Hey there!
Sorry, it's been a while I haven't posted. I'm making slow progress on the French version, and still think I'll catch up with the translation too early for my taste, which is why I slowed down here that much.
Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter!
In the previous one, Vivian and her parents went to the nurse to talk about stopping Vivian's puberty, and it didn't go that well...
Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to let me know what you'll have thought of the chapter!
Waking up is difficult. Moving is painful. My whole body aches. There are interesting shades of colour all over my lower abdomen. I suppose I should be grateful to Arthur—things would have been much worse without him. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to do a few stretches, hoping to regain some mobility. Then, painfully, I get ready for the day.
I don't bother going to the Great Hall this morning. I'm not hungry anyway, and even the slightest thought of yesterday makes me furious. Instead, I head to the library, where I spend my morning alternating between writing poetry, working on my homework (the perils of having nothing better to do), and reading articles by Alfred Kayns. I might not be able to do anything for my parents, but against him? Yes. Even if I don't yet know how. I'll figure it out. I could really use some relief—flying, broom-jumping, even duelling—but my body hurts too much.
Around nine o'clock, Ewald joins me, sitting beside me as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
"You didn't have breakfast."
His tone is neutral, but I know he disapproves.
"I wasn't hungry."
He frowns slightly but doesn't insist, simply working in silence next to me for the rest of the morning.
His quiet company is soothing. He gets up now and then to fetch or return books—heavy, technical-looking tomes—and each time, his hand rests briefly on my shoulder. The comfort it brings is overwhelming, though I say nothing, and in those moments, a deep sense of gratitude tightens in my chest.
When lunchtime arrives, he leads me towards the Great Hall, and I don't resist. I doubt he'd let me skip a second meal, and I'd rather not have that conversation about my self-destructive tendencies just yet. Alphonse is already there and waves us over to the Slytherin table. I sit across from him, with Ewald beside me.
As we start eating, Arthur enters with Cian on his arm. He deliberately walks past us, taking the time to give me a long, scrutinising look before letting his girlfriend pull him towards another table. That suits me just fine—I don't particularly like the Ravenclaw, and I don't have the energy to pretend otherwise today. It's not that I have anything specific against her, but she doesn't seem to understand why I spend time with "the older ones," and my intelligence clearly unsettles her. Her attitude towards me is… strange.
Speaking of strange behaviour, there is clearly something bothering Alphonse. It took me a few minutes to notice—I wasn't very focused. But now, it's impossible to miss. He's fidgeting even more than usual in his chair, and he keeps glancing at me whenever he thinks I'm not looking. And besides, I'm pretty sure the Slytherin table is the one place he never spontaneously sits…
I shoot a sideways glance at Ewald, who raises an eyebrow. In a complicated exchange of looks, I draw his attention to the Gryffindor just as he lowers his head into his plate to eat. The Slytherin has a subtle smile, almost amused. So, he knows what this is about. He offers no explanation, and I sigh.
"What is it, Al'?"
The Gryffindor jumps, like he's been caught red-handed. I hold back a laugh—at least until he blurts out:
"What—How do you know something's wrong?"
"You're not exactly being subtle," I reply, letting out a brief chuckle.
My companion scowls slightly before answering.
"Aren't you going to say anything about yesterday?"
Surprised, it takes me a few seconds to respond.
"I'm not really sure what to say. I'm sorry I was distracted. Seeing my parents didn't go very well."
Alphonse sighs. Any urge to laugh has completely left me. Ewald's hand brushes against mine as he reaches for his glass, and I doubt it was an accident.
"I know. Arthur told me this morning."
"Why?"
My tone carries a hint of disapproval. I don't like my secrets being shared, even though I probably would have told him myself—and I don't actually mind that he knows. Alphonse sits up straighter, suddenly looking angry.
"Do you have any idea what it felt like not seeing you in the Great Hall last night?"
His question makes me pause—mentally, at least—but I think I've accidentally opened the floodgates because he doesn't give me a chance to dwell on it. He goes on, barely stopping to breathe between sentences. He does, however, have the presence of mind to keep his voice low.
"You were distracted during training. Your behaviour was dangerous—for yourself and for the others. The match is in a week, and I'm counting on you! I was really angry, you know? And then I kicked you out of the session, and when I got to dinner, you weren't there, and no one else had seen you either!"
I open my mouth—I don't even know to say what—but he exclaims:
"For fuck's sake, Vivian, the Point Me spell was directing us towards the Forbidden Forest!"
My blood runs cold.
At the same moment, Ewald places a hand on Alphonse's shoulder. It's so rare for him to initiate physical contact like this that I think we all freeze—except for the Slytherin himself. He merely says:
"Let's continue this discussion at our HQ."
Alphonse looks ready to protest, but after a quick glance around, he abruptly stands, grabbing two bread rolls from the table before heading for the exit. Ewald follows more calmly, and I trail after them in silence. What did Ewald feel last night? And Arthur? I hadn't thought about that… Hadn't realised… I feel a small flicker of irritation at the idea of having to answer to them, but what dominates is a growing sense of stupidity. Arthur and Ewald hadn't let anything show when they came to find me—but what had they expected to find?
oOo
The walk to HQ is quick and weighed down by silence. As soon as we step inside, Ewald casts his confidentiality spells—just in time to contain Alphonse's outburst. Or had he simply been holding back until he was sure nothing would slip through?
"Vivian, for fuck's sake, I thought we were back at square one! I thought… Fuck, I thought we were going to lose you!"
"I told you, several times. I can't kill myself."
My tone is a little bitter. Not that I wouldn't want to. But that, I don't say. Alphonse's face is tight with frustration. I sit down while he paces back and forth, searching for words. Ewald, on the other hand, remains standing close to me, arms crossed in a nearly defensive stance. I messed up again, didn't I?
"I… I feel guilty."
Caught off guard, I look up at Alphonse. My confusion must be plain on my face, but I ask anyway:
"Why?"
He keeps pacing for a moment before letting out a sharp sigh, coming to an abrupt halt.
"I was angry with you for training—and for doing this now. I should have come to get you with the others, but I chose to stew in my resentment while you were struggling."
Before I can find a reply, Ewald speaks, his arms still crossed.
"We were reasonably certain she wasn't going to attempt suicide again." His voice is controlled—I can tell his Occlumency shields are up. "We suspected it was related to the conversation in the hospital wing. You don't have any Healing skills anyway, and you were exhausted."
"And I spent two months blaming you for doing nothing while Vivian was cutting herself—yet the moment I actually could have done something, I chose to stay in the Great Hall and eat! Don't make excuses for me—I'm selfish and a hypocrite."
I'm almost shocked by the sudden rise in his voice, by the accusation hurled in front of me. Ewald, however, has gone completely tense. I don't want to see them argue—especially not over the consequences of my problems. I extend a hand in front of the Slytherin, facing Alphonse alone.
"So, if I understand correctly, you feel guilty for being angry at me while I was struggling?"
Alphonse's focus shifts back to me.
"It's a little more complicated than that, Viv'," he replies, then sighs. "But I suppose that's a fair summary. I'm sorry."
I shake my head almost imperceptibly, setting aside Alphonse's resentment towards Ewald and the strange feeling of wondering what could have been. If I had tried to kill myself last night and he hadn't come to help me—how would he have felt? And how much does he actually owe me? How much is it up to him, to the others, to always be there? I focus on what I do have answers for.
"My behaviour yesterday was out of line. I could have pulled you aside before training and told you I was struggling. I could have stopped myself when I realised I was putting others in danger. I could have gone straight back to the castle instead of heading into the Forbidden Forest. Well, no—given my state, I wouldn't have been able to return to the castle and face people—but that's my business alone. The rest remains true. I wasn't fair, and I have a responsibility as a team member, whether I like it or not. Especially at such a critical time. So yes, you were right to be angry with me. Feeling bad isn't an excuse to act like an arsehole."
Al' still looks sullen, though I can tell he's listening carefully. I don't really know what else to say. I need to talk to Ewald too. But later. Right now, Alphonse is the priority.
"It's… it's important that you're objective about me, that you don't let me off the hook just because I have problems. I'm not made of glass. I'm human, and like everyone else, I mess up. You were right to kick me off the training yesterday, and you don't have to feel guilty for being angry."
I'm repeating myself, I know. Though the first part of my sentence isn't really a repetition, and I think that part is really important. Ewald never let me off the hook out of misplaced compassion. That's probably why I'm closest to him. Alphonse is still tense, but he manages to answer me more calmly.
"Maybe, yeah. But there are more important things than a Quidditch match. If you had died—"
"I'm not dead," I cut him off.
There's some truth in what he's saying, I know that, but I don't want him blaming himself for not acting—because that would invalidate his anger at the same time. It's complicated. I sigh, trying awkwardly to put my thoughts into words.
"You're not exactly wrong, but you're not entirely right either. I don't know if you get what I mean, but… When you say there are more important things, that's true. I can't imagine what you would have felt if it really had been a matter of life and death. But even so, your anger would still have been valid, and you couldn't have known…"
"You've nearly died in the Forbidden Forest before. Of course, I could have known!"
"But that was before… Before Christmas, before Quentin. Things have changed since then. And even if they hadn't, you could have been angry and still cared about me. You could have been furious with me and still helped me. Right?"
"But I didn't come yesterday! That's the problem!"
"Ewald said you were fairly certain I wasn't actually in danger. Was he lying?"
Alphonse squirms uncomfortably before sighing.
"No. But I still think I should have done things differently."
I shrug.
"What's done is done."
"And you can keep your thoughts in mind for when a similar situation happens again."
Alphonse flinches at Ewald's intervention—he had probably forgotten the Slytherin was still there. He gives a small smile before nodding.
"I suppose you're right…"
He seems to shake himself out of it a bit before adding,
"Anyway, Vivian, you really need to stop giving us these kinds of scares! And you'd better do your best against Ravenclaw!"
He looks like he's about to say something else but then just gets up, biting into one of the bread rolls he took from the Great Hall. He starts heading for the exit but turns back in the doorway.
"I was really scared, Viv', when the others left and I started realising I might have seen you for the last time at training."
He's switched to French—maybe out of modesty. He looks away, suddenly embarrassed. The guilt threatens to choke me. I take a few steps towards him, and when he doesn't move away, I keep going.
This hug is very different from the one where he was trying to stop me from cutting myself. I do this entirely of my own accord, and though he's surprised, he pulls me against him without hesitation. I really did scare him. And even as we're pressed together, I'm thinking about what Ewald must have felt. Did he truly believe I was okay, or, like Alphonse, did he think I might actually try to kill myself? He should know I wouldn't. But… I don't know. I can't be certain without asking him. Eventually, Alphonse shifts, breaking the embrace, and leaves without another word.
It's been a long time since I've seen him this serious. I really fucked up. I turn around, taking in the silence of the empty classroom. Ewald doesn't speak, but our eyes meet when I glance at him. There are too many words left unsaid between us, and I don't know where to begin, which thread to pull. I can almost see the Occlumency walls he's built—like an armour around him.
He hasn't said anything. He still isn't saying anything, and I don't know how to start. I'm not even sure I want to have this conversation, even if I know it's necessary. I don't even know what conversation this is supposed to be. I just know that we have the unresolved issue of the cuts, and that, one way or another, we'll have to address last night and the exchange with Alphonse. I take a few steps toward the Slytherin. I want to hug him. I'm afraid he'll push me away. He never has before, but right now, I'm scared of intruding.
I reach out toward him, slowly, so he can see my movement. He doesn't react. It hurts. I let my arm fall. He catches it at the last second, and awkwardly, I press myself against him. At first, he's stiff. Tense. But he hugs me back, and that's the only reason I don't pull away. Eventually, he relaxes a little, slowly, but he still doesn't say a word. For once, I don't feel any real comfort in his embrace. Because for a moment, he almost pushed me away, I think. Because of this silence between us.
oOo
After a few minutes, we leave the classroom in silence and head toward the library. Arthur is there with Cian, and we join them, acting as if everything is normal. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe I imagined this tension with Ewald. Because the rest of the afternoon unfolds as usual. I read while the others talk and study for their upcoming exams, with Cian helping Arthur revise. Maybe it's nothing. But I know there's at least one conversation we still need to have—about the cuts.
At night, the thoughts swirl in my head again. I feel uneasy thinking back on the conversation at the HQ with Al and Ewald. I feel guilty. I also think about my meeting with my parents the day before. Cutting doesn't really help. In the end, I give in without much of a fight, casting the spell again to knock myself out. It'll mean waking up in the middle of the night, feeling awful when it wears off. But for now, I press my wand to my temple, and everything goes black.
oOo
I still ache all over when I wake up on Monday morning. I don't want to go down for breakfast, but in the end, I force myself—just to avoid worrying the others. I've put them through enough this weekend. The day passes in a blur. Ewald is there but distant. Arthur flits between us and Cian, relieved to see me up and walking without a limp. Alphonse sticks with the Quidditch team constantly. I wonder if he needs time to process everything or if he's just fully focused on the match, maybe both.
I get plenty of comments from those who saw me fly on Saturday—the kind they make sure I overhear, as if by accident. Jenkins doesn't even bother with subtlety, openly criticising me whenever he sees me. As soon as classes end, I rush outside to fly. I need to train, and I need to escape—from the castle, from Ewald's silences, from my teammates' disdain. From my own thoughts.
I fly non-stop until dinner. Other students are on the Quidditch pitch too—Ravenclaws. We don't exchange a single word. That night, I barely touch my food. I almost want to starve myself on purpose, but I'll need energy for the match, I suppose. I know I'm sinking again, letting myself drown in the silence, in the things left unsaid. I can feel myself starting to dissociate again… I retreat to my dorm quickly to cut, letting the blade say what I can't. This will do.
Once again, night comes, and the spell knocks me out, sparing me from thinking or from the futile struggle of trying to sleep.
oOo
The rest of the week passes in a similar manner. Silence fills the space I share with the Slytherin, while we pretend as though nothing is wrong. We're good at it, I think. So good that we fool Arthur without effort. So good that even I begin to wonder if it's just me imagining the silence. It's a strange feeling. Familiar, too.
I'm used to words sealed behind closed lips. To thoughts that storm inside my skull as I wait—just for a word, a single word—while I follow the path of habit beside the one I'm waiting for a sign from. A word, something, anything. It used to be Jérémy, before. Before his death. He never said anything about what mattered to me until the car hit him. Well—no, once. Just once, he had spoken. And with his words, he had stained me even more.
At least then, there was no doubt that it wasn't just a nightmare. But the idea that I was partly responsible for that "slip"? He helped it take root. I don't want to think about what he told me back then. Not now. It's easier to sink deeper into dissociation. To cut. The new marks on my arms are like tally marks in a prison cell. Does that make sense? It's almost a magic trick—leaving marks on skin that's already more scar than flesh. And the silence, always, wrapping around me like a second skin, like it's the only exit in a world without reason.
Silence. I knew it with Quentin, too, though in different forms. And now, Ewald. At least with Jérémy, I knew I wasn't imagining things. Here, everything I have is based on the fact that I think I know the Slytherin. If I were imagining all this, wouldn't he have brought up the cuts a long time ago? Instead, he just stays. Always there, always around me, acting as if nothing is different. Following me to the library. Saving me a seat at meals. Even giving me some tips for my match—he's played against Ravenclaw before, after all, and in the same position as me. I don't sleep without knocking myself out any more, but at least the nights feel almost bearable.
oOo
Friday breaks the monotonous routine of the week. I eat lunch with Ewald and Arthur, and when the Slytherin leaves for his Arithmancy class, the Hufflepuff turns to me:
"You were pretty beat up on Saturday. You seem better now, but I'd like to check you over before the match. Will you let me? We can go to HQ or your tower."
I sigh, knowing he'll insist until I give in—or worse, threaten to involve Madam Pomfrey if I don't cooperate.
"Let's go to HQ," I say. "It's closer."
And there are blades lying around in my dorm, but he doesn't need to know that. It's probably a mess up there too—I haven't had the energy to care about it these past few days. Once we reach our destination, I let the Hufflepuff cast his diagnostic spells without protest. He presses his lips together as he performs the general one, clearly unimpressed with the results. I really hope he won't try to send me to the infirmary…
He casts another spell, this time focused on my stomach. When he's done, he asks me to lift my shirt so he can check the area. The frown he's been wearing since his first spell shifts into something closer to surprise.
"You don't have any bruises?"
"Glamours," I reply, curtly.
Arthur's expression darkens. He hesitates, like he's bracing himself, before asking me to remove them. Luckily, I haven't cut there too much lately—I've been focusing on my arms, legs, and neck. Discreetly, I adjust my scarf as I drop the spell. No need for Arthur to see the wounds in that area.
oOo
He makes no comment as he examines my abdomen, warning me before touching my body each time he needs to press against the bruises. He works with his head lowered, and I try not to move too much despite the discomfort, especially with my glamour inactive. When he's finished, his fingers linger on the scars left by my experiments, from when I tried to cut as deeply as I could. Finally, he lets his arm fall and gestures that I can lower my t-shirt.
"When did you do that?"
His voice is slightly unsteady, and he doesn't meet my eyes. My gaze flicks to his face, and before I can look away, I see a single tear shimmering on his cheek. One simple tear that shatters my composure, attacking the dissociation I've been sinking into for days. I realise, far too late, that he's never seen my body without glamour before. Shit, when he treats me, he doesn't even touch me! He didn't know. I stare at the floor as I pull out my wand to restore my glamours, answering honestly without even trying to lie:
"A month or two ago."
Shame washes over me at that moment. I raise my wand to cast the spell, but Arthur stops me.
"Wait!"
"I'm just putting my glamours back," I reply, surprised.
"Because there are things you don't want me to see."
I shrug, focusing on a spot near his head without actually looking at him. I'm too afraid of seeing the glistening trail his tear must have left on his cheek.
"Because you've finished examining me, haven't you?"
"You're mostly afraid that I'll see the rest, aren't you? The most recent marks. The ones that haven't even had time to heal yet."
This time, our eyes meet. His face is pained but determined. My shame keeps me from holding his gaze.
"You've seen enough."
If my stomach was enough to bring him to tears, what would my arms do to him? I straighten up—I need to put my glamours back on and get out of here.
"Show me."
His voice is soft, but it stops me in my tracks. I don't want to. But it's already too late, isn't it? In a way, I've protected him, but now my instinct tells me he wants to see it through to the end.
"What for?" I whisper.
"I've closed my eyes for long enough," he replies. Stubborn.
"I hid everything I could from you. You never wanted to close your eyes."
"I've known about your cuts for months, but I've never truly faced reality. I've treated the present when you let me, without ever confronting the past."
"What good will it do you?"
A hint of desperation creeps into my voice despite myself. I don't understand why he insists, even as I understand perfectly well.
"I think I need to," he answers simply, with quiet resolve.
This can't be a good idea. There's no real reason to do it. And yet, the mere fact that he's asking to see is enough for me to comply. I don't entirely know why he cares so much, despite his explanations. I don't really understand. I don't entirely know why I turn around and slowly remove my scarf, then my t-shirt, after locking the door with a spell Ewald taught me. A mix of several things, I think. He asked, and I feel like I owe him. He asked, and no one usually does (let's ignore the fact that most people don't even know). He never seemed to truly grasp the trap that life is for me, and a vindictive part of me wants him to realise just how much I've hurt. I don't particularly like that part of myself. Another part, the one that finds all of this incredibly amusing—the part of me that has already given in to madness—thinks this is going to be fun. Thankfully, my chest is still flat, thanks to the puberty-blocking spells.
I turn around.
oOo
Arthur steps closer to me, entering my personal space without touching me. I almost feel his eyes moving from one part of my body to another, unsure of where to focus. It's around this moment that I briefly catch his wet gaze. The threat of upcoming tears removes any humour from the situation. Even though I want to, I don't move because he asked to see. His eyes start to linger more on certain parts of my body. My arms. My throat. His hand rises towards me and I tense, but he doesn't touch me. Instead, he takes a step back, as if trying to get an overall view. I look anywhere but his face, but I catch the motion he makes to wipe his eyes with an almost angry gesture. He knows how to cry silently too, it seems.
"It's… enough."
These are his first words, and I don't need any further encouragement to pick up my wand and restore my glamours before putting my clothes back on. He says nothing during this time. When I'm finished, I finally resign myself to look back in his direction.
"Sorry."
Surprised, I meet his gaze. He immediately looks down, almost as if he's ashamed.
"Why?"
"Because I'm crying."
I frown.
"Why should you apologise for crying?"
"I… I don't know. It's not me who's in pain. I… I'm too sensitive, aren't I?"
I shrug.
"As long as you don't pity me, you can feel whatever you want."
There's a hint of steel in my voice. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want to be diminished in that way again. Arthur sniffles before responding.
"I don't pity you. I've always admired you, you know? And now… I didn't realise how much pain you must have been in. How alone you must have felt since you were reborn. If it changes the way I see you, it's only because it makes you even more admirable."
"It's true that all those scars must be impressive."
I couldn't help it. The sarcasm makes Arthur wince.
"I'm serious, Vivian."
I sigh.
"I know." I respond anyway.
A part of me waits for him to add something. The rest of me wants to leave. I'm ashamed, yet proud, of what I've done to survive. It's one of my specialities, fully living out my contradictions.
"It's probably inappropriate, but I feel like crying… for you. Because you don't cry, probably."
"Oh, it happens." I admit reluctantly. "But not in front of other people."
"You're strong, Vivian."
I don't reply. Everyone loves to say I'm strong. They liked doing it in my first life too. It suits them well, that I'm strong. It absolves them of all responsibility. If I'm strong, then I don't need help. If I'm strong, then I can manage on my own. But maybe my strength comes from a lack of choice.
"Can I hug you?"
The request is shy, but it effectively pulls me out of my thoughts. I shrug before answering.
"Okay."
The Hufflepuff doesn't mind my lack of enthusiasm. Still, I feel like he's aware that it really doesn't bother me. Anyway, now that he's seen beneath my glamours, I don't have to fear him noticing my scars.
"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers once his head is resting on mine, reminding me once again how young my body is.
It takes me a moment to find something to reply, and I hold him a little tighter to let him know I've heard, before I find something to say and speak:
"You're my friend."
I almost feel him smile against my skull, and when we pull apart, a shadow of a smile lights up his face, the tears now gone.
oOo
After a few moments of silence, I feel like we're done here, and I unlock the door. I'm a bit surprised that he didn't ask to heal me, and almost disappointed in a way. Before I can take a step towards the exit, however, he asks:
"Do you hate yourself?"
I freeze before turning around, sitting next to him on a table. I give him a glance before looking away and answering without meeting his eyes:
"I think, in a way. Because there are things I'm not at peace with. Because I blame myself for quite a few things. But I can't really hate myself, because I understand myself. You can't hate someone you understand, and I'm the person I understand the most. I've always been there for myself, after all. I grew up alone. I survived alone…"
I stop, because I don't know what else to say.
"You… You cut your neck a lot."
I shrug.
"It's possible."
"I-it's dangerous, you know?"
"It seems so, yes." I reply sarcastically. That's kind of the point, I think.
Proving that the Hufflepuff is starting to get used to me, he only rolls his eyes at my retort rather than getting too annoyed. However, he quickly returns to his serious tone and asks:
"Are they scars from... times you tried to…"
"Kill myself?" I complete for him, and he nods, lowering his eyes, seeming reluctant to hear the answer to the question he had, however, wanted to ask. I shake my head before answering:
"No, just cuts I made like that. Except the night at Ewald's, after seeing Quentin."
A complicated emotion crosses my interlocutor's face.
"You… I didn't know."
"That I tried to kill myself?" I ask, surprised. From our conversations, I had the impression he knew.
"I did, but… I didn't have any details. Ewald just told me that… That you had wanted to do it, but you stopped because you realized you didn't want to do that to Quentin, and to us."
I manage to show no reaction, but a part of me is surprised that the Slytherin tried to cover for me. I'm grateful for that, and at the same time, it strengthens my guilt. I really don't deserve that… Or maybe he just wanted to protect the others from the truth: it wasn't thinking about them that stopped my arm.
Our conversation finally ends after that, either because the Hufflepuff doesn't want to dwell on the subject, or because he sensed I didn't want to elaborate. We finally leave the headquarters, and it's a relief for me to be alone again. I don't want to dwell on to everything we just said.
oOo
After another night made bearable by the stunning spell, the day of the match finally arrives. I eat lunch at my house table for once, more or less willingly surrounded by the team. Al' is next to me, still giving out recommendations to everyone. As if we hadn't had enough already! Arthur and Ewald had the good sense not to join us and are sitting at the Ravenclaw table with Cian. Jenkins is seated a few places away from me, throwing me nasty looks regularly. He's not the only one, but at least the others have the decency not to do it too openly. I hear a few whispered insults directed at me, which I pretend not to hear. What do I care anyway? No, the only thing that gives me even a bit of energy is the defiant greeting from Lily Potter as she leaves the Great Hall, along with the worried yet admiring looks from the Potter twins, who are sitting next to the team and myself. Scorpius and they even come to wish me good luck when I finally leave the table to enjoy my last few moments of calm. Listening to them, you'd think I'm heading to the scaffold.
I change in my dormitory for once, so that I can head down to the pitch with the whole team already in uniform. Alphonse leads the way, and I follow closely behind. By now, everyone is too tense to make any comments. The members of our house who aren't yet in the stands follow us, forming a long red-and-gold procession through the castle. On the way, Alphonse gives his final instructions. I feel myself becoming more and more present in the moment, focused on the match ahead. In the changing room, Al' pulls me aside.
"I know not everyone agrees with you playing, but I trust you, Viv." He speaks in French. "We need two hundred and twenty-two points to win the Cup. Hold off as long as possible before catching the Snitch, okay? If possible, wait until we're seventy points ahead."
I nod. Now, I'm completely grounded in the present moment. I feel the pressure. Seventy points. That's no small feat.
"I'm counting on you to keep them from scoring," I reply.
We exchange sharp, determined smiles. I know Alphonse is an excellent Keeper, and I know how important this match is to him. I'll do my best.
oOo
The air is charged with electricity as the two captains shake hands. Lily Potter keeps her eyes locked on me until Ginny Weasley blows the whistle. In perfect unison, we all rise into the air—red and gold against blue and bronze—in a whirlwind of robes. Everyone is giving it their all from the very start. We're trying to win the Cup, but so are they. And well, we're talking about Ravenclaws. At this point, it's a matter of house pride for them to win.
Al' blocks a first goal attempt following a lightning-fast attack from the opposing Chasers. My teammates wake up quickly, though, and an all-out battle erupts between the two teams. Bludgers fly in all directions, and the melee is chaotic. I don't take long to distance myself, mirrored by the opposing Seeker on the other side of the pitch. I keep an eye on him just in case, but for now, neither of us sees the slightest glint of gold.
This gives me the chance to observe Ocean at work while searching for the Snitch. He's not bad. Alphonse is much better though. Unfortunately, the Ravenclaw Beaters are just as terrifying as expected. As in every other match this year, my friend is heavily targeted by the opposing Bludgers. Despite that, we're already forty points ahead, and Ravenclaw has only scored once. The game is intense, but I don't waste too much time watching. I focus on my task, just keeping track of the score and dodging the occasional Bludger that comes my way.
Only fifteen minutes in, I think I spot a golden flash two metres below me. I dive gently, not wanting to alert anyone. It's really the Snitch! I just have to reach out to catch it—almost. I can't believe it. I start extending my hand toward the ball but stop myself before accelerating. We're fifty points ahead. If I catch it now, we'll be second in the rankings. I have to wait.
At that moment, a sharp cry rings out. Lily has realised what's happening and warns her Seeker. He shoots toward me, and the Snitch starts zigzagging in his direction. I have no choice. If Ravenclaw catches it, we won't have any chance of winning the Cup. I flatten myself against my broom. Ideally, I need to let the Snitch slip away while making sure my opponent doesn't get it either.
I'm still the closest. A Bludger hurtles straight at me, forcing me to lose precious seconds as the golden sphere suddenly shoots upwards. I manage to dodge, but now I'm neck and neck with the other Seeker. We chase our target at full speed. He might be slightly more skilled, but I'm lighter, which helps me keep up. The fact that I have no survival instinct probably helps too, I suppose.
Suddenly, just as we're reaching for the Snitch, a Bludger appears, speeding toward us. In an instant, I decide to dodge toward the other Seeker—a move that seems stupid at first but works. I feel the Bludger's rush of air against my cheek as my opponent is forced to almost stop to avoid crashing into me. He curses as he realises my manoeuvre has given the Snitch enough time to disappear. He pulls up sharply, hoping to spot a golden glint, and I linger nearby, but we see nothing. I hope it was worth it.
After that, a long and frustrating half-hour drags on. I focus mostly on the other Seeker, preferring to make sure he doesn't find the Snitch rather than looking for it myself. Might as well wait until my team scores enough points, really. Hopefully, they won't take too long. We're all starting to tire, but if our Chasers can just score one more time, I'll be able to go for the Snitch. If I can find it, of course.
Around this moment, I see the opposing Seeker suddenly tilt his broom towards Alphonse's goalposts. By reflex, I shoot after him. I'm a bit far away.
oOo
It takes me a few seconds to spot the Snitch myself. It's hovering near the melee. One of our Chasers scores, and the golden glint dives beneath the players as the counterattack begins. We have enough points now, and both my opponent and I are separated from our target by dozens of moving bodies. I don't think—I just dive. A broom grazes my face, a body brushes past me, nearly throwing me off balance, but I push through. I bite back a curse as I realise the Snitch has veered towards the Slytherin stands, flying in the opposite direction. The other Seeker has managed to break through the tangle of players as well. He's closer than I am.
I flatten myself against my broom, speeding toward him, using him as a marker until I can catch up. He's easier to follow than the Snitch. The golden ball is playful—it suddenly rises back up to the level of the other players, slowing my opponent considerably. I, on the other hand, stay below, and it pays off because the Snitch darts towards the stands again. Now, I've closed the gap.
I stretch out my hand just as the Snitch starts to dive. The other Seeker is blocked by one of our Beaters, who sends a perfectly aimed Bludger into his path. I dive, but almost immediately, the Snitch shoots back up. It's nearly within my reach. I follow its climb. I extend my fingers. Beside me, the Ravenclaw Seeker keeps pace. I don't waste a single second glancing at him.
Together, we streak along the Slytherin stands. Less than a metre separates me from the Snitch. It makes a sharp turn towards the centre of the pitch. I follow. I'm on the inside of the turn, gaining about twenty centimetres on my opponent. We're almost there. My brain registers the Bludger coming straight at me. I refuse to break off—I'm too close. I don't know if I'll make it through. But I'm an instant away from catching the Snitch.
I hear a curse as the other Seeker veers away, and time slows. My fingers close around the tiny metal sphere, and at the same moment, I roll.
I avoid the worst of the impact. The Bludger clips my ribs—not gently—but doesn't break them. At least, I don't think it does; it doesn't hurt that badly. But the hit is enough to throw me off balance. I'm not used to this manoeuvre! That's how I end up hanging upside down, clinging to my broom with only my legs. The Snitch is in my hand, the final whistle blows, but my broom is slipping from my control. The stadium erupts in cheers as Alphonse rushes to my aid, helped by a spell cast by Ginny Weasley. Once I'm finally back in the saddle, I throw my fist into the air, riding the wave of euphoria.
And while Lily looks deeply disappointed, I also catch a glimmer of respect in her eyes when she comes to shake my hand after the match.
"I will get my revenge, Eris!"
I grin widely as I head back to the team's changing rooms, still buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill of my final move.
oOo
«What if I don't want to be rescued?
What if I've been enough bruised?
What if I was feeding myself with anger
And set this whole world on fire
And watch it burn
And watch it die in the flames
For today it's their turn
For today I'm the one to blame
What if there's no adventure
What if under the gold there's only moisture
What if there's no wonder
Just this pain forever»
-Poem written in Vivian Eris' starry notebook-
I didn't read this chapter in a while before translating it, and I really liked rediscovering the part with Arthur. I wrote a bonus chapter about this moment, I think it'll be the next thing I'll publish^^
Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you more or less soon!
In the meantime, don't forget to comment if you enjoyed the chapter!