𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑

the lies they feed

"she was not fragile like a flower.
she was fragile like a bomb."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

empathetic, not sympathetic.

•

ALAKAY COULDN'T BELIEVE the Potters. He couldn't understand how he found himself desperately rolling on the cold chilly, freshly cleared of frost entrance hall, trying to pry of Meredith from James.

During Halloween, a thousand live bats had fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more had swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast had appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. They had had the time of their lives as Lucius, Avery and Bellatrix transfigured like trinkets for them to dress up in at night, to walk around scaring other kids.

As they entered November, the weather had turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the Entrance Hall's archway, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver-skin boots. Quidditch season was in, and James Potter had decided to tail Meredith to the pitch one day.

"Heard they wanted you on the team," James said cockily, walking fast behind Meredith, as she made her way down the pitch with Alakay and Severus. She huffed, bellowing foggy breath, trying her hardest to ignore him.

"They did, James," she replied curtly, walking faster now, making it hard for Alakay to keep up. Severus had told him once he might have this muggle disease of breathlessness. Alakay clutched his glasses hanging from his shirt as he ran behind Meredith.

"Are you playing on the match then?" James prompted.

"No—"

"So bad they had to kick you off as soon as you joined, huh?" James sneered. Alakay wondered how stupid this boy was, as there were three of Slytherins and one of James. Not that Alakay wanted to fight James, but if he absolutely had to, he'd pull out his spell book and say the worst ones.

"Shut it, James!" Meredith shouted, still continuing down the dried up vegetable patch that let to the cobblestoned path towards the Quidditch pitch. Alakay hoped desperately they reach there without Meredith hexing James.

"Why are you following her, Potter?" Alakay asked finally, as James followed her soundlessly for a few seconds.

James Potter sneered—actually sneered at Alakay, causing him to pause a second and blink, registering this. "I'm not following her!"

"It's Slytherin Practice today, James," Meredith said loudly. "You're following me because you have nothing better to do than get on my nerves."

Severus, who was really close to him as they almost reached the pitch, had the most worried expression on his face. Alakay knew why. It had been a month since Meredith revealed to them about her Strecromancy, and it was a turmoil ever since. Meredith still believed she was sick, but Alakay and Severus had worked bit by bit, every day, trying to carefully pull together the broken pieces of her magic, and put it together. For Meredith. For her self-confidence. They had made her feel good enough to subtle use her magic when no one was present-late at nights when everyone would be gone, and the three of them would be alone, finishing homeworks, and she'd make her quill write by itself; or when the chilly water got too cold for the fireplace to sustain,and she'd magick the flames higher without a wand. Alakay even observed her eyes. She was interesting indeed.