Chapter 33 - The Little Swallow

His body fell heavy on the bench, the harsh light of the post overhead irritating his eyes. With mechanical motions he fished a hand inside his bag, pulling out the popsicle and crunching it with his sharp teeth.

Curiosity made him bring the stick in front of his face to read the word carved into the wood.

Winner!

…

He threw up on his feet.

.

…

…..

He found her in the same spot she now refused to leave, playing with the ashes where her dreams once grew from. Without a word, he sat beside her, eyes falling to the horizon. When he blinked, the noise left behind the impression of the places he had wandered through, and he could just imagine each of the souls he'd met in those locations.

From his ragged cloak he procured a piece of paper, torn and burnt and folded intricately over itself. His friend froze when he offered it to her, small hands trembling as they grasped the flower with utmost care.

"Ho-How?" She asked, voice hoarse and trembling. Her wide, bloodshot eyes turned to him, and it was the first time she looked like the little girl she was supposed to be, and not the wraith this place had made of her.

"Do you want to remember?" He asked, barely above a whisper, afraid that the world was listening.

Her lips trembled as she hugged the flower to her chest, "I—I can't, not here…" She turned to the ashes beneath them, body beginning to tremble.

He laid his hand on her head, gently turning her to face him, "Lily," He started, voice unwavering as he took the paper flower from her hands, threading it through her hair, "Do you wish to remember?"

Slowly, her tremors settled, and after a long moment she nodded.

He smiled at her with all his love, embracing her and committing to memory the warm feeling of her hugging him with all her strength.

The feeling of bile rising up his throat and his body being turned to the side was what awoke Nathan, his eyes flying open a moment before he threw up on the ground. Cold-warm hands stroked his matted hair and caressed his back as he convulsed, choking on air as he tried not to make a sound and hold back the vomit.

The ghosts helped him up, guiding him one step at a time to the bathroom as Nathan held his hands to his mouth.

"Is everything alright?"

Nathan flinched, hands flying back to his sides as he turned to Neville, bleary eyed and squinting at him from his propped position on his bed. "Nathan?"

"I'm-I'm okay, just a little sick—No!" Nathan whispered fervently as Neville pushed his covers aside, going to stand up. Nausea roiled in his stomach at his little outburst, "It'll pass, I-I just need to use the bathroom."

Neville kept looking at him, not lying back down, so Nathan entered the bathroom before his friend got up.

He shut the door behind him, cursing himself for forgetting his wand. Nathan hesitantly went to the sink, trembling arms bringing the cold water to his mouth, trying to get rid of the rancid taste in his mouth, and then splashing his face in his usual routine.

His eyes went to the mirror, witnessing the countless scars that covered part of his skin, the rest of it being soaked in blood, even the ratty tank top that dwarfed his body, barely hiding his bony frame and the black chord that dangled from his chest.

An eyepatch covered one of his eyes, but he could still, somehow, see clearly through it. It was how he noticed the stick he held in his hand.

Nathan brought it up to his face, hand shaking bad enough that he couldn't identify the weird symbols carved into it.

A blink, and his reflection in the mirror was back to normal. In a passing thought he noted his body remained just as thin and bony. His eyes looked back at the stick.

Winner!

….

Nathan threw up.

Minerva allowed herself to sigh as the door to her office closed behind another student, one of her hands taking off her glasses, placing them softly on her desk, while the other rubbed at her tired eyes.

No matter how many years she'd dedicated to Hogwarts, how much experience with these meetings she now had under her belt, career counseling never became easier. Too many students with much too different aspirations and hopes for their futures; All of them, in her wizened opinion, entirely too young to be making such decisions about their lives.

A knock at her door, and the professor recomposed herself in but a moment, glasses back on the bridge of her nose, back as straight as could be. "Enter!" She exclaimed, glancing at her time tables to see whose turn it was.

Nathan Winters, was the name assigned to the time slot. A vague image of him crossed her mind: Quiet, of average build and height, his face a blank—

"Good afternoon, Professor," Her student greeted, voice weak like much of the others had been, full of uncertainty. Though there was no nervousness to be seen in him, not when her eyes saw Nathan through such blurry lens.

"Please, take a seat, Mr Winters," Minerva took off her glasses, cleaning them with an easily summoned handkerchief. She put them back on when deemed adequately cleaned, but her vision still seemed blurry around him. Maybe a break is in order, after this meeting, she thought to herself. "Allow me to explain the purpose of this meeting,"

Just like she had done a dozen times earlier in the day, McGonagall explained what career counseling was about, and how it could help him. The slight haze around her student slowly cleared, until she could finally get a proper look at him. Winters sat rigidly in the comfortable chair she had offered, shoulders hunched low in exhaustion. Her vision was still grainy, obscuring much of his face, but something told her he wasn't making eye contact with her.

"Did you pay attention to what I said?" She asked after finishing her explanation, entirely too used to the wandering minds of her students.

Winters gave a single, small nod as an answer.

"Good. Did you read through the career options pamphlet that was provided?"

Another nod was his answer.

"And did any of them pique your interest?"

This time a shake of the head in the negative.

"Mr Winters, I must ask that you take this seriously! The OWLS are right around the corner, and it is imperative that you do well in, at least, the subjects pertaining to your career of choice!"

Minerva felt her irritation flare, a momentary lapse of control caused by the long day she'd had. She exhaled softly, willing herself to remain poised, even as the vexing spots of sand kept dancing in her eyes.

Winters sighed wearily, slouching in his seat, shoulders sagging a little more. The annoying spots in her vision faded enough that she could see his eyes clearly, still not looking at her, but fleeting about the place every few moments, his head sometimes tilting in the same direction.

"If I'm honest," He started, voice raspier and more tired than it had seemed before, "none of those jobs seemed like a good fit."

One of her hands subconsciously came to rub at her temples as pain pulsed in her head. Another one of her students who wouldn't sit still behind a desk, she guessed.

"Okay then, Mr Winters. What are some options you thought of about?"

Winters froze suddenly, not even breath coming to his lungs for a moment. His eyes widened, finally looking at her direction, but seeming to fly right past her, fixating in a spot only he could see. He crossed his arms, hunching in on himself, his right hand twitching every so often.

"I haven't really thought much about the future…" Winters admitted after a long moment, sotto voce barely travelling enough for her to hear.

Maybe she needed that break more than she initially thought, for her heart stuttered with abrupt panic for a moment, her students' words striking a chord within her, but the feeling was gone in the next instant.

Or perhaps it was the fact the obscurity around Winters' eyes finally faded enough for her to see the impossibly dark shadows surrounding his saddened eyes, still gazing at infinity.

"There must be something you would enjoy working with, at least for the near future?" It was jarring to hear the slight tone of desperation that leaked through her voice, but Minerva was unable to stop it, her body seeming slightly out of her control, mind a little numb. "Something pertaining to one of your more favored school subjects? Or any hobby you might have?"

Winters forced himself to breathe, exhaling softly, deflating more in his seat till he looked more like a toy abandoned by a child than a student that she couldn't, for the life of her, ever remember interacting with—

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing!?" She felt more than heard Winters' furious whisper, the sound akin to shards of glass being moved and crushed and stepped on.

Minerva watched him advance slowly onto the headmaster, part of her preparing herself to pull her wand and incapacitate the feral youngster.

But she couldn't move, petrified and terrified of his presence filling the room, the shivers running up and down her spine feeling like shards of glass grinding on her skin. She could feel every second of her old age as her knees threatened to buckle and never again let her stand on her feet—

Minerva flinched harshly back into reality, the sound of some of her bones cracking the only sound she registered through the ringing in her ears, her eyes blinking desperately in an attempt to get rid of the dark spots occupying her vision.

That did not happen, it didn't! She thought desperately to herself, the frantic beat of her heart painful in her chest. I would not forget such a thing!

She swallowed harshly, forcing her breathing back under control. Her eyes hesitantly travelled to her student, still sitting stiffly, looking nothing at all like the… Thing, she had conjured in her mind.

"Mr—" She choked a bit, startled by her own voice, unwittingly coming out on its own, "Mr Winters?"

The boy—Thing, The man—startled, finally meeting her gaze, before his eyes fell to the ground. "Sure," He answered at last, voice rough and old, "But I dunno, what would be the point?" One of his hands rubbed his chin absentmindedly, his gaze going back to seeing something far away.

"Well, then perhaps you could do something to help people? Maybe a healer?" The hint of desperation that tinted her voice was back in full force, even as she watched something in the man relax minutely as she talked. "I've found that saving people, even if a vague notion, can bring us true joy."

"But," A world weary sigh left Winters, even as his lips seemed to quirk up slightly at some amusement only he was feeling, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes, "Is that really my purpose here…"

Minerva felt her heart break a little, hearing the unspoken words clearly "I often find myself doubting my own," She admitted, seeing his eyes turn to her in surprise, "But sometimes… sometimes we meet people, and suddenly, your path in life starts making sense."

A rasping laugh abruptly escaped him, startling Minerva enough to break the daze that had taken over her. She forced herself to look through the weird grains of sand floating in her vision, focusing on how unnatural her student looked, body language looking like it belonged to someone else.

Winters' stopped laughing as small coughs racked through him, "I guess it makes sense why you're such an esteemed professor!" His body sagged back into the seat, shoulders slouching with weight. "I guess I…"

Soulful eyes, shining like the glass stabbing at his aching heart, turned to her.

…

But he said nothing.

The moment passed, Minerva blinked, and the man was now standing, otherworldly presence surrounding him gone. His face was neutral, but Winters seemed to stand taller than when he had entered her office; The set of his shoulders relaxed and strong at the same time, assured. Only now she noticed his left arm was bleeding minutely.

"I do not know what awaits in my future, but I thank you for your time and your kind wisdom," Winters bowed slightly as he said his gratitudes, turning to walk out of the room and cutting their meeting short.

His rapid change in demeanor and overly formal tone were enough to freeze Minerva for a moment, but the weird state of her mind was culpable for her taking so long to jump to her feet, intent to stop her student from leaving before she could help him, at least to stop the bleeding.

But Winters crossed the door and closed it behind him before she could even bring her wand to bear, the sound of it reverberating through the room, getting louder and louder, until it joined with the ringing in her ears to form an infernal cacophony.

Minerva closed her eyes in discomfort, and when she opened them a moment later she was sitting back in her chair. She allowed herself to sigh, one of her hands taking off her glasses, placing them softly on her desk, while the other rubbed at her tired eyes.

A knock at her door, and the professor recomposed herself in but a moment, glasses back on the bridge of her nose, back as straight as could be. "Enter!" She exclaimed, glancing at her time tables to see whose turn it was.

Hannah Abbott, was the name assigned to the time slot. A vague image of her crossed her mind: Outgoing, short and blonde, excels in charms—

Her eyes flitted to the name written above: Nathan Winters.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Her student greeted as she entered, a hint of nervousness in her bubbly voice. It was a normal thing, something she had clearly seen in most of her other meetings in the day.

With a deep breath, Minerva recomposed herself, launching into the same explanation she had repeated countless times just in that very same day. She promised herself a much needed break after this meeting.

Then she could wonder about why Nathan Winters hadn't appeared for his meeting.

The sunset painted the horizon in an alluring gradient, its light refracted on the still waters of the black lake in a way that made the scenery truly worthy of being memorized, each little detail burned into one's mind.

It was what Nathan knew he should be seeing, if it weren't for the static in his eyes warping everything into something else.

So he didn't look, laying on his back on the soft grass, eyes closed, basking in his friend's warmth more than the sun's.

He listened to Ron say something egregious and Hermione smacking him with a book. Listened to Neville try to talk confidently about his future as a herbalist, maybe as a teacher, even. Listened to Luna talking to Ginny, with her airy voice that traveled like the wind, about her future travels with her father—who she missed very much—to find their fantastical beasts. Listened to Harry moodily talking about his future as an auror, even if both him and Nathan knew he was tired of fighting for the right of living.

Nathan listened so he wouldn't be tempted to open his eyes and see the wraiths taking the place of the people he loved.

A soft flick to his forehead forced Nathan to unwittingly open his eyes. The spirit above him pouted childishly and Nathan smiled in spite of himself, ignoring the static that covered the sky, mumbling an apology to the spectre.

"What about you, Nate?"

Nathan rolled his head to the side, meeting Hermione's expectant gaze. "What about what?"

She huffed in exasperation, "How did your meeting with Professor McGonagall go?"

He blinked, the image of the shroud of a worried nun over the professor assaulting his mind for a moment. Nathan swallowed dry, forcing his eyes to the ghost above him. "Went fine."

A gust of wind made his scarf cover his face, and Nathan pulled it down so he could glare at Hermione, only to find Luna grinning at him mischievously, the point of her wand still glowing. He frowned at her, opening his mouth to speak, only to eat a handful of wool from his scarf.

He tore the cloth harshly from his mouth, barely missing the ghost's head as he sat up, "Was that really necessary?!"

"I was aiming for the nargles," Luna said innocently, eyes wide as she lowered her wand, "Your head is infested with them."

"Uhuh, sure," He deadpanned, patting the blades of grass stuck to his back.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked again, eyes now softer, worried like they always seemed to be when they looked at him now.

Nathan bit his tongue, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He gazed at a far away dark spot, moving through the air, out of reach, "Didn't really help much, but it's mostly my fault," He could feel eyes burning a hole at the side of his head, and he sighed, "I haven't really thought of the future much…"

Silence descended into the clearing, dense like the unspoken words woven through his sentence. From the corner of his eyes, Nathan saw Neville curl into himself, hugging his knees to his chest, and he could just imagine the glossiness in Hermione's eyes.

He stood up, patting the dirt out of his jeans, ignoring Luna's searching eyes as he kneeled beside Harry by the lake, cleaning his hands in the water, gaze locked onto his warped reflection.

"Did you already forget about your promise?" Luna said from behind, "About going with me to find the crumple horned snorkack, and making illustrations for my book?

"I don't remember promising to do that," Nathan didn't bother turning around to answer.

"You did! Said you wouldn't even charge, that skipping through forests with me would be enough payment!"

"Now, we both know that's a damn lie!" He did turn around this time, only to see Luna grinning childishly at him. He blew a raspberry at her, her answering giggles lightening his heart by a fraction.

Silence settled around them. Nathan looked back at the lake.

"M-maybe I'll do that t-too. Travel the world and right about the exotic plants I find, Like—like trees that can fly," Neville broke through the quiet, soft and uncertain, only the wind carrying his words, "I-I think some drawings would be the best way to show them."

And the reflection in the water blurred more as tears came to Nathan's eyes. The shifting sands slowed down minutely.

"I should probably have a side business while I reform the Ministry. Maybe make some scarves, make a designer brand out of it. I'll need plenty of funding for my future studies," Hermione said as she came to stand beside him, sitting down and bumping her shoulder with his, "Some help with the knitting would be greatly appreciated."

Nathan laughed, softly and for only a moment, sitting on the ground before his shaking legs could give out on him. His eyes were shut tight, stopping the tears from falling.

Something heavy settled on his lap, and Nathan slowly opened his eyes to a rock resting on his legs.

"You keep brooding about the future and you'll waste your whole life here." Harry mumbled, looking far away at the lake, gaze softer, shoulders less tense.

Nathan scoffed, hoisting the rock from his legs, "And wha' did'ja reckon I should do?"

Harry finally looked at him, then looked at the stone, then looked Nathan in the eye again, not uttering a single word.

He didn't need to.

With a heavy breath, Nathan got up, heavy rock in his arms.

He walked into the lake.

One step. Two steps. Three.

With water up to his knees, and a mighty swing of his whole body, Nathan threw the stone with everything he had.

It sailed through the air, cutting through the noise like the dark shape he had seen earlier, flying across the sunset.. It landed, not very far away, with a thundering splash, rivulets of water landing on his face, mingling with the tears.

Water moved as he heard someone approach, stopping beside him. Nathan didn't look, eyes fixated on the countless birds that had taken flight with the sound.

"Maybe we don't need to be afraid of the future, Nate. We fight for it until we can't anymore, even if we don't want it," Harry whispered, hesitant, voice wavering like the small waves in the lake, "It's what we were born to do…"

What I was born to do, were the unspoken words Harry didn't say into the still air. Nathan heard them all the same, loud and clear, echoing through the noise. He clenched his fists hard as his gut twisted and a knot tightened around his neck.

Through his burning eyes, Nathan watched the birds fly away, past the horizon, chasing the warmth of the setting sun. Every beat of their wings sapped them of energy, of life force. Brought more pain to aching muscles. But still, they flew, chasing the sunset.

And then the sun would vanish, and the swallows would chase it still.

Nathan watched the last rays of light hit the lake. Felt it warm his skin.

And when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the heat. Could still see the light shining behind his eyelids.

He could still see the sun.

A cold and warm hand grabbed his slowly, small and tender, gently loosening his tensed fingers.

Soft like flower petals.

Like a bird's feather.

And Nathan finally understood.

"The only thing you were born for, is love and revolution!" He turned around to face Harry, to face Hermione and Neville and Luna and all of the ghosts,

"And in that, I believe implicitly."

Nathan looked at everyone, standing tall in the waters, and the ghosts smiled at him, full of pride and joy.

Harry looked at him with wide eyes, before turning away, going to return to dry land. "Where did you steal that one from?" He could hear the mirth in his unsteady voice.

"Got it from a book," Nathan smiled, wide and freely, as he followed him, "Maybe I'll let you borrow it one day…"

Nathan sat in his bed, propped by his pillow, reading by the light of the glow from his eyes.

The same sentence he'd read countless times, in moments where he tried to find comfort or a distraction or meaning to the pain. The words urged him to understand them, not merely think of them but about them. Urged him to find out why it moved him so.

He jumped to the last page, staring at the bloody words, written in a desperate moment of paradoxical lucidity and insanity, scrawled onto what once was a blank page.

Another sentence.

A new meaning.

Maybe their significance was simply forgotten.

Maybe their value was yet to be learned.

"To stand any suffering, only to say…" Nathan whispered to himself, letting the words echo in his mind, plaster themselves onto the walls of his skull. He closed the book, put it back atop the nightstand, "Goodnight," He mumbled to the ghosts, settling at his side on the beg, not closing the curtains surrounding him.

The spirits settled around his space; They laid on the bed, sat at the edge, stood protectively over him. Sang a beautiful lullaby, of a lost bird, flying even without wings.

"You won't break," they breathed softly into his neck, warming the coldness, and this time, the words didn't feel mocking. Didn't ring hollow, "You won't break."

Nathan fell asleep with a smile.