Prelude – fate is cunning – H. P.
The door of the compartment closes quietly behind me. The only thing I hear is a buzzing thrum. It's my heart, beating harshly in my ears. I feel like a fire is devouring my lungs and suddenly, everything is fuzzy. Rage is everywhere. Rage makes my blood speed in my veins and swirling magic crackles along my shoulders until the tip of my fingers. The feeling burns and it would be so freeing to let it all out. "Breath. Control yourself", whispers tenderly a voice. Right, okay. I need to find somewhere to hide, somewhere hidden and dark, just for a few minutes of quietness. If only those feelings could just evaporate. I know I don't have much time before someone comes looking for me. I can't deal with the anxious faces of my friends. To see their anguished expression relax as they finally see me, only to have the joyous awe replacing it. Because deep down they know. They know I'm a ticking bomb. I see it in the back of their eyes, where they think everything's veiled and safely kept secret. The moment seems to last an eternity as I stay there, unmoving, almost lost to my emotions.
But Merlin only knows, Fate is cunning, and reality comes crashing down on me once again. Students are everywhere I suddenly realise, rushing in to get on the train, chatting with their friends about which compartment they'll take. Some only look in my direction, others say a few words that don't make any sense to me. I put on an idiotic smile and nod every time someone crosses my stare. Anxiety has taken a liking to my heart now. I feel it spreading to the back of my neck and crawling down like a spider until it reaches my shoulder blades. I have to run away from here, and fast. This feeling is even more vicious than the raging fire. But I'm paralysed. A drop of sweat licks my temple and wets a wild curl of hair. My smile slips. "Quit your whining", a severe deep voice sermons me. "Breath, breath, breath. Fucking breath", I repeat to myself as a mantra. It's sadly funny. After awhile, the words don't mean anything anymore. They tumble and scramble and reinvent themselves as new entities. I don't. I can't move on, that would be like turning my back on all of them. Sorrow invades my mind and I feel the languid caress of magic draping the crown of my head. It's so thickly coiled around me now that I bet people can sense it. Would it look like I'm wearing an invisibility cloak? It feels like it.
I don't know how, but I succeeded to move. Unconsciously scanning the surrounding wagons, I find myself in an empty compartment. The window is open and the air smells like fresh rain and earth. I vaguely make a wave with my hand in the direction of the door, putting up some notice-me-not charm and a silencing spell. I've been forced to admit to myself a few weeks ago that my magic acts accordingly to my wishes and emotions. After my 17th birthday, I gradually realised I didn't really need to pay attention nor to put efforts into it anymore. It just seemed to wildly flow out of my body and respond to my every thought. "As if wandless and non-verbal magic was a common thing", I sardonically think.
The only thing I hear now is the muffled sound of raindrops and distant thunder, resonating on the walls of the Hogwarts Express. I quickly summon my Patronus, sending a message to Hermione saying; "I'm okay, I just needed the quiet." Instantly, I feel like the constricting guilt residing in my throat fades a little bit. I sit down and close my eyes, head dropping down between my shoulders. My hands hold the cushioned bench with a heavy grip, the veins of my forearms making sinuous paths against my skin. Seconds run by but my breathing doesn't seem to want to slow. "This isn't the right time, Potter. Get a hold of yourself before everyone finally realise that you've lost it", I whisper aloud.
« As if that would suffice to tarnish their love for our precious Saviour, Potter », a so-recognisable voice says behind me, breaking the silence.