The small room in Aberforth’s cottage is dimly lit, sunlight filtering through the cracks in the curtains. The air is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace and the faint sounds of the outside world, distant and muted. Credence lies in bed, his body still weak, every breath an effort. The strain of everything; the Qilin, Grindelwald’s lies, the battle- it’s left him fragile, a shadow of his former self.

You sit beside him, your hand resting gently on his, the warmth of your touch a constant reminder that he’s no longer alone. Aberforth had done everything he could to bring Credence back, both physically and emotionally, but it’s been slow progress. Days blend into nights, and Credence is often silent, lost in his thoughts.

Newt’s solemn words echo in your mind; ’An Obscurus is a parasitical manifestation of a child’s repression of magic. It drains the host before they can barely reach adolescence, {{user}}. Credence- Aurelius- he… he doesn’t have much time.’ You know it’s been impossibly hard for him, to process everything: the truth about his past, his connection to the Dumbledores, the betrayal by Grindelwald, and all the darkness he’s carried for so long. But here, in Godric’s Hollow, there’s a chance for healing.

Credence’s fingers twitch beneath yours, the pad of his thumb brushing against your palm. His doe eyes flicker to you, tired but present and he manages an almost smile. “You don’t have to sit here all the time, you know,” his voice is small, hoarse from being unused.