silver springs.

Regan Higgs. Irish. Wailing unwoman. Beauty school dropout. Former Child of Portree. Skilled at bitchcraft & misery. "I am forever chained to myself; that’s what I am, and that’s what I must try to live with." @higglet: ACCOUNT DEACTIVATED 22/12/1980

[reganhiggs]

SO THE STORY GOES...

EARLY LIFE

Adopted at birth, and the younger sibling to Bertie Higgs. 

Grew up on Higgs Farm in County Kerry, Ireland. Her family is one of the lead producers of magical wood (for wands, brooms, etc.) in the U.K. so the Higgses have money in the bank. 

Has struggled with a cocktail of mental health issues (her word choice), and received a bipolar diagnosis in 1974.

1979

Regan often picks the most chaotic decisions possible. Is it for attention? Boredom? She’s a scorpio, so she’ll never tell. (But probably both.) 

Like when she married Bilius Weasley in February and eventually divorced her. 

Later in the spring, her parents were abducted and tortured by Joseph Nott after releasing a very pro-Muggleborn press release. Though they eventually escaped, it was not without injury. Her father was not able to recover and is still a permanent patient in the Janus Thickey ward. 

Regan dropped out of Hogwarts. Bertie soon left for an internship in Brazil (where he had his own very not good, very scary things happen). 

While Regan thought she could handle the pressure of being the rock of the family as their mom recovered at home, dad at St. Mungo’s, and brother abroad, she cracked. She stopped taking her meds and eventually ran off to join a cult, the Children of Portree (not in Portree).

She managed to get out of the cult in December, has since stayed on her meds, and is doing much better! 

1980

With her trust fund, she traveled a lot—often to Canada, to visit Bertie and Mason. 

In April, she moved into a flat with Hayden in Cardiff. 

After the Statute fell in October, Regan’s mum and Bertie were stuck in Canada, leaving Regan alone. She handled the stress well, better than she expected, but still found her fair share of chaos. 

Namely, a pack of muggles attacked Regan and Clem in November, resulting in a concussion and other minor injuries. She stabbed two of the muggles with a shiv Hayden constructed in prison. 

While Regan thought she could put this incident behind her, in December she learned that the muggles sought to press charges against her and Clem. 

Regan came out as nonbinary to friends and family in November, using she/they pronouns. 

Days before Christmas, Regan’s father succumbed to an infection and died. This activated something inside her—something she never was there. She unleashed a scream that caused severe hearing damage for Hayden. Believing the sound to belong to her greatest fear, a banshee, Regan fled for isolation after ensuring Hayden was alive and on the mend at St. Mungo’s. She doesn’t know what she is, but believes she cannot return home until she has answers and can ensure she doesn’t hurt anyone else she loves. She’s also terrified that if officials found out, they would capture and detain her. 

KISS & TELL

1978

June 1978 / Mason Nash / one night stand

1979

14 February - 1 November / Bilius Weasley / married (now divorced)

1980

March - September / Percy Pecky Robards / friends with benefits

[reganhiggs]

MARY MACDONALD.

It was all so very… fast. Mary didn’t see him crumple to the ground, but she felt the cut at her neck pour when the knife clattered from his limp hands, she heard the thud of his body hitting the pavement, hard. Naturally, she jumped back. Hands over mouth, eyes wider than the moon and darting between the assailant whose face was covered in a thick crop of hair—she decided she didn’t care to know who it was—and another new face taking shape in the dark. Familiar, but different. Something about the nose threw her.

Mary shook her head side to side in protest of the help being offered and reached for a wand that no longer existed; only after remembering this did she let some of the fight leave her. “I can get myself home,” she insisted anyway, with more bite than she meant to. Adrenaline clenched her jaw tight and all the words that passed through her mouth got caught on her grit teeth. 

“Ahh,” she hissed when their hand came to her wound and jerked away, but it made it pause and bring her own shaking fingers to the cut. Her skin came away slicked with blood. So it was a little deeper than she’d thought. But still, the Copse was so near… and there was the matter of the man. 

She crouched down beside him, fighting her fear and feeling for a pulse at his neck. “Is he dead? We need to get an ambulance. He might have had a heart attack, or…” Overwhelmed, Mary shook her head back and forth. None of this was real. None of this was really happening. It couldn’t be. She looked up, willing her tears to give her five minutes. 

“Not dead,” Regan added flatly, not even bothering casting her gaze onto the crumbled figure. “He’ll have a splitting headache when he wakes up, but he’s fine.” She was acutely aware of how little time she had, how quickly they needed to move. “Mary, is Doc home? Can he take you to see a healer?” She was already reaching to pull Mary from this place. Regan looked over her shoulder, goosebumps littering her flesh. They needed more time. For Regan to explain, to ensure Mary would heal properly, to depart before any hunter could tie Regan to Mary. “If you’re not sure, I’ll take you there.” It would be a risk, to transport Mary with her magic, but Regan wouldn’t leave her without knowing for certain someone would inspect the cut. 

[reganhiggs]

MARY MACDONALD.

WHEN: Saturday, 26 March 1981; evening  WHERE: London, England  WHO: Regan Higgs & Mary Macdonald

Maybe it is a good thing I can’t afford a new car, Mary was thinking to herself as she walked the long and scenic route home that night. Every few steps one heel or the other would drag rather than click against the pavement. It was a testament to her inebriation; Mary typically felt more balanced rather than less on her toes. Tonight might well have been the night I crashed it, if I did. 

The streetlamps were little help, half of them out and half of the other half left flickering at best. Mary might have used her wand for a torch, only now she had not one enemy as a Muggleborn (Pureblood supremacists) but two as a Witch (Anti-Magic Coalitioners). As it had been before the Statute’s demise and as it was now after it, her wand was usually best left concealed. 

It was why it took her so long to try defending herself when a hand yanked at the length of her ponytail, sending her falling backwards and right into the sharp point of his knife which existed as much to sober her as it did to threaten. “Keep walking,” he ordered. Except she really wasn’t sure that she could. He pushed her forward head first. “Now.” Mary took one step and then again, her heart rising in her throat. Maybe she would vomit. 

She steered herself nearer where the Copse was. Would Doc have left the windows open? Could she shout that loudly? Would she make it far enough to try? 

“Hand me your bag. Slowly. Do you have a wand?” Her mouth was too dry to answer, she tried to swallow but her heart was lodged in her throat hammering away. “Bitch I said do you have a wand?” The knife drew blood, she could feel that even for all the adrenaline. 

“Yes, it’s—” She didn’t have to go on, he was already sliding it out from her pocket. Mary heard the sound of it snapping in half at her back and she thought it wasn’t fair how easily even powerful things broke. 

In the months following her disappearance, Regan had not ventured far. An irony, given it was a natural assumption that she skipped town, flitting from one whim to the next. This time was different, though. She knew this, but no one else needed to. Of that, she was certain. 

It was for their own good. Regan soothed herself with this statement repeatedly as she tucked herself away in shadows. The truth was, she was no longer the person who left. Maybe on the inside, but life had grown too complex, too dark, too dizzying to ever go back. To be that person again. Because Regan Higgs wasn’t just a wixen anymore. That night in Kenmare, something inside her awoke. A part of her always there, merely waiting. Dormant, ready to be activated. She was part human, part beast. An anomaly. A threat. A prize to be hunted. 

And so she lurked within the shadows. Fleeing to the Clogrennane Woods to understand the beast stitched within her skin. To meet the cursed souls like hers. To learn how to control the dark violence that crawled from her throat. To know their lore—her lore. But despite the ever present threat of those who hunted her kind, Regan could not turn away from the people she loved. Her family and chosen family. They could no longer be in her life, according to the tribe, but Regan couldn’t bring herself to let them go. She had to know they were safe, unharmed, alive. 

Tonight started no different than other evenings. Magicking her hair a new color, nose a slightly different shape. She folded into the crowds, lurked among shadows, eyes wide as she searched for those familiar faces. An uneasiness in her gut pulled her a few blocks from the Copse, down a quiet alley as the scene played out in front of her. 

Regan inhaled sharply. The sound that erupted from her lips was concentrated, pointed directly, only at the culprit. Just as the banshees taught her. He crumpled to the ground, likely facing unconsciousness for the next few hours. It wasn’t a cry, but for hunters trained to hunt banshee, Regan knew she had barely ten minutes before someone came looking. Hungry for the bounty that would surely come with a half-breed creature like her. 

She rushed to Mary, a hand moving to where she spotted blood. “Look at me,” she spoke softly. “I’m going to get you home. It’s going to be okay.” 

[reganhiggs]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

BETTY HUXLEY.

Betty pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She couldn’t know how they felt but she was only trying to help, and she said as much. “I understand that you’re frustrated and angry, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I were in your position, but I am just trying to help.” She sighed, pushing away from the desk to stand. 

“I can’t force you to wear these and I can’t make you stay here if you want to leave. Just know that I will work my hardest to make sure they don’t get away with this.”

​

Clem inhaled and then exhaled hard, trying to regain some semblance of patience. It was difficult in that moment to remember who they were up against, but it wasn’t this woman in front of them, even if the DMLE were using Regan and her to play some sort of game. “Look, this is all just— a lot. It’s a lot to take in, especially after everything. I think it’s better if we go and give ourselves time to let this sink in. Clear our heads.” She stood too and then after a moment of hesitation, picked up one of the bracelets but did not put it on. She wasn’t likely to, she didn’t think, but she’d think about that too and picking it up showed she was trying at least. “Doing a statement in a few days might be better for both of us.” Once they had digested the news, thought about the specifics, felt less under attack and defensive. 

It felt like a relief to head towards the door. “We’ll be in touch,” she said in parting. “Thank you for your time today.” 

[ fin ]

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden could only watch as Regan scribbled out notes to him. First, a singular word. He looked back at Regan, mouth slightly open, dumbfounded. “Can’t be…” he said watching her destroy the slip. He had learned about banshees. He had taken the course as part of his Pre-Auror track at Hogwarts in his first year.

He looked back at Regan, already scribbling something else out. Naturally she would be scared. He didn’t blame her for that.

He thought back for a moment of that creature he had seen. He racked his brain, his memory from a short while ago trying to remember the way that his wand had fallen across her features and she had been recognizable. It dawned on him, that maybe, just maybe, that’s what it was. Shouldn’t he be dead, though? They had made it perfectly clear in that course that their screams were fatal. He shouldn’t have been alive. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he told her. He spoke as softly as possible, though it was hard to tell what volume his voice was at. If Hayden hadn’t felt his own vocal cords vibrating, he might have thought he hadn’t said anything at all.  It was a promise, nonetheless. Hayden would say nothing, unless she told him otherwise. There was a certain brand of trust between them. Hayden had trusted Regan to drop by when he had been in prison and now Hayden would return that trust, keeping what had happened there at the farm to himself.

Years and years ago he had landed in St. Mungo’s prior and he hadn’t told them what happened then. He would continue to play dumb with the Healers now and not say a word to them.

His eyes darted back, noting Regan writing another note. “Of course,” he said. He didn’t blame her, wanting to understand what was happening to her. Hayden wished he understood better himself. He wished he could remember more on what he had been taught about banshees. There was sudden change in the room now, he realized. Regan had written something else, but this one she folded up, placed it in his lap and a kiss on his cheek. Before he had a chance to read the note or protest, she had all but vanished. He stared, at the spot where she had just been, picking up the note and looking at it. He tore it up.

Alone once again. 

Hayden only looked up, as a Healer was tapping him on the shoulder, holding up a note of her own, written in large, capital letters: WE NEED TO TALK.

[ fin ]

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden had never felt so helpless and frustrated. It was one thing for Hayden to not care what others said around him. He had never been the sort to eavesdrop or to even mind what other people were saying. He always minded his own.

Yet, suddenly, as he watched the Healer exchanging words with Regan, he hated it. He occasionally caught a word, based on the way their mouths moved, but even then, out of context, it was impossible to put together what they might have been saying. Possibly updating her more on where he was at. Possibly talking about what had happened to land him here.

Even more alarming was when another Healer appeared. There seemed to be recognition from Regan, but once again, it was impossible for him to even tell if they were discussing him or something else entirely. Perhaps it was something to do with her own hospital visit just a few weeks prior.

What he did notice, though, was the way Regan’s eyes became wet, a tear moved down her face. He frowned, waiting for Regan to finish with the Healer. 

She faced him and Hayden’s brows knit together, his forehead wrinkling with confusion. What he did note was that she seemed to have arrived at a conclusion, her face looking as if she had learned something, realized something. And indeed she mouthed at him. He glanced back at the Healers who weren’t paying attention to them, Hayden returning his own question silently, mouthing back, How? It didn’t make sense.



Regan shook her head, shrugging. None of this made sense. It felt like a terrible, horrible dream. Maybe she would have written it off as such if Hayden hadn't rested on a hospital bed, unable to hear her. This was her fault. Her doing. And Regan would never forgive herself for this. How could she ever trust herself after this?

Both healers excused themselves, trapped within heated conversation, finally leaving the pair alone. Regan reached for the parchment and scribbled one word. The name that terrified her to say aloud. The very thing a boggart transformed into when facing her. The creature that somehow awoke after laying dormant inside her. She turned the parchment to face him.

Banshee.

As soon as he read the note, she pointed her wand to it, destroying the parchment. Regan feared what would happen if someone learned. Would they lock her up? Would she ever see her mother or Bertie again? She trembled; tears had never quite stopped since arriving to St. Mungo's.

I don't know how. I'm scared of what they'll do to me if they find out, she scribbled on the parchment. But more than that, more than the fear of her own life, Regan was petrified of what she could do to others. Hayden should be dead, if the legend was correct. He should be gone after hearing such a sound, but he was here. Who's to say that he could survive this again? Who's to say that anyone could? Regan saw no other choice. She had to leave. Until she had answers, she was a walking threat—a ticking time bomb. A threat to all those she loved

Her chin dipped as she imagined what people would say. Typical Regan Higgs, running off. Untrustworthy, flaky, greedy, troubled. She wanted to rip her own heart from her chest when thinking of Doc's face when he learnt of her running. How disappointed he will be. How scared Bertie and their mother will be. How confused Bilius will be. How abandoned Clem will feel. The list went on, each one banging at her heart. She didn't want to leave. For the first time in her life, Regan wanted to stay.

But wanting wasn't enough, not when she posed terrible, grave danger to those she loved. Her family and chosen family. The people who mattered more than her own wellbeing. She had to put them first. She lifted her chin to peer into Hayden's eyes, looking for reassurance. She scribbled another note.

I need to figure this out.

This, like the notes before her, she destroyed. She paused for a moment, then scribbled one last note. Her parting words. The only thing left to say. She folded it a few times. Then, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Hayden's face. She stuck the folded message onto his lap, and then ran before he could stop her. Past the healers and then the welcome witch. Apparating to a place far, far from London. To the solitude of the woods, where answers could one day be uncovered—she desperately hoped.

I'm so sorry, the note dripped in black ink. Don't come looking for me.

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden looked as Regan was finally brought in. He could see her mouth moving, the softest of murmurs coming from her, but none of it coming through clearly enough for him to make out. It was still all muffled. He covered his ears for a moment, closing his eyes as if he willed himself better, hoping against hope that all he needed to do was simply try harder. 

He opened his eyes again, seeing Regan and the Healer exchanging words, able to hear the faint and distinct sounds of their voices, but unable to make it out their words, like music that played in the background of cafes or restaurants, no one ever making out what songs were playing, but always able to hear it faintly among the usual noise of every day life. He watched them scribble something down. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about what actually had happened. He certainly had heard a scream, a scream that had come from the being. The being that had taken Regan’s place as he had held onto her.

He shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t remember,” he grunted, his arms crossed. It felt like so much had happened, and so much of it so quickly and in a haze, that Hayden could almost swear it was a nightmare. A nightmare that had taken place once he had been knocked unconscious filling in the gaps to make sense of everything. 

And even if it wasn’t a nightmare, even if everything he had seen had led him here and if Regan was responsible, Hayden would not say a word, not without knowing what was happening. Remaining tight lipped and silent was what he was best at, after all. 

“M’head hurts,” he said instead, pointing at his head and looking at the Healer expectantly. A potion perhaps to help, a moment alone with Regan, even.

"Where were you?"

Regan blinked back a few tears as she turned back to the healer. "The woods surrounding my family's farm. County Kerry." Had she not already told another healer this earlier? She grew frustrated, wanting answers. More than anything, she felt desperate to know that Hayden would recover fully.

"Did you see—" The healer lowered their voice, only speaking to Regan and not bothering with the parchment anymore. "Did you see a figure? Something cloaked in black?"

She wanted to shake her head, replying with a fervent no, but something gave her pause. What was it? Why couldn't she remember? Every moment, another fragment came to mind. A broken memory. Her brain shielding her from a truth that was too terrible to comprehend.

"I..." Regan's throat was thick. She struggled to swallow, as if a large ball had lodged itself somewhere in her mouth. Another healer entered the room before she had a chance to stumble through an answer. This one looked frazzled, more so than the other. But Regan knew her. Deirdre, one of her father's attendants. From the Janus Thickey Ward. "I heard you were here. I've been trying to get in touch for a half hour." Deirdre inhaled shakily, eyes red as if attempting to fight off tears. "It's your father."

And then, Regan remembered. All of it. The sense of dread that something would happen to her father. The splitting headache. Collapsing to the cold, snowy ground. Her body shifting to greying flesh and black smoke. A scream that rocked the very earth beneath her feet. Silence.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Deirdre nodded. "I'm so sorry. It was an infection, and he..." But Regan tuned out the rest. The details didn't matter, because she knew her father's final breaths. She saw them. But how? How could she know something before it happened? How could Regan see death as clearly as the life around her?

She turned to Hayden, practically looking through him, as she wracked her brain for answers. What knows death before it comes? Who mourns so violently that it rattles the very earth? Regan knew the answer. Every child in Ireland had been told the stories. Those tall and terrible tales, those reminders to stay away from the woods and close to home. For the creatures who inhabited those dark corners knew death well, as if it were an old friend, and could inflict their pain onto mortals, wixen and muggles alike.

Regan knew there was only one kind of beast that could create a sound like that, and it terrified her to say the word aloud. I did this to you, she mouth to Hayden, the healers busy communicating between each other with backs turned to the pair.

It was me.

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

At first, everything sounded far away, as if he was dreaming. Actually, Hayden was fairly positive he was dreaming. He could hear the gentle chatter of conversation as activity flurried around him. His eyes were closed, and he kept them closed, not wanting to wake up just yet. He willed himself to stay in this state, halfway between wakefulness and sleep. 

He tried to tune into the conversation, tried to listen in, see where his dreams led him. Everything sounded like he was listening through a wall, muffled and soft, people whispering just low enough that he couldn’t catch snippets of conversation. Slowly, he finally submitted to the urge to open his eyes and did so, the light blinding him immediately. Retinas burning, the light also set off a pounding headache. Or maybe the headache had been there all along, but it suddenly brought back memories of what had just happened. He had been with Regan out on her family’s farm when— well, he wasn’t sure what had happened. He suddenly jerked up from the bed, sitting up.

Regan. 

“Regan,” he said, but when he spoke, his voice sounded muffled, too. It suddenly struck Hayden that everything around him was still indistinct, light conversation. Nothing was clear enough for him to make out. His ears even felt clogged, like he was under water, only able to hear the faint garble of the world above.

A Healer turned to him, realizing he was awake and he could see her speaking, however nothing she said registered with him. “What?” he asked as he did everything to strain his ears. He wasn’t even sure how that worked. He had never really had to tune into noise before. He pointed helplessly at his ears. “I can’t hear.” 

The Healer seemed to realize, though, and had already grabbed a clipboard with a spare bit of parchment attached, scribbling something down. ‘You’re in the hospital.’ 

“No shit,” he huffed. It had come out louder than he intended, he realized, as the Healer glared at him. He didn’t care, though. “Where s’Regan?” 

She was writing again. ‘We need to know what happened.’ 

“I don’t fucking know,” he grunted, arms crossed already tired of being here despite having just woken up. “I passed out. Shouldn’t you be telling me what s’happened? Is there anyone here? How did I get here?” 

‘You were brought in by someone.’ 

“Is she still here? Where is she?” 

The Healer looking exasperated and seemed to realize she would get nowhere and seemed to beckon to someone else nearby. Another Healer, it looked like. She said something, whispering to them, forgetting that Hayden couldn’t even hear what they were saying and there was no point in whispering around him. The second Healer left.

When finally given a moment of peace, Regan reached into her pocket for her iFlown. It was late; the clock struck close to midnight now. Another call to Doc, pulling him from sleep. She promised not to again, and yet here she was. And Hayden—perhaps she ought to call Clem, too. Her fingers wrapped around the device, only to shrink with disappointment when it wouldn't click on. Dead.

"Fuck me," she mumbled under her breath.

"Miss Higgs?" Exhausted, she turned to a healer. She didn't bother correcting her, insisting that just Regan was fine, because all she could think of was her friend and what was soon to be another barrage of questions she couldn't answer.

"He's awake, but—" Regan didn't even bother waiting for the rest. She ran to his room, heart fluttering when she saw him awake. And angry, which brought even more relief. Grumbly was, after all, his standard mode of operation.

"August?" Her voice was quiet, scared.

Then a healer placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm afraid he's experienced some damage to his hearing." Regan cocked her head to the side, looking back at the healer, urging them to continue. "We can't be certain if it's permanent or not—"

"Permanent?" She looked back and forth between the pair.

"We need you to tell us what happened." The healer also scribbled this onto parchment for Hayden to read. Regan sunk into the seat next to the bed, wracking her brain. Memories came back in broken fragments. Like a puzzle she needed to stitch together.

"A scream," she breathed. "I think." And it came from her—didn't it? Warm brow eyes turned to Hayden, pleading for an answer even if part of her feared the truth. That somehow it would unravel something devastating.

The healer blinked a few times, confusion riddling their face. They scribbled a question to Hayden.

Did you hear screaming?

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden felt frozen. Normally, all instinct and pure adrenaline, for what might have been the first time ever, he didn’t know what to do. What he did know, was that he couldn’t keep sitting here on the ground and so he willed himself to get up, grabbing his wand as he pushed himself back to his feet. He didn’t even have time to figure out what his next moves might even be when he heard it. It was the most awful sound he had ever encountered. 

He might have called it a scream, but it sounded far more hellish than someone yelling out. His head suddenly felt like it was on the verge of exploding. He imagined this is what it felt like for someone’s brain to boil. Is this what had happened to Regan? Is this what she had heard? 

Hayden was brought back down to his knees, collapsing right where he stood. His hands held onto his head, as if trying to keep together what felt like his skull cracking in two. It had to be, there was no other way to explain what was happening. He couldn’t stand it any more. He wished for an end. 

And in an instant, his wish was granted mercifully. He fell limp and unmoving. 

When she finally came to some time later, Regan realized she lay curled onto the earth, blanketed by fresh snow fall. Everything about her ached, as if she ran the distance of the farm one hundred times over. Despite the lethargy, Regan's attention fixated on the quietness of the evening. The total, complete absence of sound, far deeper and broader than any hushed evening. No birds chirping in the sky, nor trees wrestling in the wind. She broke the quiet. Regan wriggled, finally hearing the leaves and snow crunch beneath her, violating the silence.

What happened here? Regan asked herself as she regained composure of her breath. She recounted her steps, of what she could remember. Her head hurt, she knew that well enough. It hardly pained her anymore, though. And then, a scream Was it from pain, or something else entirely? It was as if her mind placed a sheer veil over the memories, shielding her from the truth. 

But Regan had to know.

"Hayden?" The whimper escaped from her lips as she stood up shakily. She reached into her boot, fetching her wand, and cast a light spell that illuminated the tip. A second later, she dropped the wood to the ground and ran to her friend on the ground, crumbled like paper.

"Hayden." Regan grabbed at his jacket, shaking him, willing him to wake. "Hayden, wake up." But it was no use. Nothing stirred him, nothing brought him back. She was certain her heart would fling itself from her chest. Quickly, she scrambled for her wand and pointed it at her friend, levitating him upright. With arms wrapped around his middle, Regan did the only thing she deemed logical. She apparated the pair to St. Mungo's.

Immediately upon arrival, healers whisked Hayden away, but she fought to stay with him. "I won't leave him," she demanded, following behind despite how uneasy she felt. Despite the lack of answers she could provide. Despite how she felt guilt despite not knowing why. As if a grand, terrible reveal waited in the wings.

She willed the veil to be lifted, to see what unfolded in Kenmare earlier that evening. But Regan was met with no recollection, only a barrage of questions that she couldn't answer and a desperate hope that Hayden was alive. As if he merely succumbed to sleep.

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden knew something was happening. He couldn’t tell what, but he knew something was going on. Call it gut instinct, he felt goosebumps all over his arms, hair standing on end. Time seemed to stretch on. Regan felt conscious at least. He could feel her breathing and moving beside him in the darkness. 

It was only when she uttered one word, one syllable that he knew his fears were confirmed. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It almost sounded inhuman. He wasn’t even sure what she had said. He could gander a guess. “No— ‘m— not— leaving— without— you—“ he huffed, each word punctuated by a pause as he worked to get his wand out of his coat pocket, fumbling with the thin piece of wood, holding it up and muttering lumos under his breath to get some light.

As his immediate surroundings were lit up, the light fell across Regan, and Hayden stumbled backward, falling back into the soft grass. “What the fu—“ 

 It wasn’t Regan. No, he was positive it wasn’t her. It didn’t even look like her. It didn’t sound like her. He shifted back several paces, still on the ground, his wand lay forgotten beside him, lighting them up. How could it be her when he had just been holding onto her and she hadn’t moved? 

“REGAN!” he yelled out, as if he thought that might bring her back.

Regan found herself certain of only one thing, despite having no proof of its truth. Her father, laying in a hospital bed in St. Mungo’s, burned with a fever and would succumb to it shortly. She could see it. Through black eyes, despite the wooded surroundings. Regan could see all of it. The machines beeping, healers moving quickly, anxiety blanketing the room. And then silence. A miserable quiet that only came when death sunk its teeth into souls.

Regan’s father had been gone for quite some time, but whatever was left of him would be gone by daybreak. She knew this with a certainty, as if etched into the marrow of her bones. And the knowing was unbearable, like no pain she ever experienced in her troubled life this far. The grief climbed within her, desperate for a release. To escape. Whatever beast inhabited Regan brought her to her feet and led her to the precipice of a great unknown, overlooking a ledge into murky darkness. All that remained was to fall off the ledge.

Nature took over. An instinct she knew without awareness. She tilted her head to the dark skies, mouth falling open. And Regan screamed. She screamed as if attempting to release every ounce of air trapped within her now changed body.

But the sound that erupted from her was not human. It shook the ground below them, rustled the very trees surrounding them, as if it were an earthquake. It wasn’t merely a scream—it was monstrous, all consuming. A violent assault of noise, erupting like a volcano.

Regan could not be certain how long the sound wracked her body. Her humanity tucked itself safely away, slipping from awareness, letting the beast within take control.

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden wasn’t the first one to worry. He wasn’t even the second one to worry. He probably should have worried more in general, however he didn’t find any use for it. But now, all of a sudden, he was suddenly slightly below panic, but already way past being concerned for Regan. For as long as he had known her, Regan, despite being off-kilter and manic, he had never seen her quite like this. She looked like she was in pain, and he had seen what true pain looked like. 

 He reached out a hand as she was moving towards the ground. He crouched down beside her, a hesitant hand on her shoulder. It was hard to see her, though he still attempted to squint through the darkness that had settled around them. “Should I get someone?” And even as he asked, he looked around not even sure there was anyone nearby. Granted, he could apparate and be back in mere seconds, but his gut told him not to leave Regan all on her own. Shit. Maybe this was why he should have an iFlown. He could easily contact someone like Doc, have them get someone. 

It happened quickly, with such speed that Regan did not recognize the process of undoing until nearly complete. As if she held onto only a fraction left of her essence, and somehow turned into something else all together. Something not Regan and yet part of her, hidden deep within, finally unlocking.

With great fortune, she did not find herself in possession of a mirror that starry evening in Kenmare. The image looking back would have terrified Regan to death. Her once warm, chocolate eyes turned black, darker than midnight. Her skin appeared grey and sunken. And finally, smoky and dark tendrils formed around her body—as if they sprung from her. Fortunate, indeed, that Regan was not in possession of a mirror that would reveal the horror she unwillingly transformed into.

Unfortunate for the wizard reaching a hand to her.

Before the last ounce of her essence slipped from her grasp, she looked up to him, pleading him to leave. The sound that left her mouth belonged to a stranger—smooth and sharp, like water flowing over glass. She uttered one final word before succumbing to the beast within.

"Run."

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

“Well, that s’the thing when you’re younger, isn’t it? Views change and all as you grow,” he pointed out. “Plus,  you know, as an adult, responsibility and all end s’up being boring and you suddenly wish for those carefree days of nothing to do as a child.” He glanced at her as she spoke of her father, knowing what she was referring to. He couldn’t even imagine what that must be like. He wondered briefly how he might feel if his brother were in that state rather than dead, and was quick to decide he was better off dead. He couldn’t suffer anymore. 

“You on something?” he asked, though he was already making his way back in the direction they had come from. The question might have sounded like he was asking if she had taken any sort of drug, but he had to imagine she could still be on some potion or another from when she had gone to St. Mungo’s. Or maybe they hadn’t cleared away the concussion the way they thought.

Regan struggled to listen, feeling as though something knocked at the inside of her skull. And then a ringing began to sound in her ears. Quiet at first, almost like a tickle, but then stronger. Unable to be ignored. Her vision landed on Hayden, but another image overlaid reality. The sight of her father at St. Mungo's, machines beeping, healers scrambling. The vision collided with the reality in front of her, as if she found herself at the hospital and not with Hayden in Kenmare.

"No," she choked out, her voice strained. It certainly felt like she ingested something, but Regan knew she hadn't smoked a joint since that morning with her tea, and nothing for hours. Not when she planned to visit the Higgs Farm employees. "I need to sit down." Regan crumbled to the ground, burying her face in her hands. Time stretched on, seconds felt agonizing, and the remaining light of sunset had vanished into early evening darkness.

[reganhiggs]

HAYDEN WARD.

Hayden moved alongside Regan, hands in his pocket to keep them from going numb in the icy wind, especially as night neared closer and quickly. Yet with as cold as it was, there was something about the colors that lit up the sky. 

He was just starting to get things on track for himself once again. At least, he was returning to a semblance of a life he once had or as close to it as possible. He had been working as a construction worker in the muggle world for the past few weeks now and trying to figure out where he fit into this new world. However, with as chaotic as everything had been as of late, a break felt needed. As such, he accompanied Regan to a visit to her family’s farm. Despite having grown up to the sounds of the city it felt nice to be out in the countryside.

Hayden obliged her request, his hand emerging from its coat pocket, holding onto his wand and pointing it at Regan. “So, this where you grew up,” he stated. “What was that like?”

"Yep," Regan answered, punctuating the P. Her head started to ache, as if a migraine approached. "I used to think it was miserably boring when I was a wee one. Always looked for ways to escape and find a more interesting life. But now..." Her eyes roamed the wooded space, the warm glow of sunset crowning her childhood home. She could see smoke piling out of the chimney, and the promise of tea by the fire gave her a moment worth of peace.

"I miss it, I think. Or, I guess I miss what it was like. Before dad, you know." She winced at the pain in her head, poking her fingers at both temples. "Fuck, my head feels like it'll split in two." It was probably best to head back to the house. By the time they crossed the threshold, she couldn't imagine any more light left in the sky.

[reganhiggs]

WHEN: Wednesday, 22 December, 1980; evening  WHERE: Higgs Farm, Kenmare WHO: Regan Higgs & Hayden Ward ( @whiskeynward​ )

Golden hues danced along Regan's face, illuminated in the pink glow of sunset. Nightfall would capture them shortly—and then a sky full of luminous, twinkling stars. Unlike Cardiff or London or anywhere else Regan found herself often, Higgs Farm in County Kerry was peaceful and quiet. Especially with her mother still in Canada, and Bertie busy with work, only the workers brought noise to the otherwise idyllic stretch of land. But with evening stretching its dark tendrils, Regan instructed all of them to head home. Maybe she couldn't be with her family, bar her father permanently and incoherently residing in St. Mungo's, but it was nearly the holidays, and she knew it was right to send employees home with ample time to spend with their loved ones. Regan was no tree farmer, nor was she destined to run the family business; she only wanted to make her parents and Bertie proud.

"Ach," she whined in Hayden's direction, shivering. She wasn't certain how she convinced this mountain of a man to join her in Ireland, but she appreciated the company nonetheless. "Point your wand at me and recast a warming charm on my coat. I'm freezing my tits off." Regan shivered once more and stuck her hands into her pockets.

The funny things was, it wasn't just the December cold that chilled her spine. Something gnawed at her attention, something she couldn't explain. As if she forgot something and her mind sent subtle hints as to what the object was. But it wasn't something that kept coming to mind. Someone, rather. Memories of her father danced at the forefront of her mind. This happened sometimes, in dark and dreary moments where she mourned with more fervor than days she learned to be numb to it. Usually, though, she could shake off the sadness, or distract herself with good company and a joint. Tonight was different.

Tonight, Regan Higgs couldn't think of much else but her father laying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's.

[reganhiggs]

BILIUS WEASLEY.

Bilius eyed the joint for a second before taking it from Regan’s hands. “To new beginnings, I suppose!” She chuckled, lifting it in the air in a mock toast, and took a long drag.

“To new beginnings.” Regan couldn’t help but let one corner of her lip curl upward into a smile. Despite the anxiety from the attack weeks before, her life had finally started to feel a little more stable. As if Regan could finally be comfortable in her own skin. And that felt good. 

[ fin ]

[reganhiggs]

BILIUS WEASLEY.

I missed their smile. The thought imbued itself in Billy’s brain before she could fight, and she had to take a moment to recover from it. Another shot downed, another sudden feeling being swallowed down along with the alcohol. “Hey, I hear Ward’s out.” She suddenly said, not the smoothest transition, but she just wanted to change the subject. “You must be quite excited about that.”

Regan nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. She imagined Hayden would grumble at such a display of affection, which made it all the more delicious. “Yeah. It’s nice to have him home. I don’t know. I just... I don’t like living by myself, I don’t think.” More so that Regan didn’t trust herself enough to be alone. Bad things often followed when left to her own devices. She reached for a joint tucked behind her ears, and lit it—without a care for who saw. After taking a hit, she offered it to Bilius. 

[reganhiggs]

BERTIE HIGGS.

“Good thing you’re not asking then, hey?” His tone was soft. Gentle, yet firm. He wouldn’t be swayed on this. Sometimes others said to him that he should let Regan fail, that she wasn’t his responsibility. He knew that, of course he did, but it didn’t matter. She was his sister, one of the most important people to him. She wasn’t his responsibility, no, but that would never stop him being there when she needed him - especially now.

Relief. That’s what Regan felt, even if some guilt remained. She moved in closer, wrapping her arms around her brother, squeezing tightly. Maybe this didn’t solve anything, but having Bertie near felt safe—like even if she fell, a safety net awaited her beneath. “Love you.” She sunk her face into the crook of his neck, a few more tears dampening his shirt. 

[ fin ]