Hello! New chapter, at last! It's officially summer break where I'm at, so I hope to continue updating this and my other stories for the next month or so…
I can't believe we've finally hit chapter 10! Ahh, I'm so happy I've managed to keep this up.
Last chapter I was raving about hitting the 200 follower milestone, and this chapter...we've hit 400! Holy hell, what the heck happened..! T-thank you so much, I'll try not to disappoint you all too much! I hope you continue to read and enjoy my little story v
You guys' support while writing this story has been so overwhelming! I really couldn't have asked for more. Going through the reviews just leaves me feeling giddy and excited...thank you! I'm very glad I decided to keep writing this, and I hope you can bear through with me until the end.
My lack of updates? (You ask)
Life has really kicked me this year ahaa...I've recently been diagnosed with multiple life-long conditions and became a bit depressed for a while. And then two weeks ago someone I loved very much died, so I've been grieving with my family. I'm kind of tired of feeling terrible so I'm ready to get back into the swing of things! Thank you all for your patience, it really means a lot.
Everyone's anger at Sprout was so funny to read. I'm glad to see you all so passionate about it! I'm going to go ahead and explain her actions here though, okay? I don't think it's something that will ever make its way into the story.
Why did Sprout do such a terrible thing to Victoria?
Well - Sprout is Victoria's head of house. I know that's kind of a lackluster explanation, but let me put it this way; as her head of house she would have been notified of Victoria's problems with depression as soon as Pomfrey had been made aware of them. Sprout is an incredibly bubbly person - very cheery and lax in her teachings, and as such she'd be the type of person to do something in 'someone's best interest'. If there's a problem and she thinks she can solve it, then - well, she's going to try. Even if it is against her targets wishes.
Victoria is a very quiet girl who wouldn't dare show what she's feeling to others. She only has one friend, who is five years older than her no less, and shows absolutely no interest in making more. What's more she has depression and a possible anxiety disorder.
Taking part in something as widespread and important as the Tournament - isn't that guaranteed to get her noticed, to make her friends? Surely, if she can participate in something like the famed Triwizard Tournaments she would loosen up a little, come out of her shell, and enjoy herself.
Or, at least, that's probably what Sprout was thinking. Her actions were definitely wrong, but her intent behind them was good-hearted.
While reading through the book I couldn't find any instances of Hermione or Ron explaining how exactly they ended up at the bottom of the lake. Who asked them to participate, and why. This gave me a lot of room to work - if it was McGonagall who put them under a spell, then she most definitely did it with their explicit permission, and after having explained everything to them thoroughly. That's just the type of teacher she is. But what about Cho? Sprout?
I think Sprout would have jumped at the chance to get Victoria more involved in school life. Victoria, although amazing at charms, shows absolutely no initiative in keeping up her grades and being social. It just isn't important to her - she knows that none of this truly matters, and that war is just a few short years away. As her head of house, this is probably something that bothers Sprout immensely. Hufflepuffs just...aren't like that.
So, she figures she can make a few...adjustments to the spell that will explain things to her, and so long as she's fast enough that she doesn't get an explicit no then things will be fine. Victoria will appreciate what she did in the end, and all would be swell!
Or something like that. Sprout was very...naive, in this instance. We'll have to see how this progresses!
Anyway, I think I've droned on enough! Enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: （ΦωΦ）
o.O.o
Cedric Diggory was having an absolutely terrible, awful, horrifically bad, no-good day. From the moment he woke up and was subsequently clawed in the face by an irate Sasha, to the moment he tripped over his own feet going down the stairs, - much to his own humiliation - he couldn't help but feel he was somehow cursed to have a horrid day. But, ultimately, his terrible, awful, horrifically bad, no-good day could all be pinpointed down to one reason.
The Second Task.
He finds himself somewhat regretting ever joining the, admittedly, dangerous tournament in the first place, but has to admit that if he were given the chance to change his mind he'd still do it anyway.
But that's not what's important right now-
"Have you seen Victoria?" he asks Cho, looking out around the lake somewhat frantically, the first-year nowhere to be found. Sasha was settled irritably on his shoulder, hissing at anyone who jostles them or dares to come too close and he has to pat her head to make her claws stop digging into his shoulder painfully. She's been like this since he woke up and he doesn't know how to console her, used to Victoria always being nearby to take her away.
"Um, who?" Cho asks him, a little hesitantly, and he has to shake himself from getting lost in her shy smile and her pretty eyes and-
"Victoria Dodger, she's a Hufflepuff first year - my friend?" Cedric tells her absently, feeling a little miffed that Cho has no clue who Victoria - wonderfully brilliant Victoria, whose smile is nonexistent and whose eyes are sometimes a little too dark for his heart to handle - is, but ignores it in favor of scouring over the flood of first years, looking desperately for the bright auburn color that makes her head home.
He can't find her.
He shouldn't be surprised, really, Victoria has stated more than once just how against the entirety of the Tournament - for whatever reason he can't really understand - she was, but that still didn't stop the seedling of disappointment and, perhaps, hurt from wrapping around his lungs and digging into his chest a little too tight.
He had held onto hope that she would come anyway, like she had for the First Task, but decides silently that he shouldn't be too upset about it. She had her reasons, he supposed.
He still doesn't stop looking, nevertheless.
"Good luck Cedric," Cho tells him in a whispery tone, her eyes gleaming in excitement, before she's disappearing into the crowd to take her seat with her giggling friends.
He looks out at the lake, at its gleaming blackness, and towards the students around him.
"Where are you Victoria?" he asks silently.
Sasha meows, seeming to reverberate his question into the air around them.
o.O.o
She was floating.
Distantly, adversely, she was aware that she was participating - helping, something inside her insists adamantly - in the Second Task. It's important, she thinks, that she's currently here, like this. It means something, although she isn't sure what.
She was everything and nothing, the dark space between stars, and she knew that soon she would disappear altogether.
She died, didn't she?
She remembers him.
She could feel something around her, something cold and wet and smooth, and she knew, vaguely, that it was the water of the Black Lake.
She was helping with the Second Task.
It reminded her of something else too, she couldn't help but think, reminded her of something from before.
They met on the beach, on a warm sunny day.
She remembers the sweat trailing down her skin and the ocean dragging through her hair, bringing with it the wind of high tide. She could taste the salt of it, everywhere, and she remembers laughing as she had ran upon the beach, friends whose faces she can no longer remember by her side.
That's when she saw him.
There was air filtering through her lungs, through magic she supposed, and she found herself wanting desperately to be free of the confining grips around her legs and her wrists. They were restraining her, though for what she doesn't know, and it felt horribly familiar.
She was helping with the Second Task.
Something about it made her think that it had happened to her before, although she couldn't remember where.
He was a strange one with a different type of face set on an odd type of smile, but she chalked that up to him being foreign to her country and left it at that. He had come from the States, he'd told her, and was staying in a nearby hotel while he tried to find inspiration to finish up his work. He was experiencing a block of sorts.
She could feel the flittering sensation of her hair tickling her cheeks, her nose, and words from long ago come to her, hauntingly and familiar-
"You are a masterpiece."
And she feels horror claw its way up her throat.
He was an artist.
Everything and nothing. The space between stars.
She remembers the oil on canvas, the warmth of it seeping into her skin, her bones, and remembers the waterlogged feeling of sensation that came with it. She remembers watching the paint drip down, down, down the blank expanse of untouched paper, remembers watching him add layers upon layers of bursting life into the seams of a world not yet made.
She remembers him asking if he could paint her and-
She was helping with the Second Task.
She remembers saying yes.
o.O.o
He watches the clock tic ever closer to his impending doom, wondering briefly where Harry Potter is, and tries not to let his anxiousness show.
He was representing his house, his school, and he couldn't afford to lose face - not here, not now. The other competitors were all so intimidating in their own ways, and he too wanted to exude an aura of calm confidence.
Victoria often gave him a speculative, disapproving face when he voiced these thoughts aloud. Told him that it was stupid to put so much on his shoulders, that the school wasn't worth it.
Perhaps that was the innocence of being so young.
(Although he admittedly sometimes forgets her age and often finds himself believing that she's older than he is. It was nothing new. A lot about Victoria left his mind muddled and confused.)
Karkaroff was looking exceedingly more ecstatic as the time passed, Viktor Krum - The Viktor Krum! In the flesh! - standing impassively by his side. Although, if Cedric looks closer, he can see the pinch of distress between the boys brows as his eyes occasionally dart towards the Gryffindor stands.
There was a murmuring through the crowd, all wondering where the legendary Boy-Who-Lived could be, and Dumbledore was cheerfully speaking with the judges. Cedric found he didn't particularly care, too busy wondering where Victoria could be.
He can't help but cast a quick charm, the anxiousness of waiting beginning to grate on his nerves, and finds it scarcely a minute until the Task begins. He feels a pool of sweat trail down his back, coldly, and pulls up the collar of his robe uncomfortably. Sasha mews on his shoulder, and he pats her, hand trembling.
"Where is she Sasha?" he whispers to the cat, licks his dry lips, and casts his eyes around one final time.
No luck.
"Where have you been?!" he hears a voice ring out suddenly, "the task's about to start!"
"Now, now Percy! Let him catch his breath!"
He turns, eyes meeting that of Harry Potter's - hunched over, panting, and clutching something in his hand almost desperately - and Victoria's words from before come back to him.
"Oh, and by the way," a mischievous smile, so off-putting on a face that is always shrouded in a strange type of melancholy, something he can't quite pin down, "Potter's got a thing for her too."
And he flushes, eyes turning towards the stands where Cho is listening intently to something her friend is saying, and ducks his head down. His palms feel sweaty, and he grips his wand with an iron grip.
Victoria is a lot more adept at creating mischief than she appears, and he feels a smile tugging up his lips despite himself.
He feels worry nudge him deeper, and he glances at Sasha.
"You can't come with me into the water Sasha," he whispers to the cat, who narrows her eyes at him in a strangely intimidating manner. Her paws flex, and she seems to settle herself on his shoulder more firmly.
"Do you really want to get wet?" he tries instead, hissing when her claws dig further into the meat of his shoulder. She stops at this, tilting her head - as if contemplating and digesting his words - before pulling her ears down with an irritated growl and jumping from him to make her way to the stands.
He swears he sees her flick her tail derisively before she disappears all together, under the seats and away from prying eyes.
He huffs out a sigh, feeling a little bit better.
He's distracted from his thoughts when he's jostled suddenly, and he glances up at Ludo Bagman who is trying to cajole him into his starting position. He lets the man nudge him with a frown, and shakes his head. He doesn't have time to be worrying about Victoria - the task is about to begin, and even despite his friend's absence he's determined to win.
He feels something like spite begin to worm up his throat, cloying and thick in his mouth, and he grimaces around the taste of it. He suddenly realizes that he wants to prove Victoria wrong - wants to prove his worth, and if not for his school or his parents, then for himself.
Holding that feeling tight in his chest, he takes a deep breath and casts his eyes forward, to the lake.
"Well, all our champions are ready for the Second Task, which will start on my whistle! They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then," Ludo Bagman says, casting glances in Harry's direction with an almost feverish look in his eye. Cedric can't help but feel a tiny bit of ire at the favoritism, but ignores it for the time being, instead preparing to run into the lake.
He takes a moment to balance himself better, clenching his jaw and bracing his shoulders tightly, and waits for the countdown to begin.
"One…" Bagman starts, and Cedric puffs out a quick breath of air as the feeling of excitement begins to swell within him, a cord ready to snap, "two...three!"
Cedric twists his wand, feels an air bubble taking form - wrapping around him firmly, until his neck feels oddly disconnected from his head - and takes off, running into the cold lake with a shiver. He ignores the feeling and trudges deeper, feels the way the water tugs at his robes, and grits his teeth.
This feeling of cold will be nothing compared to the feeling of winning, he tells himself - in proving Victoria wrong.
He's nearly up to his neck, teeth chattering, and he subconsciously pulls in a breath, holding it, as he pushes himself under the small waves. The water, disturbed with the presence of so many people, laps at him angrily.
He blinks against the current of it, and is thankful that the bubblehead charms takes hold around the entirety of his head, allowing him to see without trouble. His neck and face, free of wetness, contrasts sharply with the freezing sensation the rest of his body is enduring, and he quakes with the odd feel of it. A part of him desperately wants to shove his face into the water, if only for the sake of having a consistent feeling of wetness, while the other wants nothing more than for the entirety of him to be dry.
He briefly wonders if it's possible to make a bubble-head charm large enough to fit an entire body in, and how that would affect swimming. Maybe, after all of this is done, he and Victoria can try during a free period. If anyone can make it happen, it's her.
Shaking himself free of these thoughts, he pushes off and kicks his legs harshly as he swims deeper into the water, not entirely sure what he's looking for.
One hour, one hour, one hour, chants a mantra in his head, his excitement and anticipation of the Task swelling in his lungs and driving him deeper into the dark water.
He felt jittery, his nerves on edge, and he can't stop his eyes from darting after the occasional flittering seaweed and bubble that passes the corner of his eye. Deeper, deeper still he goes, into the dark expanse of water that creeps below his robes and freezes him from the inside out.
He takes care to stray from the high tangles of seaweed, remembering that Grindylow's are likely to be hiding among them, and struggles to push his feet further.
He checks his watch.
50 minutes remain.
And, even as he swims ever deeper, he feels as if he's merely turning in desperate circles. Had he seen that rock before? It looked awfully familiar. But he shakes it off, brought thoughts of Victoria and Cho to the forefront of his mind, and searched the expanse of his memories for a spell that could help.
Anything that could help.
45 minutes remain.
He hears a distant chittering of sorts, flinches at it, and eyes the dancing weeds below him with apprehension. He floats a bit higher, just in case.
His breathless excitement begins to fade, exertion now tugging at his limbs, and he ignores it in favor of floating to an enclave of rocks he spies a bit ahead of him. He is suddenly thankful for the countless hours of Quidditch he's forced his body to endure, as well as the tortuously long training he pushes his team through.
Not now, not now, he tells himself, shaking his head and hating the waterlogged feel to his robes. He swims further into the depths, and hopes he finds something soon.
o.O.o
When Victoria Dodger - wait, that's not right - was 10 years old, she learned how to ride a bike.
The night before her birthday, she had snuck into the kitchen in hopes of a late-night snack and had been subsequently spooked by the shadow of something in the corner. Unknowing of what it was at the time, her fear had not been enough to override her hunger and so she had grabbed an apple from the fridge before fleeing to her room, heart pounding.
The next morning, when a rusted and somewhat dinghy bike had been presented to her - and an identical one to her brother - she had been taken outside by her uncle and shown how to properly mount and push off of the ground, how to grip the handlebars with a firm hand, and how to peddle without falling. She remembers thinking that her fear had been well-worth it, and that maybe sometimes not knowing something is okay.
She also remembers the breathless exhilaration that came with riding her bike, with learning how to ride it, and how it had taken her several tries before she could make it a few feet without tipping over. Her brother, genius that he was, had learned on his first attempt - which irritated her.
But it was okay. Her uncle caught her every time, laughing merrily at her pouting, and when she could finally ride without falter showed her every nook and cranny their little city held.
Whenever she had the time, not overrun with school-work and friends, she would hop on her bike - now freshly painted in red-red roses, courtesy of her steady-handed mother - and ride for what seemed like miles with him.
Her uncle had died a few years after that, from an illness they had never encountered, and she couldn't bring herself to ride it ever again. She associated the bike with her uncle, and so without him riding it had seemed pointless.
The bike sat outside, next to her brothers own blue-blue one, and collected dust.
She loved that bike. She loved exploring every inch of her city on it, loved being close to her uncle, who was more kid than adult.
When she was dying, she had wondered if she would now get to see her uncle again. If she could say sorry for not riding the bike anymore, and tell him how much she loved him, how much he shaped her life.
When she woke up - her heart bitter, her palms cold, the bright-white of hospital walls staring back at her - she had stared at the ceiling, and silently cried.
She wonders where he is now. Why she couldn't be with him.
That was the first and last time she cried in this body, until Cedric Diggory came along.
She's helping with the second task.
o.O.o
When Cedric Diggory finally finds what he's looking for, it's only because he saw the tail-end of Harry Potter's webbed feet turning a corner of black rocks and high sea-weed. Breath halting in his chest, he had pushed as hard as he could until he, too, was rounding sharp rock.
He'd heard the haunting melody of mersong, paintings of merpeople scattered over rocks, and had kept swimming. He was close, he knew.
He really, really wanted to win.
There was a...city, there. It was a startling sight, one that had him flinching back in surprise and holding still for a long moment, and he could feel some type of giddy excitement in his chest. It would be natural to assume merpeople lived in the lake, but honestly - who would ever have such a thought?
He watches the merpeople swim about and circle something safely tucked in what he can only assume is the city's center, and wonders what could be there.
o.O.o
Harry Potter hovers before Ron Weasley, jagged stone in hand, and looks worriedly over the other tied hostages.
None of the other champions have made an appearance, and he was worried. What if they didn't show? What if they were stuck here, at the bottom of the lake, forever?
He looks at Hermione, a girl of eight, and another girl whom he doesn't recognize. She has long brightly colored hair, and a face that he feels he could forget very easily.
He feels odd, looking at her.
"Well, she doesn't like you very much," Hermione says, biting her lip nervously and clutching a few books to her chest, "she wanted me to tell you that if anything happened to Cedric Diggory during tournament then...well, you'd regret it a lot."
"Wha- how would anything that happens to him be my fault?" he asks, flabbergasted, and Hermione looks exasperated.
"I- well, I can't really explain it, but she says that wherever you go," she pauses here, voice becoming a little quiet, "trouble follows."
Harry's mouth curls into a frown and he can't help a resentful huff, "trust me, I know…"
Hermione looks sorry, and flutters a moment, "I tried to tell her she was wrong, really! That she was being too hard on you and that stuff from before was, well, it wasn't your fault."
He sighs, rests his head in his hand, and tries to ignore the small hurt feeling in his chest.
"It's fine Hermione, really."
He hovers a little closer, scrutinizing her face. The girl Hermione had told him about, the one she decided to look after.
"There's something about her I can't explain, when I look at her I just...I want to make sure she's okay."
He can't see it. Her skin was dreadfully pale, and there were shadows under her eyes - but other than that, she looks like a perfectly healthy 12 year old. Perhaps a part of him still felt spiteful about her words, but he doesn't see why Hermione was so worried about her.
That didn't mean he'd just let her rot down here though, and he wonders how he could carry everyone up to the surface.
The merpeople around him start chittering excitedly, and he turns-
o.O.o
Oh, Cedric thinks when he sees Victoria tied tightly to a large statue, bubbles escaping her mouth and looking exceedingly pale in the cold water.
He turns to Harry, sees the sharp rock in his hand, and mouths that Krum and Fleur were coming. It's all the attention he can focus on the other boy before he's turning back to Victoria, looking her over for injuries. He pulls out a knife safely tucked in his robes when he deems her unharmed, and carefully cuts the slimy seaweed keeping her bound away. He pulls her close, a helpless feeling of guilt swelling in his chest, and feels a shudder tremor through his body.
I'm sorry, he thinks, pretending it's the cold that makes him shudder so, and looks up at the distant light of the sun. He'd pull her to safety, away from the water, and things would be okay. Normal.
"I hate this tournament."
He doesn't spare Harry another glance, and starts pushing for the surface.
"Who cares about the reputation of the school? About who's best? It's all so pointless."
He huffs against his bubble, Victoria's small body tucked in his arms. She feels frail - as if he could break her if he isn't careful enough.
"The lives of children shouldn't be threatened because of the egos of old men."
He breaches the surface, Victoria suddenly heaving with gasping breaths, and the loud cheers that greets him makes him feel-
Empty.
o.O.o
She'd always prided herself on being a strong woman.
She fought back, every time. She has that comfort, at least.
She refused to go quietly.
o.O.o
When Victoria Dodger opens her eyes after what feels like a lifetime against the current of cold water, she stares up at the sky and silently drowns in her despair. She tastes fresh-water against her lips, feels her hair sticking to her neck wetly, and has a strange sense of drowsiness embedded in her limbs as the currents lap at her greedily.
She tries not to linger over what this means, and ignores the cheering of the stands to swim with Diggory - who was gripping her arm tightly, knuckles white - to the waving and gesturing teachers.
She's hauled out of the water, wrapped in a warm-charmed towel, and handed a mug of steaming something as her mind slowly starts to process the world around her. She feels slow. Waterlogged.
She and Diggory are both carted off to the nurse - who looks them over attentively, chittering out questions and taking readings from her wand - and brought to some seats to wait out the other champions. She's not sure whose left and can't really bring herself to care. She stares at the ground, exhausted.
She is trapped. Bound. The brokenness of her own mind haunts her, dragging her further and further into a dark abyss of echoing laughter and caramel-sweet candy.
"You are a masterpiece,"
She carefully doesn't look to the side, where Diggory's large and warm form is leaning against her.
She hears a loud meowing, and looks up, startled. Sasha darts to her, soft warm body curling into her lap, and she pets her fur absently.
She feels disconnected.
"Are you okay?" a voice murmurs into her ear, and she blinks. Granger's sitting next to her, wrapped in a towel and clutching a mug of her own.
She hadn't even noticed her.
"I," she says, voice choked and heavy and thick, and her throat hurts so badly she has to stop. She's not sure what she would say anyway.
Granger's lips thin and she nods her head, hand coming up to wrap around her shoulder.
Victoria, suddenly exhausted, doesn't even mind the touch and leans on Granger's shoulder.
She remembers him.
Oil on canvas, a world not yet made, and she was a masterpiece.
Death.
When she falls asleep, into the black-black nothingness, it's with a name she can no longer remember on the tip of her tongue.
o.O.o
And done! Whoop!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was actually pretty tough to write the underwater bits. There's only so much 'he swam deeper' you can write until things get annoyingly repetitive. I wonder where things are going to go from here…
I hope you all aren't getting tired of the cuts into Victoria's past life...I really enjoy writing them ahaa…
Also, I'm curious - what font and size do you read this on? I write in Verdana, size 7.5; what about you? I think the way a story is viewed drastically changes the way it feels...so please, tell me!
Anyways, that's all for now! If you're a follower of my other stories I plan on updating Bare My Fangs next.
Follow me at .com for updates or...to just chat or something! Always down for answering questions.
Until next time!
-Dev.