Chapter Text
Outside of the window from the second floor of Ilvermorny Private School, the day was pleasant and bright. The sun hung high in the sky, the clouds thick and fluffy and white, and the sky a pure blue from where it peeked through. From his desk at the back of the class and right next to the large and slightly dirty window, Credence had the perfect view of the city as it bustled with life. Cars drove along the small street just below, pausing at the intersection in intervals. A flock of pigeons battled one another for a spot on the largest tree in the park across the street. People were walking by on the sidewalks languidly, chatting amiably and laughing. Credence smiled faintly, daydreaming himself walking along with them without a care in the world, calm and content and not looking over his shoulder at every turn. What life could be if he were just an ordinary man with ordinary friends.
“Mr. Barebone,” Came a strict voice from the front of the class, louder than before, and Credence startled upright, scrambling to look like he had been paying attention. When the other students in the room began to laugh, he knew he hardly passed.
“Y-yes, Professor G-Graves?” He stammered out anyways, his heart racing and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. The laughter died down to subdued giggling while Professor Graves surveyed his daydreamer student.
“I realize the suicide of Ophelia may not be of any interest to you and your imagination, but could you at least pay attention to the lecture?” Professor Graves demanded, holding his copy of Hamlet aloft in one hand. Credence cleared his throat and nodded, looking down at his book with a shameful grimace. He didn't even know what page they were on...
With a sigh, Professor Graves turned back to his book and looked over the page, picking up right where he left off with a flourish, enrapturing his students once again in the story. He was a fantastic reader, his voice deep and passionate, emotions falling from each word as easily as he spoke them. Every student was reeled in by the story, every student except one.
With his head still ducked towards the book, Credence dared to sneak another peek out the window, trying his best to do so out of the corner of his eye. In the park, there was a man pushing around a cart no doubt filled with ice cream and popsicles. Credence thought of his little sister, Modesty, and her utter delight if he bought one for her. He could already see her red-stained lips and hands, reaching out to him and begging for another, and he knew he would give in eventually. Chastity would be sitting on the bench, pretending to be annoyed at being dragged out to the park once again, but Credence would catch her fighting back a smile every once-in-a-while, and he would know that she really did enjoy being with them most days.
Credence would hold Modesty's hand as they strolled further in the park, Chastity following behind with her arms crossed and a sparkle in her eye. They would go to the playground so Credence could push Modesty on the swings, and Chastity would pretend to be on her phone when she really just wanted to sit on the other swing, pushing herself back and forth. Modesty would throw her head back in laughter when Credence pushed her up, and she would cry out in delight, “Higher, Credence! Push me higher!”
A hand on his arm shook Credence out of yet another daydream, and he jerked around to find the student sitting to his left looking back at him with wide, worried green eyes. Another round of poorly hidden laughter made Credence look forward, and he realized Graves was staring at him with his arms crossed, obviously waiting for something.
“Uh...” Credence breathed, his heart sinking even as he sat up straighter. He cleared his throat a few times, then asked nervously, “I'm s-sorry, what?”
“It is your turn to read, Credence.” Professor Graves said with a sigh, and Credence knew he was in trouble, “Surely you know where we left off?”
He looked down at his book in a panic, wishing the words would just peel themselves off the page and show him the answer. He picked up his own book, licked his suddenly dry lips, and began thumbing through the pages.
“Psst!” Came from his left, startling Credence to look over. The student beside him, a handsome young man with an athletic build who probably had better things to do than ever speak to Credence. And yet the student was lifting his own book, discretely, pointing with his finger to the page number they were on, followed immediately by which paragraph Credence needed to start from.
A wave of relief ran over Credence like warm water, and he hurried to the page and paragraph, even while Professor Graves sighed and remarked coldly, “Theseus Scamander!”
“I wasn't doing anything!” He argued immediately, holding up both of his hands in defense.
“While I appreciate your dedication to your fellow classmates, it would do Credence well to actually listen in class,” Professor Graves scolded, and Credence flushed even more. The others laughed again, and Credence wondered if he could possibly hide himself in the very book he held.
It was only ever with Professor Graves did Credence stick out like a sore thumb. Every other class he had, he practically blended in with the wall. He was just another student in another seat, not the main target to be called out on. As the laughter died down once more, Graves let out a heavy sigh and regarded Credence one last time before shaking his head, “Nevermind. Mr. Barebone, you are to see me after class.”
The classroom filled with the jeering, teasing voices of his classmates. Credence sighed and set his book down again, holding his head in his hands and squeezing his eyes shut, just wishing he was home already. That same hand landed on his arm, and he glanced towards Theseus who was offering him an apologetic frown. Not wanting his pity, Credence pulled away from him and crossed his arms instead, sinking low in his seat.
Professor Graves picked the story back up, only getting half a page further before the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. As the students began gathering their things and getting up from their desks, Professor Graves called out their homework, reminding them that they had an essay due at the end of the week that was absolutely required if they planned to pass his class—as was every piece of homework he gave out.
Credence waited in his seat, staring morosely at his aged and worn desk as the students cleared out. Theseus lingered behind for only a few moments before some girl came to him and tugged him away by the arm, reminding him about some sort of promise he made her. Credence peered up to watch him exit through the door, and a few seconds later, he, too, stood and made for the front of the class.
Professor Graves waited for him, leaning against his desk with Hamlet lying shut behind him and his arms gripping the stained wood. He emitted an air of superiority this close, his gaze heavy and judgmental. Credence could feel the collar of his stark white dress shirt growing tight, but he didn't tug at it. He only cleared his throat and tried to look anywhere but at Professor Graves, fiddling with the golden button on his burgundy overcoat—the school colors.
“Mr. Barebone...” Professor Graves began, and Credence couldn't help but hunch his shoulders even more, trying to shrink down to the insignificant pest he felt like. He could handle all the yelling and screaming and shouting from his mother, but even at the barest hint of disappointment in Professor Graves' voice was enough to make Credence want to cry like a child. He knew there was no way he could weasel out of this one, he just hoped Professor Graves wouldn't find it necessary to make another house call.
“I-I'm sorry for daydreaming, sir,” Credence whispered, his hands trembling so much that he squeezed them into fists in an attempt to stop them, “I promise I won't do it again... I-I just didn't get a lot of... a lot of sleep...”
Professor Graves crossed his arms and let his head tilt to the side, obviously not buying Credence's excuse. Still, he had to try.
“I promise I'll pay better attention, sir... I'll get more sleep, I'll--”
“Credence,” Graves interrupted, standing up straight and walking towards the student, who attempted to back away only to bump into the desk behind him. Arms still crossed, Professor Graves looked at Credence, his black eyes hard and curious, “Every day, it's a different excuse with you.”
“I'm sor--” Credence tried to apologize again, but Professor Graves interrupted him with a silent tap of his fingers against his lips and the slightest shake of his head.
“To be honest, Mr. Barebone... I'm beginning to worry for you. You tell me you aren't sleeping well, you tell me you forgot your lunch, you show up to school late almost every other day, and don't think I haven't noticed the bruises.” Professor Graves listed off, finishing with a brief gesture at Credence's face, and the boy jerkily covered the fading bruise on his cheekbone with a hand, as if he could just make Graves forget about it. “With each passing day, you look more and more gaunt. I'm left to wonder if you even eat when you get home.” A pause, a breath, and then, gently, “Please, Credence... Be honest with me... Are you... Do you feel safe at home?”
Startled stiff, Credence looked at Graves with wide eyes and blurted out a surprised, “Excuse me, sir?”
“What I mean to say is...” Graves huffed and ran a hand over his hair, never through it, and it looked like he was struggling with what he wanted to say just as much as Credence struggled to believe it, “Look, I know about your... situation. I know you and your siblings were adopted. I know being adopted, especially at the age you were at, could be hard, but... But if your guardian is hurting you, you don't have to suffer silently.”
Credence would have laughed if he had the emotional capacity to. It was so out of left field that Credence found himself incapable of answering, and it seemed like his silence only supported Graves' theory.
The Professor took a short breath, then gently set one of his hands on Credence's shoulder, squeezing in what he hoped was reassuring before he began to say, “Credence... you can always talk to me.”
However, he didn't get even two words out before a shadow shot by the window, eclipsing the room for only a few seconds. Both Credence and Professor Graves twisted their heads towards the window, managing to catch the sight of a car doing flips as it was thrown, eclipsing the room once again, and followed by a loud, metallic crunch when it hit the ground.
Credence's hand shot to the pendant hidden under his dress code compliant shirt instinctively. Both he and Professor Graves took a step away from the window, and then turned towards one another and said together, “I have to go.”
They both paused, Professor Graves' eyebrows furrowing as he looked Credence up and down, but the student only ducked his head and explained, “My sisters, they're at home alone. I need to make sure they're okay.”
“I understand...” Professor Graves whispered, though the expression on his face belied his doubt, “Be safe, Credence.”
“I will, sir.” Credence promised, swinging his backpack over his shoulders as he rushed towards the door, only to stop and turn back around, calling out, “Oh, er... you—you too, Professor.”
Professor Graves gave a curt nod, and Credence exited the classroom and hurried down the hall. However, instead of taking the stairs down, he ran to the nearest boy's bathroom and burst in. Shoving open each stall to make sure he was alone, Credence locked the door and tugged open the small pocket of his backpack, whispering in a low voice, “Hallow! Wake up!”
A wisp curled from the pocket, black like wood smoke and twisting about in a sentient way, only to be sucked into a shape of a strange, blurry creature almost the size of Credence's palm.
“There's another one in town!” Credence explained quickly, zipping up his backpack and hiding it behind one of the toilets, Hallow following him closely, “We need to go, now!”
Hallow twisted about cheerily, seemingly in agreement, so Credence tugged the pendant out from under his collar, the silver shape of a bisected circle within a triangle glinting in the fluorescent lights, hanging from the end of a black twine string. Hallow spun around the pendant affectionately.
“Hallow,” Credence bid, catching the creature's attention, “Transform me!”
The pendant glowed with power and Hallow was sucked into the center of it. Credence let out a gasp as he felt Hallow's power swell within him, and with the magic of the pendant, Credence began to change. Running his hands over his eyes, over his head and neck, then throwing them out to his sides, Credence was enveloped in a shadowy hooded shawl, the ends evaporating into endless smoke that brushed along his leather booted ankles. His black pants were tight, but comfortable, the belt at his hip holding many little devices and trinkets, and his long-sleeved black turtleneck soft and flexible, but tough all the same. His skin had grown almost a ghostly white, in stark contrast of the midnight black mask over his eyes, eyes that had gone completely white, with no iris or pupil to speak of.
Credence had entered the boy's bathroom at Ilvermorny Private School, but it was Obscurus that burst out of the door in a plume of smoke, leaping first onto the railing, and then jumping down to the first floor. He vanished out of the front doors to the school only moments after, entering yet another scene of destruction and chaos.
After all, it was just another Tuesday.