Silver Soul

two

I trudge my way down the sopping grassy slope, dividing the castle and the lake. Mindfully of  Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper, I am sure to be silent, my rubber boots mould into the soft earth, imprinting proof of my presence wherever I go. As I approach Cedric and I's spot at the lake, I notice his silhouette crouched over, being swallowed by the downpour.

"Hi," I sit beside him, pressing into his side as a cold wind slices across my face. I sit on the back of my rainjacket, protecting myself from the water. "it is freezing out here."

"I know I didn't" His teeth chatter as he speaks, "think about that part."

"Why would you drag me out here, not even considering the weather conditions?"

"Well, how else would I be able to talk to you? Besides, we always meet here on the first day of school."

Cedric and I have been meeting at this specific point on the black lake on Fridays, Wednesdays, Mondays, Saturdays, special occasions, holidays, the final day of school, and of course, the first day of school. These, of course, have modifications in the winter seasons. It has become our routine over the past three years of our friendship, a promise we can always trust, a reward we can always look forward to, and a place we will always have.

"Yes, but it hasn't rained on the first school day in three years!" I lean deeper into him as he wraps his long arms around me. Ever since the changes within us began, I have felt such security from him, as though nothing could harm me when he was by my side.

"I know," He watches me as he attempts to warm me with his hold, "but I just wanted to ask you about the tournament."

"What about it?"

"You fancy any of the Durmstrang gentlemen?" He chuckles.

"Oh god, "I laugh, shaking his arms off from around me. "What's it matter to you?"

"Well, I just feel I deserve to know," He smiles, "Perhaps I could put in a word for you, as you had me do for Archie all those moons ago."

"Oh, would you piss off?" I nudge him playfully, "I was in the second year; I did not know any better!"

"It worked, though, didn't it!"

He was not entirely wrong. I had met Archie Allen, a Hufflepuff in my year whom I had admired from afar for a significant amount of time, two months. Cedric had told him to meet me in a broom closet on the lower levels of the castle. We stood there awkwardly for five minutes before he quickly pecked me on the lips and closed the closet door behind him. That night I ran to the lake with great excitement and an entertaining story to share with Cedric.

"I suppose so." I shake my head, smiling at the memory.

I watch the black lake and the black night above it as the sharp droplets tumble into the water, vanishing forever, for they only existed for an instant before the vast darkness consumed them.

"Are you signing up for the cup?" He asks me.

I shake my head, "I assume you will be."

"You know it."

"You know, Ced. It's just that this whole contest seems incredibly dangerous...I mean, Dumbledore himself even said how perilous the matches are. Is it worth the risk of-"

He cuts me off by placing a finger over his lip. He delicately cups my face with his hands, tough from playing sports, gently rubbing the rain collected beneath my eyes with his thumbs.

"Ophelia, how many times have I told you not to worry about me." He says, "I promise you I will not let anything happen to me."

"You can't promise that," I whisper. "I'm sure you'll be fine, but we don't even know the first task, let alone how to prepare for it.

He is silent for a moment and curves his lip, his face of concentration.

"Do you recall that one Quidditch match? Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw and I got struck right in the back of the head with a beater's bat? I fell off the firebolt unconscious, fractured my arm, and had a mild concussion."

"Mild? Ced, you were taken off the field on a stretcher and were in the infirmary for two weeks."

"Well... yes, but I'm still here, and I still play Quidditch better than half the students on the team despite my accident."

I flash a distasteful expression as he gently presses on my cheeks.

"I'm only joking."

"I suppose your right."

"See," he shakes my face before bringing me back into his arms, "how bad could it be?"

"All right, now let's go. I'm freezing," My teeth chatter.

"Under one condition."

"And what might that be, Mr.Diggory?"

"You must come with me to put my name in the goblet."

"All right, what time?"

"Eleven o'clock in the morning, sharp," He beams with excitement, "Please be there. Then again, when have you ever not?"

"Exactly," I grin widely, taunting him. "I'll be there."

"I know you will be."

~

I enter the cold common room, silently closing the stone door behind me. The room is lit solely by the elegant fireplace, casting a warm glow amongst the cold environment, stone walls, stone floors, and expansive windows showing no night sky but the eternal darkness of the black lake. I remove my rubber boots and damp socks before passing the common room and stepping up the stone steps to the dormitory silently, my bare feet pressing against the cold slabs of rock, creating static in my blood.

I slip off the damp attire from my meeting with Cedric. Mindful of the girls who sleep in the single beds alongside my own, I am sure to be mute as I sink in between the silk sheets of my canopy bed. 

When I was a child, I recall one of my greatest wishes was for my mother to tuck me into bed at night. To sing me to sleep with her gentle voice, to stroke my hair with her delicate fingers. I remember how I would slip out from my bed just before I would sleep, kneel down on the wooden floor of my bedroom, folding my hands together and resting my elbows on the side of my bed. I recall my secret prayer I would sing, "Please, God, give me back my mother." I would repeat it until my knees began to burn with pain from the cool floors. Once I had completed my prayer, I would wipe my eyes and then crawl back into my bed. Floating off to sleep, I would dream of faraway worlds, worlds where my mother loved me more than anything in the world, worlds where my mother ordered water instead of wine when we would go out to eat. The next day I would once again drift off to sleep with no mother adjusting my comforter, no gentle melodies, and no fingers raking through my hair. This is the way things were, and this was the way things shall always be.