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I wake up early the morning after my birthday. Given the awful night I had... In truth, it had been a long time since I last slept so poorly. Waking up constantly, haunted by memories, crying until I could hardly breathe... I cut myself again upon waking, and compose a neutral façade before going down for breakfast. Arthur and Ewald are already at the table, but the Slytherin has his back to me. The Hufflepuff sees me, but instead of waving me over as he normally would, he buries his gaze in his plate, and I turn away to sit at another table without betraying any emotion. It's funny how, even though the pain is dulled, it still affects me. It's bittersweet, but ultimately, a dark satisfaction dominates within me: a part of me is glad to have been right, telling me, "See? Everyone abandons you, you were right not to trust anyone." But it hurts, too, to have been right. Nevertheless, I'm satisfied with his choice, because it's better for him and better for my plans. I get up from the table after barely nibbling at something as Alphonse arrives. He joins the others and gives me a puzzled look as he sees me leaving the hall.

Since I only have History of Magic in the second hour, I look for a distraction for the first, because if I let myself think, my thoughts will just spiral. I tried doing Occlumency during the night and try again now, hoping to find something, but I don't know what or how to search, so I quickly stop, frustrated. I leave the castle in the hopes of going to the Forbidden Forest, but Hagrid is teaching a class of fifth years nearby, and I don't want to be seen. Instead, I decide to fly near the Black Lake, skimming the ground to avoid being noticed by any teachers. I've just begun to relax a bit when I hear shouting. The caretaker has apparently seen me, and even though he's still far away, he's running in my direction. Adrenaline starts to pulse, and I land behind a small cluster of trees, assessing my options in a split second. I slip as I dismount (the ground is damp, it must have rained last night), and stifle a curse while hastily miniaturizing my broom. Then I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself, not very successfully, and slip into a bramble bush for lack of a better hiding spot, trying to leave as few traces as possible. I cautiously move in the direction the caretaker, Archibald Lewis, will be coming from, because that's where he's least likely to expect me. He soon arrives, and I freeze, pressed against the ground. He passes by me without noticing, he's way too energetic for a sixty-year-old man. He has his wand out, and as soon as he's a few metres away, I start moving again, heading towards the castle. I'm afraid he'll cast a detection spell. As soon as I'm out of sight, I run as fast as I can, not slowing down until I'm in view of the castle, just as my charm wears off completely. I see the caretaker in the distance, methodically searching the area where I landed. That was a close call.

I'm forced to go back and change before heading to class because my clothes are now covered in mud. And since I need to leave my dirty clothes in my dorm for the house-elves to find and wash, I head towards Gryffindor Tower, thinking that if no one's there, I might even treat myself to the luxury of a hot shower. Obviously, the girls from my dorm are there, because why would they be at the library or anywhere else? Faith gives me a venomous look as I open my trunk (I leave it in the dorm for appearances and because I know my password is secure. I have almost everything I need with me in my tower anyway), but she doesn't do anything else. Thankfully, because I don't think either of us would have appreciated the consequences.

The History of Magic and Muggle Studies classes go well. We have a group project to work on, and Scorpius and the others include me without too many comments. Well, I think Eva isn't thrilled to see me, but honestly, I could have ended up with worse. I even chat a bit with Scorpius on the way to the Great Hall in a civilised manner, because he has a question about a Charms assignment, and I'm happy to help. However, as soon as we arrive at the entrance, I part ways with him and sit at the quietest spot I can find, which is the nearly deserted end of my house table, near the professors. Neither Arthur nor Ewald are there yet, but Alphonse arrives shortly after me and sits across the bench. He looks at me seriously, and I pray very, very hard that he doesn't intend to talk about last night. Naturally, given my luck, that's exactly what he rushes to do. He asks me in French:

"How are you?" I tense up.
"Like a Thursday?" My tone is both ironic and aggressive. He sighs and continues,
"Can we talk about what happened last night?"
"There's nothing to say."
"That's your opinion, which I don't share," retorts Al with an insolent attitude. He then gets serious and says, "But it's about you, so it's your choice."
I look at him with a hint of suspicion. Is he really going to drop it? I ask him,
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I'll wait until you feel like talking about it. Oh, hello Ewald!" exclaims my friend, switching to English to greet the Slytherin who is arriving behind me. He sits to my right, careful not to crease his impeccable uniform.
"Were you two speaking in French?" asks the Slytherin. At the same moment, I feel the now-familiar tug at the border of my mind, and I open up to the link I share with him. While Al explains that his mother was French and that he learned that I spoke French too, Ewald asks me telepathically,
"Does he know about you?"
"Not really. He just knows that I speak this language, but he doesn't know how I learned it," I reply the same way. I sense Ewald's acknowledgment of the information as he refocuses on his conversation with Alphonse, which shifts to travel. I didn't know, but apparently Ewald speaks German, and a branch of his family comes from Germany, so he's had the chance to visit. At one point, I wonder where Arthur is and look around for him. He's eating at the other end of the hall with his girlfriend. I feel a slight pang in my heart. Ewald leaves fairly quickly, as he has Arithmancy at one, but Alphonse stays with me, and I recount my morning adventure where the caretaker almost caught me. He laughs a bit, then shares some anecdotes about the caretaker. School legends say he was a former mercenary, and while I'm not sure to believe that, it doesn't stop me from being less sceptical about some stories of students caught out of their dorms at night and stunned or pinned down before they even knew what hit them. Archibald doesn't seem very friendly. And I'm starting to think I was quite lucky this morning. I stay with Alphonse until it's time for his class, and we leave the castle together since he has Care of Magical Creatures. It's quite nice out, and I decide to find a quiet spot to read a bit and do my homework while waiting for the time to meet up with Ewald.

He joins me at the agreed time in my tower, and we gaze at each other in silence for a moment before Ewald lets out a light sigh and sits down, taking care to arrange his clothes so as not to crease them. The attention he pays to his appearance always surprises me. I sit down opposite to him, as I did the day before, hiding a grimace as my wounds from yesterday stir. Naturally, Ewald notices. He looks at me intently and says,
"Okay, please let me heal you."
His voice is carefully controlled, I can tell. I toy with the idea of denying him, but I doubt it would do much good, and I'm a bit too tired to fight him, so instead I opt for honesty:
"It's nothing serious, there's no need. Can we start instead?"
Ewald reaches out his hand and asks, in a voice that sounds a bit fragile, far from his usual assured tone,
"Please… If I can't stop you from doing it, at least let me do this." Then he adds, in a more normal voice, "We'll start once you're healed."
It's not really a question. I still don't want to show him my scars, but I want to get this over with, and especially for him to stop stirring up things within me. Because yes, his visible pain has touched me. And because fighting would be pointless. I need him for Legilimency, so I might as well get this over with as quickly as possible. With a sigh, I ask him with a hint of provocation,
"Neck, arms, or stomach first?"
He flinches slightly, and almost automatically his impassable mask slips back into place.
"The neck."
I lift my glamours, and he heals my neck, arms, and the cuts I made on my stomach the day before. Only the latter really justify the use of magic; the others are merely scratches already well on their way to healing. Throughout the process, the Slytherin says nothing, except when he sees the cuts on my stomach. At that moment, he simply says in a neutral tone,
"They're deep."
I don't comment. I don't really dare to look at him, except furtively. He seems focused on what he's doing, showing no emotion. Once he's finished, he puts his wand away.

"Why did you do it this time?"
"Because I wanted to. We're not here to talk about that."
"Very well," the Slytherin replies coldly. I wonder if my dismissal hurt him. Probably not. He keeps silent for a moment, sighs, and then speaks again.

"Okay. Turn to face me properly. You'll need to relax as much as possible, and I'll use our connection to enter your mind and try to detect any irregularities, looking for the traces of the spell that was cast on you. All you need to do is trust me and keep your walls down." I let out a small snort when he says the word "trust." How am I supposed to trust someone, exactly? But I know I have no choice. It's not the same as trusting him, certainly, but the result should be the same. I dig my nails into my left wrist to calm myself. Without comment, Ewald gently unclenches my fingers and closes his hand around mine. I don't pull away. I want to flee. I simply reply,
"I'll do my best," because that's all I can promise. Ewald nods and asks,
"Ready?"
I nod in return.

He closes his eyes to concentrate better, and I do the same after a slight hesitation. I squeeze his hand tighter, nervously, and force myself to lower my walls. His presence fills the space, as if encircling my mind, exerting a constant pressure, almost replacing my usual walls, and I have a visceral urge to close my mind, against which I struggle. Of course, Ewald senses this and tries to calm me, but I can't help starting to think about everything I don't want him to see, and I realise that if I think about it, he'll see it, and before I even consciously think of it, I've reformed my walls and expelled Ewald.

I open my eyes. The Slytherin is massaging his head with his free hand (the other is still holding mine), looking slightly dazed.
"We're not going to manage this way... And I didn't expect you to be able to eject me with such force. There are really things you're afraid for me to see..."
"I'm sorry," I say, a bit ashamed. "I panicked, I'll do better. I need to know what they erased from me."
"You don't really trust me," Ewald observes simply.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be," Ewald sighs. "But as things stand, it's going to be complicated."

He looks me in the eyes, and I say nothing. He seems to be pondering something and then makes a decision since he finally says, with a hint of vulnerability in his voice,
"I can't convince you that you can trust me and that I'll respect your secrets, but I can balance things out a bit. Secret for secret."
"You don't have to," I say, though I'm curious because I know how little the Slytherin shares about himself.
"I can't ask so much from you without you knowing anything about me... And I trust you," he adds, after a slight hesitation. I feel his hand tighten a bit around mine, and I understand the weight that affirmation holds for him. I want to tell him that I'll be worthy of his trust, but I don't dare. That probably would be a lie. And I feel dishonest being here, knowing that soon I won't be, and letting him get attached to me as if this could last. He breathes deeply and says,
"Follow our link. I'll show you."

I do as he asks. I pass through his protections, the bottomless sea and sky, following the link to cross the cloud that hides access to his mind like a smoke screen. With a pressure on my consciousness, he draws my attention to a memory, and I let myself go.

Diving into it is a truly disorienting experience. I feel the emotions he felt while living through what he experienced, and I see through his eyes. There is a certain distance, however, between me and his emotions, a sense of unreality, and it's probably for the best because Ewald, in his memory, is shaken. Panicked, even. He is both angry and frightened, thinking of his mother. He is young, much younger than he is now. Without being able to explain it, I suddenly know his age and the date. He is eleven years old, and it's the day before his departure for Hogwarts. He sits in a large dining room, at the end of a long, massive wooden table. An old lady is sitting next to him, at the head of the table. She is dressed in the purest wizarding tradition. Her hair is gathered in a strict bun and her blue eyes are piercing. Ewald's grandmother. She says to him:

"I will take you to the station tomorrow. Your mother needs to rest."

With a calmness that surprises me a bit, because I can feel the intense emotions swirling within my friend, eleven-year-old Ewald responds:

"I'm not going to Hogwarts, Grandmother."

"And why not, young man?"

"Mother needs me."

"I will take care of Rosemary," announces Ewald's grandmother, softening her tone. "You will go to Hogwarts, and you will make us proud."

"You hate Mother!"

For a moment, the old lady stares at him, as if bewildered, before responding in a sharp tone:

"I do not hate your mother."

"Then why are you always mean to her? If you love her, why did she need to…?"

I silently admire young Ewald's composure because his words do not express a tenth of the mix of anger and panic he feels at that moment. He is thinking of his mother, and he is terrified. He fears for her life, but I don't have time to understand why, because his grandmother speaks again:

"I think you are old enough to know certain things…" She allows herself a sigh, and I feel my friend's surprise, as he is not used to seeing his dignified grandmother show any emotion. "Has Rosemary ever told you about your father?"

Young Ewald doesn't really understand why his grandmother is asking this question, but he shakes his head negatively before answering anyway:

"She only told me he was a bad man, and that's why he was in prison."

The old lady in front of him sighs again, wearily, and there is a spark of pain in her eyes.

"It's more complicated than that. You see, my daughter never wanted to believe in the importance of good breeding, in the purity of blood. She may have inherited this from my late husband, who in his later years began to take an interest in Muggle science," the old lady emitted a contemptuous sniff. "Anyway, at the end of the war, when he-who-must-not-be-named was defeated, your father, who was one of his supporters, came to seek refuge on our estate. We had remained neutral during the war because I disapproved of the Dark Lord's methods, though I did not condemn his cause. Nevertheless, I always stayed close to the old families, and your father was well-born and the same age as my daughter. He wasn't a monster, although he followed you-know-who. I agreed to shelter him, thinking he could be a good match for your mother once all those stories had been somewhat forgotten. He courted Rosemary eagerly, but your mother did not want to see where her interest lay and rejected his advances. Unfortunately, your father ended up being a bit too forward, and your mother became pregnant with you. Your father wanted to take responsibility and asked your mother to marry him. By that time, he had managed to convince the Wizengamot of his innocence and was thus an acceptable match for Rosemary. Instead, your mother chose to denounce him to the Aurors, and he is in Azkaban because of her. She ruined his life."

The old lady pauses briefly to catch her breath, then concludes:
"So no, I do not hate your mother, and I admit I have my own great faults, but your mother condemned your father to a fate worse than death."
She gives Ewald a moment to react, but the child says nothing, shocked by what has just been revealed to him. I sense his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what has been said. The old lady seems to understand and begins to speak again:
"When you are at Hogwarts, know that some will attack you because of the family name you bear. I expect you to honour me, and to honour your mother. I am proud of you, and I know you will prove yourself worthy of your blood."
Ewald remains silent for a moment, and I feel his anger rising even more. When he speaks, it seeps into his voice like an icy venom:
"You ruined my mother's life, and you think I will leave her in your care? I don't understand how she could have stayed by your side all these years. I understand better why she..."
Again, my friend cannot finish his sentence. The old lady recoils, as if Ewald had struck her, but quickly recovers. She seems about to get angry for a moment, but finally says, in a broken voice:
"Whatever errors of judgement I have made, Rosemary is my daughter, and I will look after her. I do not ask you to understand, Ewald. I made my choices, and they were not all good. She made hers, but she remains my flesh and blood. You will go to Hogwarts, and you will honour the family."
Seeing that Ewald is about to reply, she adds:
"Do not try my patience. Your anger is legitimate, but I will not tolerate further insolence from you. Now, you will go upstairs and say goodnight to your mother, then check that all your things are ready for tomorrow. We will leave at ten in the morning."
I feel Ewald's upbringing struggle against his anger and doubts, but what decides him is the tone of his grandmother and the defeated expression on her face. Her mask has fallen, and this is what convinces my friend to obey. He rises without a word, leaving his barely touched plate on the table. The old lady's plate is also untouched. His good manners catch up with him as he reaches the door, and he reluctantly wishes his grandmother goodnight.

The memory ends, and gently, Ewald guides me out of his mind, even though the connection between us remains active. I sense that he is sad, a little, and afraid too. Afraid that I might reject him? I want to hug him at that moment, but I don't dare. I shouldn't. Does he feel it? Despite everything, with hesitation, I extend my free hand towards his, and contact is made. I expect him to pull his hand away, but he doesn't, so I squeeze it with mine, along with the one I was already holding. It's all I am capable of doing, but I want him to understand how I feel, so I let a bit of my compassion, sadness, and desire to help seep through our connection. My affection for him, which I cannot deny, comes through as well. I don't look at him, and our hands remain joined as I speak:

"Thank you for showing me all that."

He doesn't respond immediately, but he sends a feeling of warmth through our connection, as if to reassure me. His next words comfort me further, because he says:

"Don't worry about me. It's in the past, it was a long time ago. Thank you for accepting me.

"I couldn't do otherwise," I reply with a smile. "We can get back at it now, if you want." I say, sensing that he doesn't want to dwell on what just happened. He looks me in the eyes and nods.

"Okay."

Our hands are still entwined comfortably, and I focus on this sensation as I open my mind to him again. This time, I manage to control my panic when he starts to "surround" my mind to examine it. The sensation is strange. I feel his consciousness forming a bubble around my mind, where my usual walls are, and then he tightens his hold a bit. I manage to stay calm, even though my hands tense slightly. Finally, the pressure eases, and he says aloud:

"Okay, let's try something else. Try to recall what happened the evening before you lost your memory, then we'll go through your memories step by step to see where it breaks."

I tense up, and Ewald notices immediately.

"I'm going to see what you did, sure, but you don't have to share your thoughts. You just need to focus on what you want to show me, on what happened, and on my end, I need to focus on how your memory plays out. Just try to skip the moments in the shower," he teases, and I feel myself blush with embarrassment.

"It's just that... you might see things you won't like."

"Like what?"

"… cuts," I admit, reluctantly. Ewald remains silent for a moment, then gives a slightly sad smile.

"I won't judge you, I promise. And I won't scold you."

I want to bite myself to calm down, but my hands are still joined with my friend's, and I don't want to let go. Besides, he would probably stop me from hurting myself anyway. So, I just clench my jaw. I don't want him to see all that; I'm afraid of letting something important slip, but I need to know what was erased from my mind. I think back to the memory Ewald just shared with me and nod. He trusted me; he gave me weapons against him in a way, even if I won't use them, in return for what he learned about me. He already knows I cut myself anyway, he knows I'm dead... The important thing is that he doesn't learn more about my past or how I died. And he won't know that just from seeing my day. I just need to concentrate on that. So, I open my mind again and guide Ewald's consciousness through my memories.

Wednesday evening… The images start to flow by, just like they usually do when I revisit memories. Scenes of me in the Forbidden Forest, climbing a tree, then the moment where I draw glowing patterns with a spell in front of my eyes, perched above the void, lost in thought. I don't dwell on my thoughts; I try to summon only images, and it seems to work. I sense Ewald's mind observing all this, and paradoxically, I feel like I'm picking up more of his emotions than he is of mine, probably because his consciousness is present, while mine is all around us, and he's focusing only on the images I show him.

Memories are a strange thing. We traverse several hours in an instant, fast-forwarded, because the notion of time vanishes in memories, only the interesting bits remain. My two hours in the Forbidden Forest fly by in a few seconds, and then we see me flying towards the castle, hesitating at the entrance of the Great Hall and turning back upon seeing Arthur at the table. Then, there's the vision of my arms as I cut myself, thinking of Quentin. I focus on the images, pushing away the thoughts, though Ewald must have caught the name. He also sees my sleepless night; thankfully, it wasn't one of the times I slightly strangled myself to sleep, or he might have asked questions.

We find ourselves the next morning. It's strange because it's not necessarily things I would have remembered normally, but with Legilimency and Occlumency at work, I recall more, as if it allows for a more precise tracking of my memory. The memories I had trouble recalling last night come back more clearly now. I remember getting up to meet Alphonse in the Great Hall, after glancing at Arthur sitting with his girlfriend. I received a package from my parents, reminding me it was my birthday. Under the table, I pressed on my cuts to reactivate them (I hide from Ewald as best as I can the thoughts that crossed my mind at that moment: the friends from my other life, my death, Quentin). I gave some biscuits to Alphonse, who devoured them with a big smile. Nothing important was said.

Herbology and Charms classes rush by in a blur, nothing noteworthy except for the Outstanding I earned in Flitwick's class, and the glares from the girls in my dormitory as I pass by them to go eat at noon. One of them tries to trip me, I dodge and cast a non-verbal spell to make her glass fall discreetly, and she lets out an indignant cry, her robe now sticky from her pumpkin juice. I feel Ewald's light amusement. She doesn't know how to clean her clothes herself; she's only a first-year after all. After lunch, I see myself going to Transfiguration, and that's where my memories start to get harder to retrieve, like trying to climb a soapy slope.

I force myself to try and retrieve fragments of memories, and I feel Ewald "pulling" with me, for lack of a better word, on the thread of memory. We manage to get the image of the homework MacGonagall assigned at the end of the class, but then it's impossible to find what happened next. The next memory to emerge is my arrival in the Great Hall, my mind foggy. I open my eyes, Ewald does too. Our hands are slightly clammy.

"Well, it seems like a part of your memory has indeed been erased. The way it was done is a bit strange, it's not a simple memory charm, at least not on its own. If they used one, it was a light one, which explains the confusion in your memories… I'll try to examine the break in your memory further now. All you need to do is focus on recalling those specific memories, the last ones you have, okay?"

I nod silently, and once again Ewald delves his consciousness into my mind. The examination doesn't seem to last long before my friend draws my attention to the blank area veiling my memories. He has me "feel" it, for lack of a better word, and it feels like facing a mental wall, similar to the one that defends access to my brain. But it has something strange about it, a sort of energy that doesn't belong to me. I break my concentration at the same time as Ewald. Our hands part.

"What is it?"

My friend takes a moment to respond, immersed in deep thought.

"I don't know exactly," he admits. "It seems like your memories are locked behind some sort of Occlumency barrier, except you didn't create it. I felt the energy maintaining the spell, and it wasn't your magic. It could have been possible that you accidentally locked part of your memory, which happens very rarely, but given that you are new to this, if something sufficiently traumatic had happened to you… But no, I don't know if you felt it too, but there's another magic at work here."

A wave of disgust washes over me, and I must have gone a bit pale.

"Was that what I felt?"

Ewald nods, looking worried.

"Probably. I'll need to do some research; I've never encountered barriers like this before, and I don't know how to open it."

"Why not handle it the same way you'd break through my Occlumency wall?"

"I've thought about it, and it might be a last resort solution, but I won't do it unless there's no other option."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what consequences it might have on you; it's very dangerous. And what guarantees that the person who did this didn't set up some kind of 'security' measure against such an intrusion, which could destroy the memories behind that wall, for instance?"

I have to concede to the logic of his arguments, so I nod. Still, I can't help but add, "Ewald… I need to know."

"Don't worry, I'll eventually figure out what's going on. I have a good idea of what to look for. I promise I'll do everything in my power to restore your memories."

With impeccable timing, my stomach growls, and Ewald casts a Tempus charm with a slight smile. We've almost missed the meal. Ewald stands up and extends his hand, and I let him help me up for once. Before we leave my tower and return to the other students, I say, "Thank you."

He doesn't seem to react at first, but I know he heard me. Eventually, he nods slightly, and we hurry through the corridors to join the Great Hall.

xxx

Ewald spots Arthur from afar and heads in his direction, but Arthur has saved only one seat beside him, and I keep walking, ignoring the pang in my heart. This blatant rejection is a painful blow. I suppose I should have expected it. I sit somewhat randomly at the end of a table where I hear Alphonse's laughter mingling with that of the rest of the Quidditch team. I'm surprised to see Ewald sit across from me, and my confusion must be evident on my face because the Slytherin sighs:

"You need to sort things out with Arthur."

"You don't have to keep me company," I reply simply. I don't really want to get into the subject of the Hufflepuff. Ewald shakes his head with a hint of weariness but doesn't argue, which suits me just fine. He must sense, as I do, that it's been enough emotions for one day. I don't trust my voice not to betray my feelings, and I don't trust myself not to get angry. Instinctively, I strengthen my Occlumency barriers, suppressing a shudder of disgust at the thought of the foreign magic nestled in my mind. Now that I know it's there, I can almost feel it too easily. I stab my fork into my skin under the table to distract myself from the thought. When I look up, Ewald is watching me, his brows slightly furrowed, and I suppress a growl of frustration. I need to put some distance between us.

The tension is palpable, and I focus on my plate, picking at my food without much appetite. The murmur of the Great Hall buzzes around us, and I feel the weight of Ewald's gaze, heavy with unspoken concern. I resist the urge to snap at him, knowing it would only make things worse. Instead, I take a deep breath and try to steady myself, concentrating on the mundane actions of eating to ground me.

"Listen," Ewald begins after a long pause, his voice low and serious, "I know things are tough right now, but isolating yourself isn't the answer."

I look up at him, meeting his eyes briefly before glancing away. "I'm not isolating myself," I say defensively, even though we both know it's a lie. "I'm just... I need some space."

He doesn't respond immediately, just watches me with that penetrating gaze that makes me feel like he's seeing right through my defences. Finally, he nods, as if he's made a decision. "Alright, I'll give you space. But don't push everyone away, okay? We're here for you, whether you like it or not."

I manage a weak smile, appreciating his effort even if it doesn't quite reach my heart. "Thanks, Ewald."

He returns the smile, though it's tinged with sadness. "Anytime."

With that, he stands up and heads back towards Arthur and the others, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I watch him go, a mixture of relief and regret swirling inside me. I know he's right, but I can't help feeling that this is something I need to handle on my own, at least for now.

I slip away from the Great Hall as soon as I can, heading towards my tower, hoping to find some peace before Astronomy class. The idea of a nice hot shower tempts me, but I know the girls in the dormitory will be there, probably chatting and excluding me again. Just the thought irritates me. So, I sit down at my desk and try to focus on my homework. But my thoughts keep drifting to Arthur, Ewald, and that blasted barrier in my mind. It's like probing a sore tooth with your tongue; I can't stop mentally examining that barrier, still feeling its foreign energy. A shiver of disgust runs through me. I feel tainted.

Eventually, I crack. The blade of my knife glides across my skin, releasing a familiar pain that temporarily soothes me. But it's not enough. The restlessness inside demands more. I impulsively grab my broomstick and leave the castle as discreetly as possible. Flying towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, I weave between the trees, trying to lose myself in speed and adrenaline. Suddenly, a branch sturdier than the others lashes violently across my stomach, nearly knocking me off my broom. The pain is sharp, and I want to cry in frustration, but I force myself to calm down because it's almost time for Astronomy class. I'm distracted throughout the lesson, to the point where Scorpius notices and kindly corrects my mistakes before the teacher notices my lack of attention. I sense he wants to ask me what's wrong, but he doesn't dare, and that's probably for the best because I would have snapped at him. When the class finally ends, I hurry back to the tranquillity of my tower.

I obviously can't sleep, tossed from thought to thought like a raft in a storm. The memory of Ewald's hands holding mine, his memories that touched me, and the pain of wanting to help him, yet being incapable of doing more than holding his hand. It's as if I've been paralysed in some way. The mere idea of embracing him... I can't do it. I'm too broken. And I wouldn't dare impose myself on anyone, even if I could bear the contact. That said, perhaps it's for the best. He's already too close to me, already far too attached. He is a product of rape. Because that's what it is, even if his grandmother didn't say it clearly. "Too forward"... I think of his mother, whom I know almost nothing about, betrayed by her own mother over absurd blood matters. How could she live with that? And Ewald, who learned this at eleven. Even if he probably didn't fully understand at the time, he knows now. I think I understand a little better how he became the person he is. I also wonder who knows. Probably no one except Arthur... Arthur... He hurt me, but at the same time, I take a sick satisfaction in the distance that has grown between us. It's better for him. It's better for me too, and for my plans. I'm better off alone, and finally he'll leave me alone. I ruthlessly silence the voice that tells me I miss him, because that's tough luck. I won't be around much longer anyway. And inevitably, my thoughts drift to that foreign magic in my mind. I clear my mind as much as possible, focusing on my barriers, on my mind, entering a pseudo-occlumency trance, concentrating on that magic, trying to grasp it, examining it from every angle. I focus solely on that, setting aside my revulsion for a moment, because I need to understand and feel out all the "territory" it covers.

And I open my eyes, horrified. This foreign magic isn't just present in my memories from the previous night. In my mind, ten small shining points, connected to each other, block out a part of each of my birthdays.

xxx

"If I had to use five words to describe myself?
Um
Marginal, poet, void, warrior, paradoxical"

-SMS sent by Aurore Berger to Quentin Lemage on 30/06/07 -

So, what do you think of all the revelations, and the interactions with Ewald?
What are you theories about Vivian's memories?