an act
of god

❧

A success. What were the odds that it had all been a success? Wednesday had dreamed of this moment. She’d dreamed of success every night – so much that she could almost taste it in her laboratory. She could almost feel that they were

They were all like her, now. Well, at least, most of them. Wendy couldn’t figure out why the virus had spread to most of the population, but not all. The virologist in her reasoned that it had something to do with the DNA structures of those affected – a natural immunity that they hadn’t accounted for. The Squib in her only saw red. She had wanted all of them to suffer for what she had been through. All of them. It was selfish, really. The most selfish thing that Wendy had done in her life. She was willing to admit that. But she was also willing to admit that she deserved some penance for what had been done to her. The cruel trick of fate that had left her magicless in a pureblood home.

Perhaps another part of her wondered what it would be like if she could reverse the symptoms. What if she could give herself magic instead of taking it away from everyone else? Of course, it was nothing but a pipe dream at present. Nothing but a twinkle of hope in a sea of possibility. But, for now, Wendy would continue her brother’s work. As he was holed up at Pyxis riding out the remainder of his symptoms, she would pick up the baton where he left it and continue to wreak havoc on what was left of magic-users in this world.

Wendy had taken holiday for a few weeks as the disease began to ramp up and more and more checked themselves into St. Mungo’s. Naturally, it made sense for her to volunteer her services to the Hospital. It would be suspicious if she didn’t. The daughter of a well-known pureblood family with known experience in virology, it was almost a given that she would weigh in on the matter at hand. Of course, it also meant that she could throw the rest of them off of the scent. Delay finding a cure by leading them astray. It was dangerous, she knew, but Wendy wanted them all to suffer. If she had her way, they would never find a cure. They would spend the rest of their lives just like her. Stuck in limbo between the magical world and the muggle wasteland. Maybe, one day, she would even find a way to bypass the immunities that the news spoke of. Maybe, one day, she and Art could bring down the entire system and render them all useless, as her siblings had once called her.

Sitting at the counter of The Coffee House, Wendy absentmindedly ran her hand across a stack of Daily Prophet papers that were piled up near the cash register. It was hardly absentminded, in truth. On her fingertips were traces of the Cleptavirinae Magicaevirus. The Squib Flu. Art had told her Godric's Hollow would be a good place to hit. So many witches and wizards walked around like they owned the place…perhaps it was time to knock them all down a peg. After all, so many of them were old money purebloods. Were they truly deserving of the gift of magic? “Another latte, if you don’t mind,” Wendy said to the waitress as she passed. In a few moments, she was back to pouring over the paperwork she had been given from Director De la Vega. An account of everything they knew about Cleptavirinae Magicaevirus, so far. As if turns out, they were all so ill-informed. It would take them ages to crack her and Art’s little code at this rate.

@open | 630 | Outfit

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[attr="class","title1"]An Act of god

[attr="class","subtitle1"]There Is No Difference;
It's All In Your Name

[attr="class","wordz"]

She'd been released from Mungo's, magicless as her late spouse, as her first set of in-laws.

The. . .emptiness in her, this lack of what she knew, the loss of what she had always known to be fact filled her with heaviness. There were a thousand things she could no longer do anymore, she couldn't even fly alone. Perhaps if she rode on a broomstick with someone, but it simply wasn't the same. For the sake of the Kunlun mountains, she couldn't race. She couldn't do the Annual Broomstick Race in December, and she'd done that since the Battle of Hogwarts. That, perhaps, hurt the most about losing magic, more the the street Quidditch she played with friends or the half-organized games of Quidswitch. It was tradition, after all, that she raced putting her life in trust, skill, and luck, that that was the time she dealt with her demons.

She hadn't told her parents yet that she'd lost her magic, though she was sure that they knew. One of her cousins, maybe, an aunt or uncle. She didn't tell the Youngs either, only remarking that Nick and Lizzy were spared. Maybe it was a good thing that she'd sent her children away, because at least then they were sure not to be ill if this stuck around for years. Dragon Pox lingered after centuries, after all. This might as well too. Even if there was a stopgap, a cure, she thought it more likely that it wouldn't work for those who had lost magic already. Unlikely.

With a normal lifespan, she would have had a century or near there in front of her, dark and magicless. If this stole that-- well, she'd die sooner. She understood that, that was a risk she'd taken her entire life. Quidditch, after all, put great strain on the body. Fighting in battle carried the heavy risk of dying. Sweden's annual race-- people often died, she'd seen a fair amount of burnt corpses herself. She'd never expected to live to that age, knowing that would be her own doing. As a child, she'd thought she would be playing professional Quidditch, eventually for the Tornadoes, her career eventually ended by an injury. Seekers, after all, were often targeted. As it was, it hadn't been, but the trauma of her accident had caught up to her a year after, when she was still playing for the Prides. No, her life hadn't gone as she'd expected when she was a child.

She'd thought she would marry a handsome wizard, like how all girls were supposed to dream of. Pleasing features, acceptable to the family, having some children after her Quidditch career, then settling down for something almost-respectable-like as a career once her body could no longer keep up. She'd never expected to be pansexual, not any more than marrying a Muggle who liked to make fun of Quidditch and prefer bloody Quodpot, somehow. She hadn't expected to be a . . .whatever she had became. A widow, a divorcée, and then remarrying a woman barely two year after the death of her spouse. Not writing for the Quibbler-- certainly if she'd known what her life would be at fifteen or six, she would have thought she was mad.

Maybe she was, she really didn't know.

But it had brought her friends-- true, actual friends. She'd met Wendy Buchanan and her brother Art eventually though Jae-gyu, she'd met Luna truly Ginny more than anyone else, she'd reconnected with Isobel after, she'd met Dougal through the Prides. And others, people she'd known at Hogwarts and had never known the way she did now. She wasn't the same person she'd been before, because she wasn't quite so lonely, quite so desperate. Stronger? No, she didn't know if she was. She'd always had the core of strength in her, she'd always been herself. Braver, perhaps, not so alone and hurting, that was the truth.

She was luckier than most that she'd been married to a Muggle, she knew how to get around a lot. She would always be slower than those who lived in that world, she would never quite fit in, know as instinctively as they did how to do things, but she could figure it out-- just not, really, in her magicked apartment. She wasn't looking to start any fires. the fire extinguisher Jae-gyu purchased a few years ago might be 'expired', and she hadn't had the time to search over the canister to see where it said that. She had to do that eventually, she supposed. practice a lot, though certainly not a car. Jae-gyu had said that she was far too reckless and aggressive, which she found distinctively unfair. She drove like a Seeker ought to, with sharp turns at high speed, slipping between others, and apparently with a fair amount of rage. Jae-gyu claimed that wasn't how civilized people drove in places other than Beruit, India, and Indonesia, where driving was an art form, and she shouldn't be driving in places where she wasn't like the majority of drivers.

It wasn't the same, even though driving now had a dangerous light it hadn't before. She could always Heal herself and others up (Qiü, for the love of all that is sane, that is not the point of driving, as her late spouse would say), but without magic, that couldn't happen now. It didn't somber her up, because the wind wasn't enough, she wasn't flying into the wind like she bloody needed too--

She parked the car, turned it off. Driving down from home to Godric's Hollow because she wanted to be alone, because she wanted to check out that old bookstore, see if there was something she could get.. . .it was reckless, fueled only by emotion, by need. She'd visit Ginny's family, make up for it. As it was, she needed something to drink, as soon as possible, the other day if at all likely. She made her way to the register, eyes skimming over the menu before ordering a black coffee and a croissant. Ginny would say that wasn't enough, and she was likely right, but she couldn't think of more than that. Her order came, and as she was leaving the store, a face flickered into her field of vision.

Hang on, was that--"Wendy?" The name burst out, and she pulled an abrupt about-face to make sure her eyes weren't deciding her. maybe it was the lack of fuel, maybe some residual weakness, some. . hallucination by driving eight hundred kilometers at speeds and assertiveness that apparently weren't supposed to be driven at. After all, this was all sorts of coincidental, impossible. Especially with her luck of likely having given the sickness to Art, Wendy's twin brother. But no, they weren't. "I-- it's been so long, please tell me you've been doing well." Ever since she'd met the older woman, she'd always respected her. Wendy was incredibly sharp and knowledgable, confident and brilliant and passionate.

When was the last time she'd seen Wendy? She suddenly couldn't recall.

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @wendy , 1169 WORDS ☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

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an act of god

[attr="class","reasonsmallwendy"]Honesty's heresy in this holy war Contradiction and affliction hardening my heart

[attr="class","reasonbodwendy"]“Cho?” Wendy’s surprise was evident in the tone of her voice. For a moment, she regretted the virus she had just placed on the menus in front of her. The thing about the disease was it was perfectly applicable in theory. In theory, Wendy could give it to the whole of the wizarding world without feeling any sort of remorse. But, in practice, things were different. When she was confronted with someone she knew…someone like Cho, things became a little more difficult. If she was just indiscriminately giving it to the whole of the Wizarding Community, then it wasn’t so bad…but robbing Cho Chang of her magic? Wendy shook her head. She didn’t need to think about remorse, at present. Not when everything had been going so well. What she needed to do now was focus on the task at hand: closing the gap and ensuring that everyone came in contact with the virus.

Wendy stood up and wrapped her arms around the woman. They had been friends – friends that had always respected one another. Cho was one of the few witches that Wendy found she could actually tolerate. She didn’t use her magic for malice. In fact, Wendy believed that she was one of the good ones. “I’ve been doing better than most,” she said, with a sigh.

The theatrics of pretending that she didn’t know what was going on was often annoying, but Wendy knew that she had a part to play. Art had kicked off the ball and it was her job to kick it to the goal.

“But, how are you? Tell me you haven’t been brought down by this awful epidemic?” But she knew the truth – so many people had caught it. The majority of the Wizarding World was suffering at the hands of a virus that she and her brother had created. They were responsible for this…for stealing away magic from perfectly reasonable people like Cho. Wendy shook her head, forcing herself to smile. Now wasn’t the time to have regrets. Now wasn’t the time to have second thoughts. What was done was done. Now, the witches and wizards needed to figure out what they were going to do next.

What did she hope to gain from all of this? Understanding. Perhaps that was the biggest thing, besides revenge on her awful siblings. She wanted them to know what it felt like to wake up every day out of touch with the world that you had grown up with. As Squibs, their world was different. They wouldn’t have the luxury of side-stepping everyday tasks in favor of waving their wands. They wouldn’t have the ease and comfort of knowing that cooking a meal was just a few wand-flicks away. No, they would need to learn to do things her way.

“I’ve been volunteering my expertise to St. Mungo’s – trying to help them get to the bottom of all of this,” she paused, turning her attention back to Cho. “This blasted Epidemic’s a hard case to crack.” She held up a few pieces of her paperwork and then glanced back at her new companion. “You’ll stay for a coffee, won’t you?” Wendy was curious what others thought about the Epidemic. Perhaps now was her chance to probe the brain of someone she considered a friend.

[attr="class","reasontagwendy"]@ cho | 548 | OUTFIT

[attr="class","credwendy"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","title1"]An Act of god

[attr="class","subtitle1"]Life conflicts with open decay
Death restricts enlightenment

[attr="class","wordz"]

Cho returned the embrace fully, leaning in as she did so. There were a bare two inches between them, but Cho had always been used to being the more petite of her friends. Half the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had towered over her, after all. It had been too long since she'd seen Wendy, whatever the span of time was. She'd known those born without magic weren't impacted by this illness, but she'd suddenly worried that Wendy's once-family might have tried to. . .blame her for it, or something ridiculous, as if lack of magic was something that could be spread previous to this, or that Squibs themselves could spread it.

"Funny you say that, actually." She forced her lips into a smile. "I just got released from the former children prison just. . .I think it's been thirty hours now. If that. I drove all the way down from Glasglow. I-- speaking of which, I really must apologize, I think I might have been the one who gave it to Art, after all, he's been so careful at the hospital." Art was the one member of the Buchanan family she liked-- she'd known Kyle casually in Hogwarts before Cedric had died. Everyone had changed after that, she'd thought, but they had only become more open. She didn't know if she wished he was also sick, as this illness was no punishment, but it would be simply wrong that Art had it while Kyle was in possession of all his magic.

The fever though, that she happily would with no regrets.

"You will? Oh Wendy, that's amazing. How long did you have to talk sense into people? Or am I being too optimistic, and they still aren't listening to you as well as they should?" This would certainly be interesting to learn-- did it truly change how people felt? That would be something to write about, at least something good to come out of this, if it could even be termed good. A bright shining spark among the dull. Oh, she ought to be doing some research on that, some interviews-- she'd ask Luna about that. Some wixen interest piece, after all.

"Of course I will! You'll tell me about Helena, and oh--" Her eyes flickered away, guilty. "I've remarried," she tried, putting confidence into the word if she could. It was one of the first times she was saying it out loud, to someone who didn't know. She really ought to tell her parents, Kwan. "I-- it was a small thing, but if we do a larger thing with her family, you'll come, won't you?"

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @ friend , 433 words ☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

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