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fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
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Prompt Post #1
ROUND 1
FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER
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Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-09 01:13 am (UTC)(link)Credence cowered, feeling sick as the air swirled and ground raced beneath them. He closed his eyes, wondering when he would have to learn that particular piece of magic. He hated doing it. But he thought of Newt, and maybe learning wouldn’t be so bad if it meant that they could get away. Mister Graves had shown him wonderful things before, how to heal and transform, but all Credence had learned was how to destroy and hurt. He didn’t understand why, what it was that Mister Graves wanted from him. He focused on his breathing, the way he had when waiting for one of Mother’s beatings. As he slowly calmed, he looked up to see where he was, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
They were in a forest clearing, and they weren’t alone. There were eleven or twelve different people standing around the forest, but Credence couldn’t seem to get an exact fix on their number, and their faces seemed to change from one moment and the next. It had to be magic. In the middle, there was a pile of wood, which seemed strangely familiar. Meeting in a forest, away from prying eyes, and he remembered his mother’s stories of satanic sacrifice, of children torn to shreds and blood ritual. Mister Graves had promised once that magic wasn’t like that, but now it seemed like just another lie.
If Credence had any chance of being forgiven by God, he would have fallen to his knees right there and begged for mercy, but he knew that God was dead to him now. The only God he had was Mister Graves, and he was no longer merciful.
Mister Graves strode forwards, leaving Credence behind, and turned to the assembled crowd.
“I thank all of you for your patience. We have spent too long in the shadows, but it will not continue for much longer now. Soon the muggles will bow before us.” Credence let the words flow over him, remembering kneeling during his Mother’s sermons. He lost track of what was being said until Mister Graves turned to him more impatiently.
“Step forwards Credence.”
He walked towards him, feeling like a criminal headed to the gallows. He could feel the eyes of everyone upon him, and once he was under Mister Graves’s arm he felt a little more relaxed. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking slow breaths, and then looking up towards him.
“This boy,” Mister Graves began to tell the assembled crowd. “Is the obscurial I have told you of. He is more than twice the age of any other, and he is only just beginning to come into his power. And yet he is already truly remarkable. Credence?” Mister Graves shifted his attention to him, and Credence squirmed a little beneath his gaze.
“I would like you to set a fire.” He pointed at the wood. “As I showed you earlier, using the wand I gave to you.”
Credence’s throat felt dry, but he raised his hand. At least this was a simple enough spell.
“Incendio!”. Flames flickered up the wood, bursting forth and soon the whole pile was ablaze.
“You see his talent.” Mister Graves chuckled. “Now that we have the fire ready, where is the auror…”
Two of the figures pushed forwards a blond man that Credence had never seen before. Mister Graves squeezed Credence’s hand.
“This is one of the men who tried to murder you my boy.” He told Credence, but the words didn’t feel like a comfort. Credence found himself wishing the man had succeeded.
He watched in silent horror as Mister Graves began to ask questions of the man, striking him with spells when he did not respond. Soon his face was bloody, but the man fought not to answer. Credence tried to look away, but he couldn’t block out the sounds of bones breaking, or the noise of other people laughing. He didn’t understand how this could be justified.
He risked a glance only when the figure fell silent, and Mister Graves shot out one last spell.
“Petrificus Totalis Hornbeam, Walls, make sure he is still breathing.” Credence relaxed a little, praying the torture was over. The man before him was mangled beyond recognition.
“Now, boy, you understand that no one without magic is allowed to know of what we can do.” Mister Graves asked, and Credence nodded slowly. Mister Graves nodded in response, looking at one of the other figures, who brought forwards a young woman. “This muggle here saw what you could become. I want you to show me what I taught you.”
“Crucio?” Credence whispered, silently wishing it wasn’t that. Mister Graves nodded, and Credence hesitated for a moment.
“I could fetch Mister Scamander instead.” Mister Graves told him, and Credence raised his wand. It was wrong to do this. He didn’t understand what Mister Graves wanted, but if he allowed him to keep using Mister Scamander against him, Credence would be drawn to all kinds of sin. An image of last night ran through his mind, horribly inappropriate in his current predicament. His mother was right, he was a wicked sinful boy, to have preferred being between Mister Graves’ legs to being in the church. But Mister Graves could be kind. He just wasn’t being now. Credence knew that the threat wasn’t empty, and he turned to the woman.
“Crucio.” This time he didn’t think of his mother, or of Mister Graves. He thought of Newt, how sad he had looked as he had eaten the bread, how he had held Credence’s hand for a long moment and made him feel safe. Mister Scamander couldn’t come here. Couldn’t suffer because of Credence’s wickedness. He focused on that as the woman screamed, before dropping the spell.
“Good. Now, I want you to learn how to petrify someone. It can help you if someone tries to attack you. It doesn’t kill them, just stops them moving.”
“Yes sir.” Credence murmured, painfully aware of the eyes of the assembled masses upon them. But Mister Graves was back to being a gentle teacher, and explained the spell slowly, patiently. It was an easy spell, and at least this didn’t harm the woman.
“Petrificus totalis.”
Graves raised his hands, and both bodies floated towards the flames that Credence had lit.
The fire looked like the one on the leaflets that Mother had printed, telling of witches being burned at the stake. Realising that, Credence retched, sickness and terror lodging deeply inside of him. Mister Graves rested his hand on Credence’s shoulder, pushing him to kneel, and continued to talk as Credence sobbed at his hip. Mister Graves’ fingers stroked slowly through Credence’s hair, and Credence tried to focus on that and nothing else.
Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-09 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)I pity Grindelwald a little at this point, though. He hates muggles and wants wizard kind to be free from their oppression. In a very particular light, this could be viewed as a heroic mission. Yet by choosing to burn his enemies at the stake just like in the witch trials, he proves himself not to be, as he probably thinks, striking back with a strong message to muggles, but to have sunk just as low as the muggles he hates.
Thanks for the update!
Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-09 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-09 02:27 pm (UTC)(link)THE BESTWORST KIND OF CHRISTMAS WHERE EVERY CHAPTER ENDS ON ONE HELL OF A GUT PUNCH.
“I know Newt.” Credence whispered, and his voice sounded broken. “I know.”
I JUST. BOYSSSS. POOR TRAPPED BOYS. AND THEN GRAVES THREATENING TO RAPE NEWT IF CREDENCE DOESN'T "CONSENT" ASD;FLKJA
Although it looks like Credence is starting to realise that if you give in to coercion once, there'll be no end to it. That Graves will just keep pushing. Which makes me wonder what (if anything) the final straw will be. People being burned alive in front of him is certainly getting waaaaay up there on the dark and awful scale.
Thank you yet again for this wonderful fill, I can't wait to read more!
Re: Fill: The Whipping Boy (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-09 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)