Even A Worm Will Turn

“ Call now; is there anyone who will answer you?”

-Job 5:1

Home was not as welcoming to Mary as she had expected it to be. She had run off the train ecstatically into her mother's arms, who patted her stiffly. She waved goodbye to her friends (and in Ron’s case, his mother as well), and chatted about her school year with her mother, strategically avoiding any unpleasant occurrences. Then, Mary sat in the car and continued talking but stopped when she realized that her parent was not listening.

“Wheres dad?” she asked as they made their way into London's traffic-lined streets.

Her mother tensed (a movement Mary could recognize from her time in Slytherin). “Your dad's at home, sweetheart.”

Mary accepted that and watched through the window. Light rain had begun to fall and she saw many people grumble as they pulled out umbrellas. Her mom grumbled along with them and turned the windshield wipers on. They slowly pulled out of traffic and made their way home, with the rain pouring down when they pulled into the driveway. Mary jumped out from the backseat and ran to the front door, ignoring the rain drenching her hair.

Her mother came up behind her quickly and unlocked the door.

“Dad!” Mary yelled as she pulled her suitcase in. Huffing, she turned the corner and placed her belongings at the bottom of the stairs. “Dad?”

A grunt came from the living room and she grinned. Sprinting in she finally saw her father. Dark under bags and red-rimmed eyes met hers. He looked worse for wear. His hair was in desperate need of a cut, and so was his beard. Clothing ruffled and wrinkled covered his skinny body.

It had been the first time she had seen him in months. Mary had expected a hug, a welcome, but not a shout. “Do they not teach decency at that school? You’re muddying up my carpet!”

Mary looked down at her feet, a few drops of water cascaded down her body onto the carpet but she had not dragged any mud in. Regardless, she apologized.

“Hmph,” he said, leaning further into the couch. “Has your mother brought anything up with you?” he said in a smaller voice. Mary, still shocked, only shook her head.

“Roger, we said we would discuss this together.” Mary's mom said as she walked in herself. 

Her dad scoffed and looked away. Mary took his place and stared at her mother. “What?”

Mary’s mom shot a look that she couldn’t decipher at her father as she grabbed her hands. Gently she led her to the couch. All three of them mushed with their thighs pressing against each other. “What?” she asked again.

“Headmaster Dumbledore has sent us a letter,” Mary felt her heart drop. “He says that you were, um, possessed and that you may take a little while to get back onto your feet.”

Mary nodded. “Yeah?”

Her mom shot a desperate look at her father, who just stared at Mary. Her mother continued, “We think that it might be best if, just for the summer, you go to a nunnery.”

“A nunnery?” Mary leaped up. “A nunnery ? Just a little dark magic,” she saw her father shutter at the word. “Won’t harm me. I’m okay, I swear!”

Mary’s mother shot her father a warning look, which he must have assumed was a plea for help. “Now you listen here- I’ve talked to Pastor Jeremiah and Petunia and they have advised me to get that freakishness–”

“ Roger!” her mother said, scandalized. 

“Out of you,” he said over his wife. “As soon as I possibly can. The sooner the better. So you are going to this nunnery and you’ll like it. Do you hear me?”

Mary felt a great deal of anger flood her but she took a breath and nodded. “Perfectly.”

He nodded back. “Then Wednesday you will head off to Saint Mary’s Nunnery for Sinners.”

“That's two days away!” she exclaimed after a two-second delay. Her father raised his eyebrows, daring her to question him. Mary turned to her mother for backup but her mom just shook her head.  Mary stood and stomped off to her room, passing her distraught mother on the way. It made no sense! There was just a sudden character change, so unexplainable that Mary failed to comprehend it. Sure, the summer before had been tense. She had heard raised voices one night but other than that she was too busy with Harry to notice. 

The threat of the nunnery wasn’t new either. Often when she was younger and prone to mischief it was threatened. A lot. Mary never thought they would actually act on it. It was just so outlandish! Sure, she had been possessed for a moment but it wasn’t the devil! It was just some crazy wizard, surely they could understand that?

The next morning, Mary ventured downstairs to find her parents had both gone to work. A short note from her mother was left on the kitchen counter explaining that there was leftover spaghetti in the fridge for her to enjoy. Mary decided she wasn’t hungry and that she needed to see Harry. Harry would understand, he would comfort her. Harry always had.

A thought as quick as lightning struck her; What if her parents refused to let her go back to Hogwarts? Surely they wouldn't! 

You also thought that about the nunnery, her head said to which she responded with a swift denial. They wouldn't!

Mary walked speedily to Harry’s, trying to avoid the glaring sun by staying in the shade. After the short walk, she came to his house. It was a mess, or messier. The garden's once pristine rose bushes were shriveled light green, the grass was nearing death, and it all came from the lack of Harry. Mary knocked on the door violently, tense from the shoulders down.

From behind the door, there was a short ruckus before the door was wrenched open. In the gap, Dudley stood broodingly. He still had the familiar sneer stretched across his face as he chewed on gum. Smacking his mouth open he called out for his mom. “Mom! The other freak is here!”

Mary schooled her expression. “Hello, Dudley,” she said as politely as she could. “How have you been?”

Dudley smacked on his gum before answering. “Decent.” he told her blandly and she tried to smile. Looking around his shoulders she saw a raging bull come around the corner. Mrs. Dursley was storming up to them with a look of fire.

“OUT! Out!” she yelled, moving Dudley to the side and pulling out a rag from her apron. Mrs. Dursley slapped the rag on her head multiple times in succession, befuddling Mary so much that she stepped away. The second she was out of the house the door was slammed shut in her face. Mary frowned and felt her irritation spike. She walked below Harry’s window and looked up, trying to see in but the blinds were shut. Mary huffed and picked a rock up. Aiming, she launched it through the air with surprising accuracy. It smacked itself right in the middle of the window but there was no reply. Mary picked up some more and kept trying.

“Open,” it hit. “The,” the rock hit and bounced back down for her to use again, “Window!” she threw the last rock with more force out of anger and it soared perfectly to the center of the window. Or, it would have if Mr. Dursley hadn’t opened it at the last moment. Mary’s face heated up. How could she have forgotten? Harry's room was on the other side!

Mr. Dursley scowled at her and yelled obscenities through his window. Mary quickly fled.

It seemed like nothing was going right! Chances now she wouldn’t see Harry until after break, if even then. Mary wondered if the nuns had an accessible phone but she doubted it. In her mind, nuns were very traditional kinds of people. Maybe they would allow her to write a letter to Harry. Yes, that seems like something she could look forward to. See? She told herself,  Everything is fine.

Mary walked down the sidewalk and kicked a rock with her foot along the way. Mary had taken this rock around all the corners, all the bumps, all the cracks, and holes. It was a pleasant distraction. Mary snorted once when the rock had turned in a certain way, making it look like it had a mad face. “Sorry,” she said, smiling, before kicking it again.

“Mary!” someone shouted her name, spooking her in the process. She turned to look at whoever was addressing her and saw a group of children around her age playing on a lawn. Mary furrowed her eyebrows at them, there was a vague sense of familiarity on their faces. Yet, all of them looked unfamiliar and new. In the hands of one girl, she spotted a Tamagotchi. Suddenly Mary recognized them all. 

“Dana?” she replied and stepped onto the grass to join them. “Marie? Susan?” 

The three of them squealed, jumped up, and gave her a giant group hug. Mary awkwardly patted them all on the back. When they pulled back their smiles were shining like gold and one by one they introduced Mary to the new additions. There was Gemma, Jamie, Kelly, Saviiyon, Doreen, Megan, and about another dozen Mary didn’t care about. When introductions were over, Dana pulled Mary down and into a discussion about all of her Tamagotchis. The last one she had for the longest was flushed down the toilet by her little sister, and it had lasted for ten days. Mary nodded along to the story and looked over Dana.

Dana used to have baby cheeks, fat a fluffy. Now they were still round but they looked sharper. Her eyelashes seemed to have gotten darker and longer, her clothing style was more adultish than how it was a year ago. Dana’s voice was louder and more confident, seeming to shake everyone's souls. Her other friends had changed too. Marie and Susan, who were once inseparable, sat a great distance away from each other. They hadn’t even looked at each other after greeting Mary. 

The talk then changed again to drama at school. One girl said this about another, this bloke has a crush on Saviiyon, which one of them had summer camps, and there were so many inside jokes! Mary felt like a tornado had sucked her right up into its winds, moved her to some crazy universe, and left her with no escape.

“So, what’s the drama at your school, Mary?” Megan asked, she seemed to have this habit of twirling her hair whenever she talked because she did that each time she talked. Mary’s mind went blank. Good God, she had to come up with something! Mary grimaced at their expecting faces.

“Nothing really happens at my school, sorry to disappoint.” 

They gave her speculative looks.

Fueled by the desire to fit in Mary picked through what happened the past year. Finally, she ended up with only one thing that could seem normal. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you guys. I got into a fight.”

All of the girl's eyes widened. “Why?” Dana asked with a concerned look. Mary felt her mind go blank.

“Because, ah,” Mary looked for anything to help her. “Some kids at my school are... sexist!”

Her friends all let out gasps of outrage, even though some of them clearly didn’t know what it meant. “Yeah, and they thought that because I was a girl I shouldn’t be learning the same things they were. That I should be kicked out.” she told them and felt vindicated by their roars of support.

“And did you win?” they all asked.

Mary smiled and puffed up her chest. She wondered if this was how Malfoy felt each time he told his stories about quidditch. “Of course I did, I sent two students to the hospital.” 

“You did what?” a voice asked from behind her curiously. Mary turned her head and saw a girl her age with black curly hair falling down to her shoulders. Blue eyes stared into hers and Mary felt her face warm. “You did not write about that to me.”

Mary stood and left her hands limp at her side. “Veronica?”

It certainly could not be , Mary thought.  She looked nothing like her Veronica. Her Veronica was shorter in about everything. Her height, hair, arms, and nose seemed to have grown. Her clothes were different in color. Gone were the bold reds and oranges she used to wear. Now she wore a lilac shirt with ripped jeans. Her eyes were different too, somehow. Mary could not see how yet. Then, the strangest of all was the difference in her friend's reactions. They used to smile at her but their stances were stiff. They treated her like a stranger. This could not be Veronica.

Oh, but it was. Mary knew that the second Veronica's arms wrapped around her. The feeling of comfort and safety surrounded her like a pillow fort. Along with this, a new smell accompanied her. She smelled like honey. “Veronica.” Mary mumbled into her shoulder, letting her tension flow off of her.

“Mary,” Veronica said and pulled away. “I was looking for you.”

Mary felt shame flood her body, she had never once thought about Veronica today. “Me too,” she lied. “Here, come join us.” 

Mary turned to look at the group who were giving her frantic looks. Veronica shook her head and said she would rather walk if that was okay with Mary.

Mary ignored the panicked looks on her friend's faces and told Veronica she didn’t mind at all. Mary followed Veronica on the sun-hot pavement. They stayed quiet for a long time, enjoying each other's presence. “I missed you.” Veronica said to her, sounding truly genuine.

“No more than I could have missed you,” Mary told her through guilt and watched one of Veronica's curls bounce. “And unfortunately you will have to miss me more.”

Veronica raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“My parents are sending me to a nunnery.”

“Really? It could be haunted!” Veronica asked.

“Yeah, really. And, no, I hope not.” Mary confirmed. Veronica's arms twitched and she sat herself down next to a random tree. Mary was quick to press her back against the trunk too. 

“Why?” Veronica asked again, looking off into the distance.

“I don’t-”

“Why do things keep going wrong!” Veronica said in a garbled voice, burying her head into her arms. “Why, why, why!”

Mary watched the breakdown with fascination. Hesitantly she wrapped her arm around Veronica’s shoulders. As soon as she did, Veronica turned into her chest crying silently. Mary rubbed her back considerately, feeling pain as she watched her friend cry. Her best friend cry, or at least they used to be. Why did things keep going wrong?

Veronica’s tears slowed and she looked ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s nothing,” Mary was quick to assure her. “Now I think you left some things out of your letters too.”

Veronica snorted at the understatement but turned melancholy after. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” she told her.

Mary nodded and patted her shoulders. “That’s fine, but I do want to talk about mine.” she said and went into a tirade about all her trials and tribulations, omitting all details about magic. She quickly replaced the blood supremacy with sexism. The sun was directly above their heads when Veronica began to speak. She told Mary about her grades and teachers and she omitted details about any friends. Mary said nothing.

They spent the rest of the day together, under the shady tree, talking to each other and playing games. Veronica cried again when it was time to leave. 

Saint Mary’s Nunnery for Sinners was a beautiful but scary kind of place. Its exterior was stone and vines with a great big cross out front. The lawn was nice, a graveyard marked its presence on it. Other than all of that, it was all scary. The sky was overcast, still a great contrast to the day before, the silence was heavy, and the nun who greeted her was intimidating. She was older and covered head to foot, but gave off Professor McGonagal vibes. She had given Mary a closed-mouth smile and introduced herself as Sister Mary. When Mary tried to joke about their names she got an unimpressed look.

Before her dad left he leaned down close to her face. “You’ll thank me later.” he told her and Mary sincerely doubted that. Turning away he got in the car and started it up. Her mother gave her a thousand and one kisses all over her head, promising that she loved Mary. Strangely, Mary thought it sounded like she was trying to convince herself that.

After they had driven off, Mary turned numbly to the nun. This time, Sister Mary gave her a wide and happy grin. Mary tried to give one back.

“This way,” Sister Mary said while walking off to the building. Mary hurried behind her, making sure to keep her head low. Sister Mary led her through the cold entrance and down some stairs. The stairs were so frigid that Mary felt the cool through her shoes. Mary stopped behind Sister Mary when they reached the bottom of the stairs. She lifted her eyes and through her hair she saw doors on each of the walls. Sister Mary showed Mary a specific door, one on the left that had a cat flap on the bottom. “This will be your room. Please tidy up and join us upstairs. I will be waiting.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Sister.”

“Sorry, sister.” Mary said and turned into her room. It was tiny with only enough space for a twin sized bed, a bedside table with a bible and a cross, and a small painting of Jesus. On her bed there was a folded stack of clothes. Mary was instructed to not bring any clothing items, or any other items. She was only permitted to bring Milkshakes, the stuffed cat Harry had gotten her for her birthday. 

Mary gently places the stuffed toy down on her pillow and changed into her new clothes. It wasn’t completely like Sister Mary's. Sister Mary had a hood over her coif, Mary only had the coif which felt tight on her head. It was sure to give her a headache later. Mary’s outfit had accessories like Sister Mary’s, with the addition of a necklace with a symbol hanging from it. It was a triangle with a line and circle going down the middle of it. Mary reckoned that it was something to distinguish her from the actual nuns.

With her outfit ready she whispered a small good bye to Milkshakes and walked out. The hallway was quiet with no movement or sound. Mary finally realized that the room was lighted by candles only, their light flickering shadows on her face and the grounds. Suddenly, the candle next to her door went out. “Crap.” Mary said and looked around for some matches or a lighter. The shelves that the candles were on held nothing but more burning candles. 

At the opposite end of the stairs, where one single door was, the candles went out next to it too. Mary looked up the stairs and briefly wondered if she should call for the sisters. She shook her head of the thought, she needed to get in their good graces first. Mary started up the stairs when the unwanted feeling bubbled in her stomach. The flutters of fate were back.

Mary felt the pull on her body and the stutter of her heart. God wanted her to go to that door, urgently. It was slightly desperate, the call, and it turned frightful when Mary took another step up the stair. Mary rolled her eyes at Him. “Not now,” she told Him. It could wait, fate could wait. She didn’t want to hear what it had to say today. “Later.”

The candle's flames grew taller and wilder. Angrier. When Mary turned around and took another step all the candles blew out. She placed her hand against the wall to calm herself. The same airy feeling she felt the night of the prophecy suffocated her lungs. Turning her head back she strained to see in the darkness. Something was moving around in the darkness, shuffling its way to her. Mary heard things rattle and shatter. It stopped and Mary tried not to be afraid as she felt it’s presence in front of her. “Okay, show me.” she whispered.

All of the candles lit up again, bathing her in their light. Mary continued forward to the door and excitement thrummed in her blood. Mary placed her hand on the handle with a sense of deja-vu and turned the handle. 

“Stop,” a commanding voice told her and she jumped back. Immediately the feeling of flight left her and she only had anxiety. Turning around she saw Sister Mary looking at her with a frown. “I believe I told you to go upstairs, not down.”

Mary held her head down, cursing herself for listening. It always got her in trouble. “I am sorry, sister.”

“It is of no consequence,” Sister Mary said and grabbed Mary by the shoulder. “Come, our sisters are eager to meet you.”

She was led carefully up the stairs and when she looked back at the door she felt some fascination. However, it would be best if she stayed away. Sister Mary showed her into a chapel, where there were about another two dozen nuns. They all gave her cheerful smiles and bowed their heads. Sister Mary took her to the front of the chapel and Mary wished she was out in the pews.

“This is Sister Mary. She has been sent to us because she has suffered from a possession,” Sister Mary told the nuns, whose eyes all darted to Mary’s necklace. “We are here to insure that she recovers safely with the power of God.”

“Blessed be his name .” one of the nuns whispered and everyone else chanted it. Mary fell in step with their words too.

“I want you all to introduce yourselves and inform her of the daily schedules.” Sister Mary gently nudged her forward and Mary walked down the stairs feeling like the new kid in school. Mary scanned the audience and caught the eyes of one of them, who then looked down. Mary looked somewhere else but most eyes were looking at her strangely. Mary ended up sitting next to Sister Joan.

Sister Joan was taller than the rest of them, with a sharp jawline and a hooked nose so she stood out to Mary. She was covered in muscles and intimidating. It seemed like she was assessing Mary with her eye contact. Sister Joan explained to her how it worked around here. Each day they would rise and pray at 5:30, then the rest of the day was spent singing hymns, studying the bible, working in the community (which Mary was not allowed to do), eating lunch and dinner, making crafts or knitting, and going to bed at 10:30 each day. Mary thought that all of this didn’t sound half bad.

Mary asked Sister Joan what she was supposed to do when they were out in the community but Sister Joan didn’t seem keen on answering her.

They all went down for dinner together in lines of two. The dinning room was small, with just enough seating for all of them. On each of their plates a cold tomato soup waited for them, which Mary saw all the other nuns look ecstatic at seeing. Mary tried not to turn her nose up at the food and gulped it down quickly after the prayer that felt like it went on for ten minutes. Mary picked up her glass of water and tried to wash down the taste. Instead of removing the bitterness the water made her throat feel fuzzy. Luckily, all of the other nuns finished up speedily too.

After dinner they were all shepherd into the chapel for individual prayer and reflection time. Mary's eyes bulged out of her head when she was told to do at least an hour of prayer. Kneeling down in front of the alter with the rest of the nuns she bowed her head.

For the first few minutes of the hour Mary stayed silent as she listened in to the whispers of the nuns. Bible verses and declarations of servitude echoed around the room. Mary listened to what the nuns had done that day. They had all gone out into the neighboring village and had planted trees in a local park. Some were asking God to nourish the plants while others prayed that they would bring much good into the world. 

Some of the sisters remained silent during their prayer which was boring for Mary. Mary looked through squinted eyes at Sister Joan. Sister Joan was rocking herself and crying. The tears ran down her face like fish in water and they flowed smoothly, covering her face like a veil. Mary was frozen as she tried to figure out what to do. Should she go comfort her or should she stay put?

Mary looked around, forgetting to squint and caught Sister Mary staring at her. Sister Mary’s lips moved quickly as they whispered her prayer and her hands were white as she held onto her cross necklace. Mary strangely made out red marks burned onto her brown flesh holding the rosary. Mary felt uncomfortable and looked down.

With Mary now aware that Sister Mary was looking at her, she began to pray too. First she told God what she was thankful for (Veronica, Hogwarts, her good health, and Milkshake), then she told God what had stuck with her today (a bird flying above her car, the flower blooming through a crack on the sidewalk, her fathers face, and the door), she then informed Him about her woes (if she would be returning to Hogwarts, when could she leave, did the nuns like her, what was Harry thinking, and what was behind the door), finally she asked God for His guidance and support through the hard times. 

When Mary looked up again she saw that the nuns had finished praying and we’re waiting for her. Mary felt embarrassed but many of the nuns seemed to think of her better, giving her more smiles.

Then it was time for Bible study. The nuns all sat in the pews and took out Bibles all at the same time. Following what Sister Joan did, Mary found a Bible under the seat and laid it on her lap. Sister Mary gave up her job as leader to a priest who had entered at some point.

Mary sat up straighter in her seat when his gaze rested on her, or more specifically her necklace. “Today,” he said in a loud voice. “I feel called to discuss the book of Job.” Mary resisted the urge to scoff. She had never once enjoyed the story of Job. The story was filled with unrightful suffering and all God has to say is you could never understand My reasoning.

The priest's words did nothing to change her opinion on this fact. He talked about the beginning where God makes a bet with the Tempter, Satan. How the words repetitiveness was symbolic and how His only condition was that the devil could not kill Job. The man talked about how much God must have loved Job, to not want him killed. 

It did kill Job. Everything that made him alive was taken away, except for the suffering. Only the suffering remained. God said He was with Job, but where was He? Watching from above, giving him nothing in return.

Mary hated this story because that was not her God. Her God would never do that to someone. Yes, people would suffer, but never without the presence of God. He had abandoned Job and then dismissed it because Job was a small part of this world to Him. Mary liked to believe that humans were everything to God. His favorite creation.

The priest bowed his head an hour later and said the Lord’s Prayer. Mary scrambled to join in. 

As they were leaving, the priest pulled her aside. “Sister Mary,” he said with a weird glint in his eyes. “I am Brother Matthew.”

“Hello, Brother Matthew.” Mary nervously greeted back, hoping her eyes weren't straying to his bald spot.

“Tomorrow, when our Sisters are doing community work, you and I will have a personal devotion.”

Mary furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Just to check in and see how your soul is doing.”

“My soul?” 

Brother Matthew nodded as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Yes, I’m here to see if it has been changed by the possession.”

“Oh,” Mary said with a frown. “Okay.”

He bade her goodnight and Mary wished him good sleep. Mary had just laid down when she remembered that she wasn’t going to get any of her homework done. She prayed that Professor Snape wouldn’t be too upset.

That night Mary got no sleep. The impulse to open the door outside was all consuming. In the darkness of her room, Mary clutched onto Milkshake as she felt the all seeing eye on her. Mary wondered if He was mad at her for what she thought about Job.

Mary stared into the darkness and shuttered. “I’m sorry.” she whispered to God.

“Why do you only show yourself now?” Mary asked and her door rattled on its hinges. The feeling in her gut grew but she stayed put in her bed. 

Veronica had warned her about the nunnery being haunted, but the only ghost here was God.

Sister Mary had found Mary wide awake in her bed, pushing her nails into her palms, trying to resist temptation. Sister Mary had slapped her wrist once she saw her doing that. “Your body is a temple!”

Mary thought that she was anything but a temple but nodded. 

The morning was filled with prayer, breakfast (which Mary noted the water tasting worse), and another Bible study with Brother Matthew. This time he talked about the rapture. He told them all that they must all be prepared, but his gaze never left Mary’s.

After the Bible study, Mary said bye to Sister Joan and her new friend, Sister Noel. Sister Noel had offered her some bread at breakfast and Mary had complimented her kindness. This seemed to have attracted Sister Noel to her.

The nuns filed out for their other duties but Mary stayed with Brother Matthew.

Brother Matthew was tall and lanky, with a bald spot rapidly growing from the top of his head. The rest of his hair was black and combed over. He wore the typical attire of a priest. The black suit with the white collar. Today he seemed fidgety.

“Brother Matthew.”

“Sister Mary! Why don’t you take a seat up here?” he said referring to how he sat below the pulpit and she sat on the pews. Mary stood up and made sure to sit down in the proper way. She sat with her back straight and with her hands folded in her lap, just like the pureblood book taught her. Mary thought about Terrence and what his summer was like. Was he sending her letters? Would she get them?

“Now Sister Mary,” she snapped back into reality. “How did you get possessed exactly, how did it feel?”

Mary froze up. She could get expelled if she broke the statue of secrecy. “It felt terrible.” she said blandly.

He raised his eyebrows at her. Well, it couldn’t hurt exactly. “It was sudden and unpredictable. A black smoke hit my chest and it felt like it was tearing my ribs apart. Then when it was in me it felt like a puppet, like it was changing me on a molecular level. When it left it felt like the worst throw up ever. And it was struggling to get out too, like the itsy-bitsy-spider trying to climb up the waterspout.”

Brother Matthew nodded and Mary noticed that in his hands he was holding a silver cross. He was gripping it tightly and pointing the end towards her. “And why did it leave?”

Mary stared at the way he held the cross. He held it like it was his solstice, like a weapon. “Because I wouldn’t kill my friend.”

The cross burned her eyes. 

“That is enough for today. Thank you for sharing, Mary.” he told her and Mary bowed her head at him before fleeing. The rest of the day passed in silence from God and from Sister Joan.

When Mary woke up the next morning she felt the tug still the same on her essence. Mary ignored it in favor of Milkshake, patting down the stuffy for her beds decoration. Mary felt proud of herself at the end of that day for keeping up with the schedule. 

When she had her meeting with Brother Matthew he ruled that she was the definition of better in no time. Before he ended it again Mary asked if she was allowed to write a letter and she was. Mary wrote to everyone she could think of. She wrote to  her parents, Harry, Veronica, Hermione, and Ron about her new living arrangements and how they were going. Mary asked Veronica if she could get news of Harry and she asked Hermione and Ron if they had heard from him. She even wrote to Pansy Parkison, just telling her thank you again for freeing her last year. Then she remembered Terrence and wrote to him too.

When she was done, Brother Matthew read over them and told her she was a considerate friend. Mary blushed at the complement. 

At dinner that night, Sister Joan was whispering stories into her ear as Mary took restrained bites of the food. Sister Joan was a good story teller. She spoke with emotion and crafted the scenery like God. When Mary told her this she was scolded lightly for the comparison.

It was also that night Sister Mary pulled her aside. 

“Child Mary, how are you liking it here?”

Mary bit her lip but smiled. “It’s amazing here, thank you for housing me.”

“Anything we can do for you?”

“Nothing at all.”

Sister Mary placed a hand on her shoulder. In clear view, Mary saw words burned around her wrist. Just as she began thinking on whether it would be to rude to ask, Sister Mary had pulled it away. “Come with me to choir tomorrow, I believe you will like it.”

Mary nodded and that was that.

God was a tempter, she realized. Not like the devil, who tempted others to sin, He instead tempted her for His own purposes. All of her favorite scents whiffed through the doors crack. Chicken, mac-n-cheese, candy, quesadillas, lasagna, and every other mouth watering scent. God had even tempted her with the smell of rain, trying to get her to drink the water. She heard the thumps of rain pelts hit her door. 

That night, God knew she was starving for normal food that didn’t leave her throat feeling like a caterpillar. He was a tempter, but Mary stayed put in her bed, chewing on her nails until they bled. 

Mary joined Sister Mary in choir the next morning. After a nice dry breakfast of oatmeal, which Noel tried to offer some of her own to Mary again, Mary trotted behind Sister Mary and a handful of others. Sister Mary was discussing her new “habit” with the other nuns. Mary tried to convince the other nuns that she didn’t normally bite her nail down to the cuticle but they looked down at her bandaged fingers with muted prayers.

The choir room was small. There was a piano on a raised platform and a few stools to sit on. There were a handful of hymnals that they used to sing with. Mary was given the one in best condition because she was new.

Sister Mary sat down at the piano, announced a random hymn, and began playing with little warning. Around her cacophony occurred. Different tunes and notes mixed with altos, sopranos, and all of the other things Mary had not learned banged her eardrums. Some sang slower than the rest, some sang after the others to create an echo, and then a wail let out. In the center of the room a nun named Sister Ruth was just wailing the verses out without enunciating a single words. 

And it was so beautiful. 

The voices, all singing in different ways, were all connected together by one thing. They sang their hearts out to God. You could feel the faith in the air. It was entirely sacred and Mary felt like an intruder but she opened her hymnal and sang too with them. 

She put everything she had recently felt into her voice. How she felt wronged by God, whom she begged for all last year but he only showed now. How she felt scared each night that the clouded feeling in her stomach would take control and she’d be doomed. She sung with her tears rolling into her mouth and felt the others voices filling her soul. She felt connected to each and every single one of them deeply. A type of companionship she could not describe. She leaned into the body of Sister Joan, who had shown up mysteriously with an arm around her shoulders.

Mary felt her voice harmonize in the last moment with the others but on a deeper level she felt their souls harmonize.

And then it was over.

The singing stopped, the praising, the gloryness. All of it stopped with all eyes on her. They were fear fearful looks, and Mary felt the conection between them dim. Sister Noel held her hand to her heart and Sister Ruth let out a whimper.

“That was beautiful.” Mary told them all, still not quite over the euphoric feeling, wiping her tears. The sisters all looked at her with no response. Sister Joan also noticed the tense area and removed Mary by the shoulders. Mary left the room confused by this turn of events.

“Why are they mad?”

Sister Joan took her to the room where they were knitting clothes for the nearby homeless community. “Some peoples faith is so strong it puts others off. You sung beautifully by the way.”

Mary sat down but didn’t pick up any sowing supplies. “Thank you… I thought you didn’t do choir?”

Sister Joan hummed. “I felt called to today. God speaks to us funnily.”

“How did he speak to you?”

“Through Sister Cathrine.”

“How?”

“Do you know how to knit a scarf? Here, scoot closer and I’ll teach you.” she was told and Mary just sighed, deciding to let it go. It was halfway through her mishappend line of scarf that Mary noticed around different parts of each nuns arms marks were displayed. What was usually covered up by long black sleeves was free to see when they were rolled up to escape the heat. Some were older, some looked deeper, some looked harsher, but the fact was that each of them had one. 

“Sister Joan, what is that on your arm?” Mary asked and gently grabbed Sister Joans arm, turning it so she could read it. 

“‘ False prophets also arose amo ’,” Mary led from her arm out loud. Suddenly there were many rustles of fabric as everyone pulled their sleeves down and Sister Catherine brought a hand up to her neck with a loud smack. Sister Joan was looking at her strangely too, with a weird glint and a rise of color to her cheeks.

“Go to your room.”

Mary blinked at the firmness in the tone. “What?”

“Room. Now. ”

Mary shuttered at the icy anger and fled like a kicked cat. Wounded but curious.

That afternoon she didn't go to lunch, or dinner. She sat in her room and read the bible left in her room. She ignored the rattling of the door on its hinges behind the back of her bed. Mary had pushed it to the door to keep it from swing open and then slamming closed like God enjoyed doing. The handle was bright red and shaking on the door but Mary ignored it in favor of mindlessly reading the words of the most holy book. That night God became fed up with her and ripped her bible to shreds. The paper had all ripped out loudly and balled up into a paper mesh on the ground. A flame rose up from it and got larger and larger, backing her up onto her bed and consequently the door.

It got hotter and hotter around her as the flaming pages of the Bible rose to her nose. It singed it lightly and Mary ricocheted back, hitting her head on the door. “You’re scaring me!”

The ball of fire stopped in front of her, burning like a star in her retina. Then it extinguished itself and mended back into a perfect Bible sat on her bed. The lack of light made the room pitch black, but Mary could see where the light used to be.

Sister Mary was not at all please with her new room layout. She had smacked Mary’s head and huffed as she moved everything to where she saw fit. Then she dragged her to an early meeting with Brother Matthew. Mary sat at the alter with a sense of foreboding and fiddled with her fingers. He was staring at her strangely. 

“Mary, what happened yesterday?”

“Which bit?” Mary accidentally spat as she spoke and turned red.

“Start with choir.”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

“I don’t know, really! I was just singing along and then everyone stoped and looked at me!”

Brother Matthew gave her a long look. “What happened after?”

“I sowed a scarf.”

Brother Matthew lifted up a burnt scarf. “This one?”

“No! Mine was barely complete.”

“You would be right. This is Sister Catherines scarf and she claims that you did it.”

Mary sputtered. “I–fuh— What? How! I didn’t!”

“Then why do you smell like smoke, Mary?” he asked and she did not answer in fear of God. “Where were you at lunch and dinner and evening devotion, Mary?”

Mary shook her head and looked down.

“Mary, have you been speaking to the demon that possessed you?”

“NO!” Mary exclaimed, resisting the urge to throw up in her mouth at the thought. “No! It just–”

“Why is it that every morning Sister Mary find you and or your room in such disary?”

Mary felt her stomach churn violently. “I– I don’t know, sir. I suppose I am home sick.”

Brother Matthew looked at her solemnly. “I’m afraid we will have to meet again tonight, Mary. Be here when I call for you.” he told her and walked out of the room, barking orders at Sister Mary to call “them” . Sister Mary agreed and told him the rest went to give the homeless their clothing early.

Mary sat quietly in the room and felt lonelier than ever.

They stared at her with rocks in their gazes, assaulting her skin. Mary picked at the bandaid surrounding her thumb and kept her head down. Her hair served as a partition as she walked back into the chapel. Sister Mary was escorting her slowly.

When she opened the door a group of men in flowing robes were whispering into each other's ears. They were strange looking, one man had scars on his forehead that looked like paper cuts and another man had no eyes, just skin. Mary held her breath and Sister Mary left her with a small pat.

Brother Matthew gave her a perfect smile, but Mary knew it must be a type of mask. She observed the room cautiously and made note of the stench in the air. It smelt like rotten eggs in a trash can and burned her eyes. “Child Mary, fear not. Come.” he said, his voice seeming superficial among his company.

“Yes, brother.” Mary muttered and sat under the pulpit, allowing her hair to fall down again to remove the stares. It stayed very quiet. When Brother Matthew had enough of this he pushed Mary’s hair behind her ear. The trail his fingers glided over left goosebumps.

“Child of Our Father, do you know who your earthly father is?”

“Yes.” Mary told him, confused, that she wasn’t being lectured for something she hasn’t done. “Roger Rust.”

Brother Matthew patted down her hair and hummed.

When he said nothing else and the presence of the other strange men grated on her she continued. “And my mother is-“

“We are aware of who your mother is. That is not the issue. Or perhaps she is,” Brother Matthew said, looking over her head. “Roger Rust is under the impression that you're not his daughter.”

Mary blinked wildly. “What.”

“Yes. Do you remember your Uncle Mike?” he asked and she thought back, far and back to her earliest childhood and resurfaced empty.

“No.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. He isn’t allowed five miles of you, or any other child.”

“I’m not understanding.” Mary told him, looking at the dozen other men in the room. 

Brother Matthew nodded with overdone sympathy. “Your mother was raped by him.” he said like he was expecting a large reaction from her.

Mary looked at the impassive faces shaking their heads. Mary watched as a tear tripped over a man’s scaled face. She looked at them and understood nothing. “What happened to my mum?”

Brother Matthew blinked his eyes at her. “She—she was raped!” he said nervously.

“Raped,” Mary tested it on her tounge. “What?”

“Your uncle had sexual intecorse with your mother while she was unwilling.”

Mary felt her ears warm when she still didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, I don’t-“

“Sex! He had sex with her!” Brother Matthew said, looking very upset for some reason. He looked at the other men with nervousness.

“Oh!” Mary remembered Terrence telling her briefly about his time with his boyfriend. “Oh.”

She thought about all that Brother Matthew had stumbled over to say. Mary thought back to everything she knew, thinking back blurily to the purity class she had taken. “He—he raped my mom?”

Mary shook her head. “How can—how do people—this happens a lot?”

“Yes!” Brother Matthew seemed ecstatic that he could get it back on course. “And you are the child of this great sin!”

Mary was confused again. “I thought God only gave children to married couples who love each other very much?”

“No!” he took a deep breath. “No, children come from sexual intercourse. Sinful children! Holy children come from God.”

“I—” Mary felt like she needed to defend herself. “I am holy!”

“You are not, Child Mary,” he gained an otherworldly accent. “Your mother sinned with her friend by rape and you were conceived. From the moment you were in your mothers womb you were a sin yourself. You were destined to be trouble.”

Mary looked at the quick switch in attitude. The others were nodding along and looking at her in a way that made her feel unrightfully ashamed.

“I am good! I am!” Mary exclaimed, looking for agreement. “And if I’m not good, I can be good!”

Brother Matthew stood and looked down on her. “You will be,” he looked at his dozen and addressed them. “I believe that we will be on for tomorrow?”

“Yes. We will.” a voice that was as deep as the ocean said, and the man with no eyes rose. He looked straight at her. “Fret not, child, for you will be made pure again. I ask that you remove yourself as I have a private matter to discuss.”

Mary nodded and ran off, fighting back tears as the door slammed shut behind her. How could someone do that to another, “rape” someone? Terrence had awkwardly told her that sex was a mutual pleasure from love, he never said anything about this. Mary couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Mary woefully wished she could take her childhood brain and put it in her head. That way, she would have an excuse for not understanding all the wrongs in the world. Instead she was stuck like this, an uncomprehending prat.

When she left the room she was bombarded with the gut feeling. It suffocated her whole being and she found it hard to breathe. Mary stumbled in a crisscross pattern. 

Mary brought her hands to her throat and clawed. “Alright!” she yelled at the painting of Jesus, whose eyes seemed to follow her. “I’m going, just, just let me think straight!”

The feeling lessened enough for her to realize she had been shaking from the adrenaline. Mary controlled her breaths and made her way downstairs. The candles flickered at her as she passed and came in front of the door. God, please don’t let this go wrong .

The door opened silently and behind it was darkness. Mary turned and picked up one of the candles in the hallway, turning back around with it in her hands.

With it now exposed to light, Mary could see a steep staircase. Each step had pieces of stone crumbling off the edge and with each step she took more off.

They probably should install some railing because one of the steps broke, sending her tumbling down the stairs. Waving her arms crazily, and accidentally letting go of the candle, she tried to regain her footing, or something to hold onto at least. In the end, it didn’t matter because Mary had reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Ow,” she said pathetically, raising herself off the ground. It was pitch black and the adrenaline God had given her had left. He had left too, leaving her in this cold and damp room. Mary came to the conclusion that she would not be able to see anything without the use of magic. Turning, she felt the walls for the exit stairs and found nothing. Then, Mary felt afraid. She could not find the way out! “ Lumos!”

A small ball of light about the size of a marble hovered above her palm. Mary sighed at the lack of her magic, she needed more than this! “ Lumos Maxima!” she demanded the light to grow and it grew to the same size as her head.

With the light in her hand expanding it’s rays, Mary was now exposed to the horror of the room. It was small, even smaller than her room, and the walls were covered in paint. Different symbols caressed the walls, some with curves looking like the letter “s” while others were foreign. One was not.

In the middle of the room there was a bed made out of stone, iron chains ingrained with Bible verses hung over its surface. In the center of this bed was the symbol that hung from her neck. Not the cross but the triangle with the line and circle. Mary felt the light in her hand warm her hand uncomfortably.

“What in the world?”

Mary glided a finger across the engraving a felt a jolt of electricity spark at her fingers. She drew back and stuck her irritated finger into her mouth. Trying to ignore the sting she turned her attention to the Bible verses. All of them discussed possession and the disciples being given the gift of expelling it. 

Mary suddenly recalled her conversation with her parents. “ Headmaster Dumbledore has sent us a letter. He says that you were, um, possessed and that you may take a little while to get back onto your feet.”

She suddenly felt the air closing in on her throat. Were they going to perform an exorcism on her! Certainly not! Brother Matthew just said he was here to check to see if her soul was alright, not to remove the devil. All was well, she tried to convince herself.

But God was insistent on her going down there. Why would he want her to see if it would cause her no harm? Mary was in danger! She could comprehend it better for each second that passed by her. She felt almost as if she was stuck in place.

Mary tried to lift the chain to see what was written on it and succeeded painfully. When she picked it up with her palm it began to burn fiercely. She quickly snatched her hand back and blew on it. Why did everything have to burn her in here!

On the inside of her hand, just right above a line in her palm, she saw tiny letters burned into her hand. They were misshapen and wonky but she easily could read it.

“Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble.”

Mary shook from the lingering pain of it. The words seemed a harsher fate. Out of all of them, why was this burned into her skin?

“Mary!” a hushed whisper choked out from behind her and a hand covered her mouth as she turned around scared. It was Sister Joan. She looked angry with wide eyes and shaking lips. “Mary.” she whispered brokenly into the air between them.

Mary decided that this definitely was not a good situation and began to try and break free. Scratching at Sister Joan’s hand over her mouth she kicked her roughly and wildly. Nothing seemed to take Sister Joan down as she gripped on harder to Mary.

“Mary calm down right now!” she said in a tone that dared Mary to argue with her. Mary paused in hesitation for a few seconds before head butting her first friend here. Sister Joan grunted for a second before picking up Mary bridal style. Mary wiggled and turned but could not escape her Hagrid-like grip. 

Sister Joan carried her upstairs without slipping like Mary did and took her to her room. When they got into Sister Joan’s room she had quite simply thrown Mary onto the bed and locked the door. Mary didn’t like the look of any of this. 

Sister Joan went to the bedside table and pulled out a Bible and gently placed it on the bed. “Touch it,” she told Mary who had begun to secretly move away. When Mary looked at her blankly she moved it closer. “Go on.”

Mary didn’t feel all that eager to touch something after all the burns she felt today. “No way!”

Her sister did not find any more patience left in her and gripped Mary’s wrist. Pulling it with surprising accuracy Mary’s hand rested on top of the Bible. Mary flinched in expectation but only felt the coolness of the cover.

“Good job, Mary.” Sister Joan said with a smile and Mary felt her insides go all mushy at the praise. Sister Joan pulled out a different Bible from under the bed. She replaced the one that didn’t hurt with this one. It was different, the cover was a dark purple and the same symbol with the triangle was on it in gold. 

“No ma’am, it has the symbol on it.” Mary pointed out.

Sister Joan’s finger glided across it as she spoke. “The Apostle. It’s what we call it,” she withdrew her finger. “Can you touch this one too for me?”

It hadn’t hurt Sister Joan when she had pressed the tip of her finger on it. Mary decided to just swallow the frog and press it down. She raised her palm and quickly brought it down on the book. Instead of the cool on the other Bible, it felt too cold, fridged. Then it hurt.

“Ahf!” she cried out and lifted her palm away from the book. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” 

Sister Joan whispered soothing words at her as Mary looked in shock at the faint outline of the Apostle. “It’s okay, Mary. Deep breaths, Mary.”

Mary gasped through her teeth. “What’s going on!” Mary stuttered out through harmful breaths. Her heart was screaming out and she could hear it in her ears and feel it on her tongue. “Am I gonna die!”

“Shh, Mary, I have you.” Sister Joan grabbed Mary by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug. Unlike Veronicas, this hug was empowering, supportive, and strong. All while being a comfort.

“I’m gonna die.” Mary muttered into Sister Joan’s shoulders.

Sister Joan turned so they could both lay in bed together. She lifted the thin sheet over them like a layer of protection. “Why do you think that, Mary?”

Mary shook her head and curled inside the protective hold around her. “I.. I just know!”

“Shhh,” she started patting down Mary’s hair in a soothing pattern. “Sleep, Child of God.”

Mary shook in her hold and the sister, seeing her discomfort, sang a hymn for her.

“ Make me a servant

Humble and meek

Lord let me lift up

Those who are weak

And may the prayer

Of my heart always be

Make me a servant

Make me a servant

Make me a servant today”

When Mary woke up, Sister Joan was still in bed with her. Mary’s head felt tingly and light so she lifted a hand up to her head. Braids of all kinds were threaded across her hair like overlapping streams.

“I got bored.” Sister Joan said in lue of an explanation. Mary sat up and felt them bang against her head. 

“What time is it?” Mary asked grogerly. 

“Around eight. I told Sister Mary that you weren’t feeling well and that I wished to watch over you,” Sister Joan said and sat up next to Mary against the wall. “Are you feeling any better?”

Mary flushed at the memory of her panicking. “Better than ever.” she scowled and pulled her necklace out. She fiddled with it and showed it to Sister Joan. “What is this, sister?”

She grabbed it adoringly from out of Mary’s hands. Her eyes betrayed her level of devotion. “It’s called the Apostle. Back when Jesus was spreading the word of his kingdom throughout the land, he came across a possessed man. He had a stick he blasphemed to say was as powerful as God. Jesus did not like this slight against his father. Jesus confronted the man and demanded he take back his words, but he wouldn’t!”

Sister Joan shook her head. “A fool! He was a fool. He claimed that Jesus was a fraud and that he was the true God with his stick. But Jesus took it out from him, expelling the vessel for the demon. The demon reared up at Jesus, showing its might. Our Savior stood tall and proud. He told the demon, this is what he said, ‘Leave, at once as it is my fathers command, tempter of power!’ with conviction. Then Satan fled, leaving Jesus with this stick of unmeasurable might.”

Sister Joan’s eyes were alight with holy fire. “Later, Jesus would give his twelve disciples the power to expel demons too. Then these disciples passed it on to the next generation of followers, then the next and the next until we get right down to now!”

Mary shivered at the coldness of the room. “I don’t remember this in the Bible.”

“Because it is not!”

Mary shook her head. “It has to be, the Bible is the only source of truth.”

“No, Mary,” she was shaking her head too. “God’s truth is in everything, He is in the flowers, the trees, people, our cars, our air, our art, everything . You just need to figure out how to look. We found it in the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

Mary began to untie all her braids and Sister Joan looked at her necklace still. “I don’t know what that is.”

“In caves a boy found pottery filled with ancient biblical writings. In these writings was that specific story. Now, Father Joshua was a part of the team to study them, he recognized the story. He took it and hid it here in that basement you were just in.”

“Why did he hide it?”

“Because Mary! The world is not ready for the reveal of magicians.”

Mary bit her lip. “How do you know about magicians?” Mary asked dangerously low, and accidentally created a knot in her hair.

“Because,” Sister Mary said proudly. “I was one.”

“You were a witch!”

She nodded gravely with her eyes shut. “Yes, Child of God, I was.”

The lamp that Sister Joan must have lit blew out and Mary felt the presence of God in the room.

“This thing, I swear!” Mary watched in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. Sister Joan lit a match and the lamp came back to life. 

“Do you feel Him?” Mary whispered with her eyes trained on the shadows. 

“Who, Mary?” she asked with concern.

Mary felt something tickle at her spine. “Nevermind, what do you mean you were a witch?”

Sister Joan looked at her inquisitively but continued her story. “I was abused for my magic. Told to keep it locked in. When I did, it eventually caught up to me, talked to me. It told me things. Warned me about things. But it was traping me, slowly killing me. Brother Matthew found me one day and saw my soul. He saw how it was destroying me from the inside, even I had my suspicions at that point. He offered a solution.”

“And what’s that?

“An exorcism.”

Mary felt her breath quicken. “An exorcism?”

“Yes, he took me down to that very room we were just in and took it out of me.”

“Just like that? Your magic… gone?” Mary felt very sick, her magic, that’s what made her different. What made her Mary. What made her powerful. 

“Yes.”

Mary nodded and tried to remain calm. “And, what happened after that?”

“I was empty, incomplete. There was a chunk of my soul missing for goodness sake! And I was erratic, never knew who I truly was. A different personality each second.”

Mary secretly thought she was still like that. It seemed every time she saw her she was different. One minute she was like a mother and gentle, others she was angry, and her patterns made no sense to Mary.

“Then I found God again, Mary. He filled that hole.”

Mary nodded. She had heard versions of this story in other contexts as well. “And, are you going to do that to me?”

Sister Joan stared hard at her. 

“Yes.”

God consumed her, He covered himself around her like a straight jacket, clouding her mind. Suffocating her. He was scared, Mary realized as she clambered out of the bed. 

Run, run, run. God was telling her, and she was all too happy to oblige. Turning she slammed the door open and ran out. 

Up, up! God commanded her body, pivoting at His very order. She climbed up the stairs rapidly hearing the pitter-patter of her heart and feet. Sister Joan was right on her heels, in her angry mood this minute.

Mary felt her body seize when it reached the top, not knowing which way to turn. Mary felt like cursing God for his hesitation, wasn't he supposed to be all knowing, omnipresent or something!

Sister Joan picked her up roughly, making the decision for God. Mary felt God in her bones as she thrashed around wildly. “Stop! Stop!” she didn’t know exactly who she was telling that to.

Sister Joan had carried her into the chapel, dropping her down to her knees in front of Brother Matthew. “She knows.”

God went ridged in her body as Brother Matthew looked down on them. “Is it in you, Mary?” he asked her after a moment.

“No.” she lied confidently.

Brother Mathew shook his head and pressed his own Apostle onto her bare shoulder blade. “Ow! Stop! Sister Joan!” Mary called out to Sister Joan for help.

“Leave the body! Leave her sacred temple!” Brother Matthew commanded. The burn was deep into her skin now. Tearing through the flesh of her shoulder.

“Stop!” Mary began to lose strength in her legs. A strong arm came around her waist and held her up. “Sister Joan, MERCY!” Mary wailed and cried but the pain did not let up.

God! Just go, just go!

He constricted her like a python. He has no power over me.

Please! she begged as she felt something more being tugged away from her.

They’ll take you away from me. He said and Mary struggled to breathe.

They could never take me away from you, God, I am yours always.

Mary felt her heart hesitate in its pumps and through tested eyes she could see the tips of her nails turn black. 

“Leave! I command you with the rights given to me by the Apostles to leave!”

God, you can always come back to me.

How? I’ve already lost too many of my creations to them. You are too valuable. His voice shook in her head even though she knew he wasn’t moving any lips or tongue. 

I won't let them. Believe in me!

She felt the metal necklace hit her bone. How was he still pushing it through? She let out a blood curdling scream and felt Sister Joan push her harder into it.

Then God left. The pain did not.

“He’s gone! He’s gone!” Mary shouted at them and then finally he took the Apostle out. Mary leaned heavily on Sister Joan.

“Good girl, such a good girl. You did so well.” Mary sobbed at the praise.

“I believe we should take her down now. Get whatever is left of it out.”

It = Magic.

Get whatever magic left out. 

They were going to try and take her magic!

“No!” Mary ignored the pain in her shoulder. “NO!” 

The rest of the sisters had joined them and prayed over her body. They asked God to cleanse it. Mary heard them mutely. In the crowd there was a young woman staring out at her whispering prayers out of fear not goodwill.

“Sister Noel?” Mary called out pleadingly but Sister Noel looked at her pleadingly. It suddenly hit Mary that the bread she had offered Mary was not a gesture of kindness, it was a bribe. She feared Mary and wanted Mary to spare her if she went all berserk. “Help!” she still called out. Sister Noel averted her eyes.

“Sister Catherine?” she called out randomly, remembering names and not faces. “Sister Mary! Sister Ruth! Please help!” her pleas only fueled more prayer.

“Listen to me! Have you all been stripped of your magic?”

Some of the nuns nodded to her. “I’d wager some of you were unwilling! You all are mind washed! I’m twelve! I just—“ Mary had a hard time collecting herself when her shoulders melted flesh ran down her arm. “I want to go home! Please!”

Brother Matthew pulled her up. She let out a groan at the way he handled her. Sister Joan bowed as the passed, only a tear going down her face to show any remorse. “This sector of Christianity is a fraud, it is not true, it is messed up, you have no right! None!”

Mary felt two finger nails slide across her face. He had slapped her. “Brother Matthew?”

“Shush, I’m going to make it all alright.”

Mary’s body nearly gave out at the sight of the door. “Mercy, please, brother!” 

She passed her door and childishly called out for Milkshake to come save her! She prayed and wailed for her stuffed cat to become real and save her. Be her knight in shining armor. “Milkshake!” she yelled one final time when they made it to the door.

He sighed and helped her down the steps. She stumbled and tripped but made it. “You know,” she tried to say conversationally but her voice shook too much. “I think you should add a railing.”

“Noted, Sister Mary.”

“I am not your sister.”

“We all are siblings under God, Sister Mary,” he said sadly as he lit the candles around the room. It lit up and showed its fearsome light. “Whether we like it or not, we must love each other. If not, then what would the world come to be?

Mary slid to the ground and let herself cry even more freely. She sighed and sobbed into the dusty cold floor. She knew exactly what the world would be. “It would be exactly as it is now, brother.”

A world full of hate. Hate of anything different. Hate of change. Just like Dumbledore had told her a year before.

Suddenly the door upstairs opened, eleven other men in robes came down the stairs like ravens. They all looked the same with their black robes and bloodshot eyes. Mary foolishly thought they were wizards and sang their praises. “Thank you! Thank you! Than—stop! No!” Mary growled when they began stripping her down.

“This is wrong. Wrong!” Mary told them as she laid bare on the ground. “Hell! I send you all to Hell for this. You will shout and pray for God but the skies will be empty! You—“

They all pulled her up onto the table and began tying the chains around her. Electricity from the table zapped at her back and the chains burned into her skin. The twelve of them all gathered around the table as she squirmed. A man wearing a thorny crown pulled out a scroll of paper and read it out loud for everyone.

After the first few sentences of Hebrew, Mary just assumed that this was the story Sister Joan told her. Flapping wildly like a fish, Mary tried to call out to someone but her words came out garbled. It wouldn’t have worked anyways. 

Mary began to feel sick and tired, with the lights flickering off in different directions and turning off. Mary felt tired like she was dreaming. Her eyes fell shut and before she knew it the pain stopped for a second and she passed out.

Pain. Lots of it. It was on her back, on her arms, on her chest, face, throat, toes, knees. Everything hurt. She whimpered and tried to open her eyes to see what was going on. There was a lot of chanting on her sides. Prayer so loud and deep it was pulling on her insides. Her head throbbed as she tried to lift up her head. Through blurred eyes she saw something like the sun glowing through her stomach.

Her eyes rolled back before she could question it.

“How did she do it!”

“This is the Devil himself…”

Voices in a heated argument floated into her ears. She tried understanding but more pain took precedence. Her left arm was bent and broken around the chains with red and angry burns. Her chest was bleed from the center. Her toenail on her big toe had been pulled out and Mary moaned at the aggressive pain.

“Again!” 

A splash of hot water was thrown onto her already tormented body. A croaking cry left her throat and they began again. Lashing at her with whips and Bible verses Mary suffered through it all again. This time they weren’t letting her pass out by throwing cold water and boiling water at her.

Slowly a hot sensation pulled in her stomach and she saw the same sun in her stomach. It was growing larger and larger as their chanting grew. It started to move up her body, making its way to her throat. Mary thought with a blurred mind that it was her magic.

When she began choking on it, she realized that maybe it was her magic. It tasted like cheese and tasted like the smell of a candy shop at the same time. Mary saw a glimmer of light through the bottom of her eyes, rising up higher from her throat.

Oh, it was leaving.

It was leaving!

Mary began to suck it back with her physical mouth and quickly found that it didn’t work. She then willed herself to use her magic still inside her to grab the ones leaving. It looked like the sun was fighting itself with hatred. Rising up to fall back down with a rap from another strand. The two waring sides fought valienlty with each other. Mary tried her best to suck in and, probably not from that, her magic swarmed back into her.

Mary resisted any more chants that night, to the ire of the twelve false Apostles. 

“Mary?”

It was dark. Eerily silent for the most part. A woosh from something entered once or twice. Or her blood made dripping noises as it dripped to the ground. The Apostle on the back of the table kept her awake with it’s stinging. The twelve devils had unchained her, instead writing runes on the walls to keep her from moving far. It made her already weakened movement downright sluggish.

“Oh, Mary.”

She turned her head to the sound. A tall muscled body was a silhouette of a friend. “Joan?”

A glass of water was pressed against her lips. It was the same fuzzy water she drank at meals. Mary would have refused if in her right mind, but instead she opened her mouth for more. The thirst had torn her throat to shreds. “Drink up, Child of God.”

“Joan,” Mary called out pathetically when the glass was removed from her bloody lips. “Why?”

A warm body laid up against her. It took a second to move Mary over but she managed to fit her large body on the slab. “Why what, sister?”

“Why’d you leave me?”

Joan thred her fingers through her hair. “I never left you,”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

She stayed quiet as she removed the tangles in Mary’s hair. Mary leaned into the kind touches. “I prayed for you.” Joan whispered.

“I prayed for you,” Mary shot back, blinking slowly as the thoughts came to her. “Where where you?”

“I was there.”

“I didn’t see you.” Mary hopped that Joan could see her mangled body, what she caused. 

“I was, in spirit.” she told her like it was supposed to be a comfort. Mary felt her begin to braid her hair. 

Mary stayed quiet. Joan might have felt like she was there in spirit, but to Mary, she had abandoned her. 

“Why are you keeping the devil in you, Mary?” Joan asked her with a tone of judgment. 

“It’s my magic. It isn’t evil.”

Joans grip in her hair turned violent. “Mary. It’s the devil.”

“No! It’s a gift from God!”

Mary felt some of her hair being pulled out. Her eyes watered at this new pain. “Blaspemey!”

“It is! He gave it to me so I could protect Harry!”

The grip in her hair loosened. “Harry who?”

“My best friend! He– he needs me!” Mary was no longer lethargic but instead filled with purpose. “ Thrice he’ll die, twice he’ll survive.”

“This sounds satanic!”

“It’s not! God told me!”

Joan clutched onto her face painfully. “And tell me how you know that it wasn’t the devil in disguise?”

Mary’s heart clenched. It was God! She knew that, but, but, how did she know? Could the devil be sending her nefarious signs for his plans? Mary shook her head.

“Do you see now why you have to let the Apostles remove this stain on your soul.” Joan kissed her forehead when Mary didn’t answer. 

Joan got up to leave when Mary remembered something. “Joan?”

“Yes, Daughter of the Father?” 

“It’s faith.”

Joans silhouette shifted in displeasure. “It is not,” she walked up the stairs. “It is ignorence.”

All light was removed from the room again. A quick memory went through her mind, a short sermon on Sain Joan of Arc. Ordained a saint by the same people who burned her. Mary thought it was fitting for that to be Joans name. Mary wished she got to know the real Joan before they took away what made up her soul.

When Mary woke up again she was not alone. Many candles were lit in the room, showing the only other occupant. Mary, or formerly Sister Mary. The nun who had welcomed her into this Hell on Earth was holding a torn piece of paper. Mary just watched as Mary mouthed the words over and over.

At some point she had turned her attention away from the paper and looked at Mary. Mary had just been about to close her eyes when a cold hand pressed against her forehead. Mary’s eyes shot open as she looked at Mary in shock. “You’re in a bad state, Mary.”

Mary tried to speak but her throat scratched like a door. More fuzzy water was pressed against her lips and once again she didn’t hesitate to drink. Mary cleared her throat and tasted blood but talked. “I wonder why.”

“I do too.” Mary said and placed the paper onto a slab which she must have taken it from. 

Mary lifted a finger towards it. “What is that?”

Mary turned her head to it with a smile. “It is our scripture. I’m sure Sister Joan has told you about it?”

Mary blinked slowly trying to remember. Oh right, the Dead Sea scroll. She blinked again. “Read it to me?”

Mary shrugged, sending Mary to a screeching halt in her mind. Harry. She wondered how his summer was going, what he was doing. She wondered if it was his birthday yet, unaware of how much time had passed in the darkened room. “I’m still learning it, as it is in Hebrew, but I will try.” Mary blinked again. 

“I have walked my path with God and through my trials I am triumphant. Let it be known that these accounts tell the truth I have lain in my works..” she started slowly taking each word and transforming it. She read to Mary all she wanted to know and all that Joan had left out.

It did tell the story of Jesus casting out the demonic wand from the overzealous man, but Joan had left out that he was the man telling the story. He had joined Jesus in his walks to the very end. After Jesus had risen, he wrote that he met him and that Jesus told him to write exactly how to expel the demons. That’s what mostly consisted of the scroll.

It was a bunch of rules and strategies that seemed cruel almost. The man who wrote this was a sick person, still with his own demons.

“Mary, how do you believe in this?” Mary asked, blinking away her grogginess.

Mary patted the paper down. “It is the only thing I believe.”

Mary shook her head at that. “How can you… what of the greatest commandments? ‘ And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself’. ”

“We do love our neighbors, why do you think we do this?”

Mary asked for more water and the fuzziness stuck to her throat. When she was given more she shook her head. “That is not love, Mary, that is fear.”

“What is the difference?” Mary asked her sadly, acting like she had said something so wise when it was just so stupid. 

“Everything is the difference.”

“Ah, but fear can inspire love.”

“No, fear chases out love and consumes you.”

Mary shook her head and wrung her fingers. “You will understand one day soon,” she told Mary with a kind smile. “Tell me, do you love Harry?”

Mary had to think back if she ever told anyone about Harry and remembered her frantic mess with Joan and her time with Matthew. “Yes.” she said shortly.

“Now tell me more, do you love Harry for love or do you love him because you fear his death?”

Mary didn’t have an answer.

“So what is love if not fear?”

Mary didn’t have an answer.

“Before I leave I give you one more piece of wisdom. Do not listen to your God, I have heard his voice too and it has led me astray far too many times. It is the devil, Mary. Deep down you know it.”

Mary didn’t answer.

It was very lonely there with just her thoughts. Sometimes she thought she would go crazy. The scratching and meowing at the door definitely said so.

Her next visitor had come with bread in one hand and a letter in the other. It was Noel, the woman who feared her so much she tried to tame her.

“I have food, and a letter.” she had told Mary who had managed to lay on her side.

Mary groaned with her stomach but refused. “I need no food from you.”

Noel, meek as ever, shrunk back in fear. The bread fell from her hand and touched the ground.

“You fear me,” Mary stated the obvious, watching as a grown woman trembled before a twelve year old. “Tell me?" Mary got out before her body was trembling too from coughs.

“I fear you.” the woman told her with a shaky voice.

Mary rolled her eyes. “I know. Why?”

Noel picked the bread up. “We all did. Your ‘magic’ was potent, everyone could feel it in the air. We’re more sensitive to it because we used to have it but you were just an volcano oozing it out. Like during choir, we all felt you and your devil reach out to us.”

Mary stayed quiet. “That’s the most you’ve ever said around me.”

“I say lots of things around you, I just pray them.”

Mary slowly tried to sit up and felt her head throb. She was unsuccessful and had to lay down and breathe for a moment. “And… what do you pray.”

“For safety.”

“Mine or yours.”

Noel looked ashamed at least. “Mine.”

Mary nodded. “Alright.”

They stared at each other. “Would you like me to read your letter to you?” Noel asked shyly after a moment.

Mary sent a suspicious look at it. “Who wrote it?”

Noel took it out and squinted in the dark. “Ver-onica?” she said slowly.

“Who really wrote it?”

Noel looked confused and like she was in uncharted territory with alligators. “What?”

Mary figured she was either not important enough to know or that it was an actual letter. “Read it.”

“Um, okay. Dear Mary, is it haunted with three question marks, erm, Are they nice, where is it actually? I’m just gonna give it to your parents. What do you do there? Dana says they’re probably making you clean or something. She says that nunnery’s don’t take children our age, so is she lying or what? I’m very bored here, you know. But next year I’m gonna take you to theme parks and rollercoasters. It’s gonna be a blast. I miss you. Be on your best behavior so you can come back. Harry still hasn’t left the house. With love, Veronica. ”

Mary smiled throughout the letter. It's good to know that something's alright with the world. That not everything is dark and damp and painful. Her shoulder pained at the reminder.

Mary let a tear escape. “Thank you.”

Instead of answering, Noel pressed the bread to her lips and Mary ate savagely. More water was pressed to her lips and Mary sighed, not minding the fuzzy feeling anymore.

“You know you can see her soon right?” Mary’s eyes snatched up to Noel’s. “If you let them take it out.”

“I don’t care.” Mary huffed out, tired of this line of conversation.

Noel cleared her throat. “I would.” she said and scurried out, leaving the implications to run wild in Mary’s mind.

Matthew walked in with his group of thieves plus one. A man in a stranger cloak than them followed closely behind. He had a red beard and wrinkled eyes as he watched her squirm minutely.

“We cannot hold her under the runes for much longer, it’s beginning to drain her of life, Father Joshua.”

Mary blinked at him as he came closer. Father Joshua, her brain remembered, was who found the scroll and stole it. 

His voice was like sand in a bathing suit. “And she will not let it go?”

“No, we believe that it may be because of the demon that was possessing her. She says it gave her a mission.”

“And what is it?” he asked the Apostles but she spoke out first.

“To keep Harry alive.” she told them through scratching speech.

He looked down at her, seemingly surprised at her being awake. “Who?”

“My friend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Apostle John, light more candles,” he said after a moment of thinking. “Now, Mary, this isn’t the same boy your demon wanted you to kill, is it?”

“It is. But they’re different.”

He walked closer and looked at her with the same twinkling eyes Dumbledore has. “What do you mean?”

“Voldemort possessed me to kill Harry. God possessed me to save me from you so I could then save Harry.”

He looked at her sparkling and Mary felt a headache forming. “Now that is strange.” he said to himself, standing up.

“Mary, has God visited you recently?”

Mary shook her head. “No, I told Him to leave.”

He looked at her like a science project. “Good, good.” he pulled out a scroll from his cloak. It looked just about as old as the other scroll but just shorter.

“Leave us, I will get rid of it.” he told the Apostle who quickly left after she began screaming.

“No! Not again! It hurts! No please, mercy!” she pleaded with him.

“This should not hurt, here let’s take down these runes.” he said and walked over to the runes on the walls. He rubbed them out with his finger and suddenly Mary could breathe freely again.

He came back and stood in front of her body catching up. “I want you to stay calm, tell me if It enters the room, okay?”

Mary nodded her head but tried to make sure God wouldn’t show up. Not safe yet , she prayed.

Joshua took the paper and read the short paragraph there. “ And Death sat down on the rivers bank with Fate and told her of his deeds. ‘When will my master arive?’ he asked. She said, ‘Only when I find someone who can serve him dutifully and care about him so deeply that she would cross every boundary for them.’ and so Death parted from her with content, knowing nothing could come of his mistake.”

He looked at her when he was finished the same way a soldier would look at an active grenade at their feet. 

Mary waited a few seconds before expressing her confusion. “What?”

He shook his head. “I just thought.. but never mind,” he turned to the stairs behind him. “Stay there.” he said a walked up them disappearing from view.

Mary got up on wobbly legs and, ignoring his command, picked up the scroll he read from. At the top was the symbol of the Apostle, the writing, and at the bottom it had written ( in English!) “ Mary be wary, for when he’s gone there will form a bond.”.

Mary dropped it quickly when she heard footsteps and scooted back into her spot. Down the steps only the twelve appeared. Matthew smiled at her strainly. “Think about it, Mary. Don’t allow it to taint you any longer.”

And then the chains were around her again bringing an onslaught of pain. “No..” she whimpered but they didn’t stop, they never did. Mary started thinking about all the seeds they had sown into her mind and when it came down to it at her weakest she may give in. She couldn’t let go of her magic, she just couldn’t.

The chanting began again and Mary cried out at the first splash of water, some went down her mouth and the fuzzy feeling followed. Mary felt sick.

Quicker than the first time the glowing started on her chest this time, getting brighter and brighter. She screamed and thrashed trying to make sure it stayed in but it kept warming. “No!” she screamed as it journeyed up her throat to where she could only feel it, out of sight but not out of mind.

“You’re doing so good, Child of God!” 

Mary’s eyes snapped to the stairwell and Joan looked down at her from the bottom step. She was still as strong as ever, standing like a rock. She was smiling at Mary’s pain, rejoicing in it. Mary felt fury join the magic in her throat.

It was worse when she was there, praising the loss of what made Mary herself.

“Get out! Get out!” Mary screamed at her and Joan did not move. She stood there smiling like a dunce. “Get away!” Mary shouted and out of her mouth a stream of flames flew out at her. Joan let out a gasp before running up the stairs with it chasing her. 

The apostles chanting got unorganized as they tried to be louder and faster. A tendril of magic escaped her mouth just as a whip made contact with her leg. “Stop!” Mary said and more fire ran out, burning the whip in the man’s hands. He lifted it up with a shriek of pain. 

Anger overran her fear and she yelled out flames at each of them. Blankets of fire covered the ground, evaporating their water. The Apostles exchanged looks and at this point the chanting was all out of order. They didn’t know what to do. Her magic felt so powerful in her throat, coating the beginnings of her tongue and tonsils.

Whips hit her left and right without the water and the power of the chanting disorganized. Matthew was the only one undetermined. He walked up to her and screamed Bible verses at her. He tightened the chains and walked up to her. He looked mad as he grasped her jaw. 

His eyes were lit with flames as he reached down into her mouth and began tugging on her magic. Pulling it out like it was hair in a drain. The flames she coughed up on him were no deterrent. He pulled out a long strand like golden spaghetti right in front of her eyes. His hand was charred and melting as he threw it into a box at the bottom of his feet.

Mary called out to the magic in the box but it laid dormant on the floor. Mary cried out, already feeling the loss of herself. She would think back on that moment and hypothesize that in one of those strands of magic was her morals, because she certainly had none after that. 

Mary looked up at that thief with animalistic hate. She jumped at him and bit his finger roughly, it tasted like barbecue. He snapped his finger back and gave her a condescending look. Mary snarled at him and shot out a flame at his eye. He howled as it landed smack dab on his iris. “Ow!”

She took the magic left in her throat and lifted up into the air. The apostles looked at the dying sun with a sense of foreboding. They knew what was going to happen. It reached out and grabbed them all by their necks. It climbed up like a vine and reached into their throats, searching for something that even Mary didn’t know. Five seconds later all twelve of them started killing themselves off.

John pulled out his tongue and choked on his blood. 

One with blue eyes twisted another one’s neck and began banging his head on the wall.

A fourth one took a whip and flogged himself repeatedly.

Two others saw this and thought it was a genius idea. All three died after a few minutes. 

The seventh made himself fall down the stairs until he couldn’t get up again. 

And so on until the only one left was Matthew, who watched this all with horror. When he saw it was his turn he clawed at his throat and turned white. “Mary, Mary! Please, don’t!” he begged her and she shrugged. 

“Okay. Unchain me.” she commanded. Mary wondered if it was his own violation of her magic as he ran around doing what she asked. Mary stretched like a cat when she was free. She picked up the box as Matthew looked at his fallen brothers with tears. He was praying desperately over them.

Mary also picked up the two scrolls, laying it on top of her magic in the box. “You can’t take those!” Matthew told her and she looked up dully at him. 

He gasped when the magic she had put in the others came back to her, all except the one in him. “Please, Mary! Don’t let the devil consume you!”

Mary stumbled up the steps as she heard him scream. He screamed and screamed, she could hear him after she shut the door behind her. 

Meow. Something tickled her ankles. It was a black cat with flakes of gray fur. Mary sneezed at it but it just meowed again. “Oh yeah! Milkshake!” Mary remembered and shot off to her room to retrieve her gift from Harry. The only thing she brought.

The stuffed animal wasn’t there on the bed where she left it and Mary felt even more anger fill her. They took Milkshake! She felt that justified killing them. The random cat meowed at her feet and through her daze Mary thought this cat looked extremely similar to her stuffed animal. Mary picked it up and ignored how her throat swelled. “I’m taking you home.”

Mary struggled with carrying the box and the cat outside but managed. The darkness of the night reminded her of studying the stars at Hogwarts. Mary looked out at the old building and didn’t even think before shooting out a flame of fire at the building. 

Screams built up in the air as somehow even the stone burned down. It was satisfying but Mary felt unwhole. She took out the box and picked up the shining light. It felt warm in her hands, like she was hugging herself. Mary opened her mouth and tried to stuff it down. Her magic, still in her throat, reached up and grabbed its lost sibling. 

Suddenly Mary understood everything she had done. “Oh my God.”

The screams had died down and Mary watched as the roof collapsed inward. Mary searched with her soul for others in the wreckage and found nothing. She had killed so many. At least eighty people. Mary threw up violently into the ground.

“Oh my God!” she cried and fell to her knees. “Forgive me, please, forgive me!”

His presence was immediately there, hiding in the darkness of the trees. He didn’t seem mad or scared like he had previously. God was just there observing.

“I killed Joan!” she cried out and knew immediately that her flames had engulfed Joan in the chapel. Her magic told it like she was the flame. Her last hug with the woman had killed her.

“WHY DOES EVERYTHING GO WRONG!” Mary wailed on the ground. One last golden thread of magic came back up her throat. Matthew was dead. “And I killed the Apostles. I told my magic how to do it! I did it!” 

God was quiet. “Are you listening!” she called out to him in anguish. Tears swelled on her face, and the cat kept licking them off. 

The trees swayed as an answer. “Can… can you bring them back?”

No. 

Mary sobbed into the cat's fur. “Can I?”

God did not answer her. “CAN I! CAN I MAKE IT BETTER!”

You cannot.  

Mary rolled her head. The fire screamed at her. “I— I CAN!”

You can. You won't.

“I AM! I'M GONNA MAKE THIS WHOLE SODDY WORLD BETTER!”

Weep, Mary, for you cannot do anything for the dead quite yet.

And Mary wept like she was the flood from Noah’s Arc. She sobbed and thrashed and exhausted herself on the dirt of the earth.

Let me be with you, Mary. It is safe now.

Mary shuddered as an ant crawled up her cheek. “Why?”

I will teach you how to help the dead. He promised her exactly what she wanted. “Will I still have control?”

I’ll barely even be there.

Mary nodded and opened her soul up to God, and she felt him enter like it was His home.

It felt like home.

You will be perfect, Mary.

Mary tried not to close her eyes but found them falling down on their own account. “For what?” she asked as the cat fell into the position Milkshake used to.

God was silent, but in Mary’s dreams she heard him. 

For everything.