This is it. One of the most important chapters of this story.
Before I let you enjoy it, I just wanted to thank those who left a review, it helps me a lot with my motivation :)

I'm really looking forward to your feedback on this one!

Have "fun"

(Hard TW: suicide btw)

«I can see my grin in the reflection of the blade
I feel confidence and joy 'cause the decision now is made
The steel is cold and brings a stream over my skin
Open up this empty shell and free the icebound soul within»

-Orden Ogan, "Come with me to the other side"-

oOo

Thursday arrives quickly, but the day paradoxically passes unbearably slowly. In the previous days, Ewald has seized every opportunity to warn me about the dangers of our plan, and we have worked to clearly define the boundaries of the locked memories to prepare as best we can. I'm tense all day, eager to finally know. I go flying a bit during lunch with Alphonse, hoping to relax, but even he notices that things aren't quite as usual. Fortunately, I manage to divert his attention. I guess I could tell him something, perhaps, but what's the point? It wouldn't help me. Finally, finally, the Transfiguration class arrives and passes at the speed of an arthritic snail. As soon as Jones finishes giving us the homework, I dash out, not even taking the time to greet Scorpius, who has shared his bench with me.
Ewald is waiting for me at the bottom of the trapdoor leading to my room. He's brought something to drink and snack on, just in case we need strength after the session. We sit comfortably, face to face, and without waiting any longer, we form our bond. We both know what we have to do. I envelop the locked memories with my consciousness, and I feel Ewald's mingling with mine, on a very intimate level that would be unbearable if we weren't perfectly focused on our goal. He also envelops the perimeter, and I feel him begin to apply pressure on it, increasingly stronger. Thankfully, I don't feel it, but I suspect that's only because the barrier locking my memories is a foreign entity to my mind. Eventually, I instinctively join in his efforts, intuitively understanding how to do it, helped by our closely intertwined consciousnesses. I push as hard as I can, and I feel Ewald accompanying me, but more in control; I think he doesn't want to push harder than necessary to avoid damaging my mind. Rather than giving his all at once like me, he proceeds gradually but firmly.

The pressure intensifies more and more, and I begin to struggle, even though only a few moments must have passed. And all of a sudden, the barrier breaks, like an eggshell squeezed in our hands and shattering into pieces. We are immediately overwhelmed. The memories flood in, as if exploding into my mind, and I sense that Ewald is carried away as well. I think I'm screaming. Violent images impose themselves on my consciousness (our consciousnesses?) without me having the slightest control over them. And it HURTS.
I'm in a corridor at Hogwarts, near the Great Hall. A stranger walks towards me, wand in his hand. He smiles when he sees me and says, "Hello, Aurore..."
I'm facing the same man, but I'm much younger. We're standing in my bedroom at my parents' house. He casts a spell in my direction, and glowing information streams from his wand to inscribe itself on scrolls of parchment spread out in front of him.
I'm on the roof of the hospital, in Aurore's body. My body burns from the poison. I hang up the phone. I place it on the ground with my belongings and stand at the edge of the void, my body convulsing from the poison. I feel my muscles forming a bitter smile despite everything, and I let myself fall forward, arms outstretched. And, just as I'm halfway to the ground, my fall stops abruptly.
I'm in my childhood bedroom in England, once again facing the same man. I must be four or five years old, my speech still imperfect.
"Why me?"
"I had set up near the hospital so I could conduct my experiments. A hospital is convenient… Lots of dying people, and just a few floors away, plenty of births... I had placed protections around my lab, of course, and at the entrance of the building too. That's how I detected you. I used Legilimency to see what you were doing there, and I wasn't going to refuse material that came directly to me."
I don't even know what I feel anymore, a mixture of anger and horror, of revolt and a certain amount of morbid curiosity too. Since the man seems willing to satisfy my curiosity, I ask:
"Why those people to serve as my parents? Was that a coincidence too?"
The man raises an eyebrow.
"Halfway. I had noticed them because they were fellow countrymen, and it would be easier for me to monitor the progress of the experiment without having to travel. When I had you at my disposal, I induced labour, a little prematurely, it's true, but it would have been a stillborn child anyway. It was… Incomplete. Its soul was so weak it was almost non-existent. I think that's one of the reasons the graft took so well, though it doesn't explain everything..."

Understanding pierces through my mind, finally able to form a coherent thought. I'm alive because of this man! But I can't think any further, as the flood of memories is still too intense, and once again, I'm tossed around by the currents of my memory. I can feel Ewald, swept along as well, though I sense he's trying to channel these memories, just as I'm struggling to control them. Is he seeing the same things I am?
Always the same man. This time again, I'm in my childhood bedroom.
"Whose wand is this?"
He's talking about the paedophile's wand, which I grabbed in a desperate attempt to defend myself when I realised the man facing me was a wizard. He disarmed me effortlessly with a simple *Expelliarmus*. Anger boils inside me, and I struggle to concentrate due to the flood of new memories suddenly revealed by the lifting of the memory spell in my mind. Every time he comes to check on my "progress", he does this—I remember now. He gives me back my memories to cut short my questions, examines me while I'm stunned, and then leaves, locking my memories again. Yet, if I could simply remember his existence, I'd know that I could end my life without fearing resurrection again...
"Very well, let's not waste time."
I know what he's going to do. He's done it before. So I force myself to answer, as quickly as possible:
"It's mine!"
But it's already too late. He casts Legilimens, and I can only push to the surface of my mind the answers he's looking for, to make it end faster. To protect what I can of my privacy. The few images I show him aren't enough, and he pulls at the memories to see the episode with the paedophile in full. Arthur and I on the beach. Entering the cabin. The Petrificus Totalus and the familiar sensation of revulsion and helplessness, the shock...
As I relive the emotions tied to the memory, it suddenly shifts, flipping to another, much older one—a memory of Aurore.

It's the start of summer, it's warm, and I'm already drowsy, lying in my bed with green sheets. I'm sixteen.
A part of me panics. I know what this memory is, and I don't want to remember. Yet there's nothing I can do but watch and feel.
It's late, my parents are already asleep. I eventually drift off as well, fitfully, then I sit up a little, suddenly more awake, because Jérémy, my older brother, has just slightly opened the door.
"Can I come in?" he whispers, and I nod, not fully conscious but curious. He sits next to me on the bed, and I remain lying down, still groggy. He runs his hand through my hair.
"I think you had a nightmare, I heard you as I was passing by."
I'm fairly certain I hadn't fallen deeply enough to start having my nightmares, which often happened at that time. After all, I missed Mélanie. I can't think any further because the memory continues to force itself on me, in all its slyness, its sickly sweetness that seeps everywhere and taints everything. Like Jérémy did.
I shrug, not really knowing what to say to my brother. To be honest, I feel a bit sad tonight. I miss Mélanie. So, the hand in my hair comforts me a little, and instinctively I move closer to Jérémy to enjoy more of his warmth.
"Do you feel like listening to some music?"
I nod passively. He lies down beside me, under the sheets, and hands me an earbud. I rest my head on his shoulder, to avoid stretching the cable too much, and I savour this rare moment and the simple comfort of having someone near me.

I don't want to see the rest. I don't want to. But it still forces itself into my mind, and into the mind of the Slytherin, still being tossed along with me, from memory to memory.
Jérémy's right hand starts to wander over my body. It begins by resting on my stomach, but slowly, imperceptibly, it moves closer to my crotch, again and again. At first, I think it's an accident. I lazily push it away, still drowsy, focused on the music playing in my ear. But after just a few seconds, the hand returns, more deliberately, more insistently. I manage to tighten my legs a little, a feeble resistance that doesn't stop him, barely even slows him down.
Ewald! Ewald mustn't see this! No one must know. I don't want to see. I don't want this. Please! I begin to regain control of my memories, but not enough. It doesn't stop.
I find myself unable to react. I'm aware of what's happening, but the situation feels unreal. My mind has drifted far away, and yet, trapped in my body, it is forced to see, to feel everything that's happening, but it's detached. One word echoes endlessly in my head. "Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop."
Stop. Stop! Finally, I manage to push the memory away in a violent jolt, to push everything far back, breaking the link that connected me to Ewald and locking my mind away, my Occlumency walls raised to full strength.

oOo

Slowly, I regain awareness of my surroundings, and a long groan escapes me despite myself. A terrible headache grips my brain, and all my muscles are sore. Ewald doesn't seem to be in much better shape than I am. He's rubbing his temples with one hand, and lifts his head toward me at about the same time I do.
"You alright?"

We speak at the same time, which makes us both smile weakly, followed by a nearly simultaneous grimace.

"At least we can say you succeeded in unlocking my memories," I say, ironically. "What exactly did you see?"

Ewald must sense my worry, which I'm unable to hide effectively in my current state. He gives me a small, apologetic smile before replying.

"Most of the memories you saw as well—our minds were pretty intertwined. But I think I saw less than you did. They're your memories, and I was seeing them through your filter. That man, the wizard who did this to you… I know him, I'm sure of it. I've seen him somewhere, not too long ago… But it's not coming to me."
A groan escapes my friend. He knows this man? My memories are still muddled, and my headache discourages me from pushing too hard, but I'm fairly certain I never even learnt his name. And I've never seen him outside of those "check-up" sessions performed on me.

"I'll think about it with a clearer head. And we'll need to talk, too. I know you'd have preferred that I didn't see all the memories I did, and I'm sorry, because I never wanted to force you to reveal your privacy. But now, I can't ignore them. For now though, let's rest a bit, okay?"

I nod without saying a word, struggling to form coherent thoughts. But already, I'm wondering how to get rid of Ewald. Because now I know why I'm alive, and that means I also know I can finally die. At last. Despite my clouded mind, this one thought circles obsessively in my head. I nearly jump when Ewald hands me a piece of brioche and some water, pulling me out of my reflections.
"Thanks," I say, still trying to figure out how to make him leave. Well, if I wait long enough, it'll happen at some point, right? I'm not in any state to come up with schemes.
He smiles, and we eat in silence. I feel a bit better after that, though a throbbing migraine still presses on my temples. Ewald tries to hide it, but I can tell he's struggling too. When we finish our snack, his stomach growls, and he checks the time with a Tempus. Dinner is already underway. I seize the opportunity.
"You should head down to the Great Hall. I think your body's trying to tell you something," I tease, as much as my condition allows.
"You're probably right… Plus, Arthur's going to worry if I take too long. I told him we were doing this tonight, and you know how he is…"
I nod with a knowing smile and help Ewald stand. He wobbles a bit on his feet, and despite myself, I ask, a little worried:
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'll be fine, yeah. I just need some rest and a good meal. Are you coming with me?"
"No, thanks. The thought of braving the noise in the Great Hall with this headache… I really just need to be alone for a while."
Ewald grimaces.
"I'm not sure you should be alone… I'd rather stay with you. I can ask Arthur to bring us some food."
"That's really not necessary, and no offence, but I don't think I can handle Arthur's questions right now. All I want is peace and quiet. I've eaten enough, and right now, I just dream of lying in my hammock and sleeping for twelve hours."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, don't worry," I say with a smile. "We'll see each other tomorrow morning, okay? I'll help you down."

And to my great relief, Ewald lets himself be convinced. I think if he were in his usual state, it would have been much harder. But I suspect his mind took the toll of our little therapy session even worse than mine did.

oOo

Once the trapdoor closes behind Ewald, I wait a few minutes, just to be sure he won't come back. Then, I sit on the floor in front of the small crate I sometimes use as a desk, taking the time to gather my thoughts.
I have no idea who this man is, the one who brought me back to life, who used me as a guinea pig. Maybe I should be worried. Perhaps if I were less selfish, more courageous. Because I know I'm not his only experiment. He's dangerous. But all I can think about is that I know he's not watching me constantly, and that means I can kill myself without fear of coming back to life.

I need to hurry, because I don't know exactly what Ewald saw in my mind. Whatever it was I know that by tomorrow morning at the latest, he'll try to talk to me. In any case, I don't really want to wait any longer. I've already waited for way too long. The question now is where and how to do it. The Forbidden Forest seems like a good spot. For one, it's outside, it's nature, and that appeals to me. My body will disappear more easily, and there's little chance that students will stumble upon it. Anyway, I think I'll find a way to destroy it—it'll be easier for everyone. Incidentally, Hogwarts is supposed to have an alarm that alerts the headmaster or headmistress if a student is in mortal danger, as mentioned in one of the books. Obviously, falling from the Astronomy Tower was always possible, but not any more, as I had the chance to test. Anyway, I don't remember if it's supposed to prevent death as well. In any case, the forest should be outside the spell's range.
As for the method, I have several options. I could poison myself again—it's not particularly hard to find the ingredients to make poison in a castle full of potion supplies... The problem is that the ingredients I'd need are kept in the potions classroom, not in the first-year students' luggage... The simplest option would probably be to slit my throat. If I manage to cut just the carotid (and the jugular), I should die fairly quickly, without the unpleasant sensation of choking that I'd get from cutting the trachea. I could use my dagger. After using it to kill a man, there's a certain justice in using it against myself in the same way.

I glance around my hideout. Ewald, and perhaps Arthur, will come here after my death. I know that Arthur will probably suffer, even if it will be less than it could have been a few months ago. I can well imagine that Ewald will not be pleased. I can't really take the time to tidy everything up, but I can at least leave them a note. A sort of explanation, if they need it. Arthur won't understand, I know... Ewald, perhaps, depending on what he saw in my head. I grab something to write with and get to work, realising in passing that I will also need to destroy my blue notebook, as a precaution. I keep this thought in a corner of my always aching mind and start writing the second farewell letter of my life.
"Ewald, Arthur,
I suppose that if you are reading this letter, it's because you will have worried about my fate. Perhaps you already know that I am dead. I hope so, because I admit that if you learn it reading this, it's really not great. And I am sorry about that. Arthur, I imagine that you will be angry, that you won't understand. You are probably one of those people who say that there is always another solution, that you have to believe in life, etc... I am sorry if my death saddens you. Rest assured that you are not to blame. In no way. I have wanted to die since long before we met. You can know the truth now."

I interrupt my writing, taking a moment to reflect. I don't want to talk about the mysterious man who brought me back to life, because he is dangerous. I don't want Arthur to get it into his head to find him, for example. Fortunately, I know that Ewald is cautious, and that he won't play with his best friend's life. Nonetheless, I remain vague, as a precaution. Besides, the Hufflepuff doesn't need to have too much information.

"The truth is, this body is not the one in which my existence began. Feel free not to believe me; perhaps you'll believe Ewald. Or maybe you don't care, and that's just as well, really. In any case, I was originally born in France, under the name Aurore. I was sixteen when I got raped. I didn't care much for my life at that point, but it got even worse afterwards. All the people I cared about betrayed me or let me down at that time. This is why I committed suicide when I was seventeen. Except that I didn't actually die, because I found myself in this body, named Vivian-Éris and a British citizen. I wanted to finally die for real, but I needed to be sure it would work this time. Now, I finally know how it is that I'm still alive, and I know that this time I can die for good. I know this must seem strange to you, but it's a real relief for me. I've waited for this for so many years... That's why I didn't want you to get attached to me. I didn't really exist; I knew it wouldn't last. I've never belonged to your world. I shouldn't have let you get close to me; I'm sorry. But know that neither you, nor Ewald, nor anyone else I know in this life is to blame in any way for my death. My decision has been made for over eleven years. I hope you will be happy with Cian, or even without her if you were to break up one day. I truly appreciated you; you are a good person."

Ewald, I want to thank you for all the help you've given me. You've been a valuable ally. I suppose everything I said to Arthur should fill in the gaps in my story as you heard, saw, and guessed it. Please take care of yourself, and be careful. If you have to speak about what you saw in my mind, do it in a way that doesn't put you in danger. I trust you to do that, really, because I know your cautious ways.
If Al' talks to you about me, you can tell him what you know, and also let him know that he has been a good friend. I wish him all the happiness in the world with the one he loves; I truly hope it works out for him. He deserves it. I hope he will understand (and that you will too) that my place wasn't really there, and that it's pointless to regret a ghost.
Goodbye and thank you for your company; I'm sorry again for not being able to be a true friend,
Vivian/Aurore."

I finish writing and leave the letter in plain sight on the floor. I'm not really satisfied, but I've done my best given the migraine still drilling in my temples and the urgency. I've already wasted a lot of time writing it. At least I'm starting to think a little more clearly, even if it remains complicated. I wish I could convey to them how detached I am from this life, how much it isn't one, but perhaps this will be enough. In any case, in the end, so be it. It's not like I asked them to stay; it's not like I expressed any desire in that direction… I just let things happen for too long. Well...
I pick up my school bag, empty it to keep only my miniaturised broomstick and my blue notebook. I also collect the few razor blades hidden in the room. There's no need for whoever is tasked with sorting through my belongings—whoever they may be—to learn too much about me. I think of my trunk in Gryffindor Tower, which I should probably empty in the same way and clear of the French novels, but never mind. Finally, I slip into the hatch and exit the castle through the first window I find.
I fly low to be less detectable, but that doesn't stop me from still enjoying the feeling of freedom that flying always gives me. As I head towards the Forbidden Forest, I think of my parents in this life. I could have left them an explanation too, no doubt. But I don't see what I could have told them. They weren't unkind, but I don't love them that much; I just never had a real bond with them. It's probably better than my relationship with my previous parents, with whom I forged a connection just to see how false it was. Well… I feel sorry for my English parents; they really were just unlucky to have me.

I arrive at the edge of the forest, the air infused with the scent of night mingling with that of the under brush. I hear a thousand cracks and strange noises as the darkness thickens. I gain a little altitude to soar above the treetops in search of a clearing. I need some space to light a fire without endangering the forest. I fly without light, and I am serene. I am not afraid. At most, I feel a certain impatience at the thought of finally disappearing. I long so deeply for the sensation of the blade on my neck, the warmth of blood on my body, and the darkness that will finally engulf me…
Fairly quickly, I find a spot that should do. I've passed through here during my walks in the forest, and I know that this clearing is not within the territory of the centaurs nor the Thestrals. I should be safe. I use a few spells to clear a good square metre of ground before gathering a good pile of twigs and dry branches with an Accio. Fortunately for me, it hasn't rained nor snowed in the last few days, even though the sky has remained threatening the whole time. It's cold. I set my pile of wood alight with an Incendio that I take the time to savour. My last spell. Slowly, I place my satchel on the ground. I put away my two wands and take out my blue notebook. Perhaps I should incinerate myself with my wand, but that would be a waste. I prefer to imagine that it will serve someone else. I haven't written my will this time. It would have seemed so futile… This life wasn't really one. I sit on the ground for a moment, just beside the flames, to place my notebook at the centre of them and admire the paper twisting and crackling in the fire, reduced to ashes in a matter of moments. I know it will take longer for my body.

Once there is nothing left of my notebook but a razor blade heated to white and a few volatile ashes, I move my satchel a bit away from the blaze, allowing impatience to take over. I get rid of my scarf and jacket, and then finally, finally, I draw my dagger from its sheath. It is time to end it all. I gaze for a moment at the reflections of the fire on the blade, hypnotised, now indifferent to all the sounds of the forest, my universe reduced to this weapon and the fire. I take a few steps forward until I feel the scorching heat on me. When I collapse, it must be into the flames so that my body disappears. If I fail, so be it. I don't want to suffer extra just to ensure that the job is done properly. The main thing is that I die. The rest is a bonus.
Silence envelops my mind, all of it tense in its aspiration towards death. I press the steel against my neck, the sharp, fine cold that I so desire. I can already breathe better. I hold the hilt firmly, ready to slide the blade along the side of my neck. And finally, I make a quick thrust towards my nape, pressing firmly.

oOo

"I believe that's all. I'll conclude by saying that I hope you realise your dreams. I want you to be happy, you and the others, those to whom I have become attached despite myself. I hope you will forget me quickly. It seems a bit short as a conclusion, but I truly wish this for all of you. I would have liked to conclude with a poem, but I believe that one last time the words will slip away from me."

- Excerpt from the farewell letter of Aurore Berger addressed to Quentin Lemage, 15 November 2007 -

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Just so you know, I'm almost done writing this story. I should be done by December if everything goes according to my planning, in which case updates here should be coming faster!

Thanks again to anyone commenting and see you!