A/N: Hello, everyone! Here we are. At the end of Athena's fifth year. I have many plenty of changes along this year, mainly because I disliked a lot from the game. But I want to hear from you. What did you think about Jam City's fifth year? Did you like the changes I made? I hope that you like the ones that are coming in Year 6 as well. And I wanna thank you all so, so much for all the love and patience. Every review, every message, honestly makes every so much better. Thank you so much, guys! And as you already know, any comments, critiques or concerns, feel free to contact me. ;D

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Shattered

'Cause we are broken

What must we do to restore

Our innocence

And all the promise we adored?

Give us life again

'Cause we just wanna be whole*

"I'm so excited!" Rowan says in agitation, spraying some more of her Phantom Mist orange and roses perfume. She fixes her hair one more time in front of the mirror, in the dressing room that our dorm became. Lots of our roommates were also invited by their older friends to celebrate this year's seventh year students graduation. And, for the first time in our academic life, we were invited as well.

Grandma was the one who made my dress. Apparently, she was already aware, given my friendship with Bill, that I'd be invited, so she sewed me a turquoise one, of satin and tulle, and sent a matching pair of shoes as well. Rowan, Tulip and I agreed to do each other's hair and make up and, this is why, a few hours later, we descend the main staircase, leading to the gardens, in a fog of perfume and the clacking sound of high heels.

Bill mentioned that Dumbledore would hire the Weird Sisters, but he didn't mention that he hadn't spared expenses when it came to the decoration. The gardens, decorated amazingly in shades of black, gold and silver, sparkle under the pale waxing gibbous moon.

There's a flowery gazebo by the castle's door, with a photographer that is at the ready. Champagne and bloodred roses surround the wooden columns and a thousand enchanted fireflies fill the gaps with their gleaming lights. There's even one of those cardboard images where you stick your face through a hole to fill the empty space of a character. In this case, of a golden pumpkin, a banshee, a scarecrow and a manticore. One of Bill's colleagues, Charlotte Allen, is taking a picture with her best friend from Hufflepuff, a blonde guy named Daniel Sanders. Her dress, a beautiful representation of the sunset in a perfect gradient, matches the tie he is proudly fixing.

The stage, with a thousand floating candles above, is settled with the instruments that are waiting for the band. Meanwhile, from everywhere, students arrive with their families. Standing near a beautifully dressed Rowan and a charming Charlie, are the rest of the Weasley family, including the twins in matching dress robes.

Jacob is waiting for me, in a dark teal dress robe that Grandma probably made him wear to match my dress, standing near Dad and my grandparents. After all that has happened, he still manages to have a serene expression on his face; the same one I've been dreaming about, amid lyrics and melodies.

"How were the OWLS?" he asks as I get to him.

"Sad that you didn't get to take them?"

He grins. "Not at all," he says. "I want to be a musician. I could care less about owls, newts and unicorns."

"How have things been at home?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Dad renovated the guest room for me," he says. "And has been taking me to the Ministry every day to teach me whatever he can. I even got a new wand. Check it out," he fishes a long reddish wand. "Hawthorn and Peruvian Vipertooth scale. Not nearly as interesting as yours, but now that I'm theoretically twenty-one, I can do magic outside of school and, check this out, I got a driver's license now."

"Sweet!" I exclaim, excitedly, checking Jacob's handsome picture that, though in black and white, makes him look like a teenage rock star.

"We have an entire summer ahead of us, Munchkin," he says, joyful. "Months of marvellous freedom before we return to this den of deathly curses."

"Should you still call me Munchkin?" I tease. "We're technically the same age now."

"Technically," he says. "But I'm still twenty-five centimetres taller than you, which easily puts you into the Munchkin category."

It is delightful to properly introduce Jacob to my friends. We all gather by the table where the Weasleys are – and where Fred and George are discussing something underneath the table – and as soon as Jacob starts talking, Ismelda's eyes turn into huge pink pumping hearts. I know my brother is someone considered handsome, with his blue eyes, blonde version of John Travolta's hair and melodic voice, but I'd never imagined that she would fall in love with him at first sight.

When the ceremony begins, Dumbledore takes the stage, starting a speech on friendship and future, courage and compassion, and more pairs that begin with the same letter. His clothes match the ceremony décor, with his long black robe embroidered in gold and filled with silver sequins. Then one representative of each house is called to the stage, being Hannah from Slytherin, Layla from Hufflepuff, Sophia from Ravenclaw and, who could've imagined, Bill from Gryffindor. They discuss what they've been through during the course of their seven magical years, speaking about love and friends and goals. When they finish, they call Professor McGonagall to the stage to receive the Best Teacher Award for the year of 1989. Our darling Transfiguration teacher, dressed in a dark plum dress with a matching pointy hat, takes the stage with tears in her eyes, saying what a pleasure it has been to teach such proficient minds. She then steps aside, grabbing a scroll of parchment and announcing that she will begin calling the graduates names. And just like a normal school or university, the students are called one by one, receiving a certificate shaped like a Chocolate Frog card and, once the ceremony is proclaimed finished, dozens and dozens of black pointy hats with the school coat of arms are thrown into the night sky, along with exploding fireworks shaped like Centaurs, Gryndilows and Trolls.

Waiters walk along the tables, filling glasses with Butterbeer, sherry, champagne and an interesting bright blue iced tea that looks toxic beyond measure. With another set of fireworks in shades of bright red and silver, the Weird Sisters climb onto the stage, screaming in the guttural sounds of the beginning of the first song.

The dance floor gets crowded with dancing friends and couples, jumping excitedly to the sound of Here Comes the Occamy. Charlie pulls Rowan to an electrified hop, throwing his arms into the sky while jumping vigorously around her. Her hair, previously tied in a flawless braid, gets messy and untied before the second song even begins.

After a delightful feast and more dancing to a song called Lobalugs, the band calls everyone for a slower dance, called A Kelpie in a Kelp Forest. I look around, watching Charlie hold Rowan gently in his arms and Ben, now far more courageous and confident than he used to be, asking Merula to join him. She blushes furiously for a second, rolling her eyes and saying something that makes his lips curl into a diverted smirk, but then reaches out to hold his hand and walk with him to the corner of the dance floor, where bushes of deep crimson roses are blooming.

Jacob stands up, offering me his hand. "Shall we dance, Munchkin?"

I grin, holding his hand. Jacob is unlike any brother you usually see in the TV or read about in books. We don't bicker or mock each other randomly. Our brotherhood has always been based in kindness and sweetness, lulled by the melodies in his guitar and the lyrics of Muggle bands we love deeply. He spins me around gently, as Myron Wagtail sings "In a sea of loneliness, the Kelpie finds love in a forest of brightness. The seaweed is a tangle of wishes, his heart is a cave full of fishes."

When the song ends, instead of starting a new one, Myron steps aside, giving space to a very enthusiastic Bill.

"I think everyone is aware of this year's happenings," he starts. "The Cursed Vaults… Rakepick's betrayal… But not everyone knows the two incredible people that helped free this castle from another terrible curse. They are darling friends and, surprisingly, also incredible musicians. That's why I wanna call to the stage Athena and Jacob Lockhart, our very own Curse-Breakers!"

Jacob's eyes widen towards me in utter perplexity. Behind us, Charlie and Rowan begin pushing up towards the stage. Heathcote Barbary instantly hands Jacob a spare guitar, placing us in the front of the stage, right before the microphones.

My brother looks at me with eyes an expression of unpreparedness and excitement. "Which one, Munchkin?"

I grin, staring at my Dad, who came rushing to the dance floor, standing very close to the stage. "Here's for all you Muggleborns," I say. "This is called Shadows of the Night."

Immediately, with a big smile on his face, Jacob plays the first few chords of the song. "You said, oh girl, it's a cold world, when you keep it all to yourself."

I grab the mic. "I said, you can't hide on the inside all the pain you've ever felt."

"Ransom my heart, but baby don't look back, 'cause we got nobody else!" he sings, and I follow.

"We're running with the shadows of the night, so baby take my hand, it'll be all right. Surrender all your dreams to me tonight, they'll come true in the end."

The day is dawning when I return with Rowan and Tulip back to our dorm for a delectable night – or day? – of sleep. Our trunks are almost ready, packed by our beds. Edgar is already sleeping inside of his opened transport cage and Twilight is probably sleeping in the Owlery. We kick our shoes to the side, enjoying the soreness of our barefoot feet over the carpet. Rowan ignores any possibility of future zits, and throws herself on the bed, dress, jewellery and all, and dozes off instantly. I find the strength to change into my pyjamas, remove my makeup and brush my teeth before tucking myself in and falling into the deliciousness of the dark.

It hits me instantly. Like a Bludger breaking a broom in half. Like a Rugby player hitting his opponent. Like a Rockstar, hitting his guitar against the stage floor.

My eyes open and I sit on the bed.

I remember.

"This is perfect!" I say, excited, boarding the train and finding an empty compartment to sit with my friends. "We'll be locked inside the same train. He'll have no way out. He'll have to talk to me."

"Aren't you a tiny bit sad?" Tulip asks, concerned. "I mean, he did break up with you. Do you think he even wants to talk about it?"

I shrug. "I don't care," I say, simply. "I wasn't in the right mindset to fight. It was unfair. He broke up with me when I was in the hospital and then he disappeared. Then, apparently, I got my memories of him erased and never got myself a fair chance to talk to him about what happened. Now that I remember, I feel that things can be fixed."

"Do you think he wants them fixed?" Tonks asks.

"I don't know," I say, slightly anxious. "But he has to talk to me. I deserve a fair chance to explain everything and save what we have."

Several minutes after, Rowan enters our compartment and, shortly after, the train starts moving. "I did it," she says. "I waited for everyone to board the train. Talbott isn't on board."

My eyes widen. "But he has to be!" I exclaim, desperate. "Unless… Do you think he… He couldn't have…"

"I think it's the likeliest possibility," she says, dismayed. "I'm so sorry, Athie," she adds, leaving for the Prefects wagon.

I crash on my seat, massaging my left shoulder in deep nervousness. "Well… At least there's another way. We're neighbours. He will have no escape when I get home. I'll break that door in half if I have to."

Barnaby walks by our compartment, smiling dearly at Penny. "Sunflower, I saved us seats at the train's tail," he says, holding Penny's hand in his.

Tulip blinks a few times before speaking. "I'm sorry… Sunflower?"

Penny's cheeks blush furiously. "Yeah… We've… Hm…"

"That's why Beatrice is furious at you!" Tonks says, accusatory, her jaw dropping. "And that's why you spent a good portion of the year happy and hopping. You weren't high on Draught of Peace. You were dating this hunk!"

Her cheeks get even redder. "Guys, it's not… I mean… God, look at the time! We better go," she says, pulling Barnaby by the hem of his t-shirt and disappearing with him through the long corridor.

I cross my arms, relaxing on the soft seat. "Everybody seems to be finding their match," I say. "Penny and Barnaby… Ben and Merula…"

"Don't get me started on Ben and Merula," Tonks says, opening a package of yellow marshmallows. "If they ever have a child, it will be the crossing between Mother Theresa and the antichrist."

"Don't exaggerate," Liz says. "They haven't even kissed."

"Oh, but they will!" Tonks says. "And when they do, hell's door will be opened, and we'll all be doomed."

The eight hours of the journey back home seem to never pass. Each minute is a minute that my heart grows heavier and more anxious. The landscapes that run along the window shift from bright and sunny mountains to sunsetting lakes. By the time we arrive in King's Cross, there are stars dotting the sky.

Jacob is waiting for me, right outside of the column that divides the platforms. He helps me put the things in the trunk of the car and he drives us for almost two hours along M23 towards our beautiful Brighton.

"How does it fell not to live in Sunderland anymore?" I ask, turning on the radio and hearing Alice Cooper sing Poison.

Jacob shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "Took me a few therapy sessions to accept Mum's passing. Grandma is making me go to one of her magitherapist friends, a woman that looks incredibly like Professor Trelawney. Her name is Sinead, and she combines psychology with holistic treatments and potion healing. Dad said it's homeopathy fiddlesticks, but Grandma insisted. I think she feared I might become a drug addict or something."

I grin. "And how's the musician thing going?"

"Dad said I can only focus on my music when I graduate," he tells me. "He says I can play when I'm home, but I can only join a band when I finish Hogwarts."

"Fair enough, I guess."

He relaxes his left arm on the opened window. "I've been enjoying the music that is being released lately. I'm really into Guns N' Roses."

My smile withers with the memory of Talbott softly singing Sweet Child O' Mine for me during the last New Year's Eve. I look through the window, to the nightly lights of Brighton, closing my hands into fists as I gather the courage to speak with Talbott as soon as I get home.

Jacob parks in the garage, helping me get my bags and release Twilight into the night air. There's a distinctive scent of blueberry pie as we enter the hallway, which brings my heart into an unhinged race. I stop in front of number 902, lifting my hands to knock, when Jacob stops me.

"Munchkin?" he says. "This is not our apartment."

I look at him. "I know," I say. "I just need to speak to-"

The door behind me opens, revealing my Dad, all covered in flour. "Honey! You're home! C'mon in! I've made pie!"

"Tried to make pie," Jacob corrects.

"I'll be right there, Dad, I just need to talk to-"

His eyes instantly fall, sad and concerned, when he notices my eagerness towards number 902. "Athena… Talbott doesn't live here anymore."

Dear Athena,

I knew you'd come looking for me. I had this letter planned for months, right after I learned that you had forgotten about me. Don't you worry. I didn't move out to run away from you. It was just... one of those poetic coincidences, I guess. A trick of destiny into showing us a better path.

Grandpa retired and decided it was about time for him to start enjoying his life in a sunnier place. We are moving to Tasmania and he even got me transferred to Cradle, the wizarding school there, that is located on the top of a mountain. Now there will be thousands and thousands of miles of water separating us, though I don't think the distance will make it easier for me to forget you. I don't think I'll ever truly forget you, anyway. I will just... learn to live without you.

I hope you're not angry at me, though I wouldn't blame you. I will always cherish the time we had together and will never forget how your eyes looked like crystals underneath the rising sun. Sometimes I wonder if it was childish of me to end things like I did, but I couldn't sleep knowing that I was a threat to you. The days you spent in the hospital were terribly scary and I couldn't support knowing I was the one who caused that. I was feeling lost, sad and confused, and upon talking to your father, we agreed it was for the best. Don't get mad at him. In the end, he knows what's best for you.

All I know right now is that our hearts will heal, and we'll move on and, someday, perhaps, if we meet again, we'll be able to see things how they truly were and talk about it with different mindsets.

For now, time and distance are all we need.

I wish you only the best, my beautiful owl, dauntless angel and remarkable witch.

Love always,

Tal.

I wanted to burn the letter.

I really did.

In the end, I couldn't.

There's something about Talbott's handwriting, curved like a poet's, that soothes me.

Jacob says I should let go, but what does he know? He spent five years locked inside a portrait, not knowing what having a boyfriend or a girlfriend means. Of course, I'd never say such things to him. I could never hurt his feelings, mainly after everything he's been through. So, I'm keeping these thoughts to myself, trying to accept the time and distance that Talbott mentioned.

"Dad," I say, lodging on the small sofa on the balcony, where Dad, sitting on the armchair amid the vases of ferns and caladiums, is reading a book. "Why didn't you tell me that you spoke to Talbott about what happened?"

He lowers his book, eyeing me with concern. "I'm sorry, honey," he says. "But Talbott asked for my advice. Though I'm not more experienced than you, given that I married my school sweetheart, I do know that sometimes it's better to let go, forgive and heal. I had to do that about your mother and Skeeter. It's not easy, but, eventually, we can move on."

I hug my legs. "I don't want to move on," I say, sadly, eyeing the stores across the street. "I don't want to accept that a curse separated us."

"You don't need to do this right now," he tells me. "I'm not saying it will be fast, easy or painless. All I want is for you to be happy and safe. Talbott wanted it as well."

I get up. "He gave up on me," I say to my reflection on the glass. "I want to be mad at him, but I can't. I wish I could hate him, but all I do is to painfully miss him."

"It's okay, honey," Dad says. "These feelings will vanish."

I look at him. "When?"

He shrugs. "God only knows."

It's strange to have dinner knowing that Talbott and Phil will never cross that door again, bringing pudding or cookies, and that the scent of Phil's fennel cigars will disappear in time. Though it's incredible to have my brother back, the feeling that I'm living in a different reality doesn't seem to leave my side. When I'm in my bedroom, hearing Jacob playing on the adjacent room, I can't help but feel that things aren't how they're supposed to be and all I want to do is run away or to fly aimlessly towards a different horizon.

Many things have been stolen from me throughout these years. My brother and then Mum… Dad, for a while… And now, Talbott. Was it foolish of me to believe we'd spend forever together, fighting the world and flying along the same wind? I honestly pictured us celebrating our first year as a couple, perhaps exchanging presents and spending the summer together again, in Brighton or Lockhart Gardens. In all scenarios, I never imagined us apart.

I contain the urge to throw Talbott's letter and the scrapbook away. The pictures, the presents, the memories… I shove everything inside a box and hide it underneath my bed. Hurts to look at them, but the thought of not having them at all stings profoundly. I don't want to pretend the memories weren't real, not want to forget about them.

In the end, the pain makes me feel closer to them.

As the first week of the vacations end, Jacob decides to buy me a diary, just like the one he used to have. He says it's a good way to take things of my mind and express my feelings in a healthy way. Apparently, laying on the floor in complete misery isn't expression enough for him. What I end up doing is filling the pages with mournful lyrics of songs that I then play on the piano, making Dad wonder if he should make an appointment for me to see Dr. Sinead too, even though he doesn't think magic can solve everything.

One night, after inserting in the garbage another empty carton of chocolate and caramel ice cream, Jacob comes into the kitchen, probably ready to strike me with his guitar to wake me up from my coma, but the doorbell rings before he's able to open his mouth.

Emotionless, I walk to the door, though inside I'm constantly expecting it to be Talbott.

The man standing over the welcome mat is, to say the very least, weird. His face is marked by many scars and his wheat-coloured hair falls messily over his shoulders. He's wearing a worn-out leather coat, with stains that might as well be blood. One of his eyes stares directly at me and then shifts to Jacob, who appears right behind me. The other, secured in place by a letter strap around his head, spins around in electric blue.

"Yes?" I say with a frown.

"Athena and Jacob Lockhart?" the man says in a deep rough voice. "My name is Alastor Moody. I believe we need to talk."

* We Are Broken, by Paramore.