubt taking MC’s neutral tone as one of controlled grief, Spavin pressed on, “He was a great man, did me many a favour over the years. He’d be proud of your accomplishments, I’m sure.” MC shifted awkwardly on their feet, but offered no response. Behind them, a few of MC’s friends looking close to intervening, watching the Minister with caution, not that he seemed to care- having eyes only on the mysterious new fifth-year, the one who was surrounded in fantastical tales, “It seems you have taken after him greatly, Eleazar was a close friend of the Ministry. Perhaps you should visit sometime, when this is over, and discuss more about honouring his work.”
How dare he. To approach a student, a grieving child , and attempt to take advantage of their pain to bolster his image, to know more about the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’. Minister of Magic be damned , not on her watch was she going to allow MC to go through this.
She was moving before anyone could stop her, leaving her other duties in the dust. Making MC endure this for a second longer until their other professors noticed what was going on didn’t seem fair.
“Minister, how honoured we are to have you join us.” Matilda kept her voice of perfectly neutral politeness, one suited for meeting the Minister of Magic, but she was sure to step slightly in front of MC, forcing the Minister to break his hold on the student, “Matilda Weasley, Deputy Headmistress.”
Spavin recovered from the interruption, offering her a brief handshake, “Ah yes- pleasure to meet you Professor. I was just offering my condolences. Such a pity, for to lose a mentor so young.” He shook his head, “Poor Eleazar, what a tragic loss.”
She was aware Eleazar had been acquainted with the Minister, but somehow doubted that extended as far as to the Minister genuinely wanting to look out for Eleazar’s former charge. Still, her chest pooled with grief at his words, “Truly, we’ll all miss him greatly.”
“We owe him a great debt, he died a hero, there is a no higher honour,” With this, Spavin’s gaze once again returned to the student Matilda had partially blocked from view, a glint back in his eyes, “Well except perhaps mentoring such a brilliant young student- I have heard many great things.”
Matilda considered it a fortunate circumstance Phineas had not been the one to spot the Minister of Magic with MC first, he would have been the only staff member who would rise to such bait.
“I’m proud to hear it Minister, we take great pride in all our students here at Hogwarts,” Her eyes swept the sea of students to the side, latching onto a head of silver, an agreeable nod, and tried not to let the sigh of relief overtake her as Dinah made a beeline for them. “I fear we’ve kept you for quite some time now, Minister, wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties any longer. This is my colleague, Dinah Hecat- Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. She can show you to your seat, I believe Headmaster Black shall be honoured to see you again.”
Dinah, Godric bless her, arrived in perfect time to redirect Spavin’s attentions from the pair. She led him away and back towards the gathered Wizarding families and Ministry officials, before he could think of any parting words.
Subtly, Matilda manoeuvred herself so MC would have to turn away from the funeral arrangements to talk with her, protecting them from noticing the large array of gazes fixated on them, from where the Minister had accosted them just seconds before.
No doubt it was the exact response he had counted on, such a high level of attention. The first anyone outside of Hogwarts had seen of the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ since the news first broke, and the Minister was playing politics the first chance he had. At a funeral, no less.
Small mercies, that journalists were banned from such events. Although nothing could be said for word of mouth.
“Sorry you had to deal with that. Eleazar was a greatly respected figure by many, even at the Ministry. He…he would have hated all this pomp and fuss.” A small smile graced MC’s lips at her words, Matilda wished it would stay that way, “We should have expected someone would try to talk to you, I’m sorry.”
MC shook their head, ever poised and composed, even now, “It’s okay, Professor, you’re all…there’s a lot of guests here, I understand you’re busy.”
At the word ‘ guests’ , MC’s eyes drifted momentarily to the side, a giveaway to their sentiments- ones Matilda shared. These people weren’t guests, they were not friends, had not cared for Eleazar- they only cared for what his death symbolised, what attending the funeral of one so knowledgeable and well-regarded signified to others, a silent recognition of prestige.
All the better, that today was a mere formality.
It didn’t make what Matilda had to say next any easier, however. She had no way of predicting how MC would feel about it, and didn’t want to ruin their brief moment of reprieve from the stresses of today- but the funeral was starting soon, and she was out of time.
“I hate to drop this on you so suddenly, I understand you were planning on standing with your fellow classmates but…a seat has been reserved for you, if you want it.” MC’s breath hitched, it was subtle- but clear enough to anyone who was paying attention. Matilda kept her voice quiet, soothing, as she tagged on the warning, “It’s in the front row.”
It was almost heartbreaking, the way MC’s eyes widened at the news, body going tense in surprise? Shock? Panic? Matilda had no idea.
The front row was always reserved exclusively for family, those closest to the deceased. There would be no mixed messaging in reserving such a spot for MC.
“I appreciate it is…a lot, especially given what we’ve already asked of you during the ceremony itself.” She tried her best to be reassuring, give MC the space to make the decision for themself, “If you’d feel more comfortable staying here at the back then-”
“No.”
MC tensed, as if they hadn’t even expected the interruption themself. Quickly, they recovered, rushing to explain themself, “I mean, I- thank you Professor - that’s, I’d like to. Yes.” They looked away, casting their gaze over their shoulder, towards the arrangement of seats, row to row. The line at the front, on the right. Empty. Reserved for family. They turned back to Matilda, their expression one of firm resolution, “I want to be there.” For him .
She smiled back at MC, tried not to let the relief or joy show on her face, “I’m glad to hear it.” He’d want you to be there . “I hate to rush things, but we should probably be taking our seats now. Are you ready?”
It was a loaded question.
Already, Matilda feared she and the other professors had asked too much of MC today, she could only hope that what would come to pass in the next half an hour wouldn’t be the final straw. Perhaps they had been unfair to ask it of MC, to take an active role in Eleazar’s funeral arrangements, but it had felt wrong to assign such a task to anybody else.
At her question, Matilda swore she saw a momentary flash of fear, of pain. MC’s eyes flickered to the front group of students, catching their attention before MC had even meant to.
Gently, Natsai Onai reached forward, giving MC’s hand a gentle squeeze. She seemed moments from pulling her friend into a hug, but so wary at the same time. As though one wrong move, and everything would break. “We’ll be here, my friend. We aren’t going anywhere.” Something significant passes between them, as a second hand rests atop of MC’s own, briefly but firm as she offers parting words, “Remember, rain does not fall on one roof alone.”
Matilda had not heard such a sentiment before, but it clearly meant something to MC, who seemed to momentarily falter at their friend’s words, a brief break in their composure. They echoed the words back, sounding vaguely distant as their gaze swept over their gathered friends one final time, before pulling away to face Matilda, shoulders pulled back and head raised.
She remembered the face of the student who had led them out of the foundations of Hogwarts, through the broken battlefield, with barely a slip of emotion allowed to break their focus. Matilda had a sickening sense of deja-vu.
Brushing her concern aside, she led MC away from the pack of Hogwarts students, most of which were still being guided by Aesop and Mirabel into behaving, and towards the rows of seating which were beginning to fill up.
Across the pew of the front row, on the left side, the Minister and Phineas were among the speech-givers to have already taken their seats. Matilda didn’t like the idea of leaving MC alone near them, even with a walkway to serve as a divider, but there was no changing tradition- much to her own ire.
If Eleazar had been here, he would have sat with MC regardless of the rules. Pair of troublemakers that they had been, MC probably would have hid a giggle at his audaciousness, the ever-reliably bad influence on them- but always worth it, to see how MC brightened under his attention. And Eleazar, under theirs.
But she and MC didn’t have that bond, so instead she led them to their seat, ignoring the panging pains that the rest of the empty row invoked. They had been the closest thing to family either of the pair had left, and now it was just MC. Sat in this front row. Alone.
In a moment of weakness, she caved and gently squeezed MC’s hand before departing, the most physical comfort she could allow herself to provide in that moment. If she reached out more, pulled MC into the hug this child so desperately deserved, she’d fall apart- and this wasn’t the time nor place for that.
So instead, gently squeezing their hand in her own, she reassured them she would beckon them forward when the time came, that she and the rest of the staff would keep a close eye from the side, and left them, as the rest of the pews steadily filled with people.
Dinah caught her eye as Matilda neared, joining her colleagues to the side of the seating arrangement. It was traditional for Professors to stand on either side of the pews, to maintain professionality and oversee the events even in their own time of mourning.
Not for the first time that day, Matilda cursed tradition.
“Thank you for earlier, Dinah, I don’t believe the Minister would have left so easily without your being there.”
Adjusting her robe slightly, “We agreed today would be a group effort, did we not? Besides, I left as soon as I dropped him off with the Headmaster. I haven’t the patience for Phineas’ empty gloating and politics on a good day, let alone at Eleazar’s funeral.”
“What’s this I hear about the Minister?” Aesop interjected, his voice a low murmur among the muted rumble of guests.
Matilda kept her tone neutral as she watched the final seats get filled, “Accosted our young student as soon as they arrived with the others. Undoubtedly wanting something out of the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’.”
Aesop tried not to let his distaste show on his face, instead allowing his gaze to sweep the room, catching on particular members of the crowd as he spoke, “I doubt the Minister of Magic has been the only one in attendance today looking to benefit from today’s events.”
Dinah opened her mouth, but whatever witty commentary she had been about to grace them with died on her tongue, as the Headmaster rose from his seat and walked towards the front podium, a hush falling throughout the crowd.
For a moment, it was peaceful. Bright sun shining down on the gentle rustle of grass, the occasional chirp of birds nearby- one of the few parts of today’s proceedings that brought honour to Eleazar’s memory.
It was nicer to focus on those parts.
The sea of students who had trekked down from Hogwarts Castle to be in attendance, the splashes of red the staff had added to their cloaks in his memory, in the front MC sat in the chairs allocated to family. It was in these flashes, that they could remember Eleazar as the kind soul he had been- full of mischief befitting of his House, eager to pass on knowledge and always ready to explore, be it some old map or a new theory- it never mattered.
Matilda dared not let her drifting memories get the better of her. How easy it would be, to drown out the drone of speeches with fond recollections of her own, to allow it all to fade to background for the next hour or so, and grieve in her own mind.
But there was still someone who needed her, so she reminded herself there would be time to grieve later, and kept her attention to the ebb and flow of speakers. Minister of Magic, Head Auror, a few friends of Eleazar, acquaintance families to the Fig name, some of it genuine and heart wrenching in their grief, others of empty words of condolence, sweeping generalisations.
Matilda wasn’t sure which was harder to hear.
Finally, the Headmaster took to the stand again, and Matilda prepared herself to move forward, to fulfil her promise to MC, gently nudge them towards the podium
Except she didn’t need to.
No sooner had Phineas spoke, a sweeping gesture made in the direction of Eleazar’s charge, the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ (Merlin, Phineas, like this was the time for showboating) had MC rose from their seat, slowly making their way towards the Headmaster.
As ever, Matilda was impressed with their poise. Since they had arrived on that day so many months ago, she had waited for the moment MC dropped the perfect posture, the well-spoken mannerisms- yet to no avail.
Even now, faced with the most painful and meaningful of tasks- the returning of the wand- MC did not break, did not falter in their steps. They maintained the practised hold of their body, thanked the Headmaster with perfect mannerisms. Despite being donned in a uniform of all black, surrounded by a sea of mourners, drowning in grieving speeches, MC had not broken down, not shed a tear.
No , Matilda realised all too late, the realisation striking her life a curse to the check. They hadn’t allowed themself to shed a tear.
Hadn’t dared allow the waves of grief to wash over them, for fear they would drown, would break the too-perfect mask of composure they had built for themselves since that day after the battle, when they had lost control.
Oh Merlin, she had been a fool.
They had all been fools.
Now alone on the podium, all eyes on them, MC reached for the wand resting on a nearby plush pillow of black, raising it slowly in one hand. With the other, they reached into their robes, and for a moment everyone paused, confused, until they pulled out a second wand and a scarf of silver.
Miriam’s wand.
Eleazar’s scarf.
Oh, MC .
Tears pricked at Matilda’s eyes, and she did nothing to stop them from falling as MC weaved the two wands together- united now in magic, as they were in death.
To her side, she heard the telltale sniffle of tears, and knew she wasn’t alone in her pain for the unforeseen gesture.
For a moment, everything paused as MC stared down at the interwoven wands, a hand gently tracing their outline. Had Matilda’s vision been clearer, not blurred with tears, she would have seen the gentle tremor in MC’s hand, the spidery cracks in their wall of defences beginning to spread.
Slowly as they dared, MC looked away from the wands and turned to the side, forcing their gaze to fixate on the object they had been avoiding all day, vehement in denying up until this very moment. Their feet felt like lead as they neared it, but they dared not let themself stop walking until it was before them, less than an arm's reach away.
A coffin of perfect marbling, decorated in flashes of moonstone.
Their chest constricted, pain hummed under their veins, threatening to overtake their vision, their every step. MC forced it aside.
As though the wands were crafted with Elf Crystal themselves, they are placed delicately atop the coffin, cushioned by the wrappings of Eleazar’s scarf.
MC doesn’t move.
Standing over the coffin, both hands placed atop the wands, they stare down at the last part of Professor Fig they have left, their head remaining bowed, falling locks of hair obscuring them from sight. Nobody dares break the silence, the second stretching to eternity, as everyone is kept in wait, a rumble of thunder is heard in the distance- out of place on such a sunny day.
That’s the second warning they get.
Through trembling hands, MC’s thumb traces the soft material of the scarf, committing it to memory. They don’t feel the stinging behind their eyes, fail to notice the way their fingertips glow as they finally pull away, letting go of the wands, letting go of Eleazar, for good.
To Matilda’s side, through blurry vision she just catches the sudden lurch of Dinah’s posture, registers the tight grip her colleague now had on both herself and Aesop, but they’re all too late.
MC hardly manages to right their posture, when their eyes register the truth before them, the wands lying atop a coffin, right where Professor Fig’s hands would be crossed over just beneath the lid. Lying in the same position MC had left him before, the last time they had been with him, watched as he wrapped his hands around their own, clasping his hands as he took his last breath-
Finally, the dam breaks.
Weeks of holding themself together, gone in seconds. Broken, in a sudden flood of tears, as MC’s knees give out from under them, all desire to keep themselves upright, gone.
Their cry of anguish breaks the clear skies- except, the skies aren’t clear. Not any more.
Nobody sees the tendrils of magic that shoot to the heavens, but they do see the black clouds that suddenly hang overhead, replacing the clear blue that had been in its place seconds before. They all feel the harsh torrent of rain that hails down without warning, muddying the grass under foot and soaking the crowd through before anybody has the chance to cast a shielding charm.
The turn of weather is violent, uncontrolled, and seemingly out of nowhere. It disobeyed every natural order there was, and only one person seemed immune to its onslaught, head bowed and on their knees by Eleazar’s coffin, sobs clear enough to break through the sound of lashing rain.
In an abnormally perfect circle, the grass dies, shrivelling to a pale yellow despite the falling rain, before being swallowed by thickening mud. Death and decay spreads outward in perfect unison, slowly encroaching on the occasional wildflower, giving no sign of stopping.
At the centre of it, MC remains perfectly dry, even as the rain bounces off from their body, collecting in the mud dirtying their knees. In the sudden darkness of the skies, the rain pelting off from MC’s figure almost gave a glowing effect- an effect which could be mistaken as coming from the sobbing figure, if people didn’t know better.
Pity, that people in the crowd did know better.
“ No .” Matilda hoped her strangled cry of horror couldn’t be heard over the rain, as the reality of what was happening dawned on her.
“They’ve lost control.” Dinah’s voice could barely be heard over the harsh sobs and torrenting rain around them, but it was loud enough for Aesop and Matilda to hear her pain. Torn between horror at what was going on, the dangerous position MC was now in (or the danger MC themself was ), and the utter heartbreak of what they were witnessing- the breaking down of a student who had been scared of being vulnerable for too long.
Shock and confusion for the situation verberates through the crowd, under shielding charms guests look around at a loss of what to do, how to navigate this turn of events, the chaos literally raining down around them. Shamefully, the professors were no better.
Only one person, or perhaps a group of people, kept their wits about them. Remaining undeterred by the sudden turn of the weather, had different priorities in mind.
Sebastian Sallow raced past them all in a blur of black, a small group on his heels. He doesn’t slow as he nears where MC is knelt, crashing down into the dead earth at their side. Mud splashes up his trousers, landing onto his cloak, but if it bothers him he gives no outward sign.
He has eyes only on MC, the shake of their frame as they sob into their hands- their cries broken and unforgiving, fractured in such a way he had never seen them before.
Gently, his hand rested on MC’s shoulder, it tensed under the weight but didn’t recoil from his touch. Heart racing in his ears, praying to Merlin he was doing the right thing here and not just acting out of selfish interest to hold them, Sebastian continued on.
With a soft croon, he reaches his other arm around, guiding MC into his arms, hiding their face between the juncture of his neck and shoulder. They’re warm against his drenched body, he always thought they might be, but this was the last circumstance he imagined finding out in.
Gently, he allows one thumb to trace circles into their back- a trick Anne had taught him, long ago. Although whether he was comforting MC or himself, Sebastian couldn’t quite tell.
They sobbed against his shoulder, and he was sure if the rain hadn’t already completely soaked his uniform, this would have done it.
He didn’t mind one bit.
“It’s okay- you’re okay, you’re okay. I’m- We’re here, take your time,” Soft hushes of comfort, for only their ear, they poured out of him without sense, desperately fuelled by his want to just take it all away. They had been through so much, helped everyone around them so selflessly, how was it fair that they should be in so much pain?
Every cry was like another needle in his chest, a reminder of another way they had all failed to protect MC, that he had failed to protect MC.
And now their pain had torn the skies, broke the earth, yet still he stayed.
He wouldn’t let them suffer alone any longer.
“I- We’re not going anywhere, okay? You’re alright, you’re okay, just breathe for me, come on-” He takes a deep breath, in, and out. Again. In, and out. Slowly, he feels their chest shuddering as they attempt to copy- it’s nowhere near slow or controlled enough, but it’s something. They’re trying. “ Amazing , just like that. I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”
I’ll always have you , his thumb continues to rub soothing circles into their back, as his second hand creeps up to the nape of their neck, soothes at the skin there.
He doesn’t care about the rain lashing down on him, nor the way it just bounces off from MC, keeping their hair dry under his touch, their clothes warm against his skin. He kneels in a circle of growing decay, traces it all back to the soft glow of MC’s figure, and holds them only tighter. He feels the moment Ominis steps closer, holding a shield charm over them both.
“It- it hurts .” Their cry is muffled by the fabric of his cloak, but their pain is somehow louder than the beating of the rain, “It hurts so much.”
“I know, I know.” He would endure a hundred crucios , if it meant he could take this hurt away from them. Carry it silently on his back, to stop them bearing the weight of the world on their own any longer.
Instead, he held them tight, whispered words of comfort in their ear, and hoped it would be enough to be there for them whenever that weight became too much.
“You’ll be okay, it doesn’t feel like it now, but we’ve got you.”
Another shuddering breath, deeper than the last, as finally MC’s hands rose to embrace him back- or, as close to as they could manage.
Fists clenched at the front of his robes, as their sobs tore into his skin, harsher than any pelt of rain that had lashed down onto his skin. He squeezed them closer, and almost missed the hushed whisper against his shoulder, low and pained as if they feared speaking it any louder would make it more real.
“H-he’s gone. He’s not coming back .”
Their breath hitched warningly, a delicate wobble to their voice. Sebastian wonders if this is the first time they’d spoken it aloud, had confronted their loss directly. He thinks of the dark circles under their eyes they didn’t realise he’d noticed, the distant look in their eyes that day of the school memorial, and realises that maybe it was.
After weeks of denial and repression, it had become far too much for them to carry any longer.
Why hadn’t any of them done something sooner?
Allowing his hand to run through their hair, soothing them through their sobs, it was all he could do not to fall apart himself, to stay strong for the pair of them. Just as MC had done for him, he’d be there for them now.
He would help them weather this storm.
Lost in their focus on helping MC, eyes only on their grieving friend, none of the students feel the weight of an audience’s attention on them.
Further back, Matilda watches with something between unfolding horror, and heartfelt pride.
Any other day, in any other circumstance, it would make for an endearing sight. Sebastian Sallow with MC’s face tucked safety into his shoulder, both arms around them as he murmured words of comfort in their ear. Around them, MC’s other friends, shields raised overhead as they surrounded the pair, protective, but not suffocatingly so. Not a glance spared for the storm around them, the grass dying under their feet.
The knowledge that their students had formed bonds so close that it transcended words, surpassed any instinct for self preservation or awareness in favour of supporting a hurting friend, should have warmed their professors’ hearts to witness.
But instead, their focus was on the sea of Ministry Officials and old Wizarding Families.
Guests who had only minutes ago been lost in confusion for the sudden turn of the weather, now shielded under protective charms, who would soon find they had nothing more to focus on than the scene unfolding before them, on the one person who seemed unaffected by the storm, whose breakdown timed perfectly with the onset of rain. Suspiciously so.
Changing the weather was not magically possible. Clouds could not be conjured, plants could not be drained of life, it did not follow the laws of magic.
Then again, nor did storing magic in barricades of goblin silver. Nor did summoning lightning from the skies or blasting an enemy to shreds without an incantation or wand movement- yet MC had accomplished all this with no known effort on their part.
To consider what else they might be capable of, was too intimidating a thought to bear.
All of this was information none of them could afford to have get out. MC had been nearly beside themself with worry the day they had awoken from their coma, and realised their professors had witnessed them use Ancient Magic. Through stumbling sentences, overlapping lies, they had attempted to explain it away- reassured only when Matilda promised them nobody would tell a soul, would let MC be the sole keeper of this knowledge.
But now, it seemed their desperately-guarded secret could be just two connected dots away from breaking confinement. Information moments away from falling into the hands MC had been so desperate to keep it out of.
Matilda only hoped nobody would be observant enough to realise what had happened. She hoped to Merlin that magical close-mindedness would make them ignorant.
This could still be managed, they could still do damage control. Pass this event off as an unforeseen rainstorm, poetically fitting for a day of loss.
Too late, the professors noticed the thinning of rain in the air, the slight brightening of clouds overhead. The beginnings of the storm were receding, as much without warning as its arrival had been.
Matilda’s head snapped to the side, meeting the equally panicked gazes of Dinah and Aesop.
There could only be one thing worse than the sudden creation of a torrential downpour in the open view of numerous Ministry members, and that would be the stopping of the storm.
One, they could pass off as a fluke, an unforeseen weather event.
The other would be no matter of chance, and everyone would know it.
But MC and their friends were too far out of reach, the professors were too late to warn Sebastian Sallow not to help MC control their magic- that doing so may only make their situation worse.
They had underestimated the bonds MC had created, how well their friends understood them, and were determined to help them. In their determination to support their friend, they had become blind to the repercussions it may have.
MC’s shoulders still shook in Sebastian’s hold, but their breathing had begun to level out, interrupted by the occasional hitched breath, a muffled hiccup.
Regardless, he kept his own breaths deep and paced, maintained the rhythm of his thumb rubbing circles into their back, and let them focus on matching him.
He remembered the months that followed after his parents death, the dark nights when he and Anne couldn’t sleep, too late remembering that they didn’t have Mum and Dad to go to for comfort anymore. Sometimes he’d cry, other times it was Anne- or even both of them, climbing into eachothers beds, clinging to each other into the early morning, desperate for some feeling of familiar comfort again. Clinging to any memory of how things once were.
Even now, his parents' old nik naks had become his most treasured possessions. The notebooks they had left scattered throughout the house, recipe pages with annotations scribbled in the margins. Old jewellery or clothing that had once been too big for him- whatever they had been allowed to keep from their old home, savoured memories of who his parents once were.
“Tell me about him.”
For a moment, MC stilled in his hold, “What?”
“Prof- Fig. Tell me about him.” Finally looking away from MC, his gaze latched onto something over their shoulder. The coffin, the wands lying atop of it, interwoven with a scarf. It should have been wet from the rain, but instead remained perfectly dry- just like MC, immune to the torrential elements. “What was his favourite season?”
A beat.
For a moment, Sebastian worried he had pushed it too far, crossed a line they weren’t ready for yet, but then MC spoke, soft and fondly melancholic, “A-autumn. He liked the colours and, and how all the students come back to Hogwarts in Autumn. We used to take walks outside sometimes, see the grounds.”
He pictured it perfectly in his mind.
MC and Professor Fig, two of the more mysterious figures at Hogwarts, passing around the grounds like ghosts, sharing secrets and tempting adventure. A break from the responsibilities piled on them since the school year began, a comfort away from thoughts of Loyalists and Keepers.
He hadn’t known the Professor of Magical Theory well, but he heard MC’s fondness for him in their tone.
“He always said that Spring was pretty at Hogwarts.”
Encouragingly, he hummed, “Oh?”
They nodded against his shoulder, their hair tickled at the skin of his neck. Sebastian didn’t mind. “Told me about the flowers that bloomed near the courtyards, all the colour that covered the Castle. He used to say that Hogwarts never looked more like home than when students were lying in the grass, studying in the sun.” Their voice cracked as they spoke, registering the mud under their knees, the dark clouds hanging overhead, ”I guess that’s ruined now.”
His heart nearly broke at the clear self-hatred in their tone. Their self-disgust over a loss of power that was in no way their fault, that they could never have seen coming.
Already, the rain around them had been slowing down, the black of the clouds fading to a lighter shade of grey. All this, they had done on their own, they just needed a nudge in the right direction, an opportunity to accept their pain, to come to terms with what had happened.
They’d been there for him during his pain, now it was his turn to be there for them.
“No, no, nothing is ruined. You aren’t ruined.” Their breath catches in their throat, grip on his robes becoming notably tight, “And none of us are leaving you to deal with this alone any more, got it? Just breathe, breathe with me. We’ve got you, you’ll be okay, I promise.”
He continues to murmur words of comfort, letting it ground them, as his promises wash over them.
For some time, they stay that way, MC’s breaths gradually levelling out, the tremor in their shoulders fading away. He doesn’t stop holding them, not yet.
Overhead, the rain finally stops, and beams of light fill its place. He feels the warming beam on his back as Ominis’ protective shield is dropped, already beginning to dry the sodden cloak. He blinks up at the skies, and finds only clear blue, speckled by the faintest outline of grey clouds, drifting in the distance.
It doesn’t end there.
From where they had all been gathered, huddled around MC like a protective herd, standing in a growing circle of dying grass- green began to invade their vision. No, not just green, colour . Speckles of white and purple daisies, yellow honking daffodils, even more wildflowers he didn’t even know the names of, sprouting out from the ground around them in a growing flourish, spontaneous life covering any previous sign of decay that had been in its place just seconds before. At its centre was MC, faint glow finally gone from their form, their hold on Sebastian slowling laxening as they began to pull back, composure interrupted only by the faintest shudder in their chest, the red rims of their eyes.
Beautiful .
Their eyes took in the sight of Sebastian before them, drifted upward to where Ominis stood, across to Natty, Poppy, the friends who had followed them down to the funeral today just to make sure they wouldn’t be alone, who had raced to their side the moment their grief became to much to bear alone.
A wobbly smile graced their lips, and it was all they could do not to break into a flood of tears again.
A hand presses down on Sebastian’s shoulder, tentative but solid as he tries not to jump, or eagerly reach back for it. It was the first time Ominis had reached for him since that night in the Catacombs.
With his other hand, Ominis reaches forward, palm upturned, a silent offering to MC. Gently, they take it, as he nurses them to their feet, Sebastian following. As soon as they’re standing, their knees buckle- a sudden wave of exhaustion rushing over them- just as quickly, Sebastian and Natty have arms thrown under their shoulders, holding them upright. Poppy joins at Natty’s side, a small huddle forms, but nobody says anything, waiting.
MC once again looks around at their companions, their friends, and wonders how they got so lucky. What they did to deserve such people in their life.
Their throat feels raw, their skin pricks with expended energy and everything around them feels like a blur- and all they can think of is trying to find some way to thank the people around them for what they did, express the love in their chest, to apologise for having to see them in such a state.
Instead, what comes out is, “I’m sorry about the mud.”
Like a final thread being cut, everyone laughs at the nonsense of it all, just revelling in the relief of having MC back with them, a wobbly smile on their face and blessedly there , held up by their friends.
A small distance away, Matilda watches the scene with growing unease, wishing she could find relief in the way MC had managed to recover, seemingly unaware to the extent of magic they just performed, but all Matilda could focus on was the sea of eyes now fixed on them, attention that wouldn’t be going away any time soon.
Pews of seats riddled with high-ranking Ministry officials, Wizengamot figures and power-hungry Wizarding families, all of them witnesses to such impossible environmental manipulation. Events that should have been impossible, and yet the only explanation could be magic.
Would it be a matter of time before anyone connected the dots? Realised this had been the result of an impossible, powerful magic.
Worse yet, would anyone trace the origin of such power to the young student who had broken down in grief just minutes ago, the Hero of Hogwarts themself? Matilda hoped not, but so much was out of her hands now.
If it had ever been in her hands to begin with.
For now, MC was calming down, surrounded by friends who would protect them, their magic stabilising. They were in good hands, Matilda was confident of that much.
Among the crowd of faces, the murmuring questions and muttered confusion, Matilda spots Phineas, unmoving in his seat, a glint in his eyes Matilda knows is a warning of incoming schemes, ulterior motives to benefit his family name- his attentions fixed on a distracted MC, whose back had been kept to them all.
She catches the eye of Aesop and Dinah, whose gazes had been similarly fixed on specific members of the crowd, individuals with too much knowledge of magic, those intelligent enough to have already allowed their suspicions to brew.
She sees the same worry reflected back at her, the weight of an oncoming battle- one by a different name- fast approaching. But one one thing, they could all easily agree.
Whatever came next, they’d do their best to protect MC from it.