Chapter 6: What Trusting Means

'to trust or not to trust, that is the question.'

And he had chosen to trust.

'And what chance did I have in resisting in the first place?' Albus was thinking with a smile, fondly looking at the winter hat Nerya had transfigured for him. He gulped down a pain-relief potion he always had around for too-much-reading-related emergencies and dropped down on his bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the headache to retreat. He had never pushed himself to such an extremity with Occlumency; he had never resolved to Occlumency so desperately and frantically before either.

During his walk back to the Gryffindor tower he had managed to supress all theotherthoughts and images that had come to his mind during the last part of their meeting, but not before indulging them for just a moment, which made him burn in exhilaration and embarrassment. 'No. Not now, stop.' And he managed to turn his mind back to Nerya's identity. Lying on his bed, he tried to recall his internal monologue from this morning; it was high time to sort through the frenzy affair with a clear head.

'I belong to a race called the Elves', she had said. 'I'm not human'.

Not being human was a concept the Wizarding World could grasp more easily than the muggles could, due to the variety of sentient non-human beings that were part of their community. In scepticism and prejudice however, wizards weren't better than muggles. Albus, having received his share of that kind of attitude, tried to be better than his peers; Nerya being something other than human, he could work with that, he had even suspected it himself. It took him some time to understand that she was being literal when she said that she wasn't human, but only because he wasn't aware of a magical creature capable of passing off as human as convincingly as she was doing.

But when she mentioned that her people had left Earth a long time ago, Albus honestly contemplated for the first time in their acquaintance that Nerya was a complete and utter nutter.

And that doubt was what unhinged him completely. He had promised himself he wouldn't let her down again. Nerya was anxious to the point of collapse, he hadn't thought her able of such uncertainty and nervousness, and yet he dared to doubt her sanity? That pushed him into panic as much as her actual words did.

'When in doubt,' his mother's words he will never forget, 'your mind is your sanctuary. There you can say and think whatever you like. But, once something is out, nothing can change it. So, better express less, than more; less, you can make more later. More, you cannot make less.' So Albus had done what he always did, what Kendra had taught him; he had shut himself away. He had desperately fell back on his Occlumency.

His efforts to contain his reaction, to decipher Nerya's words and this completely impossible concept, alongside his guilt for thinking Nerya is coocoo, really overloaded him. The more he heard Nerya talk about the so-called Elves, the more his incredulity and suspicion grew, the more his guilt levels peaked.

He had tried very hard to be responsive to his surroundings, but he had surrendered his mind to depths unknown to him until then; all he could do, was absorb everything Nerya was muttering and stammering. The familiarity of her voice, even though it was rendered almost unrecognisable by nervousness, a novel state for her, was weirdly reassuring. She was feeding him facts, and even though they were unnerving, facts are the best way to start building, and Albus was in dire need of a shelter; something stable, solid, a milestone, a landmark. So he gathered as many bricks as he could, focusing on Nerya's voice.

But when Nerya's voice stopped, Albus found himself in darkness. His brain had been overworking so much and on so many matters simultaneously, that no work had actually been done. Keeping up Occlumency at that rate had been properly draining him as well.

'Well, no wonder there, genius! Trying to purge my mind from unnerving things, while forcing it to analyse at the same time. Has anyone set a greater record for sheer damn lack of common sense? How desperate was I to detach myself, for something like that to even work in the first place? No wonder I lost all contact with the outside world!' He repeatedly banged the back of his head on the headboard.

He remembered trying desperately to find a subtle way of asking Nerya to confirm whether this was what she was hiding, but he wasn't sure whether he articulated any of the questions he was internally screaming. He squirmed uneasily in his bed, hoping he hadn't said anything too unkind, he would have to ask Nerya later. He faintly remembered her asking him something about immortality also, but whether he had responded or not, he wasn't sure.

'I'm not pulling your leg.' she had said then and that had gained his attention, that had pulled his focus onto a single matter instead of the scattered mess of a million overlapping questions that were gnawing ferociously on his entire existence. His bricks would mean nothing, if he couldn't trust the person who supplied him with them.

The months he had spent studying Nerya had left him in no doubt of her acting abilities. But he had taken pride in the fact, that he could almost always tell when she was faking her behaviour. And even if he couldn't trust his judgement on prior events, the sheer nervousness that was pulsating from her couldn't be faked, nor could the dimness of the light that was usually her constant companion, no matter how efficient the actor; and on the other hand why would she set up something like this, what did she had to gain?

So he had tried to settle the matter in this way for the time being: Nerya seemed to be under the impression that what she was saying was the absolute, relentless truth. How real it all actually was, and in what way, Albus had chosen to ignore for the time being. Instead, he focused on understanding her point of view.

Walking, silence and Hogwarts's empty corridors did wonders to relieve his tension; on their way to somewhere –Albus had just left his feet take him where they saw fit– he tried to bring some order into his brain. Slowly, step by step and breath by breath, he focused. Firstly, he tidied the facts that Nerya had just shared with him. Elves, immortal, Aman etc. Secondly he scoffed internally in incredulity. It all seemed so far-fetched, so bloody ridiculous. But the Nerya he had spent three months studying wasn't ridiculous or delusional and she had seemed genuinely and uncharacteristically stressed and nervous all morning. And what about her panic yesterday and her secretive manner before that?

The painful question slithered back into his mind, growing more resilient and immune to Occlumency as time went by: what if he had missed something? What if he was predisposed to think well of her, because he saw so much of himself in her? What if Nerya wasn't what he until then thought she was? Every doubt was a dagger in his heart. His brother was always saying that he wasn't as clever as he prided himself in being. What if Aberforth was right?

'Pff.' Was all that Albus had eventually responded to that thought. Insecurity was a bitch, and she had tormented him all his life, with great help and encouragement from his family. They were always holding him back, telling him he should be more careful, more humble, more grounded, that no one was infallible; well,obviously people made mistakes, he could work that out himself, he was far from daft. Why couldn't they simply acknowledge what Albus had achieved? If he had given into his insecurities, would he be the best student Hogwarts had seen in many, many years? But noooo, his family chose to ignore how exceptional he was and always hurried to remind him the times he hadn't proven himself enough.

How he had failed one test (''Five years at Hogwarts, one failed test, Aberforth! I was anxious, the teacher was a twat that wanted to humiliate the little first year, because the fucker considered me overconfident, for Merlin's sake. But I was already doing Lumos maxima, when the rest still struggled with a simple Lumos!'') How he had more than once blown up a cauldron while experimenting (''Accidents happen!'' he had defended himself again and again but Kendra had given him her stern look and replied quietly ''What if one of your next accidents trigger Arianna?''). How he always locked himself up on his room with his books (what else could he do? only Kendra sort of spoke his language, but if he started sharing his theories, she would respond by reminding him that stargazing is nice, but life is an uneven path, and one must mind where their feet are. And who could blame her, with that idiot of a husband that practically went and killed himself.)

So it all came down to whether he trusted his judgement or not. And Albus was itching to shout that he did, but couldn't find the courage; all these things Nerya had said… it was so textbook conspiracy-theory material… But on the other hand, wasn't that true for the Deathstick, the wand of destiny, the Elder Wand? Well, he wasn't sure it existed yet, but some of the evidence he had gathered so far was too solid to ignore.

Thirdly, he shook his head, glad to find that his mental capacity had been reinstated to a considerable degree, and started thinking about it from a different perspective; he replayed in his mind every piece of evidence he had collected about Nerya and tried to see if her explanation could fit everything in it.

Over the last months, he had tried very hard to find a theory that could explain Nerya's peculiar circumstances. He had failed dramatically. Nothing he could come up with could explain all of the evidence and in a satisfactory manner. Oh, how many times had he wished for Doctor Doyle's creation to materialise in front of him and help him out!

The theory that accounted for most of the facts was that she was half Veela, and even that had many weaknesses. For example, she wasn't as stereotypically womanly as Veelas usually were, but then again, stereotypes are made to be broken. He didn't get the urge to show off either when in her presence (at least no more than his usual amount), but maybe Nerya could control that particular ability very well. On the other hand, Half-Veelas were indeed radiant, but in a way that drowned everything else – Nerya brought light and life everywhere she went. And she didn't have the white-golden coloured hair either. Again he berated himself for that ghastly book.

No, he knew very well that the Veela theory and every single other he had come up with were crap, crap born out of his desperate need to ignore his infatuation with Nerya. At least after all his efforts, if everything Nerya had told him was true, he could consider his failure reasonable. He didn't have enough facts, that's why he couldn't figure it out. Maybe that was the bait?

Maybe all of it was a diligently organised lie.

But who would go to such lengths, and for what reason? Maybe she and some of his peers had thought it a good idea to play him for a fool, prove that the great Bookworm isn't as clever as he boasts. But he had been watching Nerya closely like the creepy person he was since she arrived and she hadn't favoured anyone's company especially yet; she spoke with everyone alright, but she didn't hang out too much with anyone in particular. Well, if Albus had to pick someone, he would say that Nerya was closer to him than anyone else. And what about last night, and all the other moments during this term? If those moments were false wouldn't he be able to tell? This being a prank had seemed even more difficult to believe.

All that, however, didn't change the fact that what he had heard from Nerya was the first remotely adequate explanation, accounting for more facts, the more he thought about it. It explained his musings on their first meeting, how she didn't touch the ground, how light pulsated off her; in everyone around him Albus saw a mixture of light and dark, balancing precariously and if it ever faltered, it was usually darkness that prevailed. But Nerya…. Albus had never met a more crystal clear, pure, radiant person, it was the first thing that had peaked his curiosity. Albus' logic had given him quite the telling off at that, 'how dare you base an argument on poetry, you brainless oaf?'

Her secretive manner when it came to her home could also be explained by this. It also completely justified her unusual display of panic yesterday night and this morning. That is, if he could trust in the truthfulness of her behaviour. 'But, why not?' Albus rebelled against his sense of reality, though his retort had sounded feebly childish.

Furthermore, Nerya's explanation brought something else into the picture, something that had additionally troubled Albus deeply. His attraction to her. He had never been the sort who would lose his mind over some pretty girl with a playful manner and he had certainly never lost his composure and serenity of mind like that over anyone, before she came along. He wasn't susceptible to the female charm, even if someone started wiggling her naked breasts in front of his face, he would be very surprised if he found himself aroused merely by that. But with Nerya, he found himself feeling the need to hold her, caress her, cherish her; bring her as close to him as it could go. The thought of her made his fingertips tingle in impatient anticipation, fervently wishing for that touch, that intimacy. He tried and tried to supress that urge, but time only made it more insistent; until he finally accepted his fate, though he still hardly understood how it all worked and what it meant.

One thing he could be sure about was that if someone had managed to draw him in like this, then they must be very unusual indeed. Therefore Nerya must be something very different from what he had known so far.

But how different could she possibly be? That was reality's question.

He had then become a bit more focused to notice Nerya walking beside him. She was obviously panicking, she was biting her lip and her eyes fluttered all around the place. Then it had dawned on him, that they must have been wandering in the castle for quite some time. He had left Nerya in this nerve-wrecking situation and hadn't even uttered a word. His heart had sunk at this demonstration of cruelty, but on the other hand his logical part had still been sceptical.

He didn't want to give her empty words. He couldn't allow himself to believe something, just because he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Nor because he ardently wished to discover that there were more magical and wonderful things in this grey world. Balance of probability favoured that the person who claimed that immortality exists as a rule and not an exception is probably lying, to the world or to himself. Albus' reason and sense of reality, powered by what his experience had taught him thus far made him very sceptical and suspicious.

Yes, yes, yes, he had already established that all the pieces had been put into place without effort; and he also had Occam's razor to back this thesis: one big explanation for everything seemed a simpler alternative to many little explanations for each little thing. The theory seemedvalid;but it didn't seem at allsound. How could immortality exist? How could the whole world be unaware of the existence of another sentient and - according to Nerya – highly intelligent life form?

On the other hand, Albus didn't belong to the muggle world, but he could understand how muggles or muggleborns felt when they were told that there were more in this world than what they had thought until then. So, if muggles could be surprised, wouldn't it be possible for wizards to be too?

Wizards knew something more than muggles and that often led to prejudice and fanaticism. Although Albus deep down couldn't disagree with the basic foundations of the notion 'We know something they don't and still it must be us who have to hide?', nevertheless he couldn't allow himself to become a fanatic. Because, what if we took that sentence and replaced muggles with wizards?

Then someone else would be 'above' wizards, in the same way wizards are now in a way 'above' muggles; and that someone would know something more than wizards do and they would be able to keep themselves hidden if they wanted to, just like wizards do. So would it be unreasonable to contemplate that what Nerya brought to his notice could be real? Why shouldn't that someone be called Elves?

'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' Even Mr Holmes, with his cold reason and unfeeling grasp of reality, had enough of an open mind to accept that even the impossible could be proven possible, under the correct circumstances.

Everything he considered certain was being overturned by this wonder of a creature and what frightened him most was that he was enthralled by this sensation. He liked what he was hearing; he very much wished that all these wonders were true. But isn't that sort of affinity always the shortest way to a failure of judgement?

Yes, but what certain means, exactly? A philosopher, someone who craves discovery and aspires to perceive the wonders of this world, must hold nothing as certain. Because affinity to certainty is another, equally short way to a failure of judgement.

His head had been verging explosion, so he had decided to reverse his thinking. Instead of trying to work out whether what Nerya had saidcouldbe true, he called in the mantra 'Nothing is impossible' and decided to try and see if he could doubt her story into collapse.

Again he had reminded himself, that the main point was whether he trusted his judgement or not. Whatever he had achieved in his life, he had done it because he had confidence in his abilities, because he managed to overcome his insecurities, because he trusted in himself, in spite of everyone. Because he trusted his gut, to put it a bit crudely. And as he had Nerya before him, in this nervous, jumpy, panicking, uncertain state, his gut was telling him that she wasn't faking it. He would know it if she was pretending, like he knew it when he saw her manipulating his peers.

With the first big wave of shock gone, he cracked the bruising joke; it seemed like the best way to let Nerya know that he was more grounded now and ready to listen to more. Seeing how openly her face was overtaken by contradicting expressions, made him forget the whole situation for a moment and be amused; fondness and a sense of normalcy overtook him, and it was like they were back in the Astronomy tower. Very rarely Nerya was so unguarded. Albus had often flattered himself that only to him she allowed a peep through her excellent facade.

Before doubt over the truthfulness of her behaviour could seize him again, his mouth took it upon itself to respond to her reaction, with an ease that spoke of years' familiarity. Just by watching her, something in him was so sure that Nerya was contemplating the possibility of his joke being a way of telling her that he believed her, and that she was torn between relief and disappointment about it. So the words slipped out of him, but then his reason woke up and doubt didn't fail to follow.

Nerya's reaction wasn't lost on him. How easily she had dismissed his doubt, as if Albus knowing her mind without her having to express it aloud was a given fact for her, it was obvious. And it had seemed obvious to Albus as well. If it hadn't been for everything she had told him today, if this was just another normal day they spent together, the fact that he had read her so easily would have evoked no other reaction but wonder and amazement. However this wasn't just a normal day, the things Albus had heard today were preposterous.

He had tried to tell her then, that he wasn't ready yet, and Nerya had once again finished his thought. She knew him so well; too well. And she was a very good actress; dangerous combination. But why would this gentle-hearted creature lie to him in the face, why would she go to such lengths? Oh, shit, fuck, shit. Albus was trapped in a loop, never-ending and tormenting.

Say, all of it was true, say, she was an immortal ethereal being from somewhere far beyond humanity's reach. Let's just take all that for granted, just for a moment. Why would her behaviour be so very convincingly human? Maybe she had faked her behaviour simply to fit in and not draw attention to herself; she hadn'tchosento lie, shehadto lie in order to pass unnoticed.

'Would you like some privacy.' she had asked then, interrupting his thoughts and Albus had felt terror grip his heart. He couldn't lose his only source of information; he knew he wouldn't find peace until he had settled the matter somehow.

By the time they had entered the classroom, Albus' mind was ready to take things from the top and analyse them on the spot, something he hadn't been able to do the first time Nerya had spoken.

The information she gave him about gender and how the Elves dealt with it, helped him continue his argument about attraction. It had troubled him,whyhe was suddenly attracted to a girl. But under this new light, Nerya was not a girl. As Albus didn't feel like a boy, or a girl. He had a dick and not a vagina and he was more than fine with that, but neither of the two sex-related stereotypes had ever really described him fully. His differences with Elphias, a textbook case of a boy who will become a man, had mainly taught him that. Albus wasn't besotted with quidditch, he preferred to be dressed in bright lively colours, he was aware that his movements and posture were closer to female than male, and on and on the list went.

So he never saw the point in comparing himself with the norm of what other boys were like and adjust his behaviour to fit what isnormal.Let alone that for Albus, normal usually meant average, and he had certainly never considered himself that. So he had chosen to refer to himself as just human, just a soul, a being; not a woman, not a man, but a person who happened to have a dick and certain personality traits that defined him more than his dick did. Maybe that was another similarity between him and Nerya, maybe that's what they were, just beings. That's what brought them together. They were above flesh and reality. They were just two lonely souls who found each other and rejoiced in their similarities and Albus' body translated that as physical attraction.

The slap that this musing earned him from reason was almost physically painful. 'You are still merging poetry and wish with logic and argument!' He needed to find something more substantial than that to assuage that part of him most dipped inreality.

He wasn't completely convinced, of course, when he saw her ears. He had cast the most advanced counter spell he knew, one other that specifically traced signs of self-transfiguration, which came out positive for her ears (?) but there was nothing he could see, so he proceeded with another two very strong revelation ones, the first broad-spectrum and the second focused on her ears ((?) again). Still those ears could be faked. And also, why would a completely separate race share so many commonalities with the human race? Nerya said they both started on Earth, so that could explain it, but still it wasn't substantial enough. Neither was the wandless-magic-piece of the puzzle that had also found its place so neatly, moments later.

Hearing the facts for a second time was very accommodating. One, now his mind was clearer, two, he could discreetly study Nerya while she spoke, three, he would be mindful for deviations in her story. Alas, no breakthrough came out of any of those.

His idea about a different planet came to him in an effort to find an explanation at least heard of by the human culture, even as a conspiracy theory. It also seemed to Albus a bit more plausible, given that in a great big universe, humanity being the only life form was statistically very difficult. His alien-theory could also explain why no one on earth knew about an entire separate civilization of sentient beings. To Albus' logical part, this had seemed more substantial only because it wasn't unheard of. So Albus' heart didn't really sink when he heard Nerya dismiss it.

He had felt safe enough then, to open up to Nerya more about how impossible it all sounded. Nerya's reply about how the Elves' presence could have shaped the human archetypes was plausible, but not above doubt. Nevertheless, this had given him a very accommodating chance to smoothly express THE question, the one that had unnerved him the most, and gauge her reaction: Did he really know her? Could he really trust all he had seen from her? Because if she had to pretend to not draw suspicion on herself, Albus would understand that, he wouldn't hold it against her. But he would know not to base his reasoning on her behaviour.

His gut overturned his reason at her answer. Albus was sure that she meant what she said, even though no definite argument was presented. After all, he wasn't that stupid, he would have noticed something at some point that would warn him not to trust Nerya so implicitly. But he did trust her. He knew that whatever he told her would stay with her. He could rely on her to understand him without requiring an explanation. Until then he had secretly presumed to understand her as well, at least far better than anyone else in the castle.

He wished he could just trust in her words the way he trusted her. Nerya was always witty and clever, with a wisdom that didn't fit her years, a gentle heart and a playful manner. Her shoulders tensed when she found herself in a tight spot, although she schooled her face and voice well enough (and he knew that because he had spent the previous months putting her in tight spots). She laughed hard when someone made a joke that wasn't witty enough, and she seemed genuine, but her left brow twitching upwards betrayed her. Her lips would go from smirk to lopsided smile, when irony was involved. The respect and love she showed for words, and her skill in handling them, was one of her greatest talents. She didn't disappoint. Her light was incandescent and darkness didn't dare touch her, not without her allowing it. When with her, Albus didn't have to hide. He felt like a child, carefree and unguarded and trusting–

And then it dawned on him.

Of course he could trust Nerya. Of course he could show the children's wisdom and purity of heart.All this wasn't about truth or suspicion or mighty revelations, nor about logical arguments. He had already proven that; he had thought and analysed, he had studied the matter from every perspective he could think of, and he had gottennowhere.All this wasn't about HIM trusting in his own judgement.It was about taking a leap of faith, becoming achildonce again. Presuming to know what reality means, something that had always seemed to Albus horribly close to insularity, didn't belong to a child's heart. Someone would say that this is what makes them easy targets. But what did Albus have to lose in this occasion?Nothing, his heart was shouting.Trust her. And Albus followed his heart.

'Not seriously,' he had told her, and that was that.

That was Albus' summary of what had passed from his mind during this eventful morning, though the last musings about a child's heart were greatly improved in the comfort of his bed. When he remembered his idea about using Legillimency, his palm left his side to strike his brow. Children didn't make demands to see inside the other's head! No, he wanted,neededto get this right. If Nerya wanted to share her memories with him, he would welcome it as a friend, but he wouldn't demand it as an interrogator. Reason be damned, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

'It's done, it's done, it's done!' was all Nerya could think, as she pranced through the castle. When something like this could be settled so easily, then there was no point in worrying about anything at all.

Reason, you daughter of a bitch. Still, Legillimency will teach you your place for good.

So now Nerya could turn her attention to the unexpected letter that came for her with the Morning Post, but her state during breakfast didn't even allow her to be properly surprised.

No; bemused would be a better word. It was from Leela Parkins. Head of the 5thyear girl gang, mistress of gossip, expert in incessant giggling, Leela Parkins.

Dear Nerya,

Happy New Year! I have not forgotten you and I thought why not write to you and tell you so. I hope you're not very bored there, with only the Bookworm to keep you company. Don't tell him I called him that.

Nerya smiled sardonically.

Do you know why he stayed by the way? Because he has never stayed before.

Anyway I know how boredIam, and I'm usually never bored at Christmas. This time however we came to my father's muggle relatives, for the first time since I was five. You remember I'm half-blood right? Anyway, apart from Mum trying very hard not to curse my grandmother, I'm seriously telling you that NOTHING AT ALL IS HAPPENING. Mum was right, muggles are really rubbish at Christmas celebrations. Everything takes far too long without magic, and it's more boring as well.

The only reason I survived is because the girls have taken turns in sending me two letters a day. Even that is difficult though, because the muggles mustn't notice the owls. The girls make sure their letters arrive late at night and also that's why Mum said that they can't be more than two.

That keeps me breathing, but I also hate them because they're having so much fun. All of them went to at least one party, and Rose even found herself a boyfriend! Peter Ogden, remember him? He's friends with Dumbledore, so you've seen him around.

How are things there? If I remember correctly you were chatting with Nott after our last DADA class, and he stayed back too. Although he is a Slytherin, I must say he is rather cute… your Christmas were more interesting than mine, perhaps?

Please write back as soon as you can and with as many details as possible. I'm already cut off from everything and I fear that I'll be left out of every conversation when we get back!

Anyway got to go. Another dreary horrible day waits for me tomorrow.

Leela

Nerya couldn't stay irritated with Leela for long, though, not after she understood how it all must seem to her and how awful it must be to stay cut off from the gossip spring for long. And right now not even Sauron himself could get under her skin.

'Ah, Leela dear, if only you knew that the Bookworm, as you call him out of spite and envy, is in on the biggest scoop of the year, and you are not. If only you were equipped to understand that Nott and his so-calledcutenesswould evaporate into smoke and then even the smoke would disappear without a trace, if the way-out-of-your-league Bookworm shot himonetwinkling blue eye. Let alone both of them. But you know nothing of all this, and therefore both me and Albus forgive you for your disrespect.'

At twelve o'clock, Albus was already in the common room, urging time to pass more quickly. Then, the portrait lifted and Nerya came in. They both stood where they had stopped and looked at each other, struck with so many little and huge feelings and thoughts, it was impossible to count or analyse. Their faces were calm and their eyes bright once again.

Without knowing it –at least for sure – the same thoughts were passing through their heads. How nice it was to look each other in the eye again, and more openly than ever. The feeling of a burden lifted from their chest. The calmness of acceptance, shaken only by the warmness in their bellies.

Then, they snorted into chuckles, like they were in on some joke nobody else could understand, held hands and headed for lunch.

''From whom?''

''Indeed, Mr Bookworm. Read, read, read. Oh, and ignore the Nott thing.''

''The what thing?''

''Read.''

After a moment's pause, Albus' musing tone, its usual absent-mindedness spoiled by suppressed mirth, was heard.

''Well, a human often proves to be a worm of some sort. At least I am a bookworm…''

The cackling could be heard even with the portrait blocking the entrance.