Hide & Seek

Chapter 14 - Schwellenangst

Chapter 14
SCHWELLENANGST

schwellenangst
(n.) fear of embarking on something new

GEMMA read the name on the small, slightly burnt bit of parchment over and over again. The letters seemed to swim in front of her eyes, not making any sense as they danced back and forth on the paper.

It couldn't say her name, it was simply not possible. She wasn't seventeen, she hadn't been able to place it in the Goblet even if she had wanted to.

And yet there it was, taunting her from where it had landed on her golden plate.

Gemma Bane

The Great Hall was completely engulfed in silence, not a single person daring to breathe a word as they awaited her reaction.

The only source of movement came from the jack-o-lanterns, their candles still emitting a flickering, eery light, and the Goblet whose blue flames continued to burn brightly at the top of the hall.

Dumbledore was still standing flabbergasted in the doorway, also not saying anything as he took in the sight before him. Gemma blinked again, trying to get the small ink strokes to focus into something that made more sense.

Only when Hermione nudged her foot underneath the table did she look up.

"Gemma!" Hermione hissed quietly, her loafer making light contact with Gemma's sock-covered shin.

Hermione tilted her head in the direction of the staff table, her gaze locking with Gemma's petrified one.

The hint slowly clicking inside her mind, Gemma stood on shaking legs, stepping over the bench as everyone watched on like tombstones in a graveyard, still and unmoving.

She turned back abruptly, realizing she should take the parchment slip with her, only to clumsily knock over not only her own, but Ron's Goblet as well. The clattering cups echoed in the stiff air, reverberating against the ceiling loudly, although Gemma barely even registered it.

Paper clenched in her sweaty grip, she made her way up the aisle past all her housemates. She could feel their eyes on her, the same questions swarming her mind on the tips of all their tongues.

She flexed her fingers, her hands feeling numb—the stretch from the Gryffindor table to the front of the hall felt like the longest minute of her entire life.

It was if she'd just been sentenced to death, and her peers were bearing witness to her final walk before execution.

As she neared Dumbledore, she almost believed it was.

The headmaster's face was completely blank, not even a slight furrow of his brow to indicate what he was thinking.

He moved aside slightly to let Gemma through.

She wasn't sure why she hesitated, her fate already sealed the minute the Goblet spit back her name. It was almost as if stepping over the threshold would make everything real.

If she didn't enter the room, didn't face the other champions and professors, she could almost pretend like she was still asleep in her four-poster, dreaming.

"Go on, then," said Dumbledore when she still had not entered.

Gemma tucked her chin bashfully, passing fully into the room. It was decently small and dimly lit, the stones of the floor all varying shades of browns to match the drapery.

Hundreds of portraits of various witches and wizards lined the walls, their faces cast in the torchlight.

They all turned to look at Gemma as she approached the roaring fireplace, a few of them darting into nearby frames to whisper amongst themselves.