I didn't think next chapter would come that fast, but it was actually pretty short.
So enjoy this transition chapter^^

Al' finds an empty compartment for us, and we settle in, the three of us, with Arthur having gone off with Cian. I don't expect to see him again during the journey, yet he joins us after about fifteen minutes, and it seems to be a signal for my two companions, who quickly make their escape, leaving me alone with the Hufflepuff. Great...
Obviously, he absolutely had to have a talk with me. Of course, the others are in on it. The long sigh I let out doesn't escape my companion, who turns to me after casting a few spells to ensure our conversation stays private. I tense up.

"I don't really know where to start. I'm not going to eat you, you know, relax!"

"I would've preferred that, because it would mean my death."

A brief expression of pain crosses my companion's face. Not even funny.

"I-I would've really preferred if you'd talked to me earlier, if you'd trusted me and shared all this with me. I could've helped you. I told you that, didn't I? I understand a bit better why you kept quiet after what you told us last night, but you were wrong, and I think deep down you know that. Doesn't it relieve you, now that we finally know?"

"Not really, no."

Arthur lets out a sigh.

"Even now, you're stubbornly shutting yourself off. I feel guilty, you know?"

I raise an eyebrow in question. He catches my gaze and explains:

"I let you do what you wanted, and I almost lost you."

"That was fine, you don't need to feel guilty. You know, I would've really preferred if you'd let me go for good. I warned you. I only bring suffering."

"You know that's not true," retorts Arthur, keeping his calm as best he can. "You saved my life, just that alone is enough to counterbalance your so-called argument."

I don't respond, and the Hufflepuff continues.

"Anyway, I feel guilty, but I know I was right, too. You can't help someone who doesn't want to get better, and I was suffering too much from the situation."

"But if you know it's useless, why are you here? I don't want help! I just want to be left alone!"

"Because in truth, you don't really want to die."

"Oh really?" I say, with a hint of aggression.

"No, you just want the suffering to stop, that's not the same thing. And I don't want to lose you. So, I'll keep being there for you."

A strong urge to slap him rises in me. His pseudo-psychology is rubbish! And that's exactly the opinion I hurry to share with him.

"Believe whatever you want, but if you could avoid throwing out this cheap psychology at me, that'd be cool. I couldn't care less about that bullshit."

"Maybe you should care about it, though. It could really help you to see a professional."

"My life is my own business, no one else's."

"What do you have against therapists? They're trained for this. No one's going to shout your private life from the rooftops; it's a space for healing."

"What worked for you isn't a universal fix. Just the thought of it makes me sick. Maybe if I hadn't been there to deal with the paedophile, or if I'd reacted later, you might have understood me. If he'd left you alive, of course. As it is, you can't, so if you could avoid throwing things out there as if they were the universal solution, that would be better. I've got nothing against therapists, really; I'm sure they help some people, but it's not for me."
Arthur seems about to say something, but I cut him off.

"And by the way, it's actually a good thing that you can't understand, you know. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and for whatever it's worth, I would have preferred to die than let him rape you."

"But that didn't happen, and you're still alive, so if you think I don't understand you, explain it to me."

"I already did yesterday. I don't see what more I could say."
There's a moment of silence, then the Hufflepuff speaks again, his voice calmer than before (and I get the feeling he's genuinely trying to listen, to set aside his preconceived ideas).

"Apropos. There are a few things I learned yesterday that I'd really like to understand."
At that moment, the door to our compartment opens, and Alphonse and Ewald come in. Arthur stops talking and disables his privacy spells. The Gryffindor has a contrite look that intrigues me. Ewald, as usual, looks neutral.

"Sorry to interrupt, you can continue right after, I just wanted to update Vivian on the latest developments."

"How kind of you," I reply, still a little irritated by my exchange with Arthur.

"Alphonse will be joining us until Sunday, then he'll go on holiday to France. Any questions?"

"Not really. Is your family okay with that?"
I know Ewald well enough to recognise the brief flicker of an expression on his face. Nervousness. He's never nervous. He instantly regains his neutral mask and answers me:

"I asked my mother for permission, which she gave, saying you were all welcome. My grandmother has been informed, and she'll deal with it."

He sighs.

"I suppose it's better if I prepare you a bit now."
He casts a few privacy spells before continuing.

"I have a somewhat complicated relationship with my grandmother, and I don't know how she'll behave towards a Muggle-born and a half-blood. She's quite old-fashioned."

"You could say racist, too," Alphonse chimes in. The Slytherin grimaces.

"She was, but it's slowly improving. Just try to treat her with diplomacy, or ignore her, that'll make things easier for us."

"Hmm." Alphonse grumbles.

I don't say anything. I think back to the memories Ewald shared with me. He's so reserved, speaks so little about himself, and all of a sudden, he invites me, and especially Alphonse, to his home. That implies a lot of things, and I'm pretty sure I don't even know how much.
"That's mostly what I needed to talk to you about, we'll deal with the rest later," Ewald sighs. "You can go back to your conversation, if no one has any questions."
I don't react, and neither does Alphonse, so Arthur redirects his attention to me.

"Do you want me to cast the spells again, or is it okay for the others to listen?"
I shrug in response. I'd rather not have this conversation at all, but since I can't avoid it, I suppose it doesn't really matter, though speaking one-on-one would probably be better. I don't care enough to bother sharing that thought with the Hufflepuff.
"Okay... So, as I was saying, I've got a few questions after what we learned yesterday."

"I'm listening," I sigh.

"Do you still intend to die?"
I sigh again.

"You'd save time by asking questions you actually want answers to."
The Hufflepuff looks disappointed, and I don't need to turn towards him to guess that Alphonse has tensed up. Ewald remains as composed as ever—I imagine, at least, that he's not under any illusions about my intentions. Which isn't exactly helpful for me, by the way.
"Any other questions?"

"Yes. You mentioned that you knew how you survived your... suicide." The word seems to be hard for him to say. "Can you explain?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know that too," Alphonse chimes in.
I glance at Ewald, who takes over.

"We'll talk about all of that after Christmas, if that's okay with you. The train isn't the safest place to discuss such things. We can meet at my place after the holidays, when Arthur's free and Alphonse is back from France."

"That's quite a long wait," Alphonse protests.

"But it's a topic we won't have time to cover here, and it's best if we're all together when we discuss it. It's dangerous information, and it'll require a lot of thought. Besides, it's not relevant right now. I know it's frustrating for you, Alphonse, but I'm asking you to trust me on this."
The Gryffindor looks like he's bitten into something particularly bitter, but he eventually nods begrudgingly.

"Just promise me we'll talk about it before school starts again. And that you won't keep any information from us."

"I promise," Ewald says, extending his hand to the Gryffindor.
I think to myself that I hope I'll be dead before then, but I keep that to myself. Arthur doesn't push his interrogation any further, simply saying that we'll talk more during the holidays. I just shrug in response.

oOo

When we arrive at the station, I follow Ewald, who ventures onto the platform first, and the other two fall in behind us. Soon, he seems to spot someone, as he heads towards an old lady dressed entirely in black, standing as far from the crowd as possible, looking stern. When we join her, I realise why she seems familiar. I've seen her in Ewald's memory—it's his grandmother. Her hair is in the same tight bun as in the memory, and her piercing blue eyes briefly glance over our small group before locking onto Ewald's steely gaze.
"Hello, Grandmother. You came to collect us?" asks my friend, with a hint of surprise in his voice, likely intentional, though I can't guess his reasons.
"Indeed. Your mother came as well, but she's waiting near the Floo station. Are these your friends?" The woman's voice is worn but firm.
"I'm Arthur Clifford, ma'am. I believe you know my grandmother, Anna-Linde Clifford? It's an honour to meet you." I refrain from casting an incredulous glance at the Hufflepuff. I've never heard him speak like this, but I suppose, as the heir to a Wizarding house, he must know how to be polite.
"We do know each other, indeed. We were in Slytherin together. Despite our differences of opinion, she's a woman of quality. Do pass on my regards."
"I will, certainly," Arthur replies, giving a slight bow.
Ewald takes over, introducing Alphonse and me in turn.

"Grandmother, this is Vivian-Éris, who will be spending the holidays with us, and Alphonse, a friend who will only be here until Sunday."
"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," I say in a neutral, polite tone. The matriarch's gaze slides towards me, and she gives me a slight nod. Alphonse responds with just a nod, which causes the old lady's expression to tighten a bit more. I imagine it would have killed him to say he was pleased to meet a racist old lady.
"Well, young man, we'll take our leave now," the old lady says to Arthur. He gives another subtle bow, which seems to satisfy the matriarch, and he wishes us happy holidays in a less formal but still somewhat stiff manner before disappearing into the crowd.
An awkward silence follows, which could have been relaxed if not for the intimidating presence of our companion. Ewald stiffly offers her his arm, which she delicately places her hand on, and the two head off together towards the Apparition area at the end of the platform. To my surprise, there are employees assigned to escort Apparition to certain locations, as Ewald's grandmother doesn't deign to escort us herself. Instead, she hands a purse to one of the employees, and two of them take charge of bringing Alphonse and me to the designated meeting point, the Floo station.
We arrive without trouble after our hosts, though the sensation of Apparition is still unsettling. I make a conscious effort not to show any discomfort, as I instinctively feel that it would only solidify the poor opinion Ewald's grandmother already has of me. Alphonse, on the other hand, doesn't share my considerations, as he has no hesitation in openly declaring how much he hates Apparition.

The room we've just arrived in is vast and teeming with activity. Along two opposing walls, about twenty fireplaces flare green several times a minute, either spitting out or swallowing passengers. One side seems dedicated to departures, the other to arrivals. An employee stands near each arrival fireplace, helping users regain their balance and clear the space quickly. On either side of the room, where there are no fireplaces, stand large, imposing wooden doors.
Ewald glances around furtively, as if searching for someone. His grandmother gives him a look I can't quite decipher and says, "She's at the small park nearby. I assume you remember which one I mean. Go fetch her; I'll stay with your friends."
"Very well, Grandmother."
With an apologetic glance, the Slytherin leaves us with his grandmother and disappears through one of the large doors. The old lady casts us an unwelcoming look before saying tersely,

"This place is too crowded. Follow me; we'll wait for my grandson and his mother away from the commotion."
We follow her without protest, though I can sense that Alphonse isn't pleased with her authoritarian tone. As for me, I don't find the woman particularly friendly, but at least she's unlikely to interfere with my plans. Who knows, if she's a purist, she might even help me, albeit unintentionally, by ridding the world of my presence. One can always dream.
The wait is awkward, and I start to wonder, with a tinge of morbid curiosity, whether Alphonse will eventually make a snide remark to our chaperone. She hasn't spoken to us since we moved, and while she's too well-mannered to make any direct comments, it's clear we don't belong here. Her gaze brushes over us and avoids us as much as possible, and I get the distinct impression that just being in our presence is a sort of dishonour for her. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for the part of me that was amused by the situation), Ewald returns rather quickly, accompanied by a young woman I assume must be his mother.
The first thing that strikes me about her is how frail she seems. She carries herself with a certain poise, but her nearly translucent skin makes it seem as though she might faint at any moment. Her blonde hair is styled in a complicated yet charming way, and her grey eyes, similar to Ewald's, seem gentle, in contrast to her son's sharp gaze. Her cheeks are delicately flushed from the walk and the cold. Everything about her evokes delicacy and fragility, a striking contrast to the stern demeanour of both her mother and her son.

"Mother, I'd like to introduce you to my friends, Vivian-Eris and Alphonse. They're both in Gryffindor."
"It's a pleasure to meet you; I'm Rosemary Carter. You can call me Rosemary."
Ewald's mother's voice is deeper than I expected, a bit hoarse, as if she doesn't use it often. Her smile seems sincere when she speaks to us, and I find her immediately more likeable than her mother. The grandmother, meanwhile, radiates disapproval, likely due to her daughter's informality.
"Nice to meet you," I say.
"Likewise" Alphonse replies.
"Well then, shall we go?" the grandmother interjects, a hint of impatience creeping into her otherwise neutral voice.
Ewald's mother nods, relief evident on her face, and Ewald offers her his arm as if to escort her. The old lady leads the way, taking us to a free fireplace. She slips some coins into a slot on the mantelpiece and announces, "Five passages."
Five small pouches appear. She throws her own into the fireplace and firmly declares, "Emerald Manor!"
The flames turn green, and the old lady steps into them, disappearing almost immediately. Ewald gently hands a pouch to his mother and encourages her to go next. She complies without protest, and soon we are all three together.
"Have you travelled by Floo Network before?"
"I have," Alphonse replies.
"Not me, but I see how it works," I say.
"Okay, then you go ahead, Alphonse. Vivian will follow right after you. The destination is Emerald Manor."
The Gryffindor steps forward, and I ask Ewald, "Don't you want to go first?"
"No, if you happen to misstep, I need to be able to follow you."
Darn. That would have been a good way to rid myself of them. And of myself, afterwards. Sighing, I mimic my predecessors. I step into the flames with slight apprehension, and I barely have time to enjoy their warm embrace before everything begins to whirl around me.

oOo

"Sometimes, I imagine going on a journey, a dream and a plan at the same time. A Journey, with a capital J, escaping far away from everything I've known, fleeing from my past, and drowning in the unknown. I don't know if I would ever return; in fact, I would probably die somewhere, far from here. But how I long for that departure. Like a last chance for me, but MY last chance…"

—Excerpt from a notebook of Aurore Berger, kept by Quentin Lemage after her death—

Next chapter will come at some point, and you'll finally learn more about Ewald's family!

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