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I'll talk to you after
The morning after, Arthur arrives late to breakfast, his demeanour determined as he makes a beeline for me.
"We need to talk, Vivian. Now."
"What's wrong?"
"I think you'd prefer we speak in private."
"Aren't you eating?" I ask, hoping to evade a conversation I'm fairly certain I'd rather avoid.
"I'll eat later. Come on, we don't have much time before the train leaves." He grabs an apple from the table, and I follow reluctantly, under Ewald's thoughtful gaze. I suppose he's in the loop. Alphonse isn't eating with us this morning, and we pass by him, seated at the Gryffindor table, as we exit the Great Hall. We find a spot in our HQ, and I'm extremely tense, trying my best to hide it. I lean on the table, chin in hands, discreetly biting the joint of my thumb. Arthur looks me straight in the eyes with intensity.
"This can't go on, Vivian."
"What can't go on?" I ask, feigning boredom and calmness, even though I'm ready to bolt.
"You keep everything important to yourself, you don't rely on anyone. You're doing things that are far too dangerous, damn it, you're not immortal!"
I can't help but let out a laugh. Not immortal? If he only knew! I quickly regain composure, though, because he looks furious. I've never seen him like this before, and while the experience is intriguing, I don't enjoy the ride. It just proves I've gotten too close. I knew he cared about me, yet I let myself become friends with him, let my guard down a bit. Careless. Dangerous. I can't control him. If I want friends, fine, it's a good distraction. But not if it means exposing myself. Anyway. I ask, before he explodes.
"What's wrong, Arthur?"
"I want you to tell me what's going on with you. I want to know why you keep taking risks all the time. I don't want to continue like this, brushing it off with a smile. I don't underestimate you, I know you're not ordinary, that you're extremely mature and intelligent. I'm not saying this because I consider you a child or anything. You saved my life, how could I? But if we're friends, it can't go on like this."
"And you saved me in return, Arthur. I care about you, I've told you, you're my first friend here, you're my best friend." (I ignore the twinge of pain I feel saying that, because my best friend has always been Quentin, since I met him.) "But I want you to respect my privacy and my independence. You're going too far. Nothing happens to me beyond being alive, and I think you're exaggerating." (He doesn't know how much I'm telling the truth. I'm alive and that's the whole problem.)
"And your life is important, but you act like it doesn't matter to you! Magic doesn't bring back the dead! If you had crashed at the foot of the astronomy tower, no Skelegro could have saved you! It's not about respecting your privacy, Vivian. Stop treating me like an idiot, we both know you're overprotecting yourself! We both know it's not normal, but you refuse to admit it! It's my role as a friend to tell you when you're wrong. It's my role to be there, even if you don't want me to be. I won't let you down!"
"No problem, I'll do it myself if necessary. Goodbye, Arthur."
"No."
His voice is calm, in stark contrast to all the emotions he's displayed so far. He murmurs a spell. I try to open the door. Locked. (People really need to stop doing this.) I take a deep breath.
"First, you're going to listen to me. You're not getting rid of me that easily, Vivian. Right now, I'll let you out of here, enjoy your vacation. But you're going to think about all of this. And I hope that when school starts again, you'll be more willing to talk to me, because you won't have a choice. I want to know why you play with your life like you do, and also how it went with your family, if you see them. Damn it, Vivian! What would you do if it were me?"
"Are you done?" I ask, to avoid having to lie to him. Because despite everything, I know I'd help him as much as I could if the roles were reversed. Well, I wouldn't do it his way, attacking head-on. I'd observe, gather clues, ask around, empathize with him, study his reactions, even provoke them...
"For now."
The door unlocks. I flee, first walking, then as soon as I'm a bit further away, I run, as if I could escape. I carry with me the image of Arthur, fists clenched, in the empty classroom, which I saw as I looked back. I go get my things because the train is coming. I almost regret going to Al's, just because I know I might run into Arthur on the train, and before that, in the carriages. I cut myself, two quick red lines on my neck, a delicate blend of peril and pain. I drink a bit of blood, reactivate my glamours, I run to the carriages. I hide in a group of enthusiastic second-years and climb aboard with them, casting a glance at the Thestral that all the kids around me don't see. I feel sorry for Arthur, who has grown fond of me. Sad for his pointless affection, since I'm going to die. He's a good person, and in another life, we could have been close. But I am what I am, and I can't forget. It's better that I distance myself now, actually, even though I should have done it much earlier. Better now than later, to limit the damage as much as possible. I catch sight of him just then, helping a Ravenclaw girl into a carriage with a wide smile. The mysterious Cian, no doubt? Ewald is already seated, looking a bit stiff surrounded by the Ravenclaw girl's friends, probably. Arthur makes a comment, they all laugh. I smile too, and my smile tastes of sadness. I remember a time when I saw Quentin eating with Florian and Elias, at school. He was smiling brightly, like he never smiled with me because I only brought suffering. I felt excluded at that moment, bittersweet because he was happy, but not because of me. It's a bit like what I feel right now, at Hogwarts, but much less intense because I was in love with Quentin, but I'm not with any of the seventh-years.
Finally, I reach the train. I want to slip to the very end, like on the first day of school, but Al' sees me enter the carriage and drags me behind him into an empty compartment, chattering about the obstacle course. We're joined fairly quickly by Ewald, and I tense up, but Arthur isn't with him.
"He's with his Ravenclaw friend, Cian. I think he didn't want to leave for the holidays without confessing to her." Ewald says.
"Arthur has a girlfriend?" Al' asks.
"If everything goes as planned, it shouldn't be long now." Ewald replies.
They chat a bit, and I'm glad to let them, fearing that Ewald might bring up my conversation with Arthur, and I'm starting to feel a bit anxious about my stay with Al. Going to his place does imply a certain level of trust. Or resignation, I suppose, to be honest. I try to tell myself that nothing bad will happen, that's usually how it goes, right? And if nothing happens, it's the best choice I could make, because going to my birth parents' would have been out of the question, and staying at Hogwarts wouldn't be great either. I'll get to explore a new city; I try to focus on that rather than my fears about Alphonse. And honestly, the argument with Arthur helps in a way, because it's impacted me enough to preoccupy me a bit. I dig my nails into my skin. Two fairly young girls enter our compartment, apologizing because they couldn't find space elsewhere. The boys make room for them and move closer to me, forming a distinct group from the two girls, who seem a bit intimidated. After some time, Al' leaves us, saying he wants to see the team members before abandoning them for two weeks, and I watch him go with a certain sense of relief, even if it leaves me alone with Ewald. At least he won't expect me to be cheerful or exuberant. And with the two girls, I suppose he won't ask me too many questions.
I'm quickly disappointed when he casts a Silencing Charm. Well, serves me right for hoping, I guess. I smile inwardly, amused by the irony, even though I'm tense. I really don't need someone lecturing me again; Arthur was enough, thank you very much. But as often happens, the Slytherin surprises me.
"Relax, Vivian, I'm not going to talk to you about Arthur, unless you want to, of course. I have an idea of how the discussion went, and I suppose you're aware that he's only worried about you, even if he's clumsy about it."
"Yeah, it was pretty clear," I reply, a bit curtly.
"I wanted to know if you've been working on Occlumency since our session."
"Not much, I admit. I try to defend my mind from time to time, but I struggle with it over the long term, especially trying to keep my perceptions outside my barriers."
"If you keep practicing, it will come," Ewald smiles. "By the way, please, could you refrain from experimenting with it while you're at Alphonse's? You'll be in the Muggle world, and I highly doubt he has any notion of Occlumency, and I'd appreciate having a miniature duelling partner when we return."
"Thanks for the 'miniature'," I say, feigning indignation. "And what, do you think I'd be doing magic outside of Hogwarts?"
"Vivian... You insult my intelligence. Is this revenge for the remark about your height? Don't think I've forgotten about your second wand. And don't change the subject, would you?"
I sigh, a slight smile on my lips despite myself. I have to admit he understands me well, even if he doesn't know me that well. That's why I appreciate him. He's reasonable.
"If you want. I didn't have many ideas for experiments anyway. I'll already have a whole city to explore, I'll be quite busy!"
Ewald smiles a little.
"Thanks. Since we've talked about it, would you mind showing me the wand in question?"
I'm a bit surprised, but after a glance at the two Ravenclaws who aren't paying us any attention, I take the wand out of its holster on my ankle. I see Ewald's eyes catch the dagger right next to it, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he takes the wand to examine it, before asking me curiously if it responds well to me and if I know what its composition is. The rest of the journey goes pleasantly, shared between reading and discussions about magical theories, Occlumency... I manage to ask him a bit about what he thinks of reincarnation, and the possibilities of bringing someone back to life using magic, and even though he seems a bit surprised by my choice of topics, he does his best to answer. Unfortunately, he doesn't point me towards any interesting leads, given that the only known way to prolong life is through Horcruxes, and I'm pretty sure I've never made one. Alphonse returns about ten minutes before we arrive, just enough time to put away his wizarding robes and make sure I don't get lost. The train finally stops, and Ewald abandons us to try to catch Arthur before he leaves. Alphonse seems a bit surprised that I'm not following suit, but he doesn't ask any questions... We have to catch a train to Oxford from another station, and shrink our trunks before entering the Muggle world. Al' is surprised that I know how to do it, but not that much.
Once on the train to Oxford, we have an hour ahead of us. At first, we don't talk much, we just exchange some small talk about the start of the holidays, what we'll be able to do during the week, then we stay silent for a while, and we spontaneously take out our cell phones. It makes me smile. Al seems to have quite a few new messages, while I take advantage of my remaining battery (how does he manage to charge his phone at Hogwarts, by the way?) to listen to music. It feels good, I missed it! Some Sonata Arctica, nostalgic, some Icon for Hire, more upbeat, some Eisbrecher... it's been a long time since I've heard German. When I see Al look up, I ask him what kind of music he likes, and surprisingly, he listens to a bit of metal/rock. I would have thought he was more into pop, but that's okay. Apart from that, he mostly listens to rap, but well, not everything in that style is bad, far from it.
On the bus, Alphonse warns me:
"You'll see, my dad isn't very talkative, and not always friendly. The couch and the TV belong to him, for the rest, make yourself at home. He won't be around much anyway, he works on construction sites during the day, he's a crane operator.
-And your mom? I ask, curious.
-She's dead. Al replies.
-Oh. Sorry...
-Don't worry, it happened when I was five... I didn't know her much. She died of illness, we had time to see it coming, and she had time to tell me everything she wanted me to know. I know she loved me, and I keep her legacy. It's from her that I get my magic, and she was French, you see? I can speak her language, it's something I'll always have from her." Alphonse smiles with an unusual softness in him. That explains his name, anyway.
"I think I understand what you mean." I reply, and I add in French, obeying my impulse "Thank you for sharing that with me.
-Wait, you speak French? Since when? How?" Alphonse asks me, his vague feeling forgotten instantly. His completely shocked look brings a smirk to my lips.
"So, yes, for a while, and like I speak English: by vibrating my vocal cords" I reply, still in French because it's been a lifetime since I spoke my native language, and it's strange to come back to it, strange to hear a slight English accent in my voice, and at the same time I realize I missed it.
"At any rate, changing languages doesn't improve your character" my friend blurts out, a bit frustrated, in French, before giving me a little punch.
"However, we should avoid speaking French in front of my dad, if you don't mind. He can speak it too, but he refuses to do so, and doesn't like it when I do. I think it reminds him of my mom, and he still misses her."
Alphonse's house is located on the outskirts of the town, in a neighbourhood with quite a few apartment buildings. The building is rather small, even though it has two floors, squeezed between two other houses, and the facade is run-down. The interior doesn't look much better. Alphonse shouts, "Dad, it's me!" upon entering, and a man in his fifties comes to greet us. He has a high forehead with greying hair at the temples. He's quite tall, a bit round, and sports a moustache. A faint smell of beer lingers around him. He seems happy to see his son, whom he briefly hugs.
"Glad to see you, son! And is this the friend you've talked about? She's not very tall, huh. Welcome to the city of dreaming spires, young lady. What's your name?"
"Vivian, sir. Thank you for having me."
"No problem, no problem. I'll let Alphonse show you around the house. If you're hungry, help yourselves, there's plenty to eat in the fridge."
With that, he disappears into the hallway, leaving me alone with Al. Indeed, he doesn't seem like a bother, the old man. My friend tells me we should start by dropping off our suitcases, and I follow him to the first floor. He shows me what's behind the closed doors. Bathroom, his father's bedroom, his bedroom. That's where we put my things. He sets up a mattress on the floor for me, with a blanket, and I realize we'll be sharing the same room. I try to hide the fear that this idea instils in me, and follow him downstairs once he's finished setting up. He shows me the bathroom, the kitchen, and the dining room where his father is watching TV with a beer. We return to the kitchen where my friend heats up a pizza in the oven, claiming he already misses the elves' cooking. While he's busy, his phone rings and he tells me I can go upstairs, and he'll join me with the food later. I head back to his room. It's much smaller than Arthur's, or even mine. All the rooms are small in this house. The walls, covered in an old-fashioned yellow, are somewhat hidden under posters of basketball players and a few Muggle photos, where I recognize a younger Alphonse posing with kids his age, one of whom is black with a bright smile, appearing in most of the photos, another with an elderly couple, probably his grandparents, eating a croissant, and another one with a child whom I suppose is my friend, very young, sitting on the lap of a lady with hair as blond as wheat, who must be his mother. There's a window overlooking the street, and a bed with a metal frame. A desk, its wood damaged by carvings and clumsy drawings, holds a globe and a half-filled pencil pot. A trash can, a closet, and a basketball lying around complete the picture, along with my bed.
Lacking anything better to do, I sit on my mattress. I can't shake off my sense of unease, even though I try to by burying myself in a novel. After about ten minutes, Alphonse still hasn't come, and I can't pretend anymore. I grab my blue notebook and quickly cut myself. It doesn't calm me down, so I take the risk of making deeper cuts, listening for any sounds that might indicate someone's coming. My thigh receives two deep marks, and I wait for them to stop bleeding too much while drinking some blood. I'm still tense, but I suppose it helped a bit. After about ten minutes, I hear footsteps on the stairs. I cast a quick glamour, grumble when it proves ineffective, try again, and it works. I quickly rearrange my clothes, but I don't have time to hide the wand as Alphonse enters, putting his phone in his pocket and holding the pizza in his other hand. He sees the wand in my hand and asks me alarmedly:
"Wait, I hope you didn't do any magic?! We could get into big trouble!"
"Except it's not my wand," I say calmly. Ewald already knows after all, and with magic at hand, Al and I will probably have a lot of cool stuff to do in Oxford.
"What do you mean? Whose is it?"
"I'll offer you a secret, Alphonse."
He sits on his bed and looks at me, impatient. I smile.
"I'm listening."
"Do you remember the story of the paedophile?"
He chuckles nervously.
"It's hard to forget."
"It's his wand."
"How did that happen?" He shakes his head and adds, "What exactly happened that day?"
"There's not much more to say than what you already know... After the bastard died, I realized that if magic existed, the Muggle kids shouldn't say anything, so we told them to go to the kitchen and wait for help. We contacted Arthur's mother with his phone, and by the time she arrived, we had gotten dressed again, and I noticed the man's wand near his body. I realized I needed to take it, to have access to magic until I entered Hogwarts. Arthur saw me steal it. Fortunately, the Aurors didn't see me do it, and Arthur's mother side-apparated me to their house. His family hosted me for a night... In fact, the Aurors wanted to make me lose my memory, but I fought to keep it, and Arthur's mother vouched for me to thank me for saving her son... Although, without his help, we would both probably be dead. Anyway, we hid the wand that same evening, just in case, and we did well, because the next day an Auror came asking if we knew where it was. I couldn't find a plausible excuse, but Arthur came up with a believable lie, and the guy bought it. Later, when I figured it was safe, I retrieved the wand, and voilà! An unbridled wand, with which I learned magic."
"Damn..." Alphonse manages to articulate. "I didn't think Arthur had that in him, I think I underestimated him... And you... You're kinda scary, you know?"
"But we'll be able to do magic this week. That makes up for it, right?"
Alphonse pretends to think, and the atmosphere relaxes a lot, although there's still a lingering tension in the air. It felt weird to talk about all that, and I think Al was a bit shaken, despite everything. Still, he doesn't seem too afraid of me because he nods before suddenly getting closer to me. My fear returns, but I cloak my spontaneous recoil in humour as he asks,
"Can I try it?"
"Later, we have a pizza to eat, you idiot. I've waited long enough, haven't I?" I say, hoping to push him away a bit, and also because I'm actually starting to get hungry.
"Oh, sorry! I was on the phone with Lucian, he's my best friend, we're going to see each other tomorrow, and I didn't realize how time flew..."
Al looks genuinely contrite, but he hands me a slice of pizza, so I give him a reassuring wave and start eating. He does the same, and for a while, the only sounds in the room are chewing noises. Alphonse sits back on his bed, and I relax a bit. Once we've finally filled our stomachs, he speaks up again.
"So, like I was saying, I'm going to see Lucian tomorrow. I'd prefer if you didn't come, at least in the morning. It's been a long time since I've seen him and we have a lot to catch up on, and he doesn't know you... He doesn't even know you're here yet. Sorry, I know it's not cool..."
"No, don't worry," I say with a smile. "It's normal. He doesn't know about Hogwarts, I guess?"
"No... He thinks I'm going to an international private school so I can speak French."
"We could tell him I'm your cousin maybe? That would explain why I'm crashing at your place even though I'm younger, and since I speak French, it'll be believable."
"That's a good idea," Alphonse admits. However, he doesn't look thrilled, but I can easily guess why.
"You don't like it, huh? Lying..."
"I hate it," my friend spits out with bitterness. "It's easy for pure-bloods, people who grew up and live on the wizarding side, but for Muggle-borns, those who live between worlds...? We're forced to lie, to make up excuses… I feel like in the end, one has to choose between the two worlds, otherwise we're condemned to a life where we lie to those we love... I understand that the Secret has to be maintained, but I would like to at least be honest with those closest to me... Because over time, it builds like a wall between us, separating us more and more with each new lie."
I remain silent for a moment, surprised by Alphonse's somewhat unexpected outburst. But I understand him. I've felt that before, I think, even though back then I used it to distance myself from people.
"It would be nice to have a spell that allows you to talk to people while preventing them from sharing that knowledge with others, so you can be honest with trusted people."
"True..." Alphonse sighs. "But I don't think the magical world would ever accept that."
I don't say anything because he's probably right. But ultimately, what stops people from talking to Muggles? Nothing. Now that I think about it, it must be the main job of Obliviators, to limit the damage when someone let into the Secret betrays it. And many more people must be aware of it than we think.
We finish eating quietly, then I let Alphonse try the paedophile's wand for a bit. He struggles a lot to control it, and so do I, which confirms what I noticed when putting back my glamours earlier. Two months with my own wand, which suits me, and this one is much more difficult for me to master. Not impossible, but the spells are harder to cast. Finally, we get ready to sleep, and my worries come back with force. I lie down on my mattress and read while listening to music as Al is on his phone. After a while, he turns off the light and I lie there, eyes open in the darkness, as tense as a bowstring. The silence stretches, broken only by the sounds of cars, when Al asks:
"What does it feel like... to kill someone?"
Surprised, it takes me a few seconds to respond.
"What it feels like..." I gather my thoughts. I can give an honest answer to that question. "It's surprisingly easy. It's almost shocking how quickly it happened... I don't regret what I did, and I would do it again without hesitation. But... it leaves marks. I don't blame myself for killing him, but I blame myself for killing at all, I don't know if that makes sense to you. But if I had to do it again, or if I were in a similar situation again, I would kill without hesitation. I do what I have to do."
A long silence follows my statement, then Al says to me, with a seriousness he hasn't shown often before:
"Thank you for sharing that with me. I think I understand. I think I would do the same if I had no choice. You're strong, Vivian."
I don't respond, and he asks me:
"Are you okay?"
"Always, don't worry," I affirm, smiling reflexively even though he can't see it in the dark. Finally, he wishes me good night and after what feels like a very long time, he starts snoring lightly, and I relax a bit. I nervously massage my fresh scars, but eventually manage to fall asleep after a while. I sleep very poorly, waking up at every sound from Alphonse's bed, but he doesn't do anything to me.
xxx
I wake up before him because of the sunlight, and even though it's still early and I clearly haven't slept enough, I know I'm going to stay awake, so I grab a book as quietly as possible and start reading, leaning against the wall. Alphonse isn't too noisy while sleeping, and I glance at him discreetly. He's sleeping on his back, arms spread out, one leg hanging off the bed, completely relaxed. Comfortable as always, even while sleeping. But much calmer like that, nevertheless.
Later, he eventually wakes up to his alarm. It's eight-thirty. Seeing me up, he asks if I've been awake for long, and I evade his question with a vague wave of my hand accompanied by a "Not that long..." He shrugs and quickly puts on a t-shirt (he sleeps shirtless) before guiding me to the kitchen for breakfast. I'm not very hungry, but I manage to eat something since I've been up for a while. His father has already left for work. Al gives me a spare set of keys to the house and advises me not to get lost before leaving to meet his friend, promising to be back around noon. Finally alone, I silently tour the rooms, observing the decor, curious, but touching very little, meticulously putting things back where I found them. Two habits of mine when I'm left to my own devices: exploring the houses I'm in, and leaving no trace of my presence. I eventually return to Alphonse's room, the only place where I feel somewhat comfortable, less foreign and out of place. I read for a while, but fatigue quickly overwhelms me, and I must fall asleep because I wake up abruptly upon hearing voices in the house.
I hear Alphonse calling me, and I go downstairs, curious. I find him in the living room with a young boy whom I guess to be the kid in many of the photos in my friend's room. Al introduces us quickly:
"Vivian, meet Lucian, my best friend. Lucian, Vivian."
I shake hands with the teenager, noticing that Al hasn't really introduced me as his cousin. I guess he's either already mentioned it or he prefers to avoid lying for as long as possible. Apparently, they came back for lunch. They brought fish and chips, and we eat in the living room, in front of the TV airing a basketball game. The two boys seem quite interested, but unfortunately for them, we only catch the last ten minutes of the match. Lucian asks me:
"Do you like basketball?"
"I don't mind it, I've always found it to be a nice sport. Playing on a team isn't really my thing, though. I suppose it's yours?"
"Absolutely! I've been playing since I was a kid, and it's because of me that Alphonse got into it too."
"Oh, cool, I didn't know! What else do you do in life?"
"I'm taking my A-levels at the end of the year, then it's off to university..."
"Do you know what you want to do?"
"I'd really like to work in basketball, go pro, but if that doesn't work out, I'll probably become a counselor. I want to help the local kids."
"I see. You could become a coach, then, since it combines basketball and social work, right?"
Lucian smiles a little sadly.
"If I don't make it pro, I'm going to give up basketball completely; being a coach would remind me too much of my failure."
A silence falls, which Lucian breaks again.
"It's funny, listening to you, it sounds like we're the same age. I'm not surprised Alphonse invited you over."
"You have no idea," Al says with a sigh. "You haven't seen the half of it with this girl."
Lucian chuckles a bit, and after a while, we decide to take a walk around the neighbourhood. Al brings his basketball, and we engage in one-on-one games on a nearby court. Well, I lose right away, and I realize that even with my seventeen-year-old body, I wouldn't have stood a chance. Even though Al doesn't practice at Hogwarts (I think), he's at a very high level, and Lucian scores three-pointers effortlessly, even when marked by Alphonse. After a while, a few other kids gather, and a real game spontaneously starts. I find myself on Lucian's team against Alphonse's, being the worst player (supposedly, given my age), and the black kid being the best player, apparently. We don't really keep track of the points anyway, except for a few kids who keep arguing about where we stand exactly. For my part, I enjoy the exercise, even though, to my great frustration, almost no one passes to me because I'm small, etc. Finally, towards the end, I manage to get the ball more often, once I've proven myself, even though there's no way they'll let me shoot. My speciality is more rebound passes and avoiding people trying to stop me from moving forward by dribbling.
In the evening, after separating from Lucian and taking a shower, I prepare something to eat with Al, and he's a bit surprised to see that I ALSO know how to cook, although he's happy about it. Apparently, it's not his strong suit. We settle back into his room to eat, and we discuss plans for the next day and the day that passed.
"He's nice. Lucian." I say.
Al smiles and nods, saying
"There's a reason he's my best friend!"
"Have you known each other for long?"
"Oh, yeah! We met when we were five. I had just lost my mum, and I was new at school. Lucian was the first one to approach me. He convinced me to join the basketball team with him, and it saved me to have that outlet and to make friends. Without it, I don't know what I would have become. I would have withdrawn. Plus, a lot of kids teased me, calling me 'the frog' because I came from France." Al remains thoughtful for a while, and I stay silent because I sense he's not finished talking. "You know... I've never explained to you what I was doing in that corridor harassing Ewald that day. Before going to Hogwarts, I suffered a lot from being teased by others, and also from all the racist assholes who picked fights with Lucian just because of his skin colour. I never thought I'd be on the other side of the fence one day. When I arrived on the wizarding side and heard about the Death Eaters and their ideas, I was disgusted. The Death Eaters were defeated, even though some students still shared their ideals, or came from families allied with Voldemort. A lot of people know that Ewald is the son of a Death Eater; when I started at Hogwarts, several people made his life hell for that, especially among the older students. I know because I wanted to know who to watch out for. I joined the Quidditch team, and it felt good because I missed basketball. Anyway... that night, I had a bad day, and I had just talked to Lucian. He had been beaten up by a bunch of assholes just because they didn't like his face. So, when we ran into Ewald with the team, and Jenkins started insulting him, he defended himself. I saw an opportunity to vent my frustration. I didn't know Ewald back then, and I thought he believed in the same things as his family. Plus, he was dangerous for my team. I'm an idiot, I know. I have an explanation for my actions, but it's not an excuse. I think even as it was happening, I knew it was stupid, but we had already gone too far. Thank goodness you intervened."
Alphonse's voice is bitter, and I feel obliged to respond. "It was clear that you weren't in the same mindset as Jenkins and most of the others. That's also why I challenged you. Instinctively, I felt like you were better than that." I pause. "Thank you for explaining anyway. It makes sense. I'm glad I can understand."
Al looks relieved, and we spend the rest of the evening testing some silly spells while exchanging anecdotes about our lives and Hogwarts. It's mostly Al who talks, since I can hardly come up with anecdotes about my life before. Nevertheless, he seems quite interested in everything I tell him about urban exploration, infiltration of construction sites...
I have a little less trouble falling asleep that night, even though I'm still tense, ready to react at the slightest move from Alphonse. I wake up at the same time as him this time. We set an alarm for around nine o'clock to go sightseeing in the city. We spend the morning down town, and I'm immediately charmed by the old-fashioned architecture of this Victorian-style neighbourhood, which makes me dream of old times. We visit the covered market, which reminds me a bit of Camden Town in London, and I really love this labyrinth of half-underground, half-open streets. We find something to eat there, then continue the tour with a few churches, the university, and plenty of historic and dignified monuments. I spot a couple of places that I'd like to come back to and climb.
The following days go rather well. Alphonse sees Lucian every day for a few hours, and I sometimes join them. Lucian is a pretty cool guy, and I don't think I make him too uncomfortable. At the same time, I suppose my intelligence is less intimidating now than a few years ago, since the contrast is less striking with my physical appearance. With Lucian, we mainly play basketball and video games. It's been a while since I've done that, and we have a good time with Mario Kart. I'm not doing too bad, which is not the case in basketball, where the two older boys try to teach me some basics. I have good reflexes (I am a Seeker after all), but I lack precision in my shots, and simply put, power. On the third day, I meet two other friends of Alphonse, Rakin and Azmi, who are siblings. Azmi is also a basketball player (how original...), and I immediately appreciate her. Tall, slender, she has brown, straight hair that she always ties in a ponytail, and she doesn't let people walk all over her. Her brother is less remarkable. He has a softer temperament, and a bit of extra weight that doesn't encourage him to join in our games on the basketball court. When I'm not with them, I do my homework, write, or do research since there's internet at Alphonse's place. When he's around, we often go for walks. There's plenty to do with the activities the city offers, and we explore some abandoned buildings that Al knows. We also play games or entertain ourselves separately depending on our mood. I also teach him how to cook a few things. In the evening, when I can't sleep, I discreetly go out for a walk, do a bit of rooftop climbing, even though I never go too far.
On the fifth day, I go to London to see my parents. I don't want to, but I need to know, and I don't really have a choice anyway. Alphonse stays in Oxford, but he still accompanies me to the train station. I struggle to be sociable that morning, but my friend doesn't comment on it. He seems a bit lost in thought himself anyway. On the train, I'm tense. I end up discreetly taking out my dagger and passing it over my arm. I cut deeper than intended. Damn it. At least, to my great relief, the bleeding eventually stops, and I can conceal it all with a glamour. But damn, if it had been a bit worse, I would have had to find something to use as a bandage. Not very discreet. I'm such an idiot.
When I arrive home, it's my mother who opens the door, looking relieved to see me. My father is there too, it's rare for them both to be there during the week. After the usual greetings, my father suggests we grab something to eat. I accept, nervous, the weight of the impending conversation that hasn't started yet weighing on each of us. My father prepares a snack himself in the kitchen, and my mother explains:
"We gave Mrs. Winston a day off. It will be simpler to talk about magic... and the rest."
I nod, and when my father returns, the discussion starts for real. My mother takes my hand, and I instinctively pull back, which seems to hurt her, but she still forces a smile.
"I'm not sure where to start... We're worried about you. We feel guilty for not realizing that something had happened when you came back from camp... You were six years old! Six!"
She holds onto my hand tightly, and my father's gaze becomes closed off.
"Why didn't you tell us anything, sweetheart? We could have helped you."
"You're Muggles, I wasn't allowed to. And anyway, I'm fine, and I don't need help. What happened that day... It was horrible, for sure, but it could have been much worse. So don't worry about it. What I want to know is how a teacher found out. Do you know how many people know, and how it happened?"
My parents look a bit surprised, and vaguely scandalized for my father, but my mother still answers:
"This isn't the priority! Who cares?"
"I do!" I cry out, expressing my anxiety despite myself. "I need to know WHO knows!"
"Your Muggle Studies teacher told me that besides her, only the headmistress, the nurse, and your head of house are aware. I don't know how it happened though, maybe it's normal procedure...? It would probably be best if you ask them."
"I see..." I say. At least not everyone knows, apparently. I'm not ashamed or anything, but I hate it when people have information about me that's none of their business.
"Anyway," my father intervenes, "it's completely scandalous that they left you to fend for yourself when you were six years old. These wizards are completely irresponsible! If they wanted to forbid you from speaking, then they should have taken care of you!"
"They wanted to erase my memory," I interrupt. "Like they did to the Muggle children."
My father stops his rant, stunned. "But then... Why didn't they?"
"I refused. I fought to keep my memories."
"Why?"
"Because they belong to me. They would have influenced me, even if I had forgotten them, subconsciously, and it would have been bad for me. Whereas like this, I was able to put those events where they belong. Arthur's mother vouched for me until I entered Hogwarts, she was tasked with helping me if needed," I add, to reassure them. Given the look on my father's face, it only half works, which he soon confirms.
"I still think what they did is ridiculous. As parents, we should have known much earlier."
"As Muggles, you have no rights," I snap. "Haven't you read Harry Potter? The situation seems to have evolved a lot since then, but they still don't think about Muggle parents, as you've seen. Besides, I don't even know why they told you about it now."
"No rights?!" My father chokes with rage, but my mother calms him by placing her hand on his.
"That's not important now, dear. Now that we know, we can do something. We don't know much about the world Vivian lives in now, but her teacher understands that we have the right to know at least. And you," she adds, turning to me. "Never hide things like this from us again. We respect your independence, but a child shouldn't have to bear things like this. There's no shame in it, do you understand? That man, that bastard who attacked you, had no right to do what he did, and he's in the wrong. And I realize we're also at fault in this matter. You're so independent that we never taught you not to follow strangers, when we should have! I'm so sorry, darling!"
"No shame to have?" I have a distorted laugh, my mother completely missing the point. "I'm not ashamed of anything! I'm proud that I was able to defend myself and my friend! I'm not going to be ashamed of being attacked by a twisted pervert!" My mother stares at me, her mouth slightly open, and I continue. "And I went knowing it was dangerous because the others didn't know and I wanted to be able to help them!" I regain control of my voice and add, "I just could never have guessed he was a wizard. But anyway, don't worry, I know not to follow strangers and you've done your job as parents."
A silence follows my declaration. My parents look at each other, somewhat confused. Finally, it's my father who speaks, his earlier anger forgotten for the moment.
"Well... You're strong, Vivian. I'm impressed." He pauses, and for a moment, I imagine him as the antagonist of a manga. He's delivering the same lines. However, I wait for the 'but', which soon arrives. "But despite that, a child your age should never have had to face that, no one should have, actually. And we failed in our role as parents."
"I've talked a lot with your teacher," my mother adds. "We think you need to be able to discuss these events with someone you trust, and I'm well aware that we're probably not the best suited, your father and I, even though we would like you to be able to confide in us. That's why your school nurse could arrange for you to see some sort of wizard psychologist..."
Anger crashes over me all at once, narrowing my vision. A therapist? Did they even listen to me? NONE OF THIS IS THEIR BUSINESS! And I DON'T need a damn therapist! They seem to sense the growing tension in the room because I see them stiffen slightly. I respond with a tense voice that ends in a shout when I lose control of myself.
"I'm telling you I'm not ashamed of what happened, that I'm handling it, that I'm okay with what happened. I defended a friend. I stayed alive. I'm mature, I know where I'm going, I'm independent. I tell you all this, and you respond that I need support? You should be proud of me! You say I'm strong, that you're impressed, but you're not listening to me! I don't need help! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!"
Again, silence. My parents look at me again, somewhat taken aback, then my father orders me, "Calm down, Vivian. We're not denying your independence or anything, but we're worried about you. It's normal to need help, lots of people see therapists, you know?" He gives me a smile that's supposed to be encouraging, but that I mostly feel as condescending. I'm not a damn child. My mother makes a gesture towards me, but stops when I pull my hand away violently.
"My darling, we love you, but we can see that you need help. It's not normal to not be able to handle physical contact like this, for example. The therapist could help you with that..."
I'm crying out of frustration now, but my voice is cold and controlled. Under the table, my nails are digging into my arm.
"Normal? I never liked physical contact, it's not because of some damn paedophile. No, you see, there are people like that, for whom it's not their thing. And you're talking to me about normalcy when you've always known that I'm not an ordinary child. It suited you just fine to leave me alone until now, and all of a sudden you find out about something that happened years ago and you remember that you're my parents?"
"Shut up!" my father orders.
"I'M NOT FINISHED!" I cut him off. "I'm not a psychopath, even if you're going to convince yourselves otherwise, probably. I'm not some poor traumatized kid either. I'm okay with what I did. Yes, I killed a man. I did it to defend a friend, and I would do it again without hesitation, because it was necessary. And there's no way some stranger is going to come ask me questions because I don't need anyone for that. I grew up alone, and I stand on my own without help. My life is my business, and just because I'm your child doesn't give you the right to meddle in my private life. I love you, but I won't be forced to share or give what I don't want to. There are boundaries, and if you can't accept them, you'll have nothing from me."
"You are our daughter, our responsibility, and you owe us respect. We only want what's best for you!" my mother. She's crying. I wonder if, like me, it's out of frustration.
"I respect you! But you, you're not really listening to me. I don't need help! I'm gifted, and magical, and I understand that it's hard to live with and accept. I'm sorry I'm not the cute, model little girl you probably dreamed of, whom you could have marvelled at. But you have to accept it!"
I don't see my mother's slap coming. It's the first time in my life she's ever slapped me, and even though the pain is mild, the shock is very real. She stands in front of me now, her voice barely controlled as she says, "You're going to go up to your room to calm down. You're our daughter, and you owe us respect, we won't tolerate this insolence. You want to be treated like an adult? Fine, then behave like one. Don't come down until you're capable of it."
A bit shocked, I let myself be pushed out of the living room, still incredulous. I hear my mother fall into my father's arms, and I run up the stairs almost crying, slamming the door to my room before letting out a scream of rage. How dare they? I'm still crying out of anger, and I hate myself for lacking so much self-control. I have to control myself. Contain myself. Calm down. I punch the wall, making my knuckles bleed, then I bite deeply into my skin, again and again. I conceal everything with the paedophile's wand, thinking back to its origin while imagining erasing my parents' memories. But no matter how angry I am, I know I won't do that. However... The thought crosses my mind that before killing me, I could make them forget my existence. That would be merciful, perhaps. But it's their memory, and it belongs to them. Some prefer to settle for illusions, half-truths, but others are like me, and always want the truth, no matter how much it hurts. And I don't know what they want. I'll never know.
Slowly, I regain my composure, I breathe deeply. I replay the conversation in my head and reluctantly put myself in their shoes. If I were a parent (okay, the idea is absurd, but well, let's say empathy serves a purpose), how would I react if I learned something like that? They can't understand my point of view, they don't know who I am. They take me for a child, independent certainly, mature, but they know nothing. I can't blame them for what they're doing, what they want to do. Nevertheless, my life is none of their business, and I certainly won't go see a Mind Healer. I can't confront them head-on, it won't work. I have to be calm, composed, reassure them. Otherwise, I'll get trapped. Muggles theoretically have no power over wizards, but these are my parents, and more importantly, the professors know about this. If I can't convince my parents, then who assures me that I won't be forced to cooperate?
When my mother knocks on the door an hour later, I've had time to think. She knocks softly, almost timidly asking, "Vivian? Can I come in, sweetheart?" I recognize her tone of voice, the one you use after the storm, when you're walking on eggshells, when you know you've gone too far. Good. It means she's calmer too. I know I hurt her. When I reply, I have the same wavering tone, the same precautions.
"Yes, Mum."
She enters hesitantly, and I gather the courage to approach her, taking her hand while lowering my head. "I'm sorry for speaking to you like that..."
"And I'm sorry for slapping you. Does it hurt?" She lifts my chin, examining my cheek. She seems relieved not to find a mark. "You were right, my dear, we didn't really listen to you."
"Neither did I really listen to you," I sigh. "You were worried and I said horrible things... I... What I told you is true, that I'm at peace with the past and all that, but it's still a sensitive subject, and I didn't mean to bring it up like that, and hearing you talk about a therapist, to me, it's like you're denying my efforts and the path I've taken to get here... It's like you're insisting on finding something wrong, because you want to be able to help." As I speak, I realize what I'm saying as I go along. At first, I just wanted to use the old strategy of disarming people by offering confidences that make it seem like I'm opening up. But in fact, I realize that what I understood while talking is true. My mother sighs, then responds, her voice still fragile.
"That's true... It's also hard for us to believe that you can cope so easily, after what you've been through, all alone."
"But I'm not alone, Mom," I say, looking her in the eyes with a sincere smile that must escape her sadness. "That day, I was with Arthur. And we've always been friends since then. He's older than me, it's true, but he treats me as his equal, and we spend our time together at Hogwarts when we're not in class. There's also his best friend, Ewald, and Alphonse, the guy from Oxford I spend my holidays with. I'm well surrounded!" My mother smiles and hugs me, and for once I let her, hiding my displeasure, that would not help. She leads me downstairs, and we join my father to sit around the table again. I apologize to him too, just to be thorough, and he already seems calmer too.
"So all your friends are much older than you?"
"No, I also have friends in my year, like Scorpius, for example. We met on the train," I say with a smile, carefully omitting the fact that we're currently not on good terms. My father is surprised.
"What kind of name is that?"
"Aristocratic family," I reply shortly.
The conversation continues on a lighter note, and I think hearing about all my friends reassures them a lot. They eventually drop the idea of the therapist, much to my relief, and even though my father is still very upset about wizards in general and their crisis management in particular, I settle for what I have. When I feel I've spent enough time with them, I segue back to the topic of Alphonse to remind them that I have to return to Oxford. My parents seem a little disappointed that I'm not staying the night, but they struggle to hide their smiles at my evident eagerness to see my friend again. I conclude the conversation to reassure them.
"You see, I'm well surrounded! I'm very grateful for how you raised me, and for the freedom you give me. It's really precious to me that you treat me according to my maturity and not my age," I smile. My father responds, looking a little worried.
"And we're happy to have such an intelligent daughter like you. But no more surprises like that. Promise us you'll tell us right away if something like that happens again. We need to trust each other."
"I promise you'll be the first to know if I'm attacked by a paedophile again," I say, half serious, half ironic.
"Vivian..."
"Don't worry, Mum. I promise."
That seems to be enough for my parents, for this time at least. I feel a twinge of satisfaction at dodging the promise, even though I wouldn't have kept it. But this way, unless I'm attacked by a paedophile again, which is highly unlikely, I don't owe them anything.
Finally, they let me go, and my father accompanies me to the station. We remain mostly silent most of the time, although I take the opportunity to tell him how much I appreciate the name of the owl they bought, and he asks me a few questions about my classes. It's only on the train that I realize with relief that I've avoided the whole "school bullying and fighting against other students" part. Thankfully, I'm not sure I could have kept my composure, depending on what would have been said. I discreetly bite myself. Cutting, biting... it hardly affects me any more. But very few things do. Maybe I should try burning? I've never done it in my old body, since burns don't disappear. But in this one, it's easy to hide the scars... Except I like the taste of blood. Well, we'll see.
When I arrive at Al's, he greets me with a big smile and a tray of sushi.
"Sorry for not picking you up at the station."
"Don't worry, you have no idea how nice it is to see that some people trust me to manage on my own," I say, with a hint of annoyance in my voice.
"Did you have a problem with your parents?"
"You have no idea," I grumble. "And you, had a good day?"
Al's gaze becomes a little dreamy, and he smiles widely.
"Great! I was with Azmi..."
I don't comment, but I have a feeling he loves her. We eat while watching an anime (it had been a while...), then I suggest to Al to go out for a walk. I need to blow off some steam, and I feel like climbing something.
Not far from his place, two or three kilometres away, there are tall buildings under construction with cranes on the roof. We head towards the tallest one, me guiding my friend. We pause in front of the buildings, taking the time for me to inspect the surroundings and find the blind spots of the security cameras. Al seems excited about the challenge, but a little nervous. He doesn't fail to notice my ease.
"Have you done this before?"
"All my life!" I say with a big smile. "Is this your first time?"
"Yes..." my friend admits.
"Oh, a big Gryffindor like you!" I tease, before adding, "We're cheating a bit, since we'll have magic, so you won't get the full experience. But it should still be fun."
"As long as we don't get caught... And by the way, don't worry about the cameras. My dad explained that in most construction sites, there's no one watching, it's only if the motion detectors detect something that the alarm goes off."
"And not everyone equips them," I say, drawing from my experience. "Do you know what a motion detector looks like exactly?"
"More or less, yes," Alphonse smiles.
The infiltration into the construction site poses no problem. We don't see any guards, and we cheat a bit to avoid motion detectors when necessary, by levitating ourselves with the paedophile's wand. Scaffolding runs along the facade of the first ten floors, and we use it to enter the building without going through the door. I'm more used to the exercise than Al, but he's taller than me, which makes it easier for him, and we progress at about the same pace. I'm quieter than him, though. Scaffolding isn't great for discretion in most cases. We climb the stairs illuminated by construction lamps until we finally reach the roof. We take a moment to appreciate the view, then I start climbing the crane that extends its arm over the city. Al only realizes it after a few seconds, and even though he looks less confident, he follows me. I don't pay much attention to him, except to make sure he doesn't fall. When we start moving above the city, and more just above the roof of the building under construction, he stops briefly.
"Wow, I'm not afraid of heights but even for me, this is getting high!"
"You don't have to follow me," I smile. He just lets out a "pssh" before continuing the ascent. Once at the top, I stand on the railing of the platform at the end of the arm, made horizontal by the crane's inclination. I stretch my arms out, savouring the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I almost start trembling. Alphonse joins me, and even though the knuckles of his fists are white from gripping the iron bars, he smiles. We spend a few minutes admiring the city, and he points out some places he recognizes. No police cars are heading towards us. No one has spotted us. Then, silence falls, and remains until we feel it's time to descend.
"Shall we go?" Al asks.
"You go ahead, I want to do one last thing," I reply.
"What?"
"Hang off the edge, I've never been able to try it."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yeah, don't worry."
"Give me the wand then, so I can try to catch you if you fall."
"No need. I'm not going to fall. But if I need help getting back up, I'll let you know."
"Why take unnecessary risks?"
"Dude, we've come this far and suddenly you have a problem?"
"It's different."
"How is it different, please? On the ground, you wouldn't doubt for a second my ability to hang off an iron bar without letting go. Whether I'm hanging from the bar or standing on it, the result is the same if I fall."
Alphonse sighs. I'm a bit annoyed, but well, it's my fault for bringing him along. And besides, if anyone among my friends can understand, it's probably him. I might have a few wrong reasons for doing this, like my need to put myself in danger to calm down after the discussion with my parents. But it's not the main reason, nor the most important one. It's just an additional motivation.
"Okay... Why do you want to do this?" Al asks.
"Because it's important to challenge yourself. It helps build self-confidence. Knowing you're capable is one thing, but sometimes you need to prove it to yourself. I love the adrenaline, I love defying death, I'm not going to lie. I'm doing this for myself."
My friend remains silent for a few seconds, then finally says, "Arthur is going to kill me if something happens to you... Ewald, too. Are you sure you don't want to give me the wand?"
This time, I seriously consider it, but I shake my head. "I'll keep it. But I promise if I feel like I'm slipping, I'll let you know and allow you to help."
I check that I have nothing in my pockets that might fall, and I hand my phone to Alphonse. Then I firmly grip a bar and slowly lower my body. I trust my grip. I trust my arms. I find myself hanging above the twinkling lights, thousands of lives that no longer oppress me with their numbers, lost as I am between heaven and earth. If I let go, I die, but I know I won't. Not tonight. Not now. I stay like that for a few moments, filling myself with the emptiness, then I raise my head. Alphonse is ready to grab my wrists, crouched above me. I smile at him, then whisper, "I'm going to go back up."
I pull my legs up, swinging a bit until I hook the bar, then I hoist myself back to safety (relatively speaking) with rather questionable grace. Without speaking further, we descend back to the roof. I pull out a bottle of iced tea (well, the English approximation because there is. No. Ice. Tea. In. England. I HATE THIS COUNTRY SOMETIMES) and some biscuits from my bag, and we eat in silence. It's funny, when I met him I wouldn't have thought Alphonse was one of those people who know how to savour the night; spontaneously, I would have placed him with those who don't know how to be quiet. But he blends into the atmosphere, and I relish the moment, pushing down my urge to do more stupid things, to flirt with death. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"I'm glad we did this, Viv. I think I understand what you meant about pushing your limits, challenging yourself. Thanks for taking me."
"My pleasure."
I have a small smirk as I take another bite. Again, we let some time pass before we start talking again. I think back to the argument with my parents, to Arthur, to Quentin, and their respective girlfriends, and I ask:
"Who's Azmi to you?"
Al lets out a slightly resigned chuckle.
"I'm so easy to read, huh? She's the girl I love."
"You've loved her for a long time?"
"I'm not sure exactly. I realized it last summer, but I think it's been longer... She's brave, intelligent, and we have quite a few things in common..."
"And does she know?"
He sighs.
"No. Well, I haven't told her, but I guess she might suspect..."
"Why haven't you told her? I wouldn't have thought you were the type of person to secretly love someone for so long."
Al grunts in frustration.
"It's not usually my style, but... What I feel is serious, but I don't want to tell her only to disappear to Hogwarts right after, lying to her about where I am. There's healthier ways of starting a relationship. And besides, I need to think about what I want to do after Hogwarts, which side I want to live on... The problem is, I want to go pro in Quidditch, and if I don't make it, become an Auror. I need action and challenge. But doing that would mean existing on the wizarding side, even if I could still live on the Muggle side. I don't exactly know what the law allows regarding Muggles and the Magical Secrecy… I mean, in a mixed couple, I know at least that you can reveal the Secret to your boyfriend or girlfriend... But I don't know the specifics. I need to find out. But also, if she loves me too, and I reveal the Secret to her, she'll be in the same situation as me, and I don't want her to suffer from that. At the same time, I can't see myself working in the Muggle world, having an ordinary Muggle family until my kids go to Hogwarts, etc. I mean, I understand why wizards mostly marry each other. But I really love her..."
I'm momentarily surprised by the torrent of words coming from Alphonse's mouth, but I understand his dilemma.
"Wow... that's a lot to take in. I understand, I think, even though I've never been in your situation. I think the first thing to do is to find out about the current laws, indeed. Knowing what you can do and how, and also what penalties you might face if you break the law. It could be interesting, also for your friends. Maybe if we cast a blocking spell on people preventing them from talking about it, we might have the right to break the Secret? Okay, probably not but we can dream...
"You're right," Al smiles.
"We have to take it step by step. In the end, you'll always have choices to make, but you're so lucky to have someone you love and who might love you back! Honestly, I think you shouldn't wait to tell her... I... I fell in love with someone once, his name was Quentin," I say, before even thinking about what I'm saying, and I don't stop: "Except by the time I found the courage to confess to him, he had started seeing someone else. And the worst part is, I might have had a chance, maybe. We were very close. All that to say, if you're sure of your feelings and you want to be with her even though you're a wizard, there's no point in waiting, the problems won't disappear with time but it's not impossible with her. And besides, she has the right to have a choice. You just need to educate yourself about the laws of the Secret beforehand, just to know what you can reveal, or if it's not too risky to circumvent them."
Even in the dim light, I can see Alphonse looking at me strangely. Oops. I got carried away.
"You're talking as if you were my age, or even older, seriously. You're not supposed to think like that, you're eleven!"
"No," I blurt out without thinking.
"What do you mean, no?"
Part of me wants to bang my head against the wall. Can't you shut your big mouth sometimes, Vivian? Another part of me is amused, and rejoices in playing, while a thrill of danger runs through me. I reply:
"I'm going to offer you a new secret, Al', and I'd like you to keep it to yourself."
He nods.
"Promise."
"Have you ever seen Esther? The movie?"
"Do you mean that...?"
"I'm much older than my appearance suggests."
Al' is silent for a moment, then laughs.
"That would explain a lot. Seriously?"
"Yes."
"But how old are you really?"
I hesitate. What age should I give him? All lives combined, I'm twenty-seven years old, technically. In practice, I don't feel much older than seventeen, the age I was when I killed myself. That's why I tell him that, and also because he'll probably feel more comfortable.
"Seventeen."
"So we're almost the same age then?"
"Hey, I'm your elder, kid!"
He gives me a friendly punch, then becomes serious again.
"And this Quentin, who is he?"
His question hurts, reviving the pain, but just for tonight, atop this building, I'm willing to let a little of it out.
"I'll talk about it, but only if you promise never to mention it to anyone or ask me questions. There are things I can't explain to you."
He senses that I'm serious because he doesn't respond immediately, although he eventually agrees.
"Okay, I promise."
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before mentioning the only person I've ever loved:
"Quentin... Quentin Lemage. He was French." (maybe Alphonse will assume that's why I know the language, who knows?) "I met him through another friend. We started talking quite quickly, every day, all day. We talked about our lives, and he helped me a lot with the problems I had. He was very good at listening, but he didn't talk much about himself. He was generous, and he was the most altruistic person I've ever met. But he was worse than Arthur when it came to pestering me to open up," I let out a brief laugh. "He did so much for me... And I ended up falling in love with him. But because I'm an idiot, it took me way too long to realize... And I lost him. End of story."
I discreetly bite my wrist as if leaning on it, remembering him. Quentin... Alphonse breaks the silence, his voice grave:
"I know you asked me not to ask questions, but can I just ask one? You don't have to answer."
"Go ahead..."
"Quentin, you speak of him in the past tense... Is he dead?"
"I'm the one who died," I say, sharply. Al' doesn't dare respond. I shake myself a bit before standing up:
"We should probably head back, shouldn't we?"
"Definitely," Al' responds, springing up to follow me.
That evening, when we've showered and the lights are out, I timidly ask him:
"Do you believe me?"
"About? Your age?"
"Yeah..."
He really takes the time to think, then finally admits:
"It's a bit hard to believe, but oddly enough, yes. I trust you, you seem sincere, and I'm not trying to offend you but there are plenty of things in the wizarding world much stranger than a teenager in a child's body. And besides, it explains a lot of things about you. So, until I find a better explanation, I'm convinced!"
I smile, even though he can't see it in the dark. Well, this day has been interesting to live through. Before deciding to drift off to sleep, I whisper:
"Al'?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks for listening to me."
"Thanks for taking me up there. And for the advice too."
I search for something to respond with, but I slip into sleep without finding my words. I have much more trust in Al' than at the beginning of the trip, and it's a relief not to keep my eyes open in the void for hours wondering if I'm going to be raped. Well, I keep a very light sleep, but since Alphonse doesn't snore, it's not too annoying.
The rest of the holidays go smoothly. We don't really talk again about everything we said on the day I went to see my parents, which is for the best. Alphonse has always treated me more or less as an equal, but I feel like it's even stronger now. He tells me more things than before and seems more comfortable making vaguely sexual jokes when he's with his Oxford friends. We're getting used to each other. We do plenty of little activities together, but we also have no problem doing our own thing. He plays basketball, does his homework, and I work on my Occlumency, I write... We can't always do things together anyway. He still spends quite a bit of time with his friends, but I don't mind. Seeing him interact with Azmi, I'd tend to believe that she also feels something for him. I wonder why she doesn't say anything if that's the case, but it's really none of my business. We all go bowling together, see a movie at the cinema, and I feel both integrated and apart, even though it doesn't make sense. They're welcoming, but strangers, and I don't have the references of their friend group. My sense of isolation also comes from me, anyway. Being with them brings back memories of high school, a D&D night at Elias's, with Florian as the DM, and Quentin and Maeva, or when we all used to eat together in a park to avoid the school cafeteria... I wonder what they've become, sometimes. Between the memories and the discussion with my parents, I'm quite unstable, and I sleep quite poorly. When I can't sleep, I go out or I cut myself. Both sometimes. It's strange, my feelings seem less dulled than usual, and even though it allows me to genuinely appreciate the time spent here, it amplifies all the negative feelings even more. Despite everything, I'm happy when the holidays end, and we head back to Hogwarts. It'll be cool to see Ewald, and even though I know I'll have to be more careful with Arthur now, and I'm apprehensive about seeing him again, I suppose it'll still make me happy. And most importantly, the most important thing, I have research to finish.
xxx
« Rien n'a de sens. Je ne saurai pas dire depuis quand j'en ai conscience. Peu importe ce qu'on fait, tout sera effacé. C'est tellement vain de vouloir la gloire ou la fortune, ou même d'aimer. Parce que l'amour ne sauvera rien, parce que nous seront tous cendres demain. En vrai, c'est réconfortant de se dire que tout va disparaître. On peut être qui on veut. Mais cette voix dans ma tête qui veut avoir du sens me plonge dans la peur. La plupart du temps, je peux la faire taire, et me voiler les yeux. Apprécier un sourire, le temps passé avec un ami… Du moins, je le pouvais, avant Jérémie. Maintenant, je ne voix plus l'intérêt de faire semblant, de continuer. La vie ne vaut la peine d'être vécue que si on peut l'apprécier, mais puisqu'elle ne sert à rien à quoi bon se forcer à exister si on a pas envie de le faire ? »
x
"Nothing makes any sense. I couldn't tell you when I became aware of it. No matter what we do, it will all be erased. It's so vain to seek glory or fortune, or even to love. Because love won't save anything, because we'll all be ashes tomorrow. The truth is, it's comforting to think that everything will disappear. We can be whoever we want to be. But this voice in my head that wants to make sense terrifies me. Most of the time, I can silence it and blind myself. Appreciate a smile, the time spent with a friend... At least, I could before Jérémie. Now, I see no point in pretending, in continuing. Life is only worth living if we can enjoy it, but since it serves no purpose, why force ourselves to exist if we don't want to?"
-Excerpt from a letter sent by Aurore Berger to Quentin Lemage in late October 2007-
I wasn't sure whether I should let the parts where they speak French in French, but decided against it to make it easy to understand.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, hopefully I'll be able to keep updating the fic more often now.
See you, don't forget the reviews :p