3rd Person POV:
The weather outside was wonderful; beautifully sunny, just enough breeze to rustle the leaves of the trees. It was a perfect day to be outside, absorbing the rays of the sun and relaxing, or maybe enjoying a nice jog or walk. The grasses ever more green than ever on this day, with blooming flowers giving off the more natural of perfumes, filling the air with a sweet scent. The Minster, unfortunately, would not experience any of these things, for he was once again stuck in his office, filing important paperwork, and thinking hard about the meeting he had attended yesterday.
Running a hand across his forehead, and finishing off one last signature on one pile of papers, the Minister sighed.
"Minister," Gawain had said after the scolded Auror had left, "while it may be appropriate to remove her from the Ministry, we cannot afford to lose her right now. She may not do much, but having an empty spot would hurt the Auror department so much more. There are just not enough skilled wizards of witches to replenish our division." The Minister had to think of some alternative.
Unfortunately, there were no witches or wizards interested in the Auror department. These days, witches and wizards graduated from Hogwarts and went back into the muggle world, or traveled the world, or went into some other department in the Ministry. And the last one was a small percentage, usually after a few years of the student's last year at Hogwarts. It wasn't much that students were not achieving the grades they needed; in fact, the average student nowadays was receiving grades that were perfect for, if not, very close to, becoming an Auror. They just didn't have the spirit to fight if they knew there was no serious threat facing them and the ones they loved, or they had fought too much already.
A great distance away, across towns, and hills, and lakes, and sky, stood Hogwarts, proud and strong as it always had been, if not still in repair. There were still passages, underground and above, that had not been restored quite fully. While Headmistress McGonagall had her and the other teachers work hard each day to fix as much of each passageway, she knew that the underground ways would require more magic and more time to fully recover; a job that would have to wait until the school year was over, so as not to endanger the students.
In her office, McGonagall was pacing in front of her desk, a habit she had never believed she would have picked up. She had much to be concerned with, such as the security of the school for the last few days that the year lasted. After the big battle, the schools defenses had been completely destroyed, and they had only begun to scratch the surface of replacing all the charms that had been upon it previously. McGonagall was sure there had even been some protection charms she had never known about, maybe that even Dumbledore had never known about. Continuing on with this school year had been, for the most part, a rather large test of what threats were still out there, wishing to cause harm. There had been nothing, thankfully, to put any of the school at risk, for McGonagall knew that the moment even a small threat came along, the school would be forced to close. They were on a very thin leash.
There was a knock at her door, to which McGonagall replied, "Enter." In stepped a shivering divination professor, eyes as large and bug-like as ever through her glasses.
"Hello, Sybil, what can I do for you?" asked McGonagall in a stern tone. Trelawney stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
"I was in my classroom, reviewing the great art of reading the unknown from crystal balls, when I felt a slight change in manner of the universe. My Inner Eye felt that I should warn you of the ripples caused. Do take care, Minerva, for I have foreseen much in the leaves about what shall come."
"Yes, of course" McGonagall replied after a moment of silence. Trelawney's visits had become more frequent through the year, all saying nothing of importance, other than the repeated "ripples" she always mentioned. She had come last about a month ago, and before that, three months. McGonagall passed it off as nothing important to dwell on (as many others did).
"I'm afraid I feel a bit ill," Trelawney turned back to the door, and grabbed the door knob, only to stop where she was.
McGonagall sighed, "Sybil, there is no need for your fore warnings to take caution if there is nothing that threatens the well-being of the students or staff at this school. Please, you may leave my office." But Trelawney did not move. She began to wheeze, and through her throat spoke a ghostly voice, raspy and ominous.
"Within the coming days it shall occur… On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises… The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last…strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate paths…yet their future intertwined indefinitely…their bodies…marked by separate paths…" Trelawney gasped and coughed for breath. She turned back around to face a shocked McGonagall.
"I'm sorry, dear, did you say something?"
McGonagall snapped out of her shock and ushered Trelawney on, "Not at all. Thank you, Sybil, for your time."
Trelawney nodded and left the Headmistress's office with ease, unaware of what had just occurred. Once the door was shut, McGonagall stood from her seat behind the desk and made her way to her mirror near the window of her office. Her hair had grown more and more dense with grey as each year progressed on, with it sucking a bit of her youth and energy to create such absence of color. Pulling out her wand from her robes and placing its tip to her head, she pulled what she had just witnessed from her mind in the form of a silvery thread, placing it in a small flask. Inside, the thread spread around, neither liquid nor gas. Another wave of her wand and the full length mirror swung open as a door to reveal a small storage closet full of the little flasks, each with a date engraved upon the bottle. McGonagall placed the flask next to her last one, dated a few months before. As she closed the room, showing the mirror once more, the flask dated itself.
"Everard," said said, and the portrait of a past headmaster nodded curtly, "Please, if you could, get me the Minister. I wish to speak to him about what has just happened. It may be quite important."
With a brief reply of confirmation, the man left.
The Minister had been continuing on with his thoughts, finding hiring a recruiter more and more to his liking, when a small painting to his left began to speak.
"Minister, your presence has been requested in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts."
The Minister nodded and made his way to the fireplace, tossing in the dust-like powder, and stepping inside the emerald flames. "Hogwarts, Headmistress's office".
When the Minister arrived, he found McGonagall pacing in front of her desk, stopping only when she saw him arrive.
"Minister, I have just visited with Sybil Trelawney. It seems we have another prophecy to decipher."
Cygnus's POV:
Once again, I sat in my Sitting Spot, waiting for time to pass by, wishing it would move faster for just a few hours and then slow back down so I didn't have to wait so long. I didn't dare close my eyes for a second, not that I was even tired anymore. I had wasted yesterday; ruined it because I couldn't sleep like a normal person, at night. I was so hopeless. It was hard to believe I was still trying. One would think that after so many failures in life that I would get the message. I would have something in my grasp, something so valuable to me, and I would enjoy it, and then it would slip through my fingers, falling to the ground with a big thud, and it would shatter. Life would come around then, with its scolding finger, reprimanding me about my mistakes.
"See, Draco? This is why you cannot have nice things. You always break them. Everything you touch. Now get the broom and clean up your mess."
I held my face in my hands, apologizing to Life about my clumsiness, or carelessness; the two were one and the same. Like a spoiled child, I would ask for another, and as my stern parent, Life shook its head.
"Learn to take better care of your things, Draco."
If there really was some ultimate being out there-Destiny, Mother Nature, whatever muggles believed in-they hated me. They loved to hand me what I needed, and then rip it from my hands and watch me struggle, like some sick joke. Honestly, it would just be better to not take the items at all, but like a moth to the flame, I always was drawn to things like this.
I felt as if I was not worth the things I had. I had once had a lot; been the cherished child of a wealthy and prestigious pure-blood Wizarding family, surrounded by power and knowledge and followers. I needn't worry about anything, because I would have the latest things before I even wanted them. New broom coming out soon? It was on my bed the moment it was available, or before, depending on how persuading my father was. I had the best cauldrons, books, ingredients for potions, telescopes. All this was a dream come true for most people; all their troubles would be answered. And yet...
And yet my father existed.
"Well MY SON is just about the best in his year. He is, of course, naturally gifted in Potions class. He has the fastest broom, the new Nimbus that doesn't come out in stores until tomorrow. He's already taken it for a test ride. Oh yes, his robes were SPECIALLY MADE. I paid extra for his dress robes to have the inner lining made of silk. I can't have my Draco go to the formal dinners wearing common cloth. It would itch his skin. I also had a lovely pattern embroidered along the sleeve edges. They're little green and silver slithering snakes…Draco, sit up straight. Your slouching will wrinkle your robes. Draco, you will hold your tongue in front of your mother and I. Draco, do not speak unless you are spoken to or I will be forced to remind you of who is in charge. Draco, do not disgrace the Malfoy name! Draco, you will tell the healers that this was an accident. Draco, hide your bruises or I will give you more!"
I felt angered with my past self. How could I let things get so out of hand? Why did I not see earlier that I was not being pampered, but used? Lying back in the grass, I stared at the empty, pale blue sky. Was there a point to all this? Was my entire existence just a sign that I was only designed to be an empty shell, dressed and taught how to be perfect-and that anything else was to disgrace the family name.
Except that I was never perfect. It was all an act.
There were not any other wealthy families to converse with, since the trial. There would be no bragging, as they did not want my father anywhere near them. Hell, they probably wouldn't want my presence either. In their eyes, I was my father's son. In their eyes, I would rule the manor with the same principles long after my father had passed. In their eyes, I was mini Luscious Malfoy. But think as they want, I would not turn out to be him. I didn't care how many things I lost in the process. That perfect world was far from perfect, and I wanted no part of it.
3rd Person POV:
At the Ministry, each and every floor held something unique. None, however, like level nine. The Department of Mysteries held many treasures inside it, which many wizards and witches have never laid their eyes upon before, but only heard rumors of. None who worked in the Department were allowed to speak, as never to reveal the many secrets such a department contained. From day to day, the workers checked upon everything, keeping what needed to be kept, changing what needed to be changed, and distancing themselves from what needed to be untouched. One man now, with no wish to utter a single word of his work, stood before a row of glass orbs, most glowing with a strange, wispy white light inside them.
At the latest row, the most recent orb sat, with holes in the inscription that were needing to be filled. Pulling out his wand, the man used a special spell to engrave the proper names into the inscription. S.P.T to M.M. he wrote at the very top.
Looking at the bottom names, he questioned to himself what sort of prophecy could contain the two people whose names were on the little piece of parchment he held, straight from the Minister himself. Of course, ever since the battle in the Department of Mysteries, much of the magic used to automatically record the people involved was used, instead, to reinforce the boundaries of the hall to ensure that only people involved in a prophecy and registered Unspeakables could even enter the room. And anyway, the spell to record names had minor bugs, often missing the engraving plate and instead engraving the record of the prophecy, causing it to fall over and break.
The man wondered how it was even possible to figure out who was involved with only vague hints. In his perspective, it could have been anyone.
*flashback*
Of course, McGonagall and the Minister had felt it necessary to call a meeting to the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix and discuss the importance of the prophecy. After the last prophecy, both McGonagall and the Minister agreed, they needed to be sure there was no danger involved. As each member arrived, McGonagall thought more and more about how she did not send out a message to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, or any other of the students who had once formed Dumbledore's Army. Increasingly, she felt wrong by this, even if they had no concern over the prophecy. She thought to herself more, pacing once again, and finally decided to send a message to Hermione, whose brains had never failed in times of need.
Everyone took a seat as the Minister called them to order, McGonagall to one side and Aberforth Dumbledore on his other.
"My friends, we have called to you on a very important discussion today. Minerva-" he began, but was interrupted by a crack and the appearance of one Hermione Granger, who upon realizing she had interrupted, quickly took her seat, apologizing.
"Minerva has just heard the latest prophecy, given by none other than Sybil Trelawney. We have not yet understood its meaning, and we hope that you may help us uncover it. This prophecy may be nothing, at which point you may leave and continue on with your day carefree, or it could be greatly ominous for the future, in which case we will then discuss our actions." He gestured over to McGonagall who stood and began to recite the prophecy she had copied down earlier upon a piece of parchment.
"Within the coming days it shall occur. On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises. The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last. Strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate paths, yet their future intertwined indefinitely. Their bodies marked by separate paths."
"It is quite a riddle," the Minister said after a moment of deadening silence.
The Minister sat as McGonagall sent around the piece of parchment so the others could read it. The parchment touched the hands of every member at least four different times throughout the meeting, each holding onto the paper for at least five minutes. Many members left, feeling unable to help with the decoding, with the request to be called upon once more if the prophecy was, indeed, dangerous. Aberforth left, as did the Weasleys, and then Doge, Jones, and many of the teachers at Hogwarts, leaving only Hagrid, Hermione, the Minister, and McGonagall at last.
"You were right, 'ere, Minister. Tha' there is quite tha riddle. Sorry, but I'm afraid I 'ought to be goin'. Getting' mighty late." Hagrid set off with a wave from McGonagall and a hug from Hermione.
Indeed, the sky outside had turned pink and orange with the setting sun. McGonagall paced before her desk (since she could not do so earlier with so many people crammed inside her office). Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged that her pacing habit was becoming as bad as Dumbledore's had been.
Hermione had the answer on the tip of her tongue. "Well, we've determined one is an orphan and one is the heir to something. We assume that they are not the same person, though the prophecy never really says that they are different people. They have some sort of hatred, either between them or for something else, I suppose. Really, they could just hate the same thing, it's not very clear. And then there is this force, which we have no idea about other than one abandoned it and one knows it. Although, if they're the same person, it could be that they knew it, then abandoned it…"
At this, McGonagall realized something. "No, Ms. Granger, the heir and the orphan must be different people. One cannot still be an heir if one has no parents. They would simply own what has been left to them."
"Of course…" Hermione thought, knowing she had over-looked that fact too easily. "So then one of the people must be orphaned, and the other an heir." She scribbled that down.
"So then the heir abandoned the force while the orphan knew it. The force could be magic, then. The heir felt no need for magic if he was inheriting things, while the orphan clung to it."
"Possibly…" mumbled the Minister, lost in deep thoughts of what this prophecy could mean for his people. If the force was magic, there could be a serious issue with the orphaned child knows magic well and has a force to help make power…
"These marks have to be significant. They can't just be simple birthmarks, their past has marked them due to the choices they made. They could be scars, wounds…but they have to contradict each other. I don't think birthmarks contradict each other. Maybe something from the last war; wounds from either side. Maybe some unforgivable curse wounds versus some hexes. What I don't understand at all is the anniversary of secret pain. Obviously only they know about it, but it doesn't say what sort of pain. For all we know it could mean a war or the end of a relationship…really, it's vague."
"They could be related by blood," said the Minister. "Obviously not brothers, but maybe cousins. One is the heir to something while the other has no parents. They hate each other due to some disagreement."
"They could've been on different sides of the war. One with Voldemort, one with Harry. With scars to prove…" Hermione did not finish her sentence. Within the complicated twists and turns of her mind, a door had just unlocked itself, revealing that her answer had been there the entire time, just now bothering to show itself. She went scarlet in her cheeks, a deep color that would have matched nicely with Ron's hair.
Sensing her sudden silence, McGonagall looked to Hermione. "What is it, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione reread the prophecy again just to be sure…
Within the coming days it shall occur. On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises. The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last. Its strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity to create power. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate path, yet their future intertwined indefinitely. Their bodies marked by separate paths. Yes, it all fit…
"Oh Professor…it's…um…it's nothing important. The prophecy, I mean."
McGonagall gave Hermione a curious look. "Oh really? What gives you that impression?" The Minister, too, looked quite ready to hear what she had to say.
"This is…embarrassing, really. I didn't except a prophecy to come from it. There was no way to realize that I could do anything of this magnitude…" she said, more to herself than the others.
"What have you done?" asked the Minister.
"I…well…just to explain the prophecy: The young heir is Draco Malfoy, the orphan is Harry Potter. The marks they talk about, Harry's scar and Draco's dark mark, each from a different side of the war. They pretty much hated each other at Hogwarts, as I'm sure you know, Professor. I…don't know what exactly the anniversary is of, but they had a lot of fights and arguments, not hard to pick one…"
McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "And the force?"
Hermione chewed her lip. "Love?"
There was a moment's silence.
"I'm afraid I do not understand, Ms. Granger…" said the Minister.
"Well…I-tricked-Harry-and-Draco-into-disguising-themselves-as-other-people-and-got-them-to-talk-to-one-another-so-they-could-fall-in-love-because-Draco-has-secretly-been-in-love-with-Harry-since-third-year-and-I-think-Harry-was-starting-to-care-about-him-too." Hermione had spoken fast, and so the words sank in only a minute or two after she had finished speaking.
"I see…" McGonagall said at last. She really had no idea what to think. There was not a moment ever in her years teaching Harry and Draco had she ever thought either of them would even remotely like the other as just friends, let alone anything else. She had been positive they had hated each other's guts. Obviously, she was mistaken. "But this power created from…love. What could that be, Ms. Granger?"
"I don't know, Professor." She said quietly. She had just absorbed that the ramifications of what she had caused could prove to be a serious threat indeed… "And the anniversary…only they know about it."
"Surely you could ask Mr. Potter?"
Hermione met McGonagall's eyes and nodded. "I'll let you know what I find."
"Do hurry, Ms. Granger. We have only days, as the prophecy said."
Hermione nodded and turned to the door, and left for Harry's room near Gryffindor Tower, though she would not find him there.
The Minister took a piece of parchment, scribbled down the names, and sent them off with an owl directly to the Department of Mysteries for the man to engrave. The man thought it absurd for Malfoy and Potter to ever be related in the same prophecy. He was sure that it must be some mistake., especially since Potter was already part of a prophecy already. Nevertheless, he finished engraving the names, and left, the piece of parchment catching fire and turning to ash the minute the man stepped outside of the Hall of Prophecy.
Hyden's POV:
For the longest time, I just sat staring at the ceiling. Then, I got up and stood staring out the window. After a while, I grew restless, so I grabbed my broom and jumped out my window, thankful for the lovely day. With the wind whipping through my hair, I lost myself for a while. When the sun rose high in the sky at last, I flew over to the entrance of Hogwarts, and apparated, broom and all.
I arrived at the grassy field again, unsure if I should actually venture further into it, or rather wait for Cygnus to show. It was not long before a face rose out of the tall grass upon hearing my entrance and smiled. He rose with much grace (as a man of his structure should not), and came to meet me where I stood, his smile fading to a more somber expression.
"I'm sorry. I…I messed up." His face was genuine, and still, I could not help but feel like I did not belong in his field.
"It's fine. Happens to the best of us." I shrugged. What else was I to do?
"Why did you bring your broom?" He looked to my side.
I shrugged once again and placed it down in the grass. "I was flying just before I came."
"Are you any good?"
Oh yeah, I'm told I natural. Best seeker Hogwarts ever had since my first year… "I'm alright. Not the best."
Cygnus picked up my broom. "Mind if I have a go? I haven't been on a broom since… in ages."
"Sure, go ahead."
He mounted the broom with ease and took off, flying through the air as fast as he could, doing figure eights, spirals, anything he could think of. His black hair was pulled back by the force of the wind, and his bright blue eyes were wide and happy. I imagined myself in his place, seeing almost an exact fit of why I enjoy flying. The rush, the freedom, the moves; all of it made flying so much more than a sport. I smiled, too, as I realized that he had needed something like this since he had gone so long without it.
His feet touched back down, and he got off and handed me my broom back, his face dropping the excitement quite quickly.
"Thanks."
My smile only grew wider. I placed my broom down and stood again. "I have a great idea," I said, grabbing his hand and apparating away.
We arrived in a dark alley, perfectly where I had planned. As we emerged, the broom shop was right there, a new Firebolt out on display for all to see. With some galleons in my pocket, I pulled Cygnus alongside me into the store.
"Pick one," I stated simply as we entered upon broom after broom on every wall, from old Shooting stars to the very new Firebolt, and every model in between.
"Oh, I couldn't." Cygnus took a step back, hands coming up to shake his rejection in time with his head. "It's fine. You don't have to get me a broom."
"Alright, then. I'll pick one for you."
Stepping forward and glancing about the shop, I saw a sleek Nimbus 2001 on the wall. Ages ago, it seemed, I had been in possession of my very own Nimbus 2000, before it was split into pieces by the Whomping Willow. I passed onward, with an unsure Cygnus behind me muttering things such as, "Really, there's no need…ooh, but it's so… Honestly, I don't…but if you insist…" I finally made my way over to the Firebolt II (the newest version of my own broom, apparently) and flipped over the price tag. While I could honestly say it was worth quite a lot, more than I had with me, I would buy it anyway. If not for Cygnus as a...whatever we were, then for his love for flying.
"I'll be right back." I apparated away to Gringotts, having a little Goblin take me to my vault since I had my key, and removed the appropriate amount of money to buy it. I apparated back soon enough. Cygnus was looking over the broom lovingly as I made my way to the counter to purchase the broom, paying no attention that I had arrived. It was an easy transaction, and before long, I made my way to Cygnus and removed the broom from the display.
"What are you doing?"he asked.
I looked to Cygnus, amused at the confused on his face. "Taking this down so we can go back and race it."
His eyes widened. "You bought it? It was…pretty expensive," his voice shrinking a bit.
"It was nothing. Really, I have nothing to spend my money on anyway."
It was true. The last time I had been to Gringotts had been a while ago. There wasn't much money I needed these days. I grabbed his arm and we apparated back to the field exactly where we had been before, my Firebolt still on the ground. Handing him his new broom, I picked up my own.
"Let's see how fast your new broom is."
We both mounted our brooms. In a great imitation of Madam Hooch, I said "On my whistle! 3, 2…" I kicked off, as did Cygnus. We zoomed forward, with him only inches ahead of me.
The wind ran through my hair once more, and yet, with Cygnus by my side and only the field below us and the sky above us, I felt so much more freedom. There was nothing to stop me from going as high, fast, and crazy as I wanted to. Cygnus beside me seemed to be thinking the same. With a constant speed going forward on my broom, I carefully got up and stood up on the handle. I was surfing through the air with ease. Moving my feet appropriately, I turned left, then right, up, then down, never losing my balance. Pulling up beside me was an upside-down Cygnus with a large smile on his face.
"Neat trick."
"I've had practice." I smiled, remembering my first catch of the snitch quite clearly (I had nearly swallowed it, after all).
The day easily slipped away from us. It wasn't long before the sun sank down below the horizon and the moon began its great journey to its throne high in the sky. Even when the night had come, and darkness engulfed all remaining sunlight, Cygnus and I still enjoyed what was left of the day. After a while, we had made our way back to the ground and then underground, splashing around in his lake.
He showed me what made the pool magic. He placed a leaf inside it, and once it touched the surface, it became water and sunk back into the lake, not even a ripple showing from the movement, still keeping the look of glass it had in the moonlight. I touched it once more, really expecting the surface to be smooth and solid, but once again my hand slipped through and a ripple was sent through the water.
"Does it change with the seasons?"
Cygnus shook his head. "No, this entire place is always one season. But…" he trailed off, running into the thickness of the forest.
I looked around, but was unable to see anything past the edge of the trees. I sat for a few moments, wondering where he had gone. It was much more awkward to sit by the lake when Cygnus was not there.
He returned from the shadows holding a book in his hand. Stopping just barely before the edge of the lake he held out his hand.
"Could I borrow your wand a moment?"
Without question, I pulled out my wand and handed it to him. He opened his book right at the beginning, flipped one page and then began a very complicated spell process from which light blue sparkles fell from the tip of my wand onto the surface of the lake, dancing across it like tiny ballerinas, graceful and agile. The sparkles spread over the entire top, reflecting the moon's light like it never had before. And before long, the spell was finished, and the sparkles faded into nothing.
"What'd you do?" I asked curiously.
He smiled and shook my wand as if it were a salt shaker, and out came snow. It drifted down slowly, taking its time. More and more snowflakes came out behind it, falling to the lake almost in slow motion. Cygnus shot the spell right above the lake, and more snow erupted from there. The first flake hit the surface, and stayed there, not a ripple in sight.
Confused, I touched the water again, to find it was as solid as possible. With a smile I placed my hand on it and pushed, finding the ice lake perfectly glass-like. I stood up and carefully stepped onto it, finding it would definitely hold my weight. Another step, and then another; I went it out to the middle of the lake with a smile on my face. Cygnus joined me, handing me my wand back.
A quick flick of my wrist, and our shoes transfigured into ice skates. There were not a lot of times in my life that I had ever been ice skating, but I knew it could not be as difficult as some things had been in my life, like learning to apparate, defeating Voldemort, or passing any class Snape taught. I was sure that ice skating had to be easier than 5 years in a potions classroom with Professor Snape. I slid one foot forward and sort of pushed off with my other, skidding off a bit. Cygnus did not move. As it seemed, Cygnus had not been ice skating at all in his life. It must be a muggle thing.
I turned around, grabbed Cygnus' hand, and pulled him forward. He noticeably clenched his jaw and lost a bit of his balance. I smiled.
"It's alright. You just have to keep your balance. It's like riding a bike."
"A what?"
Right…another muggle thing. "Uh…nevermind. Just try to keep your weight on one foot at a time. Once you get it, it becomes a natural thing. Hard to forget."
Cygnus cautiously slid one foot forward, and then the next after it, like he was trying to walk without removing his feet from the ground. He moved a foot forward again, and his other foot began to slide back. Panicked, he made a sudden jerk, causing himself to lose balance. Instant reflexes kicking in, I grabbed him. When everything was steady again, my arms were wrapped around his waist and his hands held onto them; we had frozen to prevent another loss of balance. His racing heart slowed in his chest. At once, I had seen that the snowing had stopped.
We crashed into the lake once more as it turned liquid again and the remaining snow was absorbed into the water. The skates were holding us down. Pulling out my wand, I transfigured them back into our shoes again. Together, we broke the surface, laughing at the unexpected drop. I started swimming to the edge when a wave of water crashed right over my head. Wiping the water off my face, I turned and saw Cygnus with a huge smile on his face.
With a laugh, I splashed him back. Back and forth, we splashed one another, laughing a bit (as much as we could without getting water in our mouths). When the water cleared I got an idea. Pulling my wand from my pocket, I shot Cygnus with a spell, he looked startled at first, with a big bubble around his head, but he understood quickly when I put one around my head too.
"Lumos" I said, muffled by the bubble, and we dove into the lake.
If I had thought the forest and lake side was beautiful, I was most mistaken. After going deeper into the lake a few feet, where darkness usually clouded around, there was so much color and life. Neat little rainbow fish swam around us, or hid in the bright orange and red coral or between blades of dark green seaweed. From behind a large rock, a miniature part-horse-part-fish creature emerged, but then changed quickly into a large serpent when it saw us.
Kelpie… I temporarily let my light go from my wand the moment the serpent bared its fangs and headed toward us.
"Aresto Momentum" I mumbled inside my bubble. The flash of the spell revealed the Kelpie-serpent closer to us still, and I could feel Cygnus behind me, pulling me quickly in another direction.
"Lumos" and the tip of my wand lit again to reveal a very slow moving Kelpie heading toward us. Cygnus kept pulling me, I noticed, down instead of up. We dove in deeper and saw at least a dozen plimpies walking along the lake bottom, all bumping into one another, falling over and getting back up again. Cygnus picked one up, tied its legs together, and brought it up to the still slow moving Kelpie-serpent. With a gentle toss, the plimpy landed in between the serpent's teeth. In slow motion, the serpent changed back into its horse-fish form and bounced the plimpy on its head like a ball.
"Finite." The Kelpie returned to its normal speed, bouncing the plimpy-ball carefree.
We resurfaced, the bubbles popping once we had reached the air. With smiles on our faces we climbed out of the lake, our clothes soaked but the temperature nice and warm. I lay with my back on the soft grass looking up at the night sky through the holes, seeing the stars shine so beautifully. Cygnus leaned over me so I could see only his face and blue eyes. For a moment, my heart stopped. Then Cygnus shook his head like a dog, sending little drops of water everywhere, and I laughed as I shielded my face. Cygnus fell back and looked up at the sky right beside me.
"You know," he said, "Someone once told me that the light from stars has to travel so far to reach us, that the star could be gone, and we would still see its light."
"Yeah?"
"The star leaves kind of a legacy. The light goes on for a while, even if the star is gone. That's the star's last memory."
A moment of silence passed us by. I sat up and looked over at Cygnus, his eyes shining in the light, looking almost grey in the moonlight. When he looked over at me he smiled and covered his eyes.
"Alright," he said, his tone begrudging, "shake away. I deserve it."
I smiled, because I wasn't going to shake my hair. I leaned in and moved his hand from his face with ease. Gently, I lowered my lips onto his. His hands came up to hold my face. I could feel my lungs temporarily give up on breathing, and my heart slowed to a stop. A century passed, and we parted.
"I'm glad this happened," I said quietly. "Because I'm sure it wouldn't have if you hadn't overslept."
He smiled and I lay back down by his side, and we gazed at the stars together until sleep overcame us.