I've received a very nice review yesterday and that's to what you owe the pleasure of this new chapter.
It really motivated me to translate quickly!

This chapter is a new turning point in the story, and I hope you'll enjoy it.
If you like this fic, please leave me reviews 3

Enjoy!

The Portkey lands us in an overgrown field. The sky is grey, and the scent of earth fills my nostrils. It had been a long time since I'd smelled these scents. In the distance, I can make out a low building. That's where Alphonse is leading us, explaining:

"It's my grandparents' house. The Portkeys don't land directly at the destination to avoid accidents, I think. I didn't quite understand it all."

"That's right," Ewald clarifies. "Portkey arrivals aren't precise down to the centimetre, and there have been plenty of cases of damaged objects or wizards after a journey."

"I see," I reply.

"Oh, it looks like someone's noticed us arriving!" Alphonse smiles, pointing to a slim figure walking towards us.

As we approach, we find a petite woman with long black hair striding energetically in our direction. As soon as we're within earshot, she greets us in slightly clumsy English, tinted with a lovely French accent:

"I am Mathilde, Alphonse's aunt! Welcome!"

We thank her, and she seems surprised that I speak French. However, she makes no comment and leads us to the house while chatting in French with her nephew. She's telling him who's here and who isn't, but I don't pay much attention to their conversation.

The building is a renovated old farmhouse with a warm, welcoming atmosphere. We meet Clothilde and Bernard, Alphonse's grandparents. Both very elderly, they are still full of energy (the advantage of being wizards) and spend their time affectionately bickering. We also meet Agnès, our friend's other aunt, and her partner Léa. Agnès introduces herself, jokingly, as the black sheep of the family. I play up my appearance to innocently ask if wizards are homophobic. Al' shoots me a knowing look, not fooled by my act, but his aunt answers me anyway, with a slightly sad smile:

"No, my relationship with Léa isn't the issue. It's mainly because I'm a Squib."

"And that doesn't change anything at all for us!" Clothilde calls from the kitchen.

"I know, Mum, I was joking!" Agnès says with a smile. "And honestly, it suits me just fine—I'd never have met Léa if I'd gone to Beauxbâtons."

Agnès leads us to the living room, where two of Alphonse's cousins, Christophe and Marie, are waiting. They're thirteen and eight years old, respectively, and I silently pray that no one makes me go play with them. Mathilde pulls Alphonse aside to talk about plans, and from what I can understand, it seems we're supposed to leave tomorrow morning. I frown, curious to find out more, but Agnès ushers us away to explore the house. I can't think of any excuse to stay behind and listen to Al's conversation that wouldn't raise suspicion. Oh well, I can always ask him about it later.

Agnès speaks better English than her sister and makes an excellent guide. She shares a story of Alphonse's mischief in almost every room, making the tour rather entertaining. In the kitchen, we learn about the time he tried to surprise his mother by baking a cake… at the age of three and a half. It was the sounds of things crashing that gave him away. His grandparents had found him in the middle of a battlefield of broken eggs and scattered objects, with a cloud of flour hanging over it all. In the bedrooms, Agnès tells us about his bed-jumping competitions with his younger cousins, which resulted in three broken slats and a fractured rib.

All these stories bring the old house to life, and I can completely picture my friend getting up to such antics. I'm sure Ewald is mentally noting all of this to bring up one day…

oOo

I like the house. It's a bit wonky, with low ceilings, but it has character. It's furnished in a Wizarding style, with a few Muggle objects scattered here and there. There's even an antique fridge that seems to work partly on electricity and partly on sheer miracle. We return to the living room and settle into wide yellow armchairs, where Alphonse and Mathilde are already waiting. Clothilde and Bernard enter to cast a translation spell, which appears to be quite complex. It's supposed to last for a full day, and they combine their magic to weave it together. After all, it's a spell that simultaneously translates everything we say into French and everything Alphonse's family says into English. From what I gather, the French are particularly skilled at translation spells, probably because of their absolute inability to learn foreign languages. Once the spell is woven (at this level, one can hardly call it "casting"), they slip away to finish preparing the meal.

Alphonse's aunts make conversation while we wait for dinner, asking us questions about Hogwarts and sharing their own school memories. Since Agnès is a Squib, she attended Muggle school and insists that it has advantages over Wizarding education, particularly when it comes to fostering critical thinking. She also believes that Wizarding education lacks any meaningful instruction in the arts.

"Music is a form of magic, I'm certain of it, and wizards are sorely lacking in creativity."

"You're absolutely right," Ewald replies. "Some types of magic require the use of songs or instruments to bind spells, and many Western wizards never practice them because they lack knowledge in those areas."

I think back to the Yule celebration. Is that the kind of thing Ewald is referring to?

"Don't encourage her; she'll become unbearable," Mathilde says teasingly.

"And yet you cry every time she plays the piano," Léa chimes in, defending her partner.

"Not every time!" Mathilde protests.

It feels odd to see adults bickering like this. I have the impression they're partly overacting to make us feel at ease, but their easy camaraderie is pleasant to watch. The conversation shifts back to music, and I discover that Ewald is quite knowledgeable about classical music and the use of spells through song, even though he admits he "sings too off-key to practice that type of magic." Arthur asks a few questions about how Agnès and Léa navigate life between the two worlds, a topic I find interesting, so I listen attentively as they share their perspective on magic and the discrimination they've faced.

In truth, their only real connection to the magical world is this house and Agnès's family. Agnès has had the chance to visit Beauxbâtons and some magical locations, but Léa, as a Muggle, has never been able to see any of it. I get the sense that she would have liked to, but the prejudice her Squib partner has faced has tempered her enthusiasm. France seems less strict than the UK regarding the Statute of Secrecy. From what I've discussed with Alphonse, you have to be a wizard and married to even hope to tell your spouse about magic.

Dinner is served just as my stomach begins to growl, and it's delicious. Clothilde, Alphonse's grandmother, is the cook. I compliment her on the meal, and she blushes slightly, protesting:

"Oh, it's just canteen food, as Léa would say!"

"I assure you, if they served food like this in school canteens, I'd have enjoyed my school years far more!"

Following this, the conversation shifts to Hogwarts food, and Alphonse's family listens with amusement as Al' and Arthur describe their favourite dishes in detail. The rest of the meal continues in good spirits, though I notice Alphonse's younger cousins casting curious glances my way as I chat with the adults. No one comments on my age, but once again, it's clear I don't behave like an eleven-year-old.

oOo

After dinner, the adults suggest playing board games, and I take the opportunity to slip away, feigning fatigue. Predictably, Ewald follows suit, motioning for Arthur to stay and enjoy the games (he's been excited ever since he found out there would be Muggle board games).

"Alphonse's family seems very close," Ewald remarks thoughtfully as I gather my things for the shower.

"They remind me a little of my family, before my brother's death," I admit softly. I glance up at him, catching the meaning behind his words, and add, "You've never experienced that, have you? Do you miss it?"

"A little, I think. I deeply love my mother, and my grandmother and I care for each other, in our own way. But it's always been… complicated. Sometimes cold, distant, and reserved, at least with my grandmother. I never had cousins my age, nor uncles and aunts. I wonder what difference it might have made…"

"I understand. I mean, intellectually, I understand why you'd wonder, and I can kind of imagine how it makes you feel."

I fall silent, unsure what else to say, feeling a bit useless. Gently, I rest my hand on his for a few seconds before finishing gathering my things and heading to the bathroom.

Ewald accompanies me as far as the door before leaving for his room, not without re-establishing our telepathic link. I lock the door behind me with a sense of relief. Finally, some peace and quiet… The shower is small, its floor decorated with old-fashioned floral tiles that are hopelessly kitschy but somehow charming. I brought a blade with me, but I don't use it right away. For a few minutes, I sit under the stream of hot water, hugging my knees to my chest, the blade resting beside me. I breathe deeply, savouring the calm.

Alphonse's family seems lovely, but being with them is exhausting. I've never had a large family like this, though I did have a few cousins I saw regularly back in my first life. We were all about the same age, with enough shared interests to keep things from getting dull. How many arguments did Monopoly cause back then?

I let my thoughts drift, fading little by little, as I delicately trace lines of blood on my arms, just below my shoulder. The burns calm me, and I start to formulate a plan. There don't seem to be any house-elves here, so keeping an eye on me all night won't be easy for them. I assume Ewald or someone else will try to share my room to make sure I don't do anything dangerous. That might be tricky for them, though, since I've been put in a room with Alphonse's cousins. The thought irritates me, but it could actually work to my advantage. If I can slip out unnoticed, I could run away.

I'd prefer for neither Alphonse's family nor my friends to find my body, so I'll try to get far enough from the property before I die. But we'll see what's possible. For now, it's time to get out of the shower.

I head back to my room to drop off my things. Ewald joins me shortly after, likely having heard my footsteps on the creaky parquet. His room, which he's sharing with Arthur, is across the hall from mine, and the old wooden floorboards softly groan underfoot.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

"Yeah, the hot water helped," I reply casually, stretching out the tension in my shoulders. "But I think I'll head to bed soon. I want to be rested for the rest of the trip. What's the plan, anyway?"

"Good question," the Slytherin replies with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks… tense? "Tomorrow, we're off to a surprise destination!" His enthusiasm sounds a bit forced, and I can't help but wonder what he's hiding.

"I'm not sure I'm up for another surprise. It stresses me out a little," I admit honestly. Ewald presses his lips together slightly before responding:

"You're not looking forward to our little surprise trip?"

Ah. That's what's bothering him. I rush to reassure him:

"No, no! I mean…" I pause, thinking it over for a moment before continuing. "Honestly, it makes me happy that you all put this together for me. I think I'm glad to be back, even if there's not much to see around here." I let out a small, sarcastic laugh, and Ewald's smile softens, becoming more genuine.

"Don't worry, we're not staying in the countryside."

"Where are we going, then?"

"What part of 'surprise destination' don't you understand?" Ewald teases. "I've already given you a hint, haven't I?"

"Fine, I'll give you that," I grumble, secretly pleased to see him loosen up a bit, though there's still tension lingering beneath the surface.

"That's the spirit! Want to read together for a bit?"

"No thanks, I'm really tired. I'd rather try to sleep before Alphonse's cousins arrive. Hopefully, they're not too chatty at night."

"We were thinking Alphonse could swap rooms with you, so you could have more peace and quiet. He'd enjoy catching up with his cousins."

I hesitate. Alphonse's room is near the seventh-years', at the far end of the hallway where it dead-ends. It's not much farther than the room I'm in now, but it does offer the significant advantage of letting me sleep alone. I'm surprised Ewald is suggesting this. There must be a catch. He has to have a plan. Seeing my indecision, he adds:

"It's up to you. We just thought it might make you happy."

"I'm just wondering what the trap is, Ewald."

"Trap? Vivian, you know full well we're going to be keeping an eye on you. That's not up for debate."

"And I suppose you're not going to tell me how?"

"Exactly."

"Fine. I accept the offer," I concede. I don't have the energy to argue, and he's right anyway. It's part of the game. Besides, I'd rather sleep alone than with those kids. I have nothing against them, but I'll rest better by myself, and they're unlikely to wake up if I decide to take a nocturnal excursion.

I move my things to Alphonse's room and settle in for the night—or so I tell Ewald. To my surprise, he leaves me alone, keeping only a faint thread of telepathic awareness connected to my mind, just in case. I know it will break once I fall asleep, and I also know I'll probably wake up several times during the night, as usual. So, I make no effort to resist sleep.

The room has a lovely window, which could serve as a potential escape route. But it might be locked. I'll have to test it when I wake up.

oOo

It takes me at least an hour to fall asleep. My mind is too busy, weighed down by swirling thoughts. From the boys' room next door, I can hear muffled voices, too indistinct to make out what they're saying. A few quiet cuts on my legs help me calm down somewhat, but guilt nags at me—guilt for hiding what I'm feeling from Ewald through our link. The effort of masking my emotions only adds to the tension, making sleep even more elusive. Eventually, though, I drift off, only to wake an hour or two later, my bladder uncomfortably full.

I decide this is as good a time as any to test just how closely I'm being monitored. Pulling on my clothes, I take my shoes and slip them out the window. The house is single-story, so retrieving them won't be difficult if I get caught. To my surprise, the window opens smoothly, without resistance. For a fleeting moment, I consider escaping through it right away, but the idea of being caught within five meters stops me. First, I need to test the waters.

The hallway door opens without creaking, and I step lightly, heading for the bathroom. As I pass Arthur and Ewald's room, I can hear their hushed voices. Hopefully, their conversation will mask the faint creaks of the floorboards beneath my feet. In Alphonse's room, on the other hand, he and his cousins seem to be having a lively chat, making little effort to keep quiet. It reminds me of evenings at my grandparents' house, talking with my own cousins until some adult would inevitably yell at us to go to sleep. Night has always been a time for secrets and confessions.

Suddenly, the hallway feels cold. Surrounded by the murmurs of those lucky enough to have company, I feel solitary, out of place. The ghostly sensation of being invisible creeps over me again. Shaking off the feeling, I continue past two more doors to the bathroom. Once inside, I lock the door and take care of my business, pausing before flushing. In the end, I decide it's better to do so—it seems less suspicious, assuming someone's watching me.

On my way back into the hallway, I hesitate. No one has stopped me yet. Maybe Ewald is too preoccupied with Arthur to notice, or maybe he's placed some sort of spell on me to track my movements. I have no way of knowing. It might be safer to return to my room and go out through the window, but that would mean retracing my steps across the creaking floorboards near the boys' rooms, possibly alerting the seventh-years if they aren't already aware. Besides, I made it this far without issue, didn't I?

I resolve not to wander too far from the house, just in case there's a spell. I should've researched alert spells more thoroughly; I have no clue what Ewald might have set up.

oOo

On tiptoes, I head toward the front entrance without turning on any lights. The house is silent, steeped in darkness, its familiar smells oddly comforting. I creep through the empty dining room and finally reach the front door. My nerves are taut, as if I'm sneaking through a construction site, ready to leap at the slightest sound. Slowly, I open the door and step outside. The cool night air washes over me, bringing with it heady, soothing scents. I take a deep breath and quietly close the door behind me.

I make my way toward my bedroom window. It's cold outside, and my shoes will come in handy. Plus, it'll give me a chance to peek inside and see if the boys are asleep. If I'm going to get caught, I'd rather it happen now. At least then, I could claim I just wanted to look at the stars.

The seventh-years' room is dark, their curtains drawn tightly shut. I can't see inside, which I take as a good sign. With any luck, they're asleep. Quietly, I retrieve my shoes and put them on without a sound. Slowly, I begin moving away from the house, heading in the opposite direction of the entrance. My breathing eases as I put more distance between myself and the house. It seems I've managed to slip out undetected! The clear night sky above glimmers with stars, casting just enough light on the ground to guide my steps. I resist the urge to run, savouring the crisp, earthy scent of the night air.

As I walk, a small hill to my right catches my attention. My breath hitches. There's a silhouette standing on top of it. I freeze, about fifteen meters away, but I don't have time to convince myself they haven't noticed me. The figure starts moving toward me.

"Vivian?"

Damn it.

"Arthur? You came out to look at the stars too?" I reply, trying to sound casual.

As I approach, I can make out his face in the dim light. There's a sad smile there as he answers, "I think we both know why I'm here."

His words land like a quiet blow to my chest. He says them without bitterness, only a weary kind of acceptance. He gestures for me to follow him and sit on the hill. With a flick of his wand, he dries the ground before sitting down. I comply silently, and he casts a warming charm around us before stowing his wand. For a moment, the only sound is the faint rustling of the grass. Then, Arthur breaks the silence.

"I wish it were for a different reason, but... I'm glad I came out. I've never seen the Milky Way before."

It stretches across the horizon, low and luminous—a tapestry of stars I wouldn't have seen without climbing the hill.

"It's beautiful," I murmur, staring up at it. "I haven't seen it since… since I was Aurore."

Arthur lets the pause linger before asking gently, "What was the occasion?"

I take my time dredging up the memory. "I was on a summer camp in the mountains. It was for my BAFA—a certification for working in childcare. We were camping that night, far from the city. I suggested to my coworkers that we let the kids stargaze. I spent the whole night in a hammock to see it better. The Milky Way was much higher in the sky back then. It felt like it filled the entire heavens."

"That must've been incredible."

"It was," I say with a small smile. "It filled my mind as much as it filled the sky. I didn't have words for it at the time. I just… watched."

Silence wraps around us again, oddly comforting in spite of everything. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Arthur startle slightly.

"I just saw a shooting star!" he exclaims.

I smile, though I doubt he can see it in the dark. A memory from my school days surfaces—an old song I learned in choir. I begin humming it softly. Arthur listens, curious, so I sing a little louder, letting the words take shape in the quiet night:

"La belle aube se constelle d'étoiles encor
Et la nuit sombre étincelle de mille feux d'or
Et la nuit sombre étincelle de mille feux d'or.

Elles parlent d'espérance des jours de bonheur
Elles parlent de la souffrance qui brisa mon cœur
Elles parlent de la souffrance qui brisa mon cœur…"*

I sing the entire song, even though I know he doesn't understand it—French is a mystery to him. Still, when I finish, he says, "I liked that a lot. But it's a sad song, isn't it?"

"A little," I admit. "It's full of nostalgia."

I stretch out on the grass, grateful in spite of myself for the charms Arthur cast to keep us comfortable. Not long after, he follows my lead, but I'm only dimly aware of it. My focus is fixed on the stars, filling my eyes and mind with their light. The faint sting of the cuts on my legs fades into the background. I try not to think about the fact that, once again, someone has kept me from dying.

But I don't despair. I noticed where Arthur tucked his wand. If I can take it—and better yet, figure out how to use it…

I shake my head abruptly, banishing the thought with a deep breath of night air. If I keep fixating on that, I'll spiral, and that won't help anyone—not even me.

oOo

"I've always loved the night."

The confession that slips out of me takes me by surprise. I feel, more than I see, Arthur's attention turn towards me as he shifts his gaze from the starry sky. I turn my head towards him, briefly meeting his gaze, before resolutely looking away, continuing my train of thought.

"When I was in the final years of school, just before starting sixth-form, I used to sneak out of my house at night. I had developed a system with a rope ladder to get out of my bedroom window, which was on the first floor. You feel so free when you're running at night. You feel like you're moving so fast! I would climb schools and other buildings, and the adrenaline would pulse through my veins. At first, I was so scared of getting caught that I moved from shadow to shadow."

I chuckle a little at that memory.

"Did you get caught?" Arthur asks eagerly. He seems caught up in my story.

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

He's definitely gotten into the game, and his involvement is flattering. I hesitate to talk about... him, but I go ahead, pushed by the curiosity of the Hufflepuff.

"Well, once, when I was about fourteen, I thought I heard a noise in the street just as I was about to leave my parents' garden, so I went round to the back of the house to wait for the person to pass. I saw that my brother's bedroom window was ajar, and I found it strange since it was winter and he'd always been a bit of a cold fish. So I went to check, but he wasn't in his room. It was then that someone came up behind me. It was Jeremy. He seemed surprised to find me there, and it turned out that we had chosen the same night to sneak out... but for different reasons. He had gone to a party with some mates, and he'd had a bit too much to drink. I helped him sneak back in quietly, and I took the opportunity to enter through his room to avoid climbing out with the rope ladder. I just couldn't be bothered to go out. After that, we bumped into each other once or twice outside, and we even ended up climbing a radio tower together to watch the sunrise.

I'd always been too lazy to get up early enough for that, but with the motivation of going together, I went. The view was magnificent, and we got back just in time so that our parents wouldn't catch us. A few months later, he raped me."

"A radio tower?" Arthur's question interrupts my train of thought, which is probably a good thing.

"Yes, it's for Muggles to broadcast radio. It's a kind of metal tower, pretty tall, with a ladder to climb. How do you broadcast Wizarding radio?"

"I don't know."

I know Arthur well enough to guess that he's probably blushing slightly, embarrassed. He speaks again.

"But aren't places like that monitored?"

"I think so, but not very strictly. In any case, I went to mine several times without any trouble."

"I see."

"And what about you? Have you had any nocturnal adventures?"

Arthur thinks for a few seconds before replying:

"Well, I guess sneaking into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night to save your life doesn't count..."

Before I can react, feel bad or angry, he continues:

"In Third Year, once, we got hungry while playing board games in the dorm. I don't know what got into me, but I said I would go and get some food. I knew where the kitchen was, and it wasn't that far to go, but I think my heart has never beaten so fast in my life! The castle looks so different in the dark... I felt like I was being watched... Luckily, I had a Lumos to calm myself down a bit."

"A Lumos?"

"Not everyone is as brave as you, Vivian. And at that time, I didn't know it was a mistake."

"At least now you know," I mutter. "Sorry, continue."

"Well, I managed to get into the kitchen, and it woke up an elf who came to see what I wanted. I don't know why, but I thought the kitchens were always active! I'm not very proud of that, though. Anyway, the elf gave me some biscuits and a bottle of pumpkin juice before going back to sleep, and I headed back towards my common room. I wasn't far when I heard a noise. The caretaker was coming, and if you've ever dealt with him, you know he's terrifying! I tried to run back to the common room, but he caught up with me really quickly. He asked me what I was doing there, and I told him the truth."

Arthur stays silent for a few seconds, and I ask, eager to hear the rest:

"And then? What did he do?"

"He made fun of me."

"What?"

"He laughed and said something like, 'These Hufflepuffs will never stop making being entertaining.' After that, he gave me an hour of detention with Hagrid, then explained that using Lumos at night makes you visible from a long distance. He also said that if I had been clever, I would've hidden the food upon hearing him come, so I could have keep it by pretending I was on my way to the kitchen. I think he said that out of pity, because he found me too pathetic. Then, he took the pumpkin juice and the biscuits. Well, he left me one. I don't know if it was to reinforce the humiliation or out of compassion. Anyway, I never dared to leave the common room at night again!"

I burst out laughing. I can totally picture the scene he describes, poor Arthur, all shy, confused, and scared in front of the caretaker, almost insulted by the lack of challenge. The Hufflepuff laughs heartily with me.

"I admit I was really ashamed at the time, but looking back, I find it so funny. I had no clue!"

"And yet, you and Ewald still found the courage to go climbing at Hogwarts, despite the caretaker's threat!"

"Oh, after that incident, believe me, I needed a good two months before I dared do anything forbidden again, and I jumped at every sound I thought might be the caretaker!" my friend laughs. I happily join in, admitting without hesitation:

"I understand, I find him terrifying too. Well, at least I managed to escape from him."

Arthur sticks his tongue out at me like a child, and I elbow him in return. We then fall into a relaxed silence, until Arthur suggests we head back. I follow him because I don't see how I could steal his wand, and I just hope to have better chances later. As we descend the hill, a figure emerges from the darkness, and I startle.

"Is everything alright?" It's Ewald.

"We're fine, we were about to head back," Arthur replies calmly. So he knew.

We don't exchange any more words, but I'm glad I didn't try anything on the hill. Ewald had probably been watching us from the start. I'm both annoyed by his constant surveillance and touched by how much he seems to care about me. However, what predominates in my mind is still the anger and hatred towards myself. I just want to die. They stop me every time. And meanwhile, my despair only grows.

oOo

Ewald accompanies me to my room and waits while I go change in the bathroom. I make sure to leave my blade in a securely closed pocket of my trousers, where it will be easier to hide. When I come back, I ask:

"Are you planning to stay here all night?"

"Only until you fall asleep."

I grumble for the sake of it, knowing that I have no choice anyway. I'd rather not protest too much after my failed escape. I settle into my bed, and Ewald looks at me with a questioning expression. I understand what he wants, and I tap the space beside me. He sits down delicately, with a certain naturalness. He turns off the light with a non-verbal spell from his wand, and for a few moments, all I hear is his peaceful breathing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks in a whisper.

"Talk about what?"

"Your nocturnal excursion."

"There's not much to say, I think," I reply, not fully hiding the bitterness in my voice. "The stars were beautiful..." I add, after a brief moment of silence.

"That's true," Ewald replies with conviction.

The silence falls between us again, and I'm surprised that he lets it linger so easily. Has he given up, or is there something behind this? He wouldn't be the first to give up, honestly. But if he could do it completely and quickly, it would suit me. I discreetly press the fresh cuts on my arms. The burning sensation they send back provides some relief. Feeling them raised under the thin fabric of my pyjamas makes me wish I had made more of them.

I have trouble falling asleep, with Ewald watching over me, all these thoughts swirling inside me, and my chaotic emotions. After a while, the Slytherin reaches for my hair, gently, with hesitation.

"May I?"

"Yes," I reply, the rest of my words stuck in my throat. I wish I could tell him that it feels good, or thank him maybe, but I can't manage it.

He strokes my head, as one would with a small child or a sick person, and I eventually fall asleep.

My sleep is restless, and I wake up several times, but every time I get up to go to the bathroom or whatever, I find Ewald waiting for me when I return. I don't ask questions about the spells keeping watch over me, just contenting myself with going back to bed each time.

oOo

The morning eventually arrives, and it's Alphonse who wakes me, far too early, around seven o'clock. He has way too much energy for me.

"Wake up, Viv'! We have a train to catch!"

"A train?" I ask, torn between sleep and the urge to murder him for waking me.

His survival instinct must still exist, because he flees the room with:

"Pack your bag and come have breakfast if you want to know more!"

I curse him under my breath, promising to get my revenge, but I get up anyway. I get dressed and quickly tidy up my things, since apparently, we're meant to be on the move.

The others are already sitting at the breakfast table with Agnès, and I nibble on a few things while trying to find out the purpose of our trip. All I get is the train schedule, and my frustration slowly builds as I watch Alphonse's overly satisfied expression. Ewald must have noticed my mood because he has a slight smile while observing our exchange. Arthur, on the other hand, keeps his head down in his bowl, looking a bit stressed. He's not a morning person.

Shortly after I finish my cereal, we climb into Agnès' car, and she drives us to the nearest station. With nothing better to do, I spend the journey directing the rising sun into Alphonse's eyes with an abandoned watch on the back seat. It takes him a while to figure out why the sun reaches his eyes no matter what position he's in, and I chuckle as I watch him squirm to escape the rays. When he finally understands what I'm doing, I give him a dazzling smile.

"Vivian, stop that right now!"

"I thought I already warned you not to wake me up. I have to help you learn from your mistakes…"

"We had a train to catch!"

"Maybe you wouldn't have had to wake me up if someone had bothered to tell me last night that we were taking this train, don't you think?"

"It was more fun to leave you the surprise!"

"Well, in that case, you'll have to face the consequences, my dear."

Alphonse says nothing in reply, looking slightly worried, and I wear a satisfied grin. I'll teach him to respect my sleep, whether he likes it or not. Ewald seems amused by our exchange, but I'm a little worried to see that Arthur isn't reacting at all. I look at him more closely. He's staring out the window as if there's something fascinating to see in the countryside passing by.

"Arthur?" I ask him.

He jumps.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm just a little tired," he replies, blushing slightly.

I find it hard to believe him, but we arrive at the station a few minutes later, and I set the incident aside, preoccupied with trying to understand why we're heading to Brittany. At least the train we're getting on is headed for Vannes. Are we going all the way to the terminus? I feel a bit reassured, though, to see that our route doesn't lead to the Lyon area, where I lived my first life.

oOo

The journey goes smoothly, and Alphonse, definitely very energetic today, spends his time telling us more or less plausible anecdotes about the mischief he got up to at Hogwarts, before Ewald and I take out something to read in order to escape his disproportionate energy.

Vannes turns out to be our destination. Once we arrive, Alphonse takes the lead of the group, using the GPS on his phone to direct us to a specific destination (which, of course, I'm not allowed to know). We walk for about fifteen minutes before reaching a small, charming harbour. We finally turn the corner of a street and head towards a small café. Despite the cold, someone has settled on the terrace, probably enjoying the timid rays of sunshine. They're looking around, seemingly searching for something. Alphonse notices them and waves enthusiastically. The stranger responds in kind.

I stare at them, surprised. This man looks vaguely familiar. We are now only a few metres away from him. He has a soft, open face, and his eyes lock onto mine.

I freeze.

I recognise him.

My world shatters.

Quentin.

oOo

"There are turning points, pivotal moments, that make your life take a direction completely different from what it could or should have been. For me, it was the rape, of course, but also, earlier, the rejection of Mélanie, or before that, the moment I didn't skip my first year of school when I already knew how to read. If I had skipped it, I would have had different friends, a different school path… If Mélanie hadn't abandoned me, maybe then my brother wouldn't have been able to rape me, or maybe I would have known how to defend myself. Maybe I'd still be able to trust someone? But life took these paths, these detours, these breaks, and here I am, that's who I became."

-Excerpt from a notebook of Aurore Berger, kept by Quentin Lemage after her death. Passage written in coded writing. -

The beautiful dawn is still adorned with stars
And the dark night sparkles with a thousand golden lights
And the dark night sparkles with a thousand golden lights.

They speak of hope, of days of happiness
They speak of the suffering that broke my heart
They speak of the suffering that broke my heart...

Sooo, any reactions?