The Little Lightning Girl

43- Our Next Mystery

"Well said," Kaley murmured, looking anything but amused.

Indeed, there wasn't much else to say. It was clear to me why everyone thought the prophecy was about us three. If I did the math correctly, this was the twenty third year after the final battle when Harry had killed Voldemort, so we were living in the right time frame. And the descriptions the prophecy gave of the witch trio...

"Scars, and eyes like the sun," I whispered, then glanced at James.

His eyes were sad, but he nodded, "I think it might be about you. It makes sense. And when you think about it, the other two witches in the prophecy sound rather familiar as well."

"Secrets," Kaley said quietly, "Not the most flattering description I've ever received. But it's true."

Rose sighed, "I guess that makes me the lion-hearted one. Why is it always us? Can't someone else's life be complicated for once while we just focus on surviving OWLs?"

"Who says you can't?" James inserted himself.

We all turned to him but he just shrugged, "You've got a few years until the battle the prophecy is talking about, who is to tell you what you can do until then?"

I groaned and fell backwards to lay down again, "Yeah, but I know I won't be able to focus with this doom poem looming over my head!"

"Doom poem?" Kaley questioned flatly, irritation clear in her tone.

I waved her away as James spoke again, "you should ask McGonagall about it."

Rose's eyes widened, "Bloody Hell, James Potter you have changed! You used to hate confiding in teachers!"

He rolled his eyes at his cousin, "McGonagall isn't just a teacher though, is she? She's the headmistress, and she knows what war is like. If anyone can give you answers, it's probably her."

One look between me and the girls and I nodded, "Okay, we'll ask tomorrow."

...............

We all trudged back to our dorm in silence after that talk. Only when we'd all finished getting ready for bed, only when we were all laying on our beds with our eyes still open, did I say something, "At least it's not just my fault we're in deep with some trouble."

Rose snorted and rolled on her side to face me, "What are you talking about, it's always your fault."

I knew she was teasing, she'd never blame me for anything that's happened to us. However, most of it had been a direct causation of something I'd done, or just who I was. This time, though, was different.

"No, no," I protested, "this time it isn't my fault 'cause the prophecy is about all of us and it was a wizard prophecy, not a demigod one. This is just as much your fault as it is mine."

"Let's blame our parents while we're at it," Kaley grumbled, "they created us, and therefore all of our problems wouldn't exist if not for them."

"Fair enough," Rose relented.

The silence fell for a few more minutes and when we spoke again, the tone of the conversation shifted into something deeper. It started with Kaley's sigh, "What are we going to do?"

I rolled from my side to my back and sent a gentle breeze to open the window, as I did every night these days. To the ceiling, I whispered, "I don't know."

It was Rose, lioness indeed, who said firmly, "We'll do whatever we have to. We'll do whatever is right. And we'll survive it."

Gods I hoped she was right.

Somehow, they both managed to fall asleep soon after our conversation ended. My thoughts were too loud, too fast, for me to even approach sleepiness. But I tried. I laid in my bed and begged my brain to quiet down, but it wouldn't obey. After an hour, I slipped a jacket over my pajamas and jumped out the window. I didn't know where I was going or why, but flying had always cleared my mind before. The darkness, for a few minutes, made the old fear come back. When I closed my eyes for too long I could feel it creeping in, crushing me. I didn't have my wand with me to use as a light, and as much as I hated the darkness I didn't want to go back to the dorm yet.

But I circled the perimeter of the grounds a few times, then landed on the roof above the Great Hall and laid back. The shingles were rough against my arms and back. I focused on breathing in the cool, night air and let my mind settle. This wasn't the dungeon, not even close. There were no stars on the dungeon ceiling. But here they were, dancing high above, winking at me softly. Holding my breath, I could swear they were singing. And just like that, my thoughts of that inky, crushing darkness vanished.

On this roof at an hour far later than the Hogwarts curfew, I didn't have to put on a good face. There was no one to impress, no one here that I had to convince of my recovery. I let my face fall and didn't shape or sculpt it into anything but neutrality. I didn't shape myself into anything I wasn't feeling. Here, with the eagle-like vision I'd been granted, I could see the shadows of the forest and the moonlight glimmering on the lake. I could hear owls cooing from the tower behind me and from the trees around the castle. I felt my soft pajamas on my skin and the fresh breeze, not stale air that I breathed deep into my lungs. A breeze whipped my hair about as I sat up and placed my elbows on my knees. Even though I'd known that I was free for months, it hadn't really sunk in until now.

Each breath I took into my lungs calmed my thoughts. With each twinkle of those stars, something deeper in me that had been restless for months, stilled at last.

...................

I sent my owl to McGonagall the next morning with a note as vague as all of our correspondences were. It read only:

Professor,

Information please?

Sincerely,

The witch's trio

She'd know what it meant. Not to mention, she'd recognize my owl and know who sent it. So now all that was to be done was to wait for her response.

So, acting as normal and unbothered as possible, the three of us went down to breakfast as we always did. But as much as we tried to act casual, my mind wasn't focused on anything class-related all day.

At lunch, however, Astra returned with a letter clutched in her beak. She landed daintily on my shoulder and contented herself to pick at my ponytail while I opened the note from McGonagall.

My office, three o'clock. Until then, focus on class.