𝐕𝐈𝐈. 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝

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"Drink, you'll feel better." Edith breathed a smile as she set down the cup and saucer in front of Harry, who grasped the brown teacup, bringing it to his lips after a short blow.

Edith sat down across from him, her body sinking into the grey chair. Her cardigan had been lazily hung on the coat rack beside the door, allowing her the freedom of yanking her sleeves further up her arms, crossing them over her stomach.

She sat for a moment, hearing Harry slurp his tea, her old Hufflepuff school robes were draped over his back, a clear contrast to the red and gold tie around his neck. The silver stitching around the robe's collar shimmered in the sunrise light shining through the round, semi-circle windows dotted across the back wall of the room.

Edith huffed a long sigh, leaning forward and dragging her gloved palms down her face.

Harry put his cup back down, wiping off his mouth with his jumper in an awkward movement of his shoulder. His hands remained wrapped around the warm mug, letting its heat radiate into the skin of his palms.

".... What do you want to do now?" Edith's voice broke their shared silence, dragging her gaze away from her own mug, which still sat untouched, to look towards the boy.

She could only imagine how much of a mess she must have looked like when he stared back at her. The bags under her eyes were heavy, begging for a proper night's sleep, and her hair ruffled from having dragged her hands through it so many times.

But finding herself aimlessly stood in the middle of the Forbidden Forest had left her more shaken that she cared to admit, and she was left with a new fear of sleep. Of being unprotected and unaware of her surroundings. Paranoia was quickly becoming an unwelcomed new friend.

Something inside her whispered to let it go, to just pass it off as a new habit of sleepwalking, or a disillusion conjured up by an exhausted and stressed young mind.

It whispered to keep it to herself, to not be a bother. To shove the idea of approaching Minerva or writing to Remus and Murphy deep into her chest, locking the cupboard and tossing away the key, that she was making something out of nothing, and bringing it up in conversation would open a box of chocolate frogs that nobody had asked for.

Weighed down by her doubts, she had listened.

Harry shrugged, an action that left him looking years older than his face would appear.

Edith's face pinched into a frown.

He didn't deserve this.

"What're our options?" He asked, glancing over to the crackling fireplace across the room, a proud tapestry hung above it.

The Hufflepuff crest was woven at the top with gold, silver and brown, and a small group of animals consisting of a house finch, a magpie, a wolf and a black dog roamed over the endless hills, sunset light basking over all of them, casting shadows on the grass that twitched with movement every few seconds.

Edith's expression softened, feeling a dull pain behind her eyes. She leaned back, rubbing her eyes as she spoke.

"Someone enchanting the Goblet got us to this point, so I could try and use my cards to alter whatever contract it thinks it's made, but I don't even know where to start with that. Two, I go around every new-comer in this school one by one, finding the bastard that did this before pulverising them into ashes and we call it a day. Three, you compete in this stupid tournament until its over, I'll look out for you and make sure nothing happens that's not pre-planned, although I think I've failed marginally at that already—"

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 (2) || 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘴 𝘓𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘯Where stories live. Discover now