immortality [wizarding world] | ⚐

十二

"Are you afraid?" were the first words that tumbled out of Mathilda's mouth as the two blinked away the memories. She had her eyes fixated on the swirling fog in the water, unwilling to look at Merlin in the eye.

"Perhaps," He answered, his voice sounding disembodied. "It's funny how so much can change in just under a year." She could feel his eyes on her, and yet she continued to stare at the Pensieve, her eyes watering.

"Am I... A distraction?" She asked tentatively, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move towards her.

"You've taught me so much, Mathilda Salvar," He whispered in her ear, and the surface of her skin became riddled with goose bumps. "I would never consider you a distraction." She took a breath in.

"You must leave. After Rowena's funeral." She finally looked at him. "You have to go study different magic, Merlin. To prepare yourself."

"I don't need to prepare." He retaliated; hurt briefly flashing in his eyes.

"You know this is not true – you are too ambitious." She rose to her feet.

"But – But I love you." His voice wavered, and so did she.

"Merlin, I –" She took a deep breath. "I will be waiting for you once you defeat her. I believe that you have the power and magic to beat Morgan, but I will not stand by you, just assuming that you will win..." She closed her eyes. "You are powerful... but so is she."

"You've never seen her."

"But I can feel it. Can't you? The magic all around us – it moves, breathes, and lives. We often say that the wizard or the witch is the controller of all magic; but that is false, isn't it? We don't control the magic. The magic controls us."

There was a brief pause, and Mathilda could see Merlin absorbing her words, an expression of pure awe etched on his face.

"Y – You never told me that before."

"I have never had to." She smiled shyly – a type of smile that seemed to contain all of the wonders of the world. He looked at her, and marveled at her raw beauty, her way with words, and her perfect imperfections.

"I'll leave after Rowena's funeral."

"And so you shall, Merlin Ambrosius. And I will be here, waiting for you. I will always wait for you."

◦

There was a solemn silence as Godric Gryffindor delivered his eulogy.

She had wanted to be buried in a beautiful glen near to where she was born, and rows of white chairs had been set up next to her glistering casket made of glass and ivory vines. It was a crisp and cloudless day, a rarity for the early weeks of November. Despite this, everything seemed to be muted. The grass was still, the flowers on the outer perimeter of the glen were silent, and the birds had ceased their calls. All of the students were accounted for from every house; everyone had loved and respected Rowena Ravenclaw.

Mathilda closed her eyes; her hand still wrapped in Merlin's, and remembered the morning after Rowena had passed. She had been the first one to tell the Ravenclaws their Head of House was no longer living, and she had been the first one to see the anguish on the faces of the sixth and seventh years, and the terror and confusion on the first and second. It had been painful, and she had felt this strange pang of guilt, having taken away their happiness first thing in the morning.

She let out a shaky breath and felt Merlin's hand tighten around hers. She had felt faint that morning, nearly collapsing before Apparating to the glen. She knew Merlin was worried, and she could feel herself getting weaker, yet did not have the courage to tell Merlin about it.