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There was something scandalously erotic in the way Michelle loved secrets. Her mind was deeply devoted to the unknown things that she always hunted toward them. Tonight was no exception.
October 20th 1962. Michelle had been waiting for this since her first day at Hogwarts, the Academy of Arts and Whispers. The little girl heard some of her classmates talking about the particular beauty of Hogwarts. The way the castle holds a power of attraction.
Maybe it was the position of the academy, raised in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by uncontaminated nature which gave it a picturesque feel. Or maybe it was the architecture, the way the rooms seemed to be decorated in an imperfect Gothic imitation. But it was indeed undeniable that the Academy was capable of enchanting anyone who walked past its corridors, alive or dead.
No one really understood if it was a charm either casted by the Headmaster or the Priest. Nonetheless, Hogwarts corridors have been walked by many witches, monsters and ghosts. Speaking of ghosts, Michelle remembers perfectly how that day, a boy was so clever that he attracted everyone's attention. He said, as the girl could remember, that souls would walk these corridors again, precisely during their last school year. And tonight, Michelle would finally be able to witness that extraordinary rare phenomenon.
The Walk of the Lost Souls.
It had always been described as a marvelous spectacle. Something so astonishing that Michelle almost thought it was a false narration. Yet, she still decided to leave her room and risk it all to fulfill her unstoppable curiosity.
Naturally speaking, the Headmaster made sure that no students could leave their dormitory during this specific night. Meeting, and possibly stopping a lost soul, would be fatal. That's why professor Dumbledore wisely advised the students to stay in their rooms. Then, he obviously made sure that the corridors could be highly surveyed. Michelle did not expect any less from the academy, she was also conscious about the high risks she was facing. But again, it would be the first and last time she could witness such a unique experience: she could never miss it.
The girl wrapped herself with the black mantle, making sure it doesn't show her face. She gave a last glance to her desk: the latin book open, ironically it was Oratio. Odi I, 11: At Leucònoe. One of the many women whose beauty was appreciated by the poet.
She was A candid mind, a tormented soul. He wished she could live, we don't know our faith though. For her it was a tragedy, for him it was relief. She was restless, he wanted to encourage her will.
«[...] Dum loquimur, fugerit invida aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.» While we speak, the envious age has fled: seize the day, hold the least trust to the hereafter. Maybe she laughed at his bold assumption. And so did Michelle: how impossible it sounds, to seize the day was to lie to itself.
About lies, Michelle clearly remembered the lie that professor Dumbledore told. In the Great Hall, he stated that the lost souls would have walked through Hogwarts in the Hallow night. But still, the curfew was up the whole semester: how strange, isn't it?
Luckily for herself, the girl never trusted the words of her elderly and she did her own research. But, she hasn't told anyone about her results. Maybe it was childish selfishness, but she preferred going to see the event alone, by herself. She walked through the secret passage she once found and stopped before the entrance to the Astronomy Tower. In the wall there was a little peephole, useful to assure Michelle that there was no one in the corridors. But before going, the girl felt quite hesitant.
There was something horribly wrong in the way the castle looked: quiet and absent, just as the lost souls.
Michelle could not understand the reasoning behind it, a feeling that slipped from her shoulders and somehow disappeared. It was still something uncomfortable, a silent presence in the little corners. The absence of life, the quietness, reminds Michelle of a book she once read. But she couldn't recall the title, how terrible the memory of hers! But it's no tragedy, she will remember soon or later. Now, we need to be sure she can get to the very end of this, don't we?
After being certain that no one was surveying the little entrance, Michelle quickly walked inside the tower, climbing the stairs to reach the observatory. It was once she reached it that her eyes could witness such a romantic scene. It was a beautiful night, not a single cloud was covering the stars and the moon was perfect. It almost seemed as if it was a painting, a tragic nocturne. The cold wind of the night finally embraced her body, the breath of the darkness.
The girl went toward the railing, looking down with her curious eyes that instantly lightened up. Thousands of transparent figures were slowly approaching the castle. They were many and many, capable of destroying a whole city just if someone dared to stop them. It was amusing how their voices sang in harmony. It was a deadly and melancholic song, devoted toward their only unquestionable god: Death.
Michelle's breath caught in her throat as she admired them. She couldn't distinguish them properly from her high position, but she could understand something about their walk. It was a silent and severe march, everyone proceeded with the same peace, the same rhythm. No one could identify who was ahead of everyone else: his face was covered with a black mask. In the others, instead, you could clearly describe the suffering expression they had.
Their torture was a proof of an extreme beauty, something that only Death was capable of offering. They were approaching the academy, finally walking past the roof. At that, she quickly grabbed her camera and carefully took a picture. This was the only night that the Lost Souls could be seen.
There was something extremely romantic in all of this agony. The way Death loved them so much that he let them keep what once defined them as alive. He let them walk in the eternal path toward this lost humanity. Truth is, Death's love is the shadowed perfidy of a human, masked with the infinity clemency of a god.
To be loved by Death is to be doomed.
It was a suffocating thought that hunted Michelle for most of her life. Because Death loved sinners and she claimed to be one, just like everyone. Even Angels can be sinners if tempt enough... If they could have the freedom to know how pleasant it is to be aware of your own desires.
The fallen angels, one of the things Michelle was desperately curious to know. Biblically, they are described as angels cast out of heaven because of their sins. Christian theology indicates the sins of fallen angels occur before the beginning of human history. There was something odd, rather mysterious, that made those angels acknowledge their selfish needs. They wanted to know, to feel something that was absolutely forbidden. Maybe it was the delightful taste of blasphemy, of violence that was denied to them. For God, they were immaculate, protected by the white velvet of purity.
They say all the saints are angels... But not all the angels are saints, are they?
How could? They were already designed by their monotheist God as pure. Saints knew what it was, the state of suffering, of unwilling hunting, but angels did not. It was something that God denied to them. But the more something is prohibited, the greater the desire.
Some of them did fall, all because of the kind desire to understand. The holy law made the sins prohibited, even though it let them keep existing. If you avoid them, you are blessed. If you want to know them, you are doomed.
But what is peace without freedom? Agony and submission: a saint.
And what is holy with impurity? Beauty and malice: a fallen angel.
Everyone wishes to see a saint. Michelle wished to see a fallen angel.
«Careful Miss Nazari.. you could fall from there.» But meeting one of them could be fatal, since they also understand how those sins can devour you too.
