Hi everyone!

See, I didn't forget this fic! I got motivated again after someone put it in favs, and I went back to translation. The next chapter should arrive soon, it's already halfway translated.
I hope you're all surviving with the lockdowns and general chaos.
Kind thanks to my beta reader who does a great job!
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter (and leave a lot of reviews :p)

Arthur's grandmother leads us through a corridor lit up by what seems to be magic orbs spreading a strange golden light towards a living room of respectable dimensions. The room is bright, the light coming from high windows, and is decorated in warm green and gold shades. I'm not actually a fan of yellow nor gold, but the green always calms me, like blue does. We're on ground floor, and apparently the mansion is surrounded by a park in the French style, with nicely cut bushes, a fountain, and walkways lined up with weeping willows which branches are gently moving in the breeze. I kinda like it, although I prefer the wilderness.

Arthur's mother closes the door behind us while his grandmother invites us to sit in one of the large dark-green couches regrouped around the fireplace. She leads the way, and we're soon settled in. Arthur is sitting next to me, and it greatly contributes to making me at ease. His mother snaps her fingers, and a house elf appears with a loud *crac*. At least, I assume it's a house elf. Stunted, with long drooping pointy ears, very similar to house elves from the Harry Potter movies. He owes a very clean white apron with a tricolour coat of arms on his chest. I don't really spend much time on his appearance, though, because I'm more focused on his EXISTENCE. I know, wizards exist, blabla, I'm one of them, blabla, but here I'm confronted to a magical creature, another species! I feel like I'll have a LOT of things to debrief with my brain later. Apart from those considerations, I find it pretty cool, except for the "life of slavery" part, but at least this elf seems to be well treated by his masters. And well, if he wanted to break free he could use his powers. I see him a bit like I see Mrs Winston, as a servant (and God knows how I still find the idea of having servants weird, despite my childhood number two).

Anyway, Arthur's mother asks the elf to bring us a snack, which he does eagerly, and we soon enjoy a good glass of milk (for my part) and a delicious apple crumble while the adults seem content with some tea and scones. English people… I'm glad to have kept most of my food preferences in this life, and most of all to not be allergic to something I used to love before. It allows me to have the impression that I didn't lose anything of my identity. I guess the tastes are influenced a lot by my mind anyway.

I forget my metaphysical considerations quite fast when Arthur's mother starts the conversation, asking me to talk a bit about myself. I tell her that I'm six years old, that my parents are muggles but that I already read the Harry Potter series, which allows me not to feel too lost. I explain her that I'm "gifted", and she looks convinced. I use the opportunity to ask her what parts of the books are real, and how it's possible that it has been published, in the muggle world no less.

"We don't exactly know who wrote those novels. The first book was published during the year of darkness, while the magic community was in a really bad shape, in the muggle world. It went quite unnoticed in our world, but by the end of the war we realized that the mysterious writer had already published a second book. The author known by the muggles is protected by wizards, and the ministry didn't do anything because the books weren't endangering the Secret, since the informations about the accesses to our world are inaccurate. As a matter of fact, there were more pressing priorities, like rebuilding our society after the war. The book became a global hit in the muggle world, and for us a good means of helping muggle-born wizards to discover our world. It also brings us an interesting point of view on the events that occurred in our world in the last decades. According to Harry Potter's relatives and friends, and from himself, everything is true or very close from the truth. There is still much speculation on the author's true identity."

After that the conversation keeps on going for a little while, and I call my parents to tell them that "A friend's parents will drive me back home tomorrow". Mrs Winston is the one to pick up the phone, and she shows an excessive enthusiasm at the idea that I've made a friend. I hang up before she can start harassing me with thousand of questions. Arthur's grandmother proposes to accompany us to Diagon Alley tomorrow so that I can discover some of our common world, and I gladly take the offer. We don't talk about the reason of my presence at all. I can feel that Arthur's mother is uneasy around me, I think that once again I found someone who can't really handle my intelligence that contradicts my physical appearance.

oOo

After some time I follow Arthur to his room, because the adults want to have a "serious talk". In order to reach his room we walk to the end of the corridor before going up white marble stairs, still lit up by the glowing magic orbs. For what I can see from the mansion, the Clifford family is definitively pretty rich, but are nevertheless not into flashy shows of wealth. Everything that I can see is at the same time sober, stylish and probably very expensive. My friend's room can be found in a new corridor after the stairs. The room is large, I would say approximatively five meters long and four meters broad. A Hufflepuff coat of arms proudly covers the wall in front of the entrance, hanging above a well-tidied desk, equipped with diverse coloured feathers and a bird's cage. A wand rests in the middle of his desk. The walls are panelled with a light coloured wood, maybe birch. The rest of the furniture consists of a four-poster bed with blue curtains, a long book shelf on the right wall with as many diverse objects as books, two dark-blue armchairs arranged around a low table. A massive wooden cupboard stands on the left wall. I like the room.

"Is it your wand?" I ask Arthur. He confirms, and takes it before giving it to me without hesitation. It's smaller than the one I took from the paedophile, and the wood that constitutes it is light. It's also pretty stiff. Arthur says proudly: "It's made of cedar with unicorn hair! According to the seller, it's a good wand for charms, and I'm pretty happy with it because it's my favourite subject. You want me to show you some spells?"

"Oh yes please!" my voice gives my enthusiasm away, but I find the idea awesome.

I forget the day for some time, and even who I am, to enjoy the present. Arthur shows me some spells like Lumos and a levitation spell. He even makes me fly a bit, then, as if to put my euphoria to another level, he offers to let me try. I try with his wand at first, but I have trouble using it. I try then the wand I stole, reluctantly, but despite my repulsion it seems to obey me better, and I manage to produce light. I don't dare use it for too long, in case someone would come in the room. Arthur then shows me Accio, and I wonder what the range of that spell is. I can remember that in Harry Potter's fourth book, Harry manages to call his broom from his room to the arena, and I'm suddenly scared of what could happen if an Obliviator was to come here and use the spell to check if we brought the wand. I have to hide it somewhere, preferably kilometres away from there, and as fast as I can. Also, I shouldn't touch it again before being sure that there's no danger any more.

Arthur must have seen my expression turning darker, because he stops his demonstrations, and asks me: "What's the matter?". I put aside the fact that I should hide my feeling better to explain him the problem, he'll maybe have a solution. He explains that even tying objects doesn't allow them to resist the spell, and that even a weaker adult wizard can probably pull an object from even a kilometre away. I tell him that I need to hide the wand as fast as possible, and he proposes to tell his mum that we're going for a walk in the park. He comes back soon, and tells me with a smile that we're all good, but that we should be careful cause his mum looked worried and would probably not leave us alone outside for very long. Not a big surprise after the day we just had…

oOo

We leave the mansion together and find ourselves in the park. The sun is starting to set, and I'm already starting to fear the night. Finding myself alone in the dark with my thoughts… But for now, the wand problem is my priority. We move away from the mansion, and once out of sight I tell Arthur that I'll be quicker if I'm going alone to look for a good hiding spot. But he says, with good reason, that he knows the surroundings better than me. He offers to go alone, but I can't do that, it would imply a level of confidence in him that I'll never have any more for anyone other than myself. Additionally, things are done better when I take care of them myself, in general. In the end, we leave together because I can't convince him to stay, to my great displeasure. If he would have stayed, he could have said we were playing hide and seek for instance, should anyone have asked after me.

We start running but slow down pretty fast to not exhaust ourselves too fast. We walk for about fifteen minutes, and I really hope it's far enough, because we don't really have enough time to do better, since we don't want anyone to find our that we're gone. Arthur is leading us now, and brings me to a little park. I hide the wand in a small opening among the roots of a tree located behind a broken bench. I'll use it as landmark, and I carefully write down the park's address in my notebook before leaving. We go back to the Clifford's mansion as fast as we can and Arthur's mum, worried, welcomes us at the entrance.

"Where were you? I've been calling you for five minutes! We were about to start searching for you!"

"I'm really sorry mum… We were playing hide and seek and we went a bit far away… Really sorry!"

The pitiful face of Arthur looks real and probably is. He hugs is mum for the second time today, and she lets us come inside. I am both surprised and greatly grateful for what that kid does for me. I highly doubt that lying to his mum is one of his habits.

We eat the dinner almost in silence with Arthur's mother and grandmother. Apparently his dad is visiting one of their properties in Ireland. After the meal, the house elf leads me to a room on the same floor as Arthur's. It's smaller than his. The bed is large but it's not a four-poster one, and the decoration is red and silver. The furniture is slightly old-fashioned. Before leaving, the house elf shows me the bathroom and proposes to clean my clothes while I'm showering, and I gladly take the offer. Even if Arthur's mother cleaned most of the damage, there's still some suspicious spots and dirt on my clothes. After showering I go back to the room that I was assigned and am surprised to find my luggage at the entrance. I search through it to find new clothes that I hastily put on before sitting on the bed, exhausted. I enjoy for a second the welcomed comfort, then Arthur knocks at my door and comes in the room without waiting for an answer. I stand up, ready to tell him that he could respect my privacy, but his slightly embarrassed face stops me.

"I wanted to wish you good night, and also thank you for today. You saved my life. Thank you."

"You saved mine, you don't owe me anything."

"You said we shouldn't go there, and we didn't listen to you. You killed someone for us!"

I don't want to have this conversation now, neither do I want his gratefulness. I still answer him, hoping he'll leave me alone and let me take care of my brain, which is more than enough.

"I also did it for myself. You should go to sleep Arthur, you need to be awake to show me your world tomorrow!"

He hesitates for an instant before nodding, looking like he wants to add something. Instead, he walks closer to me and hugs me without a warning. I stiffen, but I don't move away, shocked. Luckily, he lets go rather fast, and repeats: "Thank you". He finally moves closer to the exit and adds:

"My mother gave me some dreamless sleep potion for tonight, do you want me to give you some?"

"No, thanks, I don't need any."

I accompany him to the exit and close the door behind him, this time locking it. I could take this potion and sleep, sure, but I don't want to take any drug, and taking this potion would just be like running away. I'll have to face my thoughts eventually, and I don't need this. I'm stronger than that.

I'll have to reflect about what potions I consider as drugs and which I could agree to ingest. Anyway, that'll have to wait. For now, I remove my trousers, put my notebook and my knife under my pillow and finally lay down to sleep.

And I remain like that, eyes wide open in the dark for what feels like an eternity. I can feel that my body is exhausted, but I just can't sleep. A part of me thought that if I was to find myself again in a situation where someone tries to go too far with my body, I would manage to stop it this time… In this new life that I never wanted, armed, as a child, I thought it could be different. But now I know the truth. I remain the traumatized thing I became in my previous life. If Arthur wouldn't have been in danger I wouldn't have been able to move, no matter if under the influence of a paralysing spell or not. The paralysing spell… The witchcraft. I'm convinced that it's real, because everything else can't have been a dream. If I had known that earlier, I could have enjoyed this new life, I think. But now, I just see it as a good way to explain my reincarnation. It opens so many more possibilities to explain it… Thanks to the paedophile's wand, I should be able to access some magic places, and to gather information.

The paedophile… I see myself again, stabbing him in the neck. I didn't think it was that easy. I killed someone. It was justified, I did it to save a friend. The blood splashed on me, I killed someone. My muscles remember, and the scene replays in my head, I memorized some unexpected details. His face when he fell to the ground, the sensation of his warm blood, the smell too. I also remember that sensation of power that I felt. I killed someone. Strangely, I tell myself that technically I'd already killed someone by killing myself. But this is very different. I blame myself for killing, but not for killing this man. It's weird to describe. I know that what I did is right from my point of view, and I'd do it every time it'd be needed to defend my friends, at least if I had any… Arthur doesn't really count, he's not a real friend, just someone that has been nice to me and that I like. I'm proud to have acted like I thought I would in such a situation, but at the same time I lost so much… Still, I remain like a block of stone, my emotions continue to be blocked. I have the feeling that my insensibility has weakened a bit in the last few years, but now I again feel like I did in my first life and when I came back to life. Feeling nothing but the most intense things, and the pain, slightly weakened.

My brain doesn't seem to be able to decide between the memory of the paedophile touching himself and touching Arthur, or the one of my dagger in his throat. I take it from under the pillow, and I watch it for a while. I cleaned it well, there's no blood on it any more. I put it on my neck, and I feel its sharp edge. I press, and I want to go further, to kill myself again, but I can't allow that just as I learnt that magic exists. I feel empty. I miss Quentin so much! The void at my heart's place is painful. I start crying, suffocating, and I muffle the noise into the pillow. I've lost so much. What would Quentin think of me now? Weak, a murderer, pathetic. Still unable to fight. I miss him. Why did Arthur hug me? The feeling reminded me of when Quentin used to do it, and that it made me feel better. The contact itself was neutral, and only pulled back a mix of happy memories and rape.

I need to cut. I take a razor blade from my notebook's cover. I haven't fully lost control of myself yet, so I cut on the top of my legs, so that no one can notice anything. Since it's not satisfying, I cut a bit my arms as well, but don't manage to restrain myself. Guess I'll have to wear long sleeves. I drink some blood while thinking about what Quentin would say. It would make him sad… But he's not there, and he'll never be there any more. I let him down, he let me down, doesn't matter. It is time that I give up on him. I hesitate for an instant, and bring the blade just above my collarbone, close to my collarbone, close to the neck but low enough so that a t-shirt will hide the wound. I press as hard as I dare, daring myself to go further, and I slowly draw a rather deep line. It hurts. When I stop, the gash is about five centimetres long and three or four millimetre deep. It bleeds well.

I feel empty, and I eventually tidy my blade after cleaning it with a tissue. I wait for my wound to stop bleeding before lying down. The one at the collarbone keeps on bleeding a bit, but it doesn't matter. I make sure that the sheets don't touch it. I remain again, eyes opened in the dark for a while, and I sleep badly. Too warm, too tense, too many thoughts.

oOo

Eventually, someone knocks at the door and I instantly wake up. It's Arthur telling me that breakfast is ready. I tell him I'm coming, and quickly check my body. Once again, there's fewer cuts than there should be. Those that remain are better healed, except for the one at my collarbone. I wonder what role plays my magic abilities in that. Is it possible that I accidentally used it to heal faster? Or do wizards simply have a greater vitality than muggles? Probably a bit of both. The fact that the symbolic scar that I made for Quentin is the least healed let me thinks that the first theory, at least, is probably true. The fact that my body is very young should probably be taken into account as well, it must help.

Anyway, I change clothes fast, taking care of choosing a long-sleeved t-shirt, then carefully tidy everything else in my suitcase, that I close. My fresh wounds are burning me, but I welcome the pain like I would welcome an old friend. It's something familiar, and it relives me.

Arthur's grandmother is the only one eating with us this morning, apparently his mother already ate and had things to do at the Ministry. The old lady is wearing a wizard cloak and a dress evoking to me the Renaissance. I wouldn't wear it but I like it. Arthur is wearing blue jeans, a well fitting polo shirt and a Hufflepuff scarf. I assume that my muggle clothes won't look too weird, even if I can see a wizard cloak resting next to my comrade's chair.

We're just finishing eating when the house elf appears and tells us that a guest is at the entrance. Arthur's grandmother sends us back to our rooms to prepare ourselves while she's welcoming him, but when we join her the guest is not gone. It's one of the Obliviators from yesterday. This time, he's wearing wizard clothes, and he gives us a look that is probably meant as friendly but doesn't put me at ease at all. I throw a quick look at Arthur and what I don't like what I see at all, his stress is too obvious. I fervently hope that the adults will put it on the account of the traumatizing events of the day before. Thankfully the man doesn't keep us waiting and speaks:

"I'm very sorry to disturb you so early after the events, but we haven't been able to find the wand from your aggressor in his shack and were wondering if you knew where it is"

I can't say that I didn't expect that, but I don't really have any story ready. I just hope that the wand is really out of Accio range, and that the Obliviator won't be using Legilimancy. I simply answer him that I don't know anything, and hope really hard that Arthur won't expose me, that I didn't do a mistake trusting him… Talking about him, I see him hesitate then he starts talking before I have time to panic.

"Actually, sir, while Vivian was calming the muggles down and brought them to the kitchen, I took the wand and broke it before throwing it into the sea. I didn't know if and when someone would help us, or if the muggles would panic. I thought it was too dangerous to leave the wand in the shack."

There's a short silence following Arthur's words, admiring and shocked for me, thoughtful and proud for his grandmother. The Obliviator speaks again, and he seems both impressed and embarrassed.

"Well, it explains a lot… I would have preferred if we could have destroyed it ourselves, but at least the muggles won't tumble into it too easily. We'll try again to find it. Good thinking, young man. You're studying in Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"Yes sir, I'm in second year, Hufflepuff."

"Your teachers must be proud of you. Well, I won't be disturbing you any longer, I wish you a good day."

And, as easily as that, the man leaves, accompanied by the house elf. I can't believe Arthur just lied to the Obliviator like that. With a credible excuse, no less! I underestimated that kid, it seems. Why does he do that for me..?

Arthur's grandmother interupts the thoughts flooding my brain, saying:

"Shall we get going, if you're ready?"

We both nod and the old lady directs us to a new room, a living room with a huge fireplace.

"We'll be travelling by floo, I find it more comfortable than apparating. Arthur, you have done this before, you will go first, then the young lady. I will follow you."

The process is exactly like described in the books, and Arthur disappears instantly after shouting "Diagon Alley!" and walking into the emerald flames. When it's my turn, I do the same, anticipating the heat of the fire while admiring its colour. Everything goes flawlessly, and I feel myself being sucked up. I close my eyes for a second, and find myself somewhere else.

xxx

Je suis heureuse de t'avoir rencontré. Tu as peut-être l'impression que tu ne sers à rien, que je vais toujours mal, mais c'est faux. Tu m'as rendu mes émotions, et tu m'as soutenu depuis qu'on se connaît. Tu ne laisses pas tomber, même si ce serait tellement plus simple. Tu as su m'écouter, et malgré moi j'ai fini par te faire confiance, même si je meurs de peur. J'ai besoin de temps pour changer, pour aller mieux, c'est vrai. Mais tant que tu es là je sais que je pourrai y arriver. Merci.

"I'm glad to have met you. You may feel like you're useless, like I'm always feeling bad, but that's not true. You brought me back to my feelings, and you supported me ever since we met each other. You don't let me down, even if it'd be so much more easy. You have listened to me, and in spite of myself I managed to trust you, even if I'm dead scared. I need time to change, to get better, it's true. But as long as you stay there I know I'll eventually do it. Thank you."

-SMS sent by Aurore Berger to Quentin Lemage, 03/10/07-

And that's it for today, see you soon (well, to be honest it'll depend a bit on the feedback I'll receive on this chapter, cause it kinda sucks to publish things that no one cares about. But at least my beta reader cares, so I'll probably translate, should it be only for him).