HIDDEN REFLECTIONS

THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

LEAH'S POINT OF VIEW

When Voldemort's morbid display finally comes to a close, the weight of the moment lingers in the air like a dense fog, wrapping around us in an oppressive embrace. I bolt after Theodore Nott, my heart racing as I weave through the chaos, a leaf caught in a tempest of despair and confusion. My mind, once a serene lake, is now a stormy sea, unable to process the horror of our teacher's murder just moments ago. The echoes of her final screams reverberate in my ears, a haunting melody that threatens to drown me, and I stagger to a halt, breath hitching like a fragile bird caught in a snare.

As the memories crash over me like waves against a rocky shore, I feel my chest tighten, the air slipping from my lungs as if the very gravity of the moment is pulling me down into an abyss. I am on the brink of fainting, teetering precariously between the realms of consciousness and oblivion.

"Leah!" Mattheo's voice pierces the haze, cutting through the chaos like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. He rushes to my side, and I am hunched over at the foot of the stairs, gripping my chest as if I could hold my heart together with my trembling hands.

He pauses, a storm of emotions flickering across his face, and I can feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on me like a heavy shroud.

"I'm fine, sorry," I manage to whisper, forcing myself to straighten as if I could will away the tremors that betray my fear.

He studies me, and his eyes are deep pools of concern. "Hey," he murmurs, stepping closer, his presence a warm beacon amid the shadows. "It's okay," he whispers softly, wrapping his arms around me in a careful embrace, as if I am made of glass and might shatter at any moment.

"She didn't deserve that," I breathe into his shirt, my voice muffled against the fabric, trying to blink away the tears that burn like molten lava in my eyes. The reality of our teacher's fate feels like a shroud, wrapping around me, threatening to suffocate any semblance of hope.

Mattheo nods, his voice barely above a whisper, "You're right. She didn't."

I sniffle and pull away, wiping the remnants of my anguish from my face, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looks unfazed, almost disturbingly so, and a chilling realization settles within me: this is likely not the first murder he has witnessed, the first life extinguished before his eyes.

My heart aches anew, plummeting like a stone cast into a bottomless chasm.

"That's not the first time you..." I trail off, unable to voice the dark implication that looms over us like a specter.

But he understands the weight of my unspoken words, shaking his head slowly, the silence heavy with shared pain.

I close my eyes tightly, trying to focus, grasping at the threads of my scattered thoughts. Focus, Leah. You're here to confront Theodore.

"Let's go up and rest for a bit, okay?" Mattheo suggests, his voice a gentle current pulling me from the depths of my despair.

Feeling lightheaded, I barely register my nod of agreement, my mind clouded like the murky waters of a forgotten well. My feet move in a daze as we ascend the creaking stairs, each step echoing like the toll of a distant bell. I barely notice as we lay down together, nor the way sleep wraps around me like a thick, comforting blanket, pulling me into its embrace.

When I awaken, the room is filled with the soft glow of early light, and Mattheo sits by the window, a solitary figure gazing out at the world beyond, lost in thought. His eyes find me, and it's as if he has been waiting, watching over me like a guardian angel.