Chapter 15

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"So... what happened at the hospital?" Kasper questioned.

Kasper and I were sitting in the Slytherin common room really late at night. He had been hanging out with Blaise and some extra friends earlier. When he was just about to leave for Gryffindor Tower, I stopped him to warn him about Filch, who was standing right outside the dungeons. He agreed to wait a few minutes, but now we were both awkwardly sitting beside each other on the couch. His words from last night's argument still echoed in the back of my mind, but neither of us seemed to want to acknowledge our conflicts with one another.

Now, Kasper was making an attempt at small talk, as if we were strangers.

I knew I was forbidden to talk about it, but I felt the words slipping from my tongue before I could pause. With each word I said, it proposed to feel harder and harder to breathe. I could see Kasper visibly attempt to process all of the information I was pouring out about my parents and the tragic secret I uncovered.

"It was the strangest interaction," I admitted before proceeding to tell him about the whole conversation between me and my parents.

"So those seven years of your life were basically a lie?" Kasper presumed.

"That's what it seems, though it still feels real to me." I sighed. "It feels like there is so much more to story that is missing though."

"Remember the days before these days?" Kasper mentioned. "When we were young?"

"Before You-Know-Who intervened? All of those memories seem like a fever dream."

"Do you think..." Kasper started, but his speech was interrupted by his many thoughts.

"What?"

Whatever Kasper was pondering over, it must have been deep. Perhaps piecing everything together proved to be difficult for him. I do not blame him. It still is quite challenging for me.

"Do you think maybe that is the case with my parents too?" Kasper proposed the idea to me.

This made me also start thinking.

During this particular conversation, the awkward barrier between us seemed to fade away. For a moment, it appeared to be like old times, discussing family issues and helping each other through the heartache. Maybe not the most joyful moments, but ones that shaped us into who we are today.

"I have not actually considered it," I stated.

Were Kasper's parents also Imperioed as well? We sat and pondered upon everything for a brief moment. I then could not help but notice his journal laying beside him. I also glanced at Kasper's hands to see that he had tried to wash the ink away. The faded stains of black were still there yet barely visible.

"Why do you always carry that journal around?" I inquired.

As if it were a reflex, his hand flew to his journal. He then slowly retrieved his hand, trying to excuse his sudden movement.

"I just enjoy writing," he shrugged.

Last summer, I was concerned over Kasper keeping himself locked in his room for long periods of time. I thought journaling must have been his way of coping with the return of You-Know-Who, which I certainly knew was better than drinking. However, I have since then tried to convince myself I was overreacting, that perhaps he just preferred to be alone. But now, the inky fingers and the constant newspaper checking-

"Do you believe Filch is gone by now?" Kasper asked, removing himself from the couch.

"What? Oh, I would think so."

Kasper looked down on me as I still sat on the couch.

"I'm sorry for my outburst last night. I suppose I was merely worried," he apologized.

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