Dawn

It was weird having this conversation with someone who didn’t know her but she knew. She’d seen the decline in Dawn. Seen her go from the positive person she was to even worse than how she was now. But Dawn had no memory of her or of being the person Lucy knew. What she didn’t know was how she’d react to knowing what she was like. “Please, there’s no need to apologize. You’ve clearly been scared and worried about this. It’s natural to want answers quickly. I just prefer to be thorough. I don’t want to tell you one thing and have tests show something else. Maybe it’ll help to focus on the fact that answers are coming. That this is finally being dealt with.  You don’t have to wonder when or if you’ll get answers. And you don’t have to worry alone any longer. If something comes up, even just a worry, you can contact me. We’ll talk it over. Just remember it’s my job to make sure you’re healthy so you aren’t bothering me. I want to know. And in some cases I even need to know so I can better help you. Best case it’ll be something I can reassure you about and ease your worry. I’m here for you, Dawn.” Lucy was just sorry she hadn’t been sooner. Normally listening to her gut was something she was good at. Clearly something had gotten askew lately. Poor Dawn had fallen in the cracks as a result.

This was terrible. Lucy was against memory charms for a lot of reasons. One thing her reasons all had in common was the way they were used without concern for damage done. Dawn was a prime example of that. She was scared, lonely, and lost. Lucy doubted the answers she had for Dawn would do much to make any of those feelings better. They might make everything worse. After all the reality of Dawn’s life pre-memory charm had been so stressful and terrible for her that she’d at the very least wanted to run away from it by quitting the Order. Lucy didn’t know if she’d been miserable enough to agree to a memory charm or if one had just been forced on her. As it was to so many muggles on a nearly daily basis these days. The truth could be devastating. Lucy looked sympathetically over at Dawn. “I know it’s a hard thing to ask you to do. But all the thinking and stressing you’ve already done about all of that has just made you feel worse, hasn’t it,” she asked. “It’s not helping nor is it going to. The only thing that will is getting these tests done and doing your best to avoid the blanks spaces while you wait for results. I know the scars add extra worry to everything but they’re scars. That means it’s in the past, you survived. Try to focus on that. You’re strong. You’ll get through this. And you’ve got help now. You’ve got solid answers coming your way.”

Maybe Lucy had a point; worrying and stressing about what was wrong with her and what memories were missing was not helping. But trying to take back control by working at the Prophet had not worked either. Though granted that had been an attempt to sort of fill in a hole. Maybe. Dawn was quite certain the Prophet couldn’t be why she was here. But it had felt like a way of getting closer to that. Dawn just didn’t know how she was supposed to stay present in a life that didn’t make sense. But she also didn’t know how she could possible leave London without answers. It would feel like giving up, and Dawn had never been a quitter. She did not intend to start now. She took a breath and nodded at Lucy’s words. “Okay. Thank you, again. I’m sorry I’m so…” Dawn searched for the right word and settled with, “I’m usually not such a downer. I mean, I’m usually much more positive. But I really am grateful for your help. And I know it’s not your fault I don’t like all the answers I’m getting,” she added, managing a sheepish smile. “I’ll try my best.” 

Lucy had to stop herself from telling Dawn not to do that. She didn’t think the American could get into too much trouble trying,  she’d managed to walk around for three months presumably not getting into any. But it did not sound like a good idea at all. “You’re not going to like this answer but, I’m afraid all you can do while waiting is to try and get your anxiety under control. You’ll be surprised by how much better you’ll feel once you’re not anxious over what’s going on. That should be your top priority, for now.” She gave Dawn an apologetic smile. “I promise my priority will be the memory issues. I will get those tests and the results to you as soon as possible. Once we have those I’ll have a better idea on if there’s anything to do. I know it’s hard to wait, especially given how long you’ve already been living with this. But it’s just a little longer. We’ll get answers.” Lucy already had some. But nothing she knew how to tell Dawn, yet. The tests results would give her an idea of how to go forward in treatment. She’d also have time to figure out how to tell Dawn what was going on with her. That was going to be something Lucy would wrestle with. She already was. “I know it’ll be hard but the more you can focus on the now and not what you’re missing the better. At least until we have more answers so you’ve actually got something concrete to think about.” Stressing over her memory wasn’t going to help at all. Dawn had already spent so much time doing just that.

It wasn’t a surprise to hear Lucy tell Dawn she wouldn’t like the answer to her question. Though Dawn was still wrapping her head around the fact she had an anxiety problem. It made sense, but she couldn’t help thinking the anxiety was just a symptom. Trying to manage it and live with it felt like avoiding the bigger problem of the year-long gap in her memory. She couldn’t help worrying that meant the odds of actually fixing what was wrong with her might be slimmer than she was hoping for. Dawn picked at her fingernail polish and nodded. She appreciated Lucy’s promise to prioritize the problem, though that comment about having an idea of if there was anything to do was not helping with the sinking feeling that there very well might be nothing Lucy could do. Lucy just wasn’t saying so yet. Still -- it would be better to know that for certain, Dawn supposed. A good reporter ran toward the truth, not away from it. What felt harder was Lucy’s suggestion she focus on the now. How was she supposed to focus on the now when she couldn’t even remember why she was in London at all or what she’d been doing with her life since she got here? Trying to work at the Prophet definitely hadn’t been the answer. “I’ll do my best,” she said after a moment, trying her best to quash down the hopelessness and desperation that were creeping in again. Lucy was going to help her; that was the most Dawn could ask for right now. “It’s just hard not to be anxious when there are so many blank spaces in my head, and all the scars and --” Dawn cut herself off and reminded herself Lucy was just doing the best she could to help her right now. “But I’ll do my best,” she added, her shoulders hunching in on herself. “And -- I really appreciate your help,” she added, trying her best for a small smile because she knew she probably wasn’t doing a great job of showing that appreciation right now.

Shit! Lucy had said too much. It was just that the alone part had really stuck out at her. Maybe because of how bad things had gotten for Doc when he’d shoulder it all alone. Or maybe just guilt for not following her instinct and checking in on Dawn. Guilt that felt particularly heavy as Dawn talked about waiting for someone to stop by or owl. “Pippa didn’t say anything,” Lucy confessed. “You just seemed so frightened and alone when you were talking about what was happening. I’m sorry if I implied more, or offended you.” And I know for a fact that you did make friends. Lucy didn’t know what they’d been told but clearly enough to keep them away as well. She couldn’t say that. Or that she knew Dawn was very friendly. “Perhaps you weren’t the problem.” It was a monstrous old man and his auror goon. “Given the current climate people are far less receptive to friendliness.” Which could be why Dawn didn’t have friends that weren’t Order friends. “The good news is that the year is over and maybe knowing that you’ll have some kind of answers will help the present be better. I’m afraid that’s all I can help with. But it’s quite possible that you’ll meet people receptive to friendliness. And Pippa seems to care about you.” It didn’t make up for the three months spent wondering why she was friendless but Lucy hoped Dawn could begin to put her life back together. If only she’d consider doing it in America.

Okay, so Pippa hadn’t told Lucy that Dawn was a friendless loser. That was nice. Though it wouldn’t have been nicer if it didn’t mean that Lucy had come to her own conclusion that Dawn was a friendless loser. And she was so nice about -- not to mention correct -- that Dawn couldn’t even be upset with her for coming to that conclusion. “That’s alright,” she said quietly, ready to move on and surprised when Lucy added on that maybe she wasn’t the problem. And maybe Lucy was right; Dawn had certainly noticed -- in the times she could remember -- that people seemed more tense and closed-off than she was used to. Herself included, ever since her memories disappeared. She just wished she knew what she’d been doing. Why she had so many scars and no friends and she was pretty sure her hair had thinned out too, though she’d forgotten to mention that part to Lucy. She would probably just attribute that to the anxiety. Dawn nodded at Lucy’s words and did her best to straighten up; she’d always prided herself on her strength, but it had been hard to find lately. But Lucy was right; hopefully soon she would have answers. At least she knew she wasn’t crazy or imperiused. And Pippa, while quiet, had indeed proven to be a good friend lately. Dawn wasn't sure why she hadn’t gotten closer to Pippa before her memory loss, but she was grateful to have her. And Lucy now, sort of. “Right. Um. Thanks,” she mustered up a small smile. “Is there anything I can do while we wait for tests? I don’t know -- something that might jog my memory?” She couldn’t help asking, though Lucy probably would have told her as much already. 

“You’re very welcome, this is what we’re here for.” Lucy didn’t like the idea that she was spending so much of her time away from the hospital, and now at the hospital, cleaning up Dumbledor and Moody’s messes but that felt like what this was. “If you give me your availability I can put the orders in and we’ll get them scheduled as soon as possible. But don’t be alarmed by the speed. It’s not because I’m worried this will worsen. I don’t believe it will. But it’s clear you’ve lived with this alone for too long. I want to get you answers and hopefully some options as soon as I can.” It was the alone part that really got Lucy. The whole thing was messed up. But it was more so that Dawn was on her own. In a strange country especially. It was terrible. Lucy felt like they’d just discarded Dawn as soon as she was no longer useful to them. Callous at the very least but to Lucy it seemed worse, just cruel and unnecessary. She was going to do what she could to help Dawn not suffer for longer than needed. Even if she was still so uncertain how to even explain to Dawn what had happened to her. “I’m sorry you have had to bear this alone. You don’t any longer. I’m available if you need anything, even just someone to talk to. You don’t have to wait till I get the results to come back and see me,” Lucy told her. She always liked being available for her patients, and Order members, but in this case especially it felt important to be available. Dawn needed someone to help. In a way Lucy felt guilty too. She hadn’t been able to help Dawn before now. Despite knowing how much Dawn had suffered and the feeling something was wrong when Dawn was still working at the tea shop instead of going home, Lucy hadn’t checked in on her. She should have ignored the orders to avoid her and found a way to check in. Maybe Dawn wouldn’t have had to suffer alone, worried she had been imperious or whatever it was she thought might be happening to her. The very least she could do was help Dawn not be alone now.

Rather than worry, Dawn was relieved when Lucy said she’d get tests scheduled for her as quickly as possible. As terrifying as it was to face what was happening to her, now she’d told Lucy about it Dawn just wanted answers. Hopefully good answers; that was the scary part. What if her memory never came back? And how was Dawn even really supposed to know if that was a good or a bad thing when -- well, when she didn’t remember what she’d forgotten? Her brows knit together when Lucy said she’d lived with this alone for too long. Had Dawn told her she was alone? She didn’t think she had. Then again, she’d said she was from America, so clearly her family wasn’t here. And she’d had to rely on a friend from work to help her get help. Dawn being on her own here was probably a fair assumption. She just nodded at Lucy’s reassurances. But then Lucy was mentioning again that Dawn was alone. A fact she was very well aware of. But… “Did Pippa say I’m alone here?” She blurted out before she could help it. “It’s just, um -- Dawn looked down at her hands and fiddled with her bracelet again. “I guess I thought I was handling things okay, but, um -- guess not.” Not if Pippa had felt it necessary to tell Lucy she apparently didn’t think Dawn had any friends. Apparently Dawn didn’t really have any friends. Which felt wrong, too. “It’s just, um -- well I’m usually quite friendly. And I don’t have much trouble getting to know people. But…” Dawn hit that wall again and she trailed off. She didn’t remember anyone outside of work and some girl she passed in the hall going to her flat. And apparently she hadn’t made enough of an impression that there was anyone who’d bothered to check up on her in the three months since she’d been stuck in this fog. “I guess I kept waiting for some friend I’d made to stop by or send an owl or something but...clearly whatever I was doing I didn’t have a great year,” she added with a grimace. That was clear thanks to all the scars.

Lucy had a very clear picture of what was causing it. The problem was she was’t sure if it would do more harm to tell Dawn than to not tell her. Usually Lucy felt comfortable with following her intuition. But this was so horrific she wasn’t sure how to address it. How did you tell someone that a person they trusted, though had no memory of, had betrayed them like this? Because surely Dawn hadn’t agreed to this. Even if she had, had she known what she was agreeing to? Lucy knew one thing, at the time Dawn did or didn’t agree she was in no state of mind to make a decision like this. It was appalling. Lucy didn’t say any of that or betray how upset this all made her. “I want to tell you not to worry, but I know something like has to be frightening so I feel like not worrying is a rather hard thing to do. And I know not having a specific answer makes it all the harder,” she added apologetically. “I just don’t feel comfortable speculating out loud without first having more answers. But there are a number of things that could cause this. None of which you would need to worry about it getting worse. And from what you’ve told me it doesn’t seem to be getting worse so I feel like we can safely assume it won’t.” At least it wouldn’t as long as Dawn was kept safe from Dumbledore and Moody. “I’m sorry I can’t give you better answers, yet.  I promise I’m going to do everything I can to help you. I know you have no reason to trust me but I hope you will.” Lucy felt miserable giving Dawn vague answers and circling around the truth. She just hoped she was doing the right thing for Dawn. Damn Dumbledore and Moody!

There was a small amount of comfort just in hearing Lucy acknowledge that it would be impossible for Dawn not to worry about this. Of course she was worried. And Lucy was right; the fact that she didn’t already know what was happening to Dawn was even more troublesome. As was the fact that Lucy wasn’t speculating yet. Dawn understood Lucy’s logic, certainly. But she also couldn’t help thinking the reason Lucy didn’t want to speculate was because there were some very bad options she didn’t want Dawn to worry about. But naturally that just made Dawn feel even more worried. Still, she nodded, at the very least comforted by Lucy’s confidence this wasn’t going to get worse. Dawn really, really hoped this wouldn’t get worse. “No, um, that’s okay. I get it,” she reassured Lucy with a tense smile when the other apologized. None of this was the healer’s fault. “Thanks for helping me with this. Um -- you mentioned tests? When can we do that?” If Lucy didn’t want to speculate that was fine, and she’d also said it was hard to schedule whatever tests Dawn needed, but she would feel a lot better if she at least knew when those tests would happen. 

Lucy hid her disapproval of Dawn’s desire to stay instead of go home where she could be looked after by her family and perhaps out of reach of Dumbledore or Moody. Instead just nodding. Just like she didn’t react to Dawn saying she’d never had problems with anxiety before, that wasn’t true. Only Dawn didn’t know that. “Anxiety can cause a host of problems, which is why I’d like to address yours today. I believe in your case the anxiety is being caused by the memory issue and not the other way around. Listening to you talk about it, it’s clear how much anxiety this is causing you. I promise I’m not ignoring the memory issue. It’s just a more complex issue. There are tests we should run. Once I have a clearer picture of what’s happening in your brain I’ll know what steps we can take next.” It was hard to say for certain what could be done not knowing the extent of the damage. Or if the memories were simply suppressed or if they were gone entirely. “So what I would recommend is to treat the anxiety and anything else that might be troubling you, while we run tests. It can take some time to schedule them, get the results, so forth. Unfortunately not everything is as quick as waving a wand or downing a potion.” She gave Dawn an apologetic smile. “How does that sound?” She’d been hoping to just give Dawn something for anxiety and send her on her way to America to finish treatment with a healer there. Far away from the war and the Order. If Dawn insisted on staying she’d just have to do her best to figure out ways to help her. Or at least get a good idea of what damage they’d done.

Nothing Lucy was saying was making Dawn feel less anxious. If anything, she was feeling even more so hearing Lucy talk about tests and needed to get a clear picture of what was happening in her brain. So there was definitely something happening in Dawn’s brain, then, and Lucy didn’t know what it was. That felt like it was bad. Of course it was bad. If it wasn’t that bad Lucy would just, as she’d said, wave a wand and give her a potion and send her on her merry way. At least she was offering to help. And maybe something to help with the anxiety in the meantime would be a good thing. “Um...that sounds alright.” It sounded like as good as she was going to get, which wasn’t Lucy’s fault but didn’t make it any easier to realize even the healer didn’t know what was happening to Dawn’s brain. “How worried do I need to be about this? I mean -- you must have some idea of what’s causing this, right? Is it going to get worse?”

Lucy listened as Dawn talked trying not to jump to conclusions but instead focusing on gathering knowledge so she could come to the right conclusion. Once Dawn was finished Lucy felt certain she knew what had happened. She so wanted to be wrong but it seemed very obvious that the things missing from Dawn’s memories were specific things. Perhaps a few others that were swept away by association. Healers didn’t know all the intricacies of memory charms but they did know enough to recognize the effects of one. Dawn had obviously been obliviated. Lucy gave Dawn a reassuring smile and moved out from behind her desk to crouch in front of Dawn. “I know this must be very frightening but you’re okay,” she told her first. “You’re not going mad. And if you’re a Prophet reader you can put your mind at ease about being Imperiused. I’m fairly certain that’s not what’s happened here. I know the gap is scary, especially one so large, and the physical symptoms I’m sure add to the fear.” Hopefully she hadn’t been reading the garbage the Prophet was putting out. But it never hurt to reassure someone.

The real issue here was that Dumbledore or Moody, or both, had obliviated Dawn. Or had someone do it for them. Though given how large a gap they’d left she felt certain it was not a professional. A professional would have given her fake memories and surely someone would have sent her on her way back to America. But no. It seemed poor Dawn had simply had the Order wiped from her mind and then abandoned. Lucy was no fan of how the Order was run. It seemed from both her professional and personal viewpoints to be damaging to the members. She’d tried to get both Dumbledore and Moody to take into consideration the mental as well as physical well being of the members. Moody had simply dismissed the notion, ‘this is war,’ he’d declared as if that made everything permissible. Given the Ministry’s allowance of the use of unforgivables apparently the Auror department really did think everything was permissible. Dumbledore had given her false assurances and double speak that she had to untangle after he’d left to realize that he wasn’t going to make changes either. What happened to Dawn was the latest of horrors Lucy was witnessing at the hands of the people who were supposed to be the ‘good guys’. Lucy worried about being a part of an organization run by callous people. But she also worried what would happen to everyone if she wasn’t there to help heal them up. Now she could add worried that her mind might be scrambled to the mix of worries. Which did not help. Nor would dwelling on any of this help Dawn right now.

“The wizarding world isn’t very up-to-date with matters relating to the brain. But there are things we can do. While I understand this might not feel as pressing as the memory issue I think we should address a few things first. I’d like to give you something for anxiety. I think once we get that under control the weight issue will resolve itself. As you’re not from here if at any time you wished to return to America I’ll be happy to send something over to your healer there. I don’t want you to feel you have to stay here. The most important thing is for you to feel safe and comfortable.” Lucy felt she was obligated to tell Dawn what happened to her but the concern was how much she told her and if telling her would put her in danger of another memory charm. They’d fiddled with her brain far too much as it was. Lucy was always concerned for the Order members but now she was scared for all of them, including Dawn, in an entirely new way. Just how far would Moody and Dumbledore go? A frightening question.While she was horrified inside, outside she remained calm and reassuring. Dawn didn’t need any more stress than what she was already holding.

Dawn wasn’t sure whether she should feel more comforted by Lucy moving to crouch in front of her, or whether that was a sign that something was so horribly wrong Lucy had decided she needed to be extra gentle with Dawn. But she wasn’t mad, okay, that was good. Or maybe Lucy was just being nice and there was some clinical term for what was wrong with Dawn that was basically the equivalent of being mad. At least she wasn’t imperiused. Dawn hadn’t been sure whether or not to believe those rumors. On the one hand, the Prophet was trash. On the other hand, she’d had so many weird memory gaps and inexplicable scars, even if that wasn’t what happened to her she’d been terrified anyone she confided in would determine that was the case. It was a relief just to hear Lucy say that wasn’t what was happening. 

What Lucy wasn’t saying was what was actually happening to Dawn, which had her more worried it was something bad. Of course it was bad. Losing months of memories wasn’t something you took a potion for and woke up better the next day. She was also pretty sure it was not caused by anxiety. Though she had been feeling admittedly a lot more anxious than normal, what with all the gaps in her memory. Was it a bad sign Lucy was focused on that and not the actual problem? “No, um -- I don’t want to go back,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I came here for…” She frowned as she hit that wall again. “I came here for something. I want to figure out what it was.” She knew it was related to the war, but people here we weird about that sort of thing so Dawn kept that part to herself. But whatever was wrong with her, it was small compared to what was happening in London; she couldn’t just give up and leave. She just had to fix the problem. “Is the anxiety causing the memory stuff? Because I’ve never had problems with anxiety before.” At least not that she remembered.

Lucy expected the pretense to job once Dawn shut the door. But it didn’t. Maybe she was just nervous. Or struggling to deal with the familiarity of being in a small room with her. She’d healed Dawn up plenty of times. There was clearly something amiss. Not just because Pippa had discreetly mentioned needed to talk to a healer. But also because Dawn was still here. She should have gone home and finished her healing. It was what was best. “Of course, that’s what we healers are here for. I’m never too busy to help,” she told Dawn hoping to help the other feel more at ease. Once Dawn started speaking Lucy thought maybe she’d gotten it wrong and this wasn’t about war stress. Not if it was lately. Concern started creeping in when Dawn said she had felt foggy. Lucy kept her face neutral, it was usually better not to worry the patient by looking concerned. When she mentioned the weight loss confusion popped up along with concern. They’d had this conversation, at least about the weight loss. Lucy had given her suggestion after suggestion for how to increase her appetite, what kinds of food she could eat little of but still had that caloric punch she needed for energy, even suggestions of protein shakes and electrolyte drinks. Lucy had even looked into what muggle marathon runners ate looking for suggestions. Nothing seemed to help Dawn. But it was the end of that sentence and the next that really had Lucy concerned. “Take a breath, Dawn, it’s okay,” Lucy told her calmly as if she wasn’t confused and concerned.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m going to need to ask you some questions and if you have any for me, feel free to ask. If there’s any other oddities or concerns, no matter how small you might think it is or embarrassing it feels to tell me, I really need to know. You’re safe here.”  There were a few possibilities. Lucy tried not to jump to any conclusions. She was fairly certain Dawn hadn’t been iperiused, though it was too soon to rule that out completely. Stress could cause memory loss, though Lucy wasn’t certain if it would be this severe. Then again this wasn’t ordinary stress. Brain damage. Or the one that Lucy felt a pit of dread in her stomach just thinking of, but she was trying to mentally tell herself that it was impossible. “Can you tell me when this started? Was it all at once or little things missing? Have you forgotten current things or just previous?” Her voice was calm and soothing.

Dawn took a deep breath as Lucy instructed, trying her best to calm herself down and believe the healer when she said it was okay and they’d get to the bottom of this. She didn’t know Lucy well enough to know if she just had a good bedside manner and everything could actually be catastrophically horrible, or if it really would be okay, but she forced herself to take another deep breath as she tried to focus on the healer’s words. She had a soothing voice, but was Dawn really safe here? Did Dawn really have any other choice but to hope that she was? Surely Pippa wouldn’t have steered her towards someone who would run to the Ministry at the first sign of worry. Right? She took another breath; just answer the questions. She needed help, and this was the only way she knew to get it. 

“Um...it’s just previous things, I think?” Of course, if she’d forgotten more recently she probably just hadn’t had time to realize yet she’d forgotten. But there weren’t the same kinds of gaps recently, at least not yet. “It started a few months ago, I think. At least that’s when I started to notice things felt….off. That’s when I noticed I’d lost weight. And, um, the scars,” she added in a quieter voice, because those scared her more than anything else. Dawn knew ordinary cuts and scrapes didn’t scar when they were healed by magic. How had she hurt herself that badly so many times and not remembered it? “The thing is, um, I came here from America -- which you could probably already tell from the accent,” she added, rambling nervously now, “But I came here a little over a year ago to um…” Dawn’s brows pulled together as she hit the familiar mental wall before landing on the same excuse she’d been providing herself the past few months. “Well I worked for a newspaper back home and I was writing about the war happening here so I thought I could help out here…” She trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut, bringing her hand to the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t right. “That’s not right,” she whispered, panic creeping into her voice before she opened her eyes and looked at Lucy, nerves replaced by fear now. “I don’t know why I moved here. I mean, not in the midlife crisis, what am I doing with my life sort of way, but like -- I don’t remember deciding to move. Or moving here at all.” Dawn’s shoulders hunched together as she spoke, shrinking in on herself, her voice getting smaller as scared eyes held onto Lucy’s.

It had been awkward pretending to not know Dawn. But there were a lot of things these days she had to pretend not to know about, or people she shouldn’t know as well as she did. It was chaotic. Everything was these days.  Both muggle and wizarding worlds felt out of sorts. Trouble brewing everywhere she turned. Lucy did her best not let any of it pull her under, it would be so easy to get overwhelmed by it all. Some days easier to do than others. Today had been one of those days where she’d had more wins than losses but still a long day filled with reminders of the crazy days they lived in. A patient refusing her treatment because she was muggle born. Another injured trying to teach themselves how to duel in order to protect their family, ‘just in case.’ She’d had three students just today who’d come in with a variety of injuries stemming from trying to learn magic on their own because Hogwarts was closed. The third might not count since it was more of a matter of a boy experimenting with spells in his spell book than doing his school work. She’d been surprised when Pippa had talked to her about Dawn, concerned for the other. Lucy wondered if it was lingering stress from the war. She’d expected the American to go back home, leave the horror of the war behind. There was no shame in it. But as she wasn’t supposed to be around Dawn she hadn’t been able to gently suggest to her that it was time. Lucy planned to do just that today when the other came to her office, after she’d heard her out of course. There might be something else amiss.

Dawn kept up the pretense of not knowing her far better than Lucy thought she managed. “Yes, now’s perfect, please come in, have a seat.” It was a small office but Lucy had added touches like she had at the Order to cheer up the space some. There was a small jar of orange jelly beans on the desk. Along with her degree there was a photo she’d taken on a trip to the sea with her family of a rainbow over the water. Lucy didn’t have personal photos, if someone wanted to find her family they could but she didn’t have to help them. Paranoia she’d developed after the Order. “What can I do for you, Dawn? Pippa mentioned you weren’t feeling like yourself but she didn’t give me any details.”

Dawn gave a slight, nervous smile at the healer as she stepped inside the office with a soft, “Thanks,” and closed the door behind her. Lucy seemed as pleasant as she always did whenever she popped by the tea shop, and the small pops of color in her office made Dawn feel like she’d chosen the right person to talk with. But that did little for the nerves she was feeling in regards to actually explaining to someone what had been happening to her lately. But she was here now; no backing out. So Dawn did as she was directed and took a seat, fidgeting slightly and picking at her purple nail polish at Lucy’s questions. Right to business, that was good. No need to draw this out. Lucy was busy and Dawn just needed to spit it out rather than let it build until she did something even more stupid than try to get a job at the Prophet. “Right, um. Thanks for making time for me, I know you’re busy.” That was not getting on with it. But really it was kind of Lucy, she and Dawn didn’t even know each other aside from a couple of pleasant transactions at the tea shop. 

Dawn crossed her legs and fiddled with a bracelet she didn’t remember buying. “Um. Well it’s just that lately, I’ve sort of…” I don’t remember why I moved to London or how I got here or how I even got my job at the tea shop or what I’ve even been doing in London for the past year aside from working at the tea shop but whatever it is I’ve been doing left me with a bunch of weird scars and I’ve lost like fifteen pounds. “Things have felt sort of...foggy,” she said instead. Maybe it made more sense to build up to the crazy. “Like, um, I’ve been having trouble remembering things. I’ve, uh, lost weight, which normally I’d be kind of excited about, but uh, it’s kind of a lot and I don’t remember losing it? And um...I have scars I don’t remember getting,” she confessed, her voice growing more anxious as she finally voiced some of the worries she’d been carrying by herself for the past few months. She had barely scratched the surface and already she was terrified it was too much, that Lucy was going to decide she was on of the imperiused people the Prophet kept fearmongering about and report her to the Ministry. 

Dawn hadn’t been so sure of Pippa’s first suggestion; Healer Peakes had a good reputation, but he was awfully withdrawn whenever he came by the shop -- unless Pippa was around, which was sort of cute. If only they weren’t both so awkward. Healer Baker had seemed like a better option. Another Healer that Dawn hadn’t really spoken to, but she seemed much more approachable. And so here she was on a late lunch break stopping outside Lucy’s office. She knocked tentatively at the door and, when the person behind it told her to come in, she opened it and poked her head inside. “Er -- hi. Lucy -- erm, Healer Baker? I’m Dawn, Pippa’s friend? From the tea shop? She said you wouldn’t mind if I stopped by, um -- is now still a good time?”

Josh felt like a jerk again but unlike last time he decided not to try and make up for it. That had just made everything worse it felt like. Probably better to just let this bird think he was a jerk. Not like it mattered what some bird he wasn’t gonna see again thought about him. He felt bad for her. Hope wasn’t a bad thing to have. Change probably wouldn’t happen without it. But after so many months of just watching both his world and the Prophet get worse he was jaded. “No problem,” he said to her thanks, still uncertain what else he should say. “Sorry it isn’t going to work out the way you want it to. Nothing wrong with thinking it might,” he added because despite appearances he wasn’t a total jackarse. “But this just isn’t the environment.” Josh didn’t really know what else to say. The fact was that the Prophet was going to be the Prophet. Working in the Prophet system was useless. And he was pretty sure that no matter how many worked here that wanted to push back there would also be more of the people who wrote what they were told to. Either because they were a soulless black pit like Rita or because they were just trying not to get fired. The fat that the Prophet was only outsold by Witch Weekly felt like a pretty great indication that it wasn’t changing any time soon. And also maybe a sign about how they got into this mess, not all those people were buying the Prophet to line animal cages or wrap fish and chips into.

Dawn just nodded at his additions, wishing it was less obvious he felt bad for her. Mostly just wishing she wasn’t worth feeling bad for. Or just less obviously worth feeling bad for, but the fact she was here trying to get a job at the Prophet at all sort of screamed that, didn’t it? At least to anyone with half a brain. Awkward and stupid as she felt, Dawn couldn’t help feeling like it was a good thing she’d run into this bloke. Clearly she’d needed a reminder that this was not the right choice for her. Something she hadn’t thought she would need a reminder of, but...well, not that odd for her these days, was it? Maybe this was an even greater sign. Clearly things weren’t going well. Something needed to change. Dawn had thought that thing was going to the Prophet, but she’d been wrong about that. She couldn’t go home -- couldn’t give up like that. Maybe she needed to finally figure out what was happening to her, scary as that was. Dawn had hoped it would resolve itself, but clearly that wasn’t the case. And she worked in a magical hospital, for Merlin’s sake. Surely there was someone she could talk to...who wouldn’t turn her right over to the aurors. Yeah, that was the problem. But not this bloke’s problem. “Right, um. Thanks. Again. I’m just gonna...she gestured awkwardly toward the way she’d come. “I’m gonna go, I think. Um. Good luck,” she felt compelled to add, since he clearly wasn’t all that happy to be here. “I hope you’re wrong,” she added a second later. That probably didn’t come out right. But she did hope he was wrong about the Prophet not changing, for his sake but really for all their sakes. With that, she turned and left, the papers she’d given to him forgotten. 

Josh took the clippings she handed him while waiting to see where she was going with this. At first it seemed like she was going in a logical direction. And maybe she still was but Josh’s knee-jerk reaction to that question was not polite. Being who he was he said his reaction out loud. “Fucking hell, nosey much? I dunno how they do things over there but a bloke’s gotta pay his bills.” And help his parents pay theirs but he didn’t add that. Why else would anyone still work here? Or at any job they didn’t like. Maybe it wasn’t so much of an issue now that he and Cene were living together but he wasn’t going to live off Cene, or ask Cene to help his parents out. Cene would go for it, more than likely, but Josh was used to having to pay his own way the thought of Cene paying for everything had never crossed his mind. There was also the whole lack of ambition thing that was easy to fall back on even if he did have ambitions. Josh just wasn’t used to going for them too much. Too many years of professors telling him he was lazy when in reality he’d just been bored. Josh hadn’t been the sort to work for a grade and he hadn’t had the kind of dream that would motivate him to push through the boring shit like the twins did. Now he was sort of figuring out what he wanted but there was some more figuring to do, mostly how to make it happen. All shit he wasn’t gonna tell some nosey bird. “The truth is, it’s not gonna happen. The editor is a brick wall. But you looked like your clippings when I said that so I was trying to be nice. Though I dunno how nice it is to let you see for yourself how shit it is but fuck I’m a journalist not a bloody motivational speaker. The facts are you’re not the first to want to change the Prophet, you won’t be the last. What matters at the Prophet are profit and pissing people off that piss the boss off. He likes using the paper for revenge. Rita Skeeter writes bullshit, some of which is made up, the rest defies logic on how she managed to get the scoops she does, but she’s our top writer. Hell, she even sits in on the trials of Death Eaters to write up juicy bits of gossip and call it news instead of you know covering the fucking trail. That’s what passes as news here. If you’ve read the Prophet you know what sort of articles he’s looking for. Anything else either gets rejected, used as filler, or butchered to the point it’s not even your words anymore.” Did this bird really think no one here even thought to write something else? Someone thought highly of herself. Bloody Americans.

Dawn flinched when he cursed in answer to her question. Okay, so maybe she could have worded that better. But wasn’t he also a journalist? He should know better than anyone nosy was part of the job. And the answer he gave her just confirmed he’d clearly lost any hope that the Prophet might change. Maybe that hadn’t been his purpose for being here at all; maybe it was always about the paycheck. But he clearly cared about the rubbish getting published -- and what wasn’t getting published. She bit her lip to keep from responding with more poorly-thought-out words, and was glad she did when he elaborated on how things worked at the Prophet, further confirming what he’d basically been saying all along, and that he’d only changed tack because he thought she was a pathetic loser. Of course he said it more nicely than that, but pathetic loser felt fitting. She did feel a lot like her clippings, crumpled up and worthless here and cut out of where they belonged. She bit the inside of her lip and took a breath to steady herself. 

“Right. Um. I guess I knew that. I mean, not the specifics, but I have read the Prophet, so….I guess I just hoped, maybe if just one more person showed up and started pushing for the same thing -- or one more after me, or one more after that, then once there were enough of us --” And she was rambling and sounding like a naive idiot. And maybe that was all she was, because desperation had brought her here despite her instincts screaming at her that it was the wrong choice. She’d known everything he said. She’d known the Prophet only wrote garbage. That was why she hadn’t bothered with it when she showed up here….at least Dawn was pretty sure that was why. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Dawn wasn’t really sure of anything anymore. But that definitely wasn’t this bloke’s problem. 

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like -- all I meant was you seem like someone who cares about writing the same kind of stuff I do, so I wondered if you were still here because maybe you thought there’s a shot at getting it done. But -- doesn’t seem like that’s the case. Which I really should have known all along, I just --” She was just desperate. And rambling again. She shook her head as if to chase away the thought. “Um, anyways, thank you. For your honesty.” Clearly it was what Dawn needed to hear. 

Now he wished he’d taken the time to look at one of them. “Ah, well…you don’t need to have worked at a paper before if you don’t wanna show them. I started as a paper boy,” he told her with a shrug of his shoulders. Journalism wasn’t something he’d ever considered. And now here he was pissed because he couldn’t get his articles printed the way he wrote them. Life was weird. “Oh uh…” he was surprised that she asked about that. “Well they took out the entire interview with the bird running it. All her stuff about why she started it, why she thought it would be helpful for everyone to take. Even some criticism of the lack of a proper defense curriculum at Hogwarts, surprising because they don’t have a problem criticizing Dumbledore. They wanted me to talk more about Cene being involved even though he wasn’t as involved as they wanted me to make it look like. After I refused they held onto it and published it on one of the slower paper sales days, in the back, between ads. On the same day they published an article on the front page about the Ministry’s advice for protecting yourself from Death Eater attack. The advice, in case you missed that article, was shit like having passwords for each member of the family and making them say it each time they returned home. Or the stunningly unhelpful suggestion of staying indoors when it’s dark, guess all those people with jobs that don’t end before sunset should just quit. My favorite though was the reminder to stay away from Knockturn and shady looking characters.” Josh shook his head, he wanted to call them fucking idiots but it was more truthful that they just didn’t care about helping people feel safer. Bastards was more accurate. “Clearly all of those are way better than learning protection spells,” he added with a roll of his eyes. This was what Josh was up against, people who only cared about sensationalism.

There was something curious about hearing a bloke who was so jaded about not being able to make a difference had started here as a paperboy. Then again, everyone needed to get their foot in the door somehow. Dawn had started at the Oracle writing about cleaning charms and gardening tips -- just because she was a girl, the stupidity of it, but she’d worked her way up by getting to know the right people and sticking her nose in the right places. A knack she’d clearly lost since coming to London. If only that was the only thing she’d lost. She listened with interest as he explained what happened to his story, much less an indication of future possibilities now she heard what actually got published. Her frown deepened as he spoke, both because she agreed with him those tips were rubbish and because the mentions of Dumbledore and Knockturn and all those safety tips sent a chill running down her spine, that familiar nagging feeling these were things she’d heard before. Probably she’d read them in the paper...right. She brushed that feeling aside and focused once more on the bloke she was talking to, fixing him with a shrewd look as she tried to understand exactly what was happening here. “So you clearly don’t like what the Prophet is doing,” she said, careful to keep her voice low because this was this bloke’s job, even if she didn’t entirely understand why since he was the one who’d brought up that the Prophet was shit. “And it seems to me like you’ve tried to get the kind of stuff published that I’m aiming to get published -- this is some of what I wrote for the Oracle,” she added, handing him back a few of her crumpled stories, including her opinion article about MACUSA’s lack of action on what was happening in London -- analogizing the current situation to what happened with Grindelwald --  and another where she’d done some investigative work to uncover rumors of a blood-purist group in New York. “So what’s the truth?” She asked him. “Is it like you said and there’s no chance stuff like this gets published? Or is there a shot? I mean -- why do you still work here?” 

Josh was one hundred percent certain the Prophet was not the answer for this bird. So why did he feel like such a jackarse? It didn’t help that she was echoing a thought he’d had plenty, starting his own newspaper. An idea that seemed to keep popping up. But right now the focus needed to be on the bird he’d just crushed like Rita had done to her paper clippings a moment ago. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Wanting to make a difference is good,” he started lamely. “I mean we need more people like that right?’ Motivational speeches were clearly not his thing, and now he was wondering how he managed to write anything that got published. “Maybe you shouldn’t listen to me. Give it a go. Do your interview. It could work out. There’s no harm in trying right?” She could end up one of the soulless idiots churning out articles meant to scare everyone. Or burnt out from the weight of knowing she was never going to make a difference and was just beating her head against a brick wall, otherwise known as the editor. But sure, no harm. “You’re already here, and Rita didn’t manage to step on all of your clippings,” he added trying to be positive. He still thought working for the Prophet would be a bad fit if she really wanted to make a difference. But it wasn’t like he had any alternative to offer her. A little voice chimed in with a not yet in the back of his mind. For now though he simply felt bad for making her feel bad. Had he realized Dumbledore was recruiting other people besides his own students he might have tried to find a way to warn her off that. It was not something he was aware of yet. Nor would he have known how to even warn someone off that. He didn’t agree with Dumbledore’s methods but he did understand why the people he knew had joined. Just like he understood why this bird thought she might do some good working at the Prophet. And even though it all seemed to be for nothing the only alternative was literally doing nothing, something none of them could do.

Dawn was surprised when the bloke spoke up again instead of just letting her go. Then again, he’d seemed nice enough aside from telling her that working here was doomed not to go the way she hoped -- which wasn’t exactly an unkind thing to say, if it was the truth -- so maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he felt bad. It wasn’t his fault Dawn was a disaster, but he probably thought he’d just broken her dreams. How could he know that Dawn’s dreams were already so broken she didn’t even remember what they were supposed to be anymore? What was confusing was that he seemed to be walking back what he’d been saying earlier. It could work out. There’s no harm in trying. That was what Dawn had been telling herself in all the days leading up to this interview. Maybe he was right; Dawn always had been an optimist, or at least she’d always tried very hard to be one. She looked down at the pile of crumpled papers when he mentioned them. “I don’t think any of these would get published in the Prophet anyways,” she said quietly. Not because she didn’t think they were good -- she was quite proud of them, actually -- but because she’d never seen anything like them in the paper before and this bloke made it sound like that wasn’t for lack of people trying. “What happened to your story about the self-defense classes?” She asked, trying to suss out how much this bloke had already done and if he was as jaded as he sounded for good reason. 

Josh very nearly laughed. Which thankfully he hadn’t because he was pretty certain if he’d started he wouldn’t have been able to stop. But it was easy not to laugh when he. Saw how she looked. Now he just felt bad for her. “That’s not what the Prophet does,”  he told her plainly. “The best you can hope for is some sanitized version of your story that is nearly unrecognizable compared to what you submitted, which was already a sanitized version of what you wanted to submit, in the back of the paper wedged between ads for cauldrons and fungal budge.” He might be a tad more jaded about all of this then he’d realized. Josh sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he was definitely going to have to talk things over with Cene tonight. That always made him feel better. Maybe he could figure out what he was going to do since the last few months had drained out any hope he had about making any kind of difference here at the Prophet. Maybe he should just let this bird shoot her shot and find out for herself. But she seemed so optimistic, at least till Josh talked to her.

He let the conversation move on to where she knew him from. “Mm he’s a great bloke,” was all Josh said. He wasn’t the type to go all mushy to a stranger, not even about Cene. Even if Cene did make it extra hard not to. Once again he nearly laughed, only this time it wouldn’t have been as mean. “No. That’s Stu, you definitely wanna stay away from Stu,” he added since he knew how Stu could be around new females. “Cene helps out with a self defense class trying to help people be more prepared for Death Eater attacks. I met him when I was doing a feature on the class.” A feature that was stuck in the back but meeting Cene more than made up for it. There was definitely some pride in his voice when talking about what Cene was doing when they met.  “I normally cover the Ministry. Not the Minister but the normal stuff going on there.” He didn’t elaborate on how it was mostly boring press announcements that were stuck on page eleven because no one cared about cauldron thickness regulations. Or how sometimes the Ministry tried to sneak other things in because almost no one attended them and they were so boring that the few who did were usually struggling to stay awake. Instead he thought about how she had come here with her folder of clippings and a head full of ideals thinking she could change the Prophet. “Listen, about what I said earlier. I know I probably sounded harsh. It’s just the editor has no desire to change. Maybe he’ll hire you. But I promise if he does it’s going to be covering filler pieces unless you’re willing to go full shock and write stuff just meant to sell papers. I’m certain whatever you’re doing with your life right now is a billion times better than working here.” He talked softly hoping not to be overheard. While he wanted to talk things, like his future here, over with Cene, what he didn’t want was to have to go home to Cene and tell him he got fired.

That’s not what the Prophet does. He sounded so sure of it Dawn felt even more stupid. Of course it wasn’t what they did. That was why she hadn’t wanted to work here. Of course there were other people who’d tried to get articles about serious stuff -- and real stuff, not sensationalized garbage -- published before she showed up. “Oh,” was all she could think to say to that, especially because he’d been so specific she couldn’t help think he’d been trying the same thing she showed up hoping would work. And Dawn was not so pretentious she thought she’d have a better chance at actually doing it than someone who looked older and sounded like he was actually from London and clearly knew how things worked around here. 

So she tried to focus instead on where she knew him from, feeling a bit better that she wasn’t going completely mad. Maybe if they just had a pleasant conversation and she learned more about what this bloke did here it would give her some insight as to whether things were as bad as he made them sound. Maybe he was just jaded. Maybe there was still a chance this could work. Though it didn’t start off great, with a warning about someone else at the Prophet Dawn should stay away from. But -- a self-defense class? For Death Eater Attacks -- and this bloke who’d just told her what she wanted to do was hopeless had actually written a feature about it for the Prophet? Or was that what had been sanitized? Before Dawn could ask the bloke was actually circling back to what he’d said before. Her brows furrowed. She nearly blurted out a question about what had happened to the article on self-defense classes he wrote, but the last thing he said stopped her. I’m certain whatever you’re doing with your life right now is a billion times better than working here. 

Dawn’s face fell all at once. That was the thing though, wasn’t it? Dawn was here -- the last place she wanted to be, a place where just stepping inside felt a bit like she was on the way to making a deal with the devil and hoping not to get played -- because she didn’t know what she was doing with her life right now. In a much broader sense than just not being satisfied with working at the tea shop. She’d been in London for a year and she could only remember bits and pieces. She’d come here on a mission to do good, only she couldn’t remember what her plan had been or when and how she’d strayed from it. She was here at the Prophet because it felt like the only fathomable way to put together what little bits and pieces she had to work with -- and now she felt even less certain than before that it was the right choice. She hadn’t been all that certain to begin with. Dawn was a fighter; she worked hard, she persevered, she listened to her gut, she got answers. But she’d felt lost for -- she wasn’t sure how long. Everything was so fuzzy. What was wrong with her? She felt unsteady, uncertain whether staying and ignoring this bloke’s warnings was the choice that made her not a quitter, or whether going with her original instinct and leaving was the right call. She looked down at the folder full of crumpled news clippings; it felt fitting somehow. It was also a reminder that she was not alone and now was not the right time to have another freak-out about what was wrong with her. 

She took a breath and looked back up at the bloke. “Uh. Right. I mean, I haven’t quit my other job yet so I guess I could just….it’s just I thought maybe I could make a difference, but --” But that was stupid, and the Prophet wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for. She’d known that, really, even before she showed up. With a bit more confidence she straightened up. “Yeah, um. You’re right. This isn’t -- there’s a better way to --” A better way to help, but she was rambling and she didn’t even know this bloke’s name and he probably thought she was a giant idiot. “Maybe I’ll just start my own newspaper,” she said in a quiet voice, then let out a flustered laugh. That was not better. “Um. Right, I’m just gonna….go, then.”

His smile widened when the bird he’d bumped into agreed with him about Rita. While he knew nothing about the bird his opinion was favorable based on that alone. But it plummeted when she said she was hoping to get a job there. Her addition about London nearly missed as he wondered why anyone would want to come to the Prophet. Did make the clippings make more sense. “You want to work here? Why? Have you read the Prophet?” Probably not the best thing to say considering he was employed at the Prophet. But coming here as a recent graduate with no job prospects at all was a different story than someone who had apparently been published elsewhere. Maybe she was after Rita’s job. That’d be interesting.

“No problem, I mean it was pretty much my fault so of course I’d help. Just sorry we couldn’t get to them before Rita’s heels did.” He swore she sharpened those bloody things. Wouldn’t put it past Rita. Josh was surprised when she excitedly said she knew him. He chuckled. Definitely not something he minded. Though usually it was more like, ‘you’re the bloke Cene Tooker snogged.’ Which he liked answering with, ‘the bloke he is snogging actually.’ Because yep that was right, he had a hot boyfriend, and could openly admit it. Which was still new feeling and both thrilling and slightly terrifying, sort of like flying fittingly enough. “Yeah, it’s me. And no, not at all. I mean if I’m gonna be recognized by anyone, I’m happy to have it be because of my boyfriend.” Not tired of saying that. She might have terrible taste in papers but at least she wasn’t a homophobe. That was a mark back in her favor.

Dawn felt herself deflating slightly at his questioning. His questions were honestly questions she’d asked herself the entire walk here. A few days ago when she accepted an interview. A couple of weeks before that when she’d actually applied for the job. Hearing them out loud, and from someone who worked at the Prophet no less, had her questioning her choices all over again. As had the way that awful woman stomped all over her stories. Stories that were not at all the kind of thing the Prophet published. “Well I…” She tried to think of something nice to say about the Prophet -- she was standing in their offices for an interview, after all -- but came up blank. “I guess I was hoping if I could show them some of what I did for the Oracle back in America...they might be willing to try something new?” It felt stupid and naive even as she said it -- but then again, change never happened without people trying. And Dawn couldn’t know if there were people on the inside already trying unless she got her own foot in the door first. Only now her papers were crumbled and she felt even more stupid.