The breath of our soul

The Time of Sorrow

The drop formed again, stretching slowly before lengthening and finally giving way under its own weight, separating from the rest and falling until it crashed into the stone and disappeared. He raised his eyes to contemplate the formation of a new water pearl, it was his only distraction when, for once in a very long time, his mind refused to spin wildly, he could think of nothing, absolutely nothing. It was frightening, unseemly and disturbing. All he had left was anger and sadness, but he couldn't scream or cry any more.

He closed his eyes as the dark plant wrapped itself around his fingers, not struggling, letting it slide over his skin, moving up his hand until it grazed his wrist and forearm. He couldn't remember how long he'd been there, he should have been terribly hungry but he didn't feel strong enough to do anything, eating wasn't an option. His throat was dry and yet he didn't give a damn.

He heard a distant exhale, but it certainly wasn't the wind, the breeze wouldn't utter a formula to create light. The breath of air did not tread hesitantly on the stone floor. The devil's snare was attacked by the glare, and it withdrew with a subtle complaint, retracting to preserve itself as best it could from its natural enemy. He was uncovered and yet he didn't care, content to stare at the ceiling and the moisture pooling there to weep for him.

"Gideon?"

The husky voice was soft and he felt his throat knot. The figure leaned over him, gently taking hold of his face to make sure he was all right; unfortunately, he was physically all right, but his mind was ravaged and his heart torn apart by his own sadness. The man forced him to sit down, pulling him away from the dangerous plant as he dusted off his shoulders before offering him a contrite smile.

"My boy, you've caused us a lot of trouble".

He didn't reply, content to remain amorphous, empty, non-existent. The teacher cupped his cheek again before patting it gently and ruffling his hair.

"You need to go back upstairs, eat and explain yourself a little."

He nodded gently, letting himself up without struggling at all, losing his balance for a brief moment before being caught, he had no strength.

"There, slowly, my boy."

He felt as if there was not a single bone left in his fleshy body. He looked gratefully at Professor Ronen before following in his footsteps with some difficulty. They made their way up the destroyed corridor, the devil's snare spreading until they came to the gigantic plant of poisonous tentacles which was happily basking in its sacred and secret refuge, far from the eyes of all. To think that that bastard Hobhouse had soiled this place with an act of cowardice.

He squinted as they left the old botany wing and found themselves in the greenhouse, lit up by the setting sun. Professor Garlick was standing by the sumptuous tree at the entrance, looking both reassured and worried to see him, but he didn't care. Managing to keep to himself, he silently followed the professor of charms, wandering through the corridors without perceiving anything except a few unpleasant murmurs of gossip. As always, he didn't care, but he thought they could have a little decency.

They finally arrived at the Great Hall where a few students were having dinner, scattered here and there. He was taken to the end of one of the tables where none of the students had dared to sit down and where a meal was already waiting for him; Professor Ronen really did have good instincts, he knew where to find him. The vice-principal was waiting for them with Professor Howin, who was the head of her house, and their relief was obvious as Gideon sat down in front of the steaming plate which, he had to admit, smelled wonderful. Yet a deep nausea swept over him at the sight.

"He was actually there, so he never left the school. I should have thought of that sooner."

Mathilda Weasley nodded gently.