Closure Isn’t Always the End

Albus' POV

"I don't think you understand what you're asking for, Credence," Albus said, his voice soft and low. 

Credence. A vampire?

Magic and Vampirism didn't coincide in the Wizard World, much like the world Hope derived from. She was an exception that exists through much luck and many loopholes.

Credence lifted himself up a little higher in his seat, his eyes filled with a desperate plea. "I understand what it means," he coughed into the blanket that still clung to his shoulders, "and perhaps to you, it's a fate worse than death to give up magic, but magic has done nothing but horrible things to me. I don't want it."

"Please," Aberforth started now, "just consider another alternative."

"I have considered all paths, and they all lead to death. One way or another," Credence slowly shook his head and scanned the room of faces before landing on his father, "if Elijah doesn't turn me, then that will be the end."

Albus blinked back tears as he watched his brother's usually stone-cool expression break into despair. The grief he'd carried since discovering Credence's existence only to be told his son was dying of an incurable parasite was always too much, but he'd shouldered it. Knowing the end was here was a punch that left one breathless.

Aside from Credence's ragged breathing and the fire crackle, the room was silent.

Finally, Aberforth spoke, his voice brittle."Whatever decision is made, know I will not leave your side."

Albus swallowed back the emotion as Credence smiled before nudging Newt and nodding toward the door. The moment they were intruding on seemed should be a private one.

Exiting the Hogs Head from the side door, Albus glanced over at Newt, who seemed to be trying to hide his red eyes.

"I think we could both use a Butterbeer," Albus smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder. 

They silently made their way to the Three Broomsticks. It seemed wrong for the sun to shine so brightly on such a dismal day, but perhaps it was a sign that the skies would be clear soon, and their days of darkness would soon be behind them.

The Three Broomsticks was lively with patrons, but Albus and Newt took a seat at the front bar and ordered a pint, their backs turned to the folks having their well-earned good time.

Newt sipped his stein and took a deep breath. It took every bit of Albus's willpower not to reach over and wipe away the little bit of foam that clung to his upper lip.

"Do you think he'll do it?" Newt asked, glancing over at him. "Elijah, I mean. Do you think he'll," he glanced around, lowering his voice, "turn him?"

Albus frowned, stroking his beard. "I think Elijah never does anything without purpose. He might see it as too much of a risk to the Vampire community. If the Obscurus still clung to him, it could wreak havoc in a different form."

"But with no magic, how could it?"

Shaking his head, he pursed his lips into a thin line. "I don't imagine it would, but we never know the result of something that's never happened before."

"He was making such progress," Newt frowned, staring at the bubbles in his tankard before looking at him again, "what if we found another siphon? A witch like Hope?"

"I thought of that," Albus said, taking his own frothy sip and licking his upper lip, "but Hope could siphon from him only because of her ability to heal quickly. I have a feeling it would take the life of any other siphon, and that's a risk I don't think any of us are willing to gamble, least of all Credence."

Credence would live with the guilt of sacrificing other lives for the sake of his own.

"It's a wise choice he's making," Albus murmured, voice shaking at the end, "to try to live but know the ultimate consequence if it should fail."

Albus had every confidence that Credence knew if he became a Vampire with no control, his ultimate demise would likely be at the hands of his creator.

Elijah would no doubt destroy him if he were a threat to society. Newt swallowed hard- as if reading his mind, and they drank silently.

If Hope were here, she'd be asking for something more robust, or more specifically, something that will burn on the way down and make me forget what year it is.

Albus smiled softly, sadly. The tears that glittered in his eyes now were shared for Credence and Hope, two people he cared for dearly but could do very little to help. Feeling helpless was a difficult concept. So often, he felt in control of most situations, but now, not even his magic could alter the future.

Albus had to sit back and watch it unfold.