adiaphoron | d.m

TWENTY-TWO

➸ AFTERMATH OF SECOND TASK

CECILIA SAT BY THE LAKE, sunlight filtering through the rustling leaves of her favorite tree, casting playful shadows on the ground. She inhaled the fresh, crisp air, her gaze lost in the shimmering water before her. Images of the events from just a week ago danced through her mind, bittersweet and haunting. She had decided to skip lunch, well aware of the constant chatter that filled the halls of Hogwarts about the second task.

She had finished in second place alongside Harry, having exceeded the one-hour time limit. But her act of saving Harry in a moment of moral clarity had earned her that spot. With the points tallied up, she found herself tied for first place with Cedric and Harry.

The air around the lake buzzed with a sense of tension. Whispers echoed through the walls of Hogwarts, snippets of conversations about the peculiar dead fish that had inexplicably appeared, and the strange gringotts that had been reported nearby. Even more unsettling were the rumors of a brilliant light that had emanated from the depths of the water. Whispers fluttered like fragile leaves: What had really happened? Where did that otherworldly light come from? Was it something Cecilia had summoned?

She remained tight-lipped about it all, sidestepping questions as if they were stones in her path. The truth—the reality—was that she didn't fully understand it herself. Her memories of that moment were blurry, overshadowed by a sense of urgency and panic, as if she were teetering on the edge of consciousness. Yet there had been something undeniable, a powerful, ancient magic that had surged through her, an energy she had never experienced before. It felt as if she had tapped into the very roots of magic itself, a force that pulsed in the air and sang through her veins.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, when the world settled around her, she could still hear that faint, resonant buzz. It hummed in her thoughts, a reminder that she wasn't quite the same anymore, and perhaps she never would be. She turned her focus back to the water, searching for answers in its depths, but all she found was her own reflection—conflicted, curious, and yearning for clarity.

Cecilia grappled with the chaotic scene told to her—dead fish and grindylows bobbed lifelessly on the surface of the water, surrounding both her and Harry. Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to piece together what had transpired. When she had regained consciousness in the medical bay, the images of the earlier events were fragmented and muddled, leaving her with an unsettling sense of uncertainty.

The room had been dimly lit, with the faint glow of magical sconces casting long shadows on the walls. It was silent except for the soft rustling of fabric and the low murmurs of Dumbledore and Moody, who were huddled together in the corner, their voices barely above a whisper. Their serious expressions hinted at the gravity of the situation, but Cecilia could not make out their words. They hadn't noticed she was awake—was it only just moments, or had she been lost to unconsciousness for longer than she realized? The vague explanations she had received upon waking only deepened her bewilderment, leaving her desperate for clarity amidst the confusion that enveloped her.

"We asked your friends to give you some rest," Dumbledore had said gently, drawing her attention to the array of gifts that surrounded her, yet the absence of her friends felt stark and unsettling.

"Do you remember what happened?" Moody's voice cut through the silence, his magical eye swiveling with a peculiar intensity as it focused on her.

Cecilia shook her head, the effort of speaking too painful for her sore throat. The two men exchanged a knowing glance, and then their concerned eyes returned to her, revealing unspoken worries that made her chest tighten.

A strange sensation washed over her—a mix of power and vulnerability that left her feeling disoriented. It was as if she were caught between two worlds, exhilarated by an undercurrent of strength yet weighed down by an inexplicable fragility.