Head of House, Ravenclaw, Round 9, Additional, Prompt: Personal Triumph, WC: 1070

AU. In the style of a blog post.

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Hi everyone! How are you all doing today?

Fear is funny. It plays the mind, and tricks it. It makes you think things that aren't real. For example, sometimes when I'm walking in the dark, it conjures all manner of horrible things crawling behind me, reaching for the back of my cloak. Although one half of my mind is trying to think about how much the dark doesn't matter and the unlikeliness of zombies, the other half of my brain is preoccupied with adrenaline and the need to be back in a lit room.

It's irrational, but it impedes my ability to go downstairs and get a midnight snack.

So there's one of the more irrational fears, but there are some very rational fears. For example, the fear of being hit by another vehicle if on any motorway. That's rational. Falling. Very rational too, I think. Death is also rational - being gone forever without further interruption to your life's work. Spiders. Debatable.

More than all of these fears, there is one thing that paralyses me. More than natural disasters and zombies; they pale in comparison.

Acrophobia. The extreme fear of heights.

There are some people who say it's actually a fear of falling, but I would honestly disagree with that. Being high up anywhere makes me feel quite physically sick. I get dizzy and nauseous at the top of Yorkshire moors, no matter how silly that may sound to any normal person. It's a fear of being high up, not a fear of falling - because a fear of falling is rational, it's dangerous.

About a month ago, a friend told me about her OCD. She told me that she was going to be doing a skydive to raise money for research into her condition. To help future people with it - she wanted to help teens who were also struggling. Then she asked me to do it with me.

It's for Charity, Hermione. Do it for the good of the people.

"It'll be perfectly safe," Ginny told me (she said she didn't mind not being anonymous, so there you are my redheaded friend). "And it's for a great cause. There's less than one-percent chance of dying."

Thanks for that, Ginny.

Today was the day I did the thing I was most afraid of in all my life.

Some people are thrill-seekers. They look out for things like this, skydiving. I can't imagine how they could even think something as horrifying as it would be fun, but there we go. People have very different viewpoints on things.

I'm not a thrill-seeker.

Ginny and I went up in the plane together, and she dove off first.

Mad, I thought. Absolutely fucking mad.

But there I was, suspended twenty thousand feet in the air. Nothing really seemed quite as important as the irrefutable fact that I was supposed to jump. Supposed to jump, as though committing suicide. It didn't seem natural or normal or anything that would be remotely good for my mental and physical health.

The sky was beautiful, so long as I didn't look down. We were sailing through clouds and bright sunshine, and yet I felt sicker than I have ever been in my short life.

I can't do it. I really can't. It's completely illogical. It makes no sense to jump out of a moving plane. That's even worse than jumping out of a moving car or train, and both of those are insanely dangerous.

These are the things that I told myself, sitting at the edge of the plane, an instructor's voice firm in my air.

I was on the precipice of triumph and failure. Because, whatever my decision would be, it would result in either one of those two things. On one hand, I could choose to go against logic and jump out of the plane, tacked to a strapping man and an enormous parachute. I would raise money for disadvantaged kids with mental health disorders. I would triumph over my fear and possibly be cured of my fear of heights. On the other hand, I give in, don't jump, and we fly the plane back to the ground. And I would have had to admit to my friend that I couldn't get over my fear for a few hot minutes to raise money for something dear to her heart.

It wasn't exactly Sophie's choice when looking at the options like that. It was obvious which I would have to choose.

Maybe I'd throw up in the air. Maybe I wouldn't.

"Well, are you going to do it, or are you not?" asked the instructor sitting behind me. "You don't have to do it, but you don't have long to decide."

"I want to," I managed, half-choking. I didn't want to, but at the very same time, I knew it was exactly what I was supposed to do. I was supposed to jump, to raise money, to be the friend that my friend deserved. To help her cause, no matter what.

I wanted it to all be over and to be back in bed with a movie and a huge bag of popcorn.

He counted down from five, then I wasn't sure, then we were pushed out of the plane side and thrown into the air. We were falling, tumbling through the air at a thousand miles per hour, soaring in the wind. My cheeks felt as though they might rip off with the pressure. We were like birds, riding the air itself. My heart was racing. I thought I might have a panic attack in the air, or maybe even a stroke. I thought I would die from the panic. But then… it wasn't panic. It was something entirely different.

It was thrill.

I loved it, I absolutely loved it.

I don't think I will even fully be able to explain the feeling that was rushing through me at that time - a feeling of purest happiness and freedom. Utter euphoria. When the parachute was pulled and filled out above us I was disappointed because I knew it would all be over soon, too soon.

Ginny was waiting for me when we slammed into the grassy floor, laughing in jubilation.

So, my advice today: There are many terrifying things in the world, but you should take the opportunity to conquer your fears. Because you just might enjoy yourself.

And that's me done. Have a wonderful day!

- Hermione Granger

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Thanks for reading!