Losing Hope

Newt's POV

It was a quiet morning at Hogwarts. Newt had just finished his routine tasks inside his suitcase and was walking along the winding corridor toward the hospital wing, Pick on his shoulder.

"Hope isn't quite herself, Pick," Newt offered a gentle reminder as he climbed a short flight of stairs, "we need to be patient with her."

The term would start in a few short days, and all Newt could think about was Hope. He and Albus had spent all their tired nights researching possessions and concocting potions that might help her.

Everything.

Every single thing they tried had no effect on her.

When confronted with a new possible treatment, Hope either felt nothing at all or was violently sick. Whatever had a hold of her was not going down without a fight.

Hope was convinced that it was the man with the cloak, and while that may be true, they were having a hard time understanding how he had such a hold on her.

She was a powerful and strong-willed woman; how could this creature in a cloak latch itself so heavily on her? How could the most powerful Wizard in the world, Albus Dumbledore, and the only ever-powerful Tribrid in history, Hope Mikaelson, not be able to fight this thing off?

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place." Albus had said the other night. They'd been flipping through pages of their books and Hope's Grimoires by the light of the hospital's fireplace.

They'd found nothing that night and every other night.

There was information about possessions, but nothing it offered seemed to work.

"How do you mean?" Newt had asked.

Albus had sipped his hot tea and nodded, pointing to the sketch of a body and its nervous system. "Maybe," he had paused, "maybe we're too focused on Hope's body and not something else influencing it. An outward force."

Having been exhausted, Newt stared at him like he'd had three heads.

"What I mean is," he continued with a crooked smile, "Hope's body and mind are so strong that we can't dream of penetrating it without months and months of worming. Much like this parasite did. This has been a slow, agonizing process for both of them. She just never realized because it was little by little, and our Hope happens to have quite a high pain tolerance."

"So you're saying whatever is causing this might not be inside her? It might be something outwardly that's making her this way. What could even have that type of presence without us noticing?"

Albus frowned and shook his head. "I wish I knew…" He trailed off in a murmur.

Newt turned the corner when he nearly ran right into Minerva, but luckily, her stack of books remained in her steady grasp.

"Sorry," Newt began, taking in Minerva's scrunched forehead and tight-lipped expression. Is something the matter?" he asked curiously, frowning.

"It's that poltergeist," Minerva huffed and shook her head, "he's taken all of the mirrors as some sort of immature, silly little prank."

Newt then noticed her hair was a bit in disarray, a rare happening for Professor McGonagall. 

Nodding, he pursed his lips, "I see. I'll let you know if I notice where he's taken them."

Minerva nodded. "I do appreciate that," she paused. "Is Hope with Albus then?"

Furrowing his brows, Newt shook his head as confusion swelled. "What do you mean?"

Silence stretched between them as something seemed to dawn on her, and her eyes widened a little. "I was just in the hospital wing checking on Hope, and Madam Florence said she'd made plans with you this morning. That it was your idea to let her see the beasts in your suitcase to aid her treatment. Is that not true?" Her voice rose to a higher pitch on the last word.

Newt tried to swallow, but his throat suddenly felt parched.

"No," he took a breath, "that's not true."

Without another word, Minerva turned on her heels, and together, they rushed to the hospital wing. They slammed through the door with an echo, making Madam Florence jump as she folded a white linen.

"Oi," she put a hand over her heart, "what's got you slamming my doors open like that?!" She looked them over, waiting for an explanation.

Newt's heart and stomach plummeted simultaneously.

"Hope's missing." He said breathlessly.

It took all of two seconds for Newt to break into action.

"Madam Florence, stay here in case she comes back."

She nodded wide-eyed, clutching the linens to her chest as tears stung her eyes. "Oh, how could I have been so stupid." He could hear her murmuring to herself.

"Minerva," Newt turned to her, "search the halls, search everywhere. I'll find Albus, and we'll join you in the search. Ask the paintings if they've seen her."

Without a response, she bolted through the doors to begin her trek and intense interrogation of still-sleepy portraits.

Newt took off, too, turning right while she turned left. He continued at a run with Pick hanging to his shoulder for dear life. His little scrunched-up face was as determined as Newt felt.

Panting, Newt burst into Albus' study, where he was sitting at his desk looking through the books they hadn't finished last night.

Looking up with raised brows, he stood immediately.

"What happened?"

"Hope," Newt tried to catch his breath, holding his side, "she's missing."

Albus took a slow deep breath and nodded as he walked around the desk, "She-she probably got hungry and wandered to the kitchens and…"

"No, Albus," Newt interrupted him. She told Madam Florence that she would be with me all morning. She planned something and put that plan into action. We have to find her before…" Tears brimmed his eyes now as he put his worst fear into words, "before she tries to hurt herself."

They'd known she was unstable but had never wanted to admit what that instability could lead to. Hope wouldn't die easily, but Newt had no doubt that she would find a way if she genuinely wanted to.

Albus' ashen face sunk in further, and he quickly nodded. "Let's go search, preferably…high places." He swallowed harshly before following Newt out into the halls.

They trailed through Hogwarts, splitting up occasionally and checking in to see if either had caught a sign of her. This occurred three or four times before Newt, Albus, and Minerva found each other in the defense against the dark arts corridor.

"Have you found anything?" Minerva asked them, and they answered by shaking their heads.

"Blast," she muttered, "and the paintings have been of no help. They were all asleep when she went through in the early hours."

Newt rubbed the back of his neck, and though exhausted, he wanted to keep searching. He didn't want to stop until they found her—until he knew she was safe again.

"Maybe she left Hogwarts," Albus offered with a frown. She could have gone to Hogsmeade. She's always saying the voices are loud; maybe she suspects they'll stop if she's away from the castle."

"Mama." A tiny voice sounded somewhere across the hall.

Exchanging a glance, they all wandered the corridor to find the painting that matched the voice. The third painting to the right of the start of the wall had a little boy and his mother. He was half-hiding behind her skirts while she stroked his hair affectionately and comfortingly.

"Go on, dear, tell them what you saw." She said in a voice just as soft as her pink skin looked.

Newt and Albus moved a little closer to hear him better. He timidly said, "I saw a lady walking through the hallway. Her voice woke me up…" he trailed off shyly. 

Albus nodded encouragingly, kneeling a little so he could be on his level. "Well, she was talking about mirrors," Minerva took a soft breath before the boy continued, "she said something about finding a place to keep the mirrors but didn't say where. She just said she knew the room would want the same thing."

Realization clicked in Newt's mind immediately.

"The Room of Requirement," he and Albus said simultaneously.

Albus exchanged a look with Newt before he turned back to the boy. "Thank you, that's been a tremendous help."

He stood his full height, and the three started for the 7th floor, heading for the troll tapestry. They didn't speak, or make any sound for that matter, the closer they approached. Collectively, they knew if she knew they had found her, she might take off running, and there was no guarantee to catch Hope if she truly didn't want to be caught.

The hallway was empty.

"She must already be inside," Newt said, just below a whisper.

Albus swallowed and nodded, moving to one side of where the door would appear while Newt stood on the other. Minerva stood in the middle, her wand at the ready.

"Stay here," Albus murmured to her, "stop her if you can if she tries to leave, but don't risk yourself." He gave her a severe look that she could only nod to.

Newt caught Albus' eyes, and they both nodded. Albus then reached up and tapped the wall with his wand, and a door began to unfold itself.

Newt mouthed, "1…2…3…"

They opened the door.