Disclaimer: I own nothing. An alternate story for Credence if another witch or wizard had found him instead.

Margaret wasn't the only witch or wizard attracted to these spectacles They were worrisome and some felt the need to watch the development of these things. Afraid and worried and unable to look away. The need to help and no idea how. It was like watching a car accident, not knowing if anyone has been hurt or if it'll cause a pile up.

She was worried and couldn't tear herself away from the small crowd. She figured that by staying she could prevent anything horrendous from occurring. She didn't want anyone to be hurt out of fear.

Margaret watches as Mary Lou warns the crowd on the street and begs them to be vigilant in uncovering the truth. She looks over the crowd and stifles a shiver as the cold wind of November picks up on the gray street. The heavy long coats in the crowd resist the urge to flutter and sway and instead stick close to the lukewarm bodies. It was only midday but the crowd is starting to feel the chill of late fall.

A few bodies drift off and Mary Lou grows louder. She doesn't seem to like losing the crowd to the cold. She starts to become listless and frowns deeply before picking up the speed of her impromptu speech. Her body becomes impatient as the crowd is quickly lost. Margret takes a step back with the people but continues to watch the woman closely. Only two people remain with the girl, a short blond woman and an awkward young man who trains his attention on the cracked cement.

With a last huff Mary Lou shoves a handful of pamphlets into the mans hands and storms off with the other woman.

Margaret watches the exchange from a comfortable distance. With his head held down he starts handing out the pamphlets to passerby's on the street. It feels strange to her, why he is doing this. She steps closer to him without much thought. He's not a No-Maj, she can tell that at least.

'But why is he with her? Passing out these pamphlets? He must be a squib. I can't see another way, not at his age.'

She reaches him at last and takes in his appearance fully. He is tall and slim but holds his body in a way to make himself as small as possible, 'like a submissive dog afraid of punishment.' He is dressed nicely, even his black hair very well kept. 'She must be very strict with him' she assumes. He notices her and extends a hand to her, clutching lightly to white paper.

Her gaze is drawn to the hand. White raised scars and screaming red welts litter his skin. She takes the paper carefully and notices the state of his injury stained palms as they are moved into view.

"You stayed," he mutters very quietly, not lifting his eyes from the cold ground.

"I was afraid you wouldn't notice." Her gaze doesn't move as his eyes dash quickly to her face before landing back to their previous place. She allows the pamphlet to fall to the ground as she lightly takes his hand into hers and studies his palm. "What is your name?" she asks quietly.

Before he answers rain starts to fall onto his shoulders. Margret grabs his hand and pulls him into a covered alleyway. It feels colder than before and he can't seem to draw his eyes away from the dampening floor. His pamphlets are left were he stood a moment before and the soggy heap seems to fill him with guilt and fear.

She notices his gaze and takes his hand fully into hers. The touch grounds him and he avoids her eyes.

"What is your name?" she asks again and watches him swallow before moving his lips in answer.

"Credence" his voice only just above a whisper.

"Credence," she repeats "does it hurt?" she asks pulling his hand further into her view. He nods his head in response. She doesn't need to ask who did this, or for how long. She could see it all in the lines of his paper mache skin. His hand feels cold and starts to tremble.

She is uncertain as what to do. 'He's not a No-Maj, I can feel that much. There is no law against this, but..'

"What is Mary Lou to you?"

"You mean Ma?" His gaze shifts back to the ruined pamphlets.

"But she isn't your real mother?" He looks guilty and cold.

"She takes care of me." He answers but looks uncertain.

"Do you believe the things she says?" Margaret asks, mulling over what she can do; how far she is willing to go. 'He's a Squib living with an anti-magic No-maj. This isn't right. This can't stand. The ministry must know about this? Isn't there a registry? How can someone fall through the cracks like this?'

He doesn't answer, the guilty feeling grows in the pit of his stomach and she can feel it through his skin. She's almost surprised that he doesn't move his hand away.

She holds his hand a little firmer and brushes her fingers over his palm, still considering what to do. He flinches in pain but doesn't try to move away.

Her heart can't take watching Credence in such a state. She doesn't know the boundary, she doesn't know where to draw the line. The sand seems thin and fickle.

She finally lets go of his hand feeling a little dejected . The rain seems to pick up and she finally lets a small shiver ring through her body. Its colder than she anticipated the day becoming.

Credence seems disappointed and takes a step back from the warmth of her kind body. The rain doesn't seem to want to let up. She watches him closely.

"Are you cold?" she finally asks after a moment of silence.

"Yes" he says simply and Margaret thinks for a long moment.

'I can obliviate him if things go badly, besides he needs a chance. This isn't breaking any laws I'm aware of.'

She takes his arm and to his surprise the scenery changes completely around him. Wide eyed he looks at her then around the room. The fireplace is already going and has cooked the room to the perfect temperature. "It's not much" she says gesturing to the apartment as a duster fly's slowly around the room.

"How.?." he starts but realization soon takes over him. "A witch." He takes a moment to get the word out.

"Yes." She replies. "I hope that won't be a problem." She says somewhat sternly.

Credence shakes his head quickly, not really knowing what else to do. Ma would be so angry with him if she knew. He notices guiltily that he'd rather be with this young witch than his own mother. He feels no fear or anger towards her, not the way he does Mary Lue. He remembers weakly as she sits him down next to her on a soft couch that he doesn't even know this woman's name.

He finally looks at her for more than just a glance. She has short curled auburn hair and light green eyes. He's never seen eyes like this. She is young, her skin soft and wrinkle free. He looks closer and finds shallow freckles littering her skin, almost too light to be visible. His gaze is drawn down to his hands when she takes them into her own again.

His skin stings at the touch. He watches her in wonder as she studies his palms once more. She traces her fingers over every injury, old and new, leaving a warmth behind. Her touch is soft and firm, he feels safer than he can ever remember feeling. When her skin leaves his he lifts his hands and looks them over, turning them this way and that.

The pain is gone, his skin is healed. He looks at her amazed. The warmth of the room permeates his body. She watches him closely.

He slowly draws his attention back to his recovered hands. He takes a long moment to speak. The air is getting stiff and Margaret decides to open a small window.

"Why?" he finally asks.

She sits back down next to him. She looks around the room before looking at him again.

"Credence," she starts, not really knowing how to start, or what's going on even. "Do you remember anything about your life before Mary Lue?"

Credence shakes his head and brings his gaze back to the carpet once more. "No" he allows only that word to leave his mouth.

Margaret sighs and reevaluates her plan for a moment. "I saw you today," she starts. He doesn't move to look at her. "You're not like them. I can sense it. You, you're something else."

"I am?" he asks hopeful.

"But not a wizard." She says quickly before she got his hopes up too far. "You're too old," she says "If you were a wizard, by this age. Suppressing it for so long. The magic would have destroyed you by now. So it's not possible."

"Then what am I?" He asks her, his eyes trained on her left knee.

"We call them Squibs. I think your parents must have been wizards but you were born without magic."

Credence knits his brows together and curls in on himself a little more.

"Its not common. You can't do magic but you still belong with us, in the wizarding world, not being hurt by a No-Maj." she finishes, telling him everything that she could infer from the situation. The rain doesn't let up and a barrier prevents the water from climbing threw the open window.

"There are people like you living productive lives, some even work in the ministry. You can be a part of our community." She watches him straighten up a little bit. She places her hand gently on his back. "I know that your life hasn't been great. I know that you've been mistreated, but..." Credence turns to her. "I promise that I will do everything I can to help you get the life you deserve. It won't always be easy but I believe in you."

"You only just met me, I don't even know your name. Why are you willing to help me?"

She looks into his eyes as her holds her gaze for the first time. "No one deserves to be forgotten, no one."

Disclaimer: Thanks for reading. More coming soon, please leave your thoughts in the comments.