REQUIEM - [h.p]

III; sullen daydreams

| YEAR 3; CHAPTER THIRTEEN |
SULLEN DAYDREAMS

     THE DARK TEMPESTUOUS CLOUDS brewing over the horizon were only the beginning of something yet unexplored, and beyond the protective walls of Hogwarts, beyond the shimmering blue expanse and blazing stars above—Beyond everything, was nothing. Nothing and Everything. The equilibrium of the universe remained in constant motion, the Clock of Time ticked away in silence and countless intangible strings of magic floated around as Souls continued flickering in and out of existence.

The lives of the sentient lifeforms were microscopic in comparison to the boundless, ever-growing universe. It was once so small, so small it could barely be seen as anything but a speck in the nothingness. Aeons have passed and continue to pass all at once as it has and forever shall. Life and Death did not interfere with the matters of mortals, they never had nor intended to do so, and only Fate ever concerned themselves with the trivialities of the diminutive creatures dwelling within the cosmos; always dutifully observing the infinite strings dancing within the void with a yearning tug that insisted more, but Fate could do nothing more. For to do more would no doubt disturb the equilibrium, and disturbance of the equilibrium brings chaos.

Regardless of the shifting strings and the eternal toils of Life and Death's work, something else lurked within the realm of mortals. Something far less inclined to the will of the universe. Fate sensed it and it was doubtless that all the other regents both dormant and otherwise within the void sensed it as well. Still, Fate could do nothing, nor could Life or Death. They were all resigned to waiting endlessly until the Clock delivered its last strike. 

—

The destiny of one Terry Boot took an irreversible plunge into the unknown. The point in which he stood alongside the young Belmonte heir in the face of danger transformed into a tiny droplet that, once dropped into the vast expanse of what has and what has yet to pass, created ripples within Fate's clouded waters. None of this was known to Terry, of course. It wasn't as if he knew just how murky his future had become as Fate continued to watch the pull and plucking of their strings. 

By the time Terry had worked his way past the dozens of corridors and staircases that littered Hogwarts like a curse, he had less than a minute to spare before he was officially written off as late in Transfiguration. Now he was running full force through the halls, his lungs begging for reprieve. But merlin-be-damned, he was not going to be late for class!

In record time, he yanked the door open as hard as he could and was mildly aware of the befuddled stares he received from the students as he rushed to his desk and sat down heavily. "G'mornin', Hannah."