The Great War ⏤ Harry Potter

03 | shark in the water

Nightfall on the thirty-first of August finds Magdalena in her room, window thrown open as a cool breeze floats in. The curtains ruffle against the wind from where they were pushed back earlier on in the day. Moonlight streams through the room as the last night of her summer holidays brings a cloudless sky, the only source of the light in Magdalena's bedroom.

Her suitcase sits on the floor by the bottom of her bed, closed and ready for the journey to King's Cross tomorrow morning. She had only finished packing an hour ago, organising her belongings late into the night as the sky bled colours of orange, pink and purple before turning the colour of the ink she uses for her quills.

Her parents had gone to bed long before, kissing her on the forehead goodnight, reminding her to not stay up too late before shutting the door. A glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table ⏤ a gift from Aimee one year, who was happy to introduce her friends to muggle inventions ⏤ highlights the numbers 11:59 in big green letters. In under twelve hours the Hogwarts Express would depart from King's Cross and the new school year would commence. Magdalena's stomach twists and turns in knots at what this year could possibly bring. Last school year brought about He Who Must Not Be Named hiding in the shadows and the death of a student. What will the next ten months bring?

Silas' room is opposite Magdalena's. Both their doors are closed but Magdalena knows he is awake as light escapes from the crack between the closed door and the floor, creeping into Magdalena's room. It would only take four steps from Magdalena to cross over to her brother's room but the bridge between them has stretched in the years they've grown up. The four steps to Silas' room feels like a vast canyon where the other side is mirage shimmering against the horizon. Taking one step towards Silas' bedroom will only end up in her free falling, stomach swooping as she braces for the inevitable fall.

Both the doors remain shut, the pair of twins awake in their respective rooms. Magdalena wonders if the thought crosses Silas' mind to reach out, or if she is shut out of his mind just like his closed bedroom door.

The light in Silas' room flicks off, shrouding the crack beneath the door in darkness. Magdalena's knees are tucked underneath her chin, her back hunched over resembling a tortoise peeking out from its shell. Her necklace is cold in her hand, the teeth of the chain biting her skin as she closes her fist around it. Her great-grandmother would be beside herself if she could see Magdalena as she currently is. She has always wanted to shape Magdalena into a confident individual, kneading out the imperfections like her introverted nature and her inability to master the skill of occlumency after one lesson.

Magdalena knows she should sleep, even if a restful sleep won't find its way to her. It is past midnight, the clock ticking into the beginning of the school year and she feels a foreboding sense of dread. It festers in the pit of her stomach and claws its way up her throat, rooting itself in the back of her mouth. The threat of Voldemort looms in the backdrop of her sixth year at school, which would be frightening for an ordinary witch or wizard. The fact that Magdalena can See, a tool that He Who Must Not Be Named would almost certainly want for himself if he knew, strikes a chord of fear in her heart. Magdalena knows her parents had been worried about sending her back to school, having hushed conversations over the summer in their bedroom behind the closed door. In the worry that nips at their heels, they had forgotten to place a silencing charm over the room, resulting in Magdalena hearing fragments of their conversations.

A restless sleep beckons Magdalena and she wakes up with the sunrise peeking over the horizon. Her room is bathed in golden light which escapes through her curtains. The thought of not experiencing a vision before the first day of school comforts her as she gets up to start her day.

Her footsteps are quiet on the stairs, avoiding the creaky spots of the floorboards as she makes her way into the kitchen. Her parents are already up, mugs of tea in their hands and talking to each other quietly, the sounds of their voices a gentle mumble of indiscernible noise.