Closed Debts for Your Soul to Pay

[Celia Vuong]

Plot ID #113688​

Celia generally tried not to spend much time at the Gryffindor table — it was by far the house with the most annoying students — but she was getting breakfast with Julia today. Or at least she was supposed to be getting breakfast with Julia. The table was filling up quickly, and her friend was nowhere in sight. Celia was starting to lose patience when she was distracted by the beating of wings, and a package bearing her mom's handwriting landed in front of her. That was odd. Her mom had sent her a parcel just yesterday, a packet of applications for summer internships and pre-college programs. This package was thicker, but its contents also seemed to be paper, and Celia didn't think twice before opening it.

Out fell a newspaper — The New York Times. Celia knitted her brows. Her mom had always warned her to hide her nonmagical upbringing, so it didn't make sense that she would send something as conspicuous as a muggle newspaper. Celia hurried to stuff it into her bag, but as she did so, two words caught her eye. Clarkin Group. To most people, that was the name of one of the largest investment banks in the world. To Celia, it was the place where her dad worked. Given its global stature, the company often made headlines, so its appearance on the Times' front page wasn't surprising. But something still compelled Celia to unfold the paper so that she could see the story.

The air instantly vanished from her lungs. Buried between the text was a photo, three columns wide, of her dad. Even though Celia hadn't seen him in person in more than two years, she could tell immediately that it was him. And he wasn't alone. Flanking him were several people in uniforms. Police uniforms. Celia glanced at the headline, and suddenly, she couldn't find the start of the article fast enough.

"BOSTON — Three Clarkin Group bankers were charged over allegations of fraud stemming from their participation in a multi-million dollar scheme, U.S. prosecutors said Wednesday."

The blood drained from her face.

"Among those charged was Daniel Vuong, a senior executive who authorities say orchestrated the scheme and personally pocketed tens of millions of dollars."

There was more — paragraphs and paragraphs more. But Celia couldn't move. She felt as if her heart had frozen, each vein in her body turning to ice. Nothing she had read made any kind of sense, yet she couldn't bring herself to continue. One more word, and her whole being might shatter. As if in a trance, Celia set down the newspaper. "Charged," "fraud," "prosecutors," "millions" — her brain refused to process any of it. As she stared hollow-eyed at the table, she noticed a slip of parchment laying among the wrapping. A letter. From her mom. It was enough to break her trance, and Celia lunged for the parchment, accidentally knocking over a pitcher in the process. Orange juice splashed over the table and spilled over the edges, forcing her to jump up. "F*ck." She let out a long stream of curses as she scrambled for her wand.

 

[Seraphina My]

Seraphina wasn't very enthused about anything now that it was her last semester. She didn't particularly worry about her NEWTs, as she only had like 2 classes, and it wasn't like she needed the grades anyway. She was going to be a reporter. Well, kind of a reporter. More like a radio show reporter. And maybe not a radio show reporter. More like a tabloid reporter. But either way, it didn't truly matter. She just wanted to be done with school. The only thing keeping her grounded was Tilly, but since her girlfriend was much more academically minded than Seraphina, it left her with a lot of free time to fill.

As she sluggishy made her way down to breakfast in a large, blanket like robe/hoodie she'd picked up during their vacation the US while on break, she entered just in time for packages to be delivered. They had spent time in Vermont, where her stepfather and his family thought skiing would be "fun." Seraphina spent most of the time indoors, where it was warm, and perused all the gossip magazines available at the front desk, dishing loads about American muggle (and some secretly magical) celebrities.

Seraphina could hear the squawking of the owls as she entered the greated hall. While the Gryffindor didn't usually get packages, Seraphina was impatiently waiting on a dress from her friend for the Valentine's Day dance. Before she could even take a seat, she heard someone from the Slytherin table call out her name and hold up a package. "Are the birds really that dumb?" she muttered under her breath, as if having to walk over to another table due to an incorrect delivery was the biggest inconvenience in the world.

She snatched the package from an eager third year and saw the return address was in fact her friend. Headed back to her own table so she could destroy some toast, the seventh year looked up to see Celia a ways down. Seraphina didn't think she had ever really talked to the Slytherin, but she did know that Celia was apart of Jenna's presumably "cooler" crew. Or at least, that's what Seraphina assumed Jenna would say. Celia honestly didn't seem any better than Seraphina did. Sure, she was a prefect and good at dueling or whatever, but none of that stuff really mattered.

As she started to walk past the Slytherin, Celia spilled her drink, causing Seraphina to send a loathing laugh through her nose as a flurry of colorful names also ran through her mind. That's when her eyes dropped to the newspaper in front of Celia. She saw the words "Vuong" and "fraud" stand out at her, seemingly not an image that would benefit Jenna's "cooler" clique. Seizing a moment of opportunity, Seraphina seizer the paper from the table and looked at it as quickly as she could. She read the first little bit before looking at the Slytherin and smirking. Jenna's cooler friends weren't quite as perfect as they pretended.

"You might want to be more careful. The juice nearly ruined your paper," she said to the Slytherin as she held it out to hand it back, making sure the article with whoever the relative was still in her hand as she scanned it a bit more. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a reader of American stories," Seraphina continued. She really didn't know Celia, to be honest. But Seraphina had always made good at saying random things just to see if it got under people's skin.

 

[Celia Vuong]

Celia knew her accident had attracted attention. She could hear laughter and some cursing — presumably from those who had been caught in the splash zone — but for once she ignored them. Her mind, which had gone static at the article, now kicked into overdrive. A quick drought charm eliminated the juice. It didn't do anything for the sticky residue on the table or the stain on her blouse and skirt, but she could attend to that later. Her main priority was the letter. With one hand, Celia shook it open.

Dearest Celia,

There is no easy way to tell you this, but your dad has been arrested. I know you have a lot of questions, and I've attached an article about the charges he's facing. I wish I could tell you more, but my lawyer has advised that I not discuss the investigation in written correspondence. I promise we'll talk more about this once you get home for the break. Please try not worry. Things will be OK. Your dad and I love you.

Love,
Mom

That was it? Her dad has just been arrested by the Department of Justice, landing him on the front page of one of the biggest newspapers in the country, and all her mom could muster was one measly paragraph? Celia read the letter again, shock turning to disbelief turning to outrage. Her gaze kept returning to one troubling phrase: "my lawyer." Why did her mom have a lawyer? She needed to finish reading that article.

Celia looked around wildly for the newspaper before she finally spotted it — in the hands of Seraphina My. Fear flashed across her face. It was obvious from the Gryffindor's smirk that she had read the story, or at least seen enough to know. And that knowledge made Seraphina dangerous. Celia didn't know why Jenna had ditched her former best friend — though she could probably guess, judging by the awful bathrobe-esque hoodie Seraphina was wearing — but she could only assume it had not been an amicable separation. No one ended a friendship so abruptly over something positive.

Celia took a deep breath, schooling her features into something more neutral even as her stomach dropped. She knew this looked incriminating, but it didn't have to be. Vuong wasn't a very common surname, but it also wasn't that unusual. This article was about a stranger who just happened to have the same last name. That was her story, and she needed to act that way. "Thanks for the warning." Celia had meant to sound flippant, or maybe sarcastic, but all she could hear was the tension in her voice. She pocketed the letter and reached for the newspaper, ready to tug it out of Seraphina's grasp if she didn't let go.

Her gaze followed Seraphina's back to the article, and she wondered if she should say something, maybe express surprise, or issue a denial. But she couldn't risk looking defensive. Celia's jaw tightened at the Gryffindor's next remark. "Well, Seraphina, I know it might come as a shock," she said, her accent clear as day, "but I am American." Even though she was trying to pretend to be her normal, sardonic self, Celia felt like she was inhabiting a stranger's body. All she could feel was sick fear. "Besides, the Times has a decent fashion column." Her gaze flickered over Seraphina's robe-hoodie. "You should check it out sometime." The last thing Celia wanted to do was make an enemy of Seraphina My. But that ship had already sailed when Jenna had cast her out. Now Celia had to play her part and pretend that everything was perfectly normal.

 

[Seraphina My]

Seraphina held onto the paper for a moment as Celia tried to take it back, giving a bit of resistance before finally letting go, feeling a few of the end pieces falke off into her hand. She rubbed them into her palm until they fell through the cracks in her fingers onto the floor while Seraphina continued to stare at Celia. She really didn't care if the girl was American and had never truly noticed. The Gryffindor wasn't sure if they had even spoken to each other, but it didn't matter. "I always just thought your accent was a bad attempt at being a Kiwi," she said, not quite sure if it was the dig she intended. However, Celia quickly made a dig at Seraphina's choice of clothing.

The Gryffindor wasn't sure what the deal was with these Slytherin girls and their obsession with clothing. What she was wearing wasn't even an outfit - she was just cold. And while that led her to almost want to get into it with Celia just because she was feeling feisty today, Seraphina took a breath. What she really cared about was what she saw in the paper. It wouldn't make sense for Celia to have a paper right there when someone with her last name in an article. Maybe Vuong was a popular name in the United States, but Seraphina really doubted it was just a coincidence. "Well, since you're seemingly an expert on fashion, do you think this would be a good thing to wear while getting arrested? That's what it said, right? In that article right there?" she remarked, pointing again to the word "Vuong." "I mean, personally," she continued, sitting right next to Celia with her feet on the outside of the bench, "I'd rather be comfortable than be frigid," she stated while sliding her fingers over to the paper again before snatching it to look at the article again. ""Among those charged was Daniel Vuong, a senior executive who authorities say orchestrated the scheme and personally pocketed tens of millions of dollars," she read quietly out loud, rather surprised herself by what she was reading as she held the paper to the side away from Celia. When she saw the word "charged" earlier, Seraphina had just assumed it was something devious. And while this was still devious, there were so many more layers. Seraphina attempted to continue to read the paper before Celia tried to take it away again. She really had all she needed anyway.

 

[Celia Vuong]

For a moment, Celia was worried Seraphina wouldn't relinquish the paper. She needed it back, but she couldn't let Seraphina know that. Thankfully, the Gryffindor eventually let go, and Celia tossed the paper onto the sticky table almost carelessly. "Why would I ever want to be mistaken for a Kiwi?" she scoffed. She didn't have anything against the country other than the fact that it hosted the worst wizarding school in the world. From day one, Celia had tried to make it clear that she did not belong at Hogwarts New Zealand, often acting as if she only deigned to attend the school.

Celia forced herself to stare blankly at Seraphina even as she felt panic rising inside her. Arrested. It was clear Seraphina had seen the story. And then, just so that there would be no doubt, the Gryffindor pointed at the word "Vuong." Celia could barely hear Seraphina's taunting over the blood pounding in her ears. There was only one way out of this, and that was to act as if she had no idea what the girl was talking about. Brow furrowed, Celia gave Seraphina what she hoped was a look of confusion. "What?" Her gaze slid to the headline as she feigned reading it for the first time. She barely got through it before Seraphina snatched the paper away again. Celia was silent for a few moments, careful to keep her blank expression intact, before she laughed. It sounded a little too loud in her ears, but she couldn't do anything but forge on. "Wait, you think this story has something to do with me?" She gave Seraphina a look of amused derision. "What, am I supposed to know who 'David Vuong' is just because we have the same last name?" she asked, deliberately getting the name wrong. "You can't seriously be that stupid. Tons of people have the last name Vuong. It's like the Vietnamese equivalent of Smith," she said dismissively. That wasn't true, but Celia was pretty sure Seraphina wouldn't know enough about Vietnamese surnames to contradict her. "Besides, I don't even live in the U.S. anymore. I live in Vietnam. Why would I know a random American muggle?"

It wasn't the most sound logic, but Celia hoped it gave her plausible deniability. However, if she had read the whole article, she would have kept her current residence a secret. Because just a few paragraphs down from the lede were two sentences that had the power to destroy:

"Though Mr. Vuong's ex-wife, Olivia Ngo, has previously worked with Clarkin Group as a consultant, authorities say she is not a person of interest. Ms. Ngo, who currently resides in Hanoi, Vietnam, has made several trips to Boston and is cooperating with authorities in their investigation."