Arcane (h.potter)

ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ- secrecy for serenity.

To sleep is like a replenishment of the mind, an incessant durability of nothing but comfort and well resting to the operator of our bodies. Sleep is not only something our bodies flourish in the midst of craving but a way to restore events of the past, deep within the memory box of our minds.

Alora was never the type to have a "wonderful" sleep, she had always tossed and turned throughout the night; haunted within her dreams, what shall be so little, yet flaunt her mind with such toxicity and brittle? What betrayal of the mind leads sickly sweet dreams to be infused with twisted vines of ferocious branches, that wrap around the life surrounding them; pulling tighter, and tighter, and tighter.

Until they just stop and let themselves breathe.
That's usually the time when you wake up, but Alora already knew that she doesn't dream. It's absurd, disgusting and plainly quite bland. Dreams are a distraction; she would say it until the day she dies.

Yet, that night Alora felt like she had experienced something like a dream. It wasn't, of course; but it was something like it. It didn't feel real, nor did it feel fake, but something about the scenario that played within her mind caused the girl to wonder.

It was the same, the same one from before.

The graveyard. The hollow branches of broken wood pieces scattered across the floor like crumbs from an eaten dessert. The tinged mist of a deep haunting green intertwined with the incessant breaths of panic, which flooded through the air.

But they weren't her cries. They had a deeper twang to the rasp and an outwardly screaming masculinity as opposed to her everlasting waves in denial of emotion.

What was so significant about this graveyard? She asked herself, staring into the mirror of the bathroom of her dorm. She was careful not to wake anyone else up as it seemed to only just be sunrise. Alora wondered if the Great Hall would be serving breakfast already; not that she was hungry or desperate to eat, she just wanted to get away from much human contact.

Taking the matter into consideration, she freshened herself up and made her way towards the Great Hall; seemingly knowing the way as, this time, she didn't get lost.

She opened the large doors to be met by a few students dotted around the hall, mainly from Ravenclaw, who were enjoying bowls of what seemed to be cereal. Also accompanying the hall was two teachers sitting along the large table at the front.

Sat in her seat beside the Headmaster's was Professor McGonagall who was indulging in a conversation with Professor Snape, a greasy-haired male with a build of a larger quidditch player. She had seen him before, not just on her welcoming day yesterday. Something about his face was familiar.

The door squeaked as she pushed it open further, making a large clanking of metal as she pushed it completely open. This caused all the attention to fall onto her and the door. While she bathed in attention, she knew she shouldn't be making such a statement. For once she agreed with the words that fell from Lucius' cruel tongue, she hadn't yet been identified, and she knew that she had no plans to fulfil that risk. So, she lowered her head until her eyes met the floor - swearing herself to secrecy from then until it was safe to not do so.

Her eyes drifted to the concrete slabs that were engraved into the ground, noticing the twinge of rays being shadowed across the surface. The warm tones were painted over the sky, through the large romanesque windows, as the newly rising sun rose from the depths of space, and marked the blossoming of a new day; one that held new beginnings and an array of memories previously and not yet formed. Alora's second day was surely not one she would forget.

Sauntering her way towards the Slytherin table, Alora took a seat around midway through the large table, the side that faced away from the students, an act that she didn't fully register until she sat down and lifted her head. Once she lifted her chin, however, she locked eyes with the dark-haired man that sat opposite the table she was sitting at. His eyes were deep and filled with mislead sorority, a look she knew all too well from the man she left behind. Back at that building she knew to refer to as 'home', though, it could not be further than the truth.