Unspeakables; Rule One

Chapter Eighteen: Trading the Truth

There was a multitude of threatening statements posing as empty inquiries, a muddle of polite voices and masked confrontation, and above all else, every argument was entirely ineffectual.

One could describe it as insanity.

Three Unspeakables stood around Agnes. Five Aurors took differing spots in the classroom, and two Ministry officials flanked the perimeter, staring Celeste down. She regarded them with kind nods and returned to peering around as her professors fought with whoever tried to counter their words. They wouldn't let Celeste say anything else after her arrival; they were too worried that anymore from her would be used against them all in this situation.

Celeste took her time viewing Fig's classroom as the voices around her began to drown out her senses. She hadn't adequately studied the space in the few times she'd seen it before. The room was loved and worn, and it was exactly how she had imagined the Professor's household would probably appear. A long red and gold woven rug ran down the room, and the oak tables on either side were scratched and in desperate need of polish. He had stacks of books in every corner and a chalkboard listing the Fundamental Laws of Magic in elegant script, his lesson for the day.

The fact that Professor Fig would welcome students in a mere half hour seemed unlikely. How could any professor sit in the storm of this escalation, then turn around and teach with performative ease, burden-less?

The voices rose to a startling level.

"No, you cannot have a private audience with Miss Auclair. I will not let you interrogate my student!" Professor Weasley and Fig were up in arms, evidently frustrated that the discussion continued to circle back to Celeste, 'the innocent.'

Celeste had never been considered innocent before. It would've been refreshing if the situation at hand had been different.

"-You came to meet with me! Leave her out of this. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time! I am responsible-..." Fig continued on his tirade, his voice muffling in the redundancy.

Out of every angry face, it was Hecat's expression of stone that held Celeste's attention the most. The former Unspeakable sat quietly, tapping her fingers against the table and staring at her expectantly, with a look of 'When are you going to handle this?'.

If Celeste had kept a journal, this moment would be in it. The moment in which she could realize her lack of vocalizing was causing more harm than good, a rare occurrence for her. She just stood there, gazing off and letting the voices of anger and argument flow around her, the pressure building. She was ready to blow and empty her mouth of every pent-up word in her vocabulary.

This is what the Ministry always did in the face of death, rarely involving themselves until they believed it impacted them. They wouldn't change in the next century, even after countless wars and dark wizard attacks. The death of her own parent's investigation had fizzled out, and they had just left the case open to collect dust in some file.

She needed air.

Grass.

Earthly salt and rushing waves.

She needed to feel the numbing sensation of coldness.

"Celeste, run!" Her father's voice echoed.

She swallowed and let her eyes flutter shut as she took as much air into her lungs as possible.

"SILENCE!" She yelled.

The audience complied, quieting at the abrupt and improper response from a young lady. Even Professor Weasley found herself a seat, stumbling back in shock. A few Aurors remained standing, suspiciously ready for an attack, as if a new student and three professors would take them all down.