#with max

We all know Jonathan lost hair with Max acting like such a little SHIT they now have to warn him when they do these lil karting races😭😂😂

Katie fisted her mouth, screaming into the bloody tears she’d made in her skin. There wasn’t anything she could do, her entire body a stick of dynamite, magic rolling off her shoulders, sparks off her hair and arms, her hair sticking up from the electric current running through her veins. Katie felt like the threat she’d always been, and it was eating her up inside, voraciously singing vengeful prayers in her ears.

“She died bravely, but there wasn’t a body to recover.”

She knelt onto the ground, head slamming into the redwood flooring, smashing her forehead down with a moan. Athena’s words reverberating. What happened to the body? Where was the funeral? What would they put into the casket?

“Didn’t Squint tell you?”

Tears were streaming, slicing through her makeup and pooling around her neck. It was tight like a noose, closing it tight like pursestrings or Lydia’s hand when her emotions came too hard and too fast. She wanted Lydia here, for the door to open and Lydia to gather her up and pressed a hand to her overheated cheeks. To feed her ice cream and calm her fits of rage that threatened to explode from her chest onto the floor.

“We couldn’t let another moment go by without you knowing, it’s only right.”

Who else knew? Who knew. Who did it? Who dared raise their wands and destroy her Commander. Katie curled around her body, head pressed into the ground as she screamed, and screamed and screamed. 

She couldn’t wait until her enemy screamed, until the felt like the pulpy muscly mass of grief as she did.

Katie knew rage, and her body enveloped it, settling it against her skin and bones, it breed and rang in her skull. The rage would multiply soon, when she called the banners, the lab rats and skeleton experts, pulling up cursebreakers and cursemakers like potatoes, the alchemists hidden beneath the warren that Lydia had lorded over. They would come from their holes, spying above ground, like a plague of snakes and pestilence.

Justice, the Division would bring justice, damn them all. Katie’s eyes flashed, standing and staggering to Lydia’s desk, running her hands over the hardwood, finding the place where Katie usually sat during meetings the only Captain among the Majors, picking her teeth and throwing out suggestions. Lydia grinning up at her, and nudging a glass of whiskey into her hand as Katie listened and took notes.

“Didn’t Squint tell you... I thought she’d would have beaten me considering your ... relationship.”

Katie stood behind the desk, her fingers running anxiously over the hardbacked chair, blood drying over her knuckles where her teeth had bitten through into her muscle. The room was cavernous, large enough to hold every Major standing at parade rest. It was the room of a Commander, of someone who lived and breathed for their department, who died for it too. Katie took a moment to breath in the scent of her Commander, the amber and whiskey scent, the whisper of dirt after rain, and the copper of blood.

Staring back at her was a photo was Katie and Lydia at the Auror Christmas Ball, exchanging gifts in their finest threads. Katie had found a field potions kit of the finest caliber, a heartfelt note. Ashworth had imported Japanese whiskey and a carefully made belt buckle to ward against dark curses. Fat lot of good it did her Commander.

“We couldn’t let another moment go by without you knowing, it’s only right.”

This room, that could fit ever Major in their division. This room that was too big for any one person to stand in. This chair that was worn in from another body, and Katie felt like a pretender for daring to think to sit in it.

But the rumors, they had been whispering in and out of her ear – Thorne being groomed for Lydia, Thorne was going to be the one when Ashworth retired, Thorne was a fool but she was going to be ready when the time came – the rung in her head. Like a church’s bell, signaling a funeral, and an ascension.

“We couldn’t let another moment go by without you knowing, it’s only right.”

“It’s only right.”

“Right.” Katie let her fingers drag over the photo on display, and let her chest quaver, a keening wail hidden within her throat. But there wasn’t time for painful mourning. No time for the sobs threatening to break out of her chest. “It’s only right.” Reaching for a button below the desk she clicked it, waiting as a low electric buzz sounded in the silence of her room.

“Commander Ashworth?”

“No, it’s Katie.”

“Captain Thorne, how can I assist?”

Had Katie always been so foolish, any other Auror would have been questioned as to why she was alone in a Commander’s personal office. Any other Auror wouldn’t have gotten past the wards. Any other Auror wouldn’t have the Division’s Head Secretary asking if they needed anything. With a shaky breath she answered:

“Get me every Major in this Division in Ashworth’s office. Code Hungarian Horntail, I don’t care if they are asleep send an officer to their door. I want them here yesterday.”

“Yes Captain.” The woman’s voice shook, nervousness edging through her country brogue.

“When they are all here, I want you to come in as well.”

Katie sat, watching as the room filled with smoke, oranges and blues, whites and a few dusty greys, the odd flare of purple and green. Each face as familiar as her own, her superiors, the ones that Ashworth had also hand raised. They looked around the room, taking up positions against the wall, standing in parade rest, picking sleep from their eyes. They looked at Katie, standing behind Ashworth’s desk, eyeing her like a hawk does a mouse, their noses twitching. Major Aaron Janson spoke up, a thin rat like man with a thin rat tail like mustache, one of their better cursebreakers.

“What’s all this then Captain Thorne, where is Lydia?”

Murmurs sprouted, but Katie held up a hand something she’d seen Lydia do during Division Assemblies and watched in fascination as they quieted down.

“We need to wait for the Head Secretary, Major Janson.” Back to shifting in place they went; another sprout of silver smoke came in as Madame Anders popped into place.

“I’m sorry, had to wait for someone to take the desk,” the Aurors parted for Madame Anders to drop into her seat, settling her skirts and taking up position at the typewriter.

Katie waited until all eyes were on her, as they waited for answers, waited for her voice. There was a special sort of calm that drenched her head to toe, like when Lydia used to rest her palm on the back of her neck, like a heavy comforting weight that dragged her up from the river bottom and brought her floating to the top. She took in a shaking breath.

“I have been informed, by Captain Howell, that Commander Ashworth died just a few hours ago during a secret mission.”

The Major began to yell, and Katie let them, thankful the room was sound proofed but allowed the sudden rage and grief to pour out.

“Seren sent her to find me, and I decided to inform you all before whoever the lead on the case does. I know this isn’t the way things are done but Lydia was our Commander, she trained us, she gave us promotions and Christmas presents. She was our leader,” Katie’s voice shook, “our Division Mum,” there were a few wet laughs, more than one Major was leaning on their partner, someone they’d grown up with or they’d nearly died alongside, “I didn’t think it was right that you’d all be informed by someone who didn’t know her. Didn’t know about her addiction to ice-cream or how she loved to lead off with a tap-dancing curse during duels.”

They were all huddled together as Katie spoke, rambling off the little things about their Commander that made her their leader. She stopped a few times, allowing a Major to speak up with their own memories, the constant feed of grief and celebration held for a few minutes until Katie’s voice dropped.

“We don’t have a Commander, you’re all the Majors in this Division. It’s your job to appoint someone before the Head Auror does—”

“Wait!” That was Miranda Sidewiner, the latest promotion from Lt. to Major, “If Lydia is … dead,” she shuddered lightly, but her cheeks were the driest of anyone in the room, but as always Miranda was in her mourning blacks likely another Sidewinder had died recently too, “then that means Seren is going to be—”

“Seren is the Head Auror,” breathed out Thomas, a barrel-chested man from Suffolk, “none of the other Commanders want it.”

“So, Cadmus is a Commander now!”

“We have to vote someone in right now, who knows who Seren will put in Lydia’s place!”

Katie nodded, “We need to do it quickly, by noon at least, we can reconvene here in a few hours. Give us all time to make our decision—”

“I vote for Thorne!” Major Folsom pipped up, “Lydia always intended her to take over, so we have to do it a bit earlier right?” There was a rumble around the room, “She’s young, but Lydia trusted her with a case that belongs to a Major!” Folsom looked around the room, “So she’ll have a learning curve – so did the entire Ripcurl Squad before they fixed the entire Department didn’t, they? I’m votin’ for Thorne; Lydia trusted her and that’s good enough for me. We’ll help her if we need to.”

“Yeah, I’m in for Thorne too,” Myers said, his heterochromatic eyes flashing, face cleaved in two with a black curse mark from a blowback in the field, “I’ve seen her work, she’s smart, and she won’t bow to Seren either. She already knew the head that old bitch off early by getting us all together!”

Katie watched in horror as a third of the assembled Majors spoke in her favor.

“No, we wait until Noon!” came a final voice, “We do not vote now, it’s not done, we have to Assemble and vote,” that was LaPlante speaking, her gravely tone crackling on her ear. “We vote one of us up, bring Thorne to Major. Then in a decade we can revisit this idea! I’m not saying you’ll never be Commander girl, but you’re not ready, and if Lydia were here, she’d agree.” The woman stamped her cane, and with her a few Majors nodded.

“I say we vote now, before Seren does something rash.” Miranda said, picking at her nails, “She’ll put someone in her pocket in charge within the second she can breathe.” The congregation began to argue and, as Katie watched in horror.

“Either we do it now or get swallowed up!”

“What if she puts Howell in Lydia’s place?”

“Thorne is the best option, or Myers!”

“LaPlante is the oldest—”

“Meet me on the dueling field and you’ll see how old I am girl.”

Katie stood, knees threatening to break beneath her weight, as the tolerable Sidewinder she’d ever known poured her a whiskey from the bar cart beside Lydia’s desk. She swirled it, watching in horror as they began a mock vote, Madame Anders tapping away in the background on her typewriter, letting a Major wipe them away between shinks of paper as she tracked every conversation in the room.

“Why don’t we vote for an Interim Commander?” said the quietest of their Majors, one who’d been sobbing into their partners chest for the last half hour unable to speak outside of a grieving moan, “We can take our time, but we need to do this now right? So let’s buy ourselves time.”

“Madame Anders, take note!” LaPlante finally acquiesced, but Anders looked to Katie, fingers hovering over the typewriter. “We’ll vote for Interim then, does that satisfy?” Another rumble and Madame Anders nodded, settling her fingers on the keys, the mechanical sound ringing in Katie’s skull.

“Shall they vote, Captain?”

Katie sipped her whiskey, her entire body flaring with heat and worms in her belly, tears spilling over her cheeks. But no one commented, as each question came out of their mouths, she felt vomit punching up through her throat. But Lydia wasn’t there to mop up her mess. To stop her from drinking during the day. To press a cool hand to Katie’s overheating cheek as she was enveloped in a slow mounting rage.

“It’s only right.” Katie croaked, “They want to vote, then let them vote.”

They spoke up, quickly, Thorne -17, LaPlante -7, Myers – 6. Thirty whole votes.

“I want a recount!” LaPlante howled, slamming her cane onto the ground. “We cannot make this girl Commander!”

“Oh fuck off ya old bat, we named her Interim Commander!” Folsom roared, “We’ll hold off so Seren can’t do anything, she might be Head but this is a Division decision! Thorne is our Commander for now, we’ll figure this all out soon just keep ahold of your granny knickers!”

“Well Commander Thorne, what say you? What are your orders.” Miranda spouted, her dark eyes finding Katie’s, and her flicked to the Captain’s bar still proud on her Auror blacks. Everyone waiting with bated breath for it to morph, for the magic of the station to appear on her breast. The wings of a Phoenix.

Katie’s mouth was dry, her fingers were shaking, her entire body lit up like a flare. “I—” her hand thumbing the bar, wondering where it would take.

“I—”

Folsom nodded at her, Miranda hummed, even LaPlante watched her with the eyes of an ancient wily fox. They were staring at her, and Katie took a step back, and sat down. Lydia’s chair digging into her spine, and she took in a long breath. The Majors all turned to her, and the woman straightened up and spoke. Voice ringing through the room, echoing in the high ceilings and settling over the crowd.

“We need to find who did this,” there was the monster in her belly, “and destroy them. Make them pay. Make sure they wouldn’t get up. Turn their bodies to ash.”

All around the room the Majors grinned, even LaPlante, a bloodthirsty sorta feeling settling in the room.

“Burn and destroy.” Giggled a Major, twirling a blonde curl around their knuckle.

“Leave nothing for forensics.” Snickered one, “I don’t want to clean up what Thorne is gonna do to them yeah?” 

“I’ve been studying some curses--”

“Did I mention I took torture classes?”

Katie smiled, and for a moment since Athena landed a hand on Katie’s shoulder and apologized, the world was tilting correctly. Justice, their name was C&F Division, and Katie was going to lead theme in glorious revenge. They were whispering suggestions and Katie let Miranda pour her another drink, settling back into the chair as LaPlante began organizing ideal captains and where to grease the wheels for information.

Then, as if the world was mocking her, it shifted beneath her feet, as Max stepped in the doors shuddering from the force of the slam, the Majors assembled around Katie sitting in Lydia’s chair, the Majors guarding Katie behind the desk, wands pointed to the figure in the doorway.

“Commander Thorne,” Katie’s eyes shifted to LaPlante, her tone mocking but also mildly horrified as the wards around the room detached, “I don’t think we voted on time.”

“Seren wanted you to know first… but I’m surprised Max didn’t come to you first,” and there on Max’s chest was a bar decorated with the Commander wings of a Phoenix, flaring off the platinum edge, “she knew hours ago, knew before you were even awake. I thought she would’ve brought you in to hear it from her. I’m sorry it’s from me. She died bravely, and there isn’t a body to recover.”

“Get out.” The Majors trooped out, leaving Max in the door and Katie put her feet up on Ashworth—her desk, and poured herself another glass.