Allen1996
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Chapter 19: Dolos
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 04:15:17 +0000 UTCFinnlay's eyes snapped open, her breath caught in her throat as if she had been underwater for too long. She sat upright in her seat, her chest heaving with each panicked breath. The familiar walls of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at Hogwarts surrounded her, but it felt like waking up from a dream—a dream so vivid and violent that it left a cold sweat trickling down her back.
The room was eerily silent. Every student wore the same expression: a mix of confusion, terror, and disbelief. Finnlay's gaze darted around the classroom, searching for Ashley. When she finally spotted her best friend—alive and unharmed—a wave of relief washed over her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she acted in a way she never did before, would have never imagined doing in the past, she rushed over, pulling Ashley into a tight embrace.
Ashley’s arms wrapped around her just as fiercely. Finnlay clung to her as though letting go would make them both disappear. She could feel Ashley’s heart beating wildly against her chest, could hear the ragged breaths she took, mirroring her own.
Before Walpurgisnacht, they would never have hugged like this. Before the world twisted into something out of a nightmare, before death loomed over them, waiting to swallow them whole, before everything had stopped making sense. Finnlay felt Ashley’s arms tighten around her, grounding her in a reality she desperately wanted to be true. For just a moment, everything felt right. In Ashley's arms, the world seemed to pause, the horror of what they’d experienced fading into the background. But all too soon, they pulled apart, and reality came crashing back in.
Finnlay took a step back, her hands shaking as she raised them to her face, half-expecting to find blood and grime, to find them covered in scars, in traces that she had been fighting for her life but they weren't there. Her hands were clean, her skin unblemished. She glanced around at her classmates, all of whom looked equally bewildered and disoriented. Whispers began to fill the room, soft and frantic, a chorus of fear and confusion.
"It was just an illusion," Finnlay muttered, trying to convince herself. "It had to be..."
But the words felt hollow, even as she spoke them. Everything had been so real—the screams of people dying, slaughtered like cattles by Walpurgisnacht and her familiars, the smell of burning flesh, the feeling of feeling as if she was close of dying each time her lungs took a breath.
Professor Rias, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, stood at the front of the classroom, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Finnlay's stomach churned at the sight of her. "Was that—was that all fake?" she asked, her voice trembling as she searched the teacher's face for any sign of mercy or understanding.
Rias shook her head slowly, almost mockingly. "No, Finnlay, it was not an illusion. What you experienced was quite real. I created a world for your first test. A real world."
Finnlay's mind reeled. How could that be possible? How could anyone create an entire world, complete with a monster as terrifying as Walpurgisnacht? She stared at Rias, trying to reconcile the mundane with the impossible. This wasn’t human magic. This was something else entirely, something divine or... something from a comic book or a movie. Not reality. Not this.
The room buzzed with fear. Finnlay could hear students around her whispering, their voices barely more than panicked breaths. “Did we die?” one of them asked, his voice breaking. “Are we dead?”
Rias's voice cut through the murmurs. "Many of you did not survive. In the world I created, most of you died." She paused, and Finnlay felt Ashley’s fingers dig into her arm in shock. "A few of you managed to scrape by, barely surviving. But only one of you truly succeeded, overcoming the challenge with grace and strength." Her gaze moved to Luna Lovegood, who sat quietly, as if what she’d done was as mundane as a Transfiguration spell.
Finnlay's heart pounded. Luna? How could that be? How could Luna Lovegood, of all people, have defeated a being as powerful as Walpurgisnacht? She wanted to shout, to accuse Rias of lying, of playing some cruel joke. But before she could open her mouth, Ashley's hand tightened on her arm, holding her back. Finnlay turned to her friend, seeing the pleading look in Ashley's eyes, the small shake of her head.
Why? Why shouldn't she say anything? But as if answering her unspoken question, images flooded her mind—images, memories that were not her own. Luna, clad in silver and azure magic, facing down Walpurgisnacht. Luna, fighting with a strength and determination Finnlay had never seen before. Luna, slaying the creature, her expression calm and serene, as if this was simply her destiny.
It wasn't possible. It shouldn't be possible. Finnlay’s thoughts spiraled. Luna Lovegood was… Luna Lovegood. The girl they’d teased, laughed at, dismissed as odd and useless. How could she—how could anyone—slay something that could end the world?
Finnlay felt a cold fear settle in her chest. If Luna could do that, if she had that kind of power… what did that mean for them? What would she do to them now that they were back, now that she had all that power? Would she make them pay for all the times they had mocked her, bullied her?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Rias’s voice, smooth and authoritative. "For her remarkable bravery and skill, I award one hundred points to Ravenclaw, in recognition of Luna Lovegood’s accomplishments."
The words hung in the air, but no one moved. The bells signaling the end of the class rang, but still, no one dared to stand. Finnlay glanced around the room. The faces of her classmates were pale, their eyes wide with lingering terror. They were like children who had just come back from a war zone, still caught in the grip of their own private nightmares.
Finnlay felt the weight of the teacher’s gaze on her. Rias's eyes were piercing, filled with a knowing cruelty. "Class is dismissed," she said, her tone almost gentle. "You may leave if you wish." But as she spoke, her eyes lingered on Finnlay and Ashley, a small smile playing at her lips. "I’m going outside the castle to have lunch with Luna, my daughter."
The room seemed to tilt. Finnlay felt as though the ground was falling away beneath her feet. Luna was… her daughter? The daughter of a goddess-like mage who could create entire worlds and bring people back from the dead? She felt a chill run down her spine, the realization dawning on her. This wasn’t just a lesson. It was a punishment. A warning. The professor could do anything to them, and they were completely at her mercy. Nothing they did would ever change that.
Rias placed a hand on Luna’s shoulder, a gentle gesture that seemed at odds with the woman’s terrifying power, with the casual cruelty she so easily displayed. Then, with a flourish, they vanished in a burst of scarlet light, the air shimmering with red sprites, beautiful and haunting. Finnlay stared at the spot where they had been, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts, a hundred fears.
She was jolted back to reality by Ashley’s voice, soft but firm. "Finnlay," Ashley said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."
Finnlay turned to her friend, seeing the serious, almost vulnerable expression on Ashley's face. It was then she remembered, with a sickening lurch, the words she’d spoken when she thought she was going to die. The confession she’d never meant to make.
Her heart pounded in her chest, a new kind of fear creeping in. The world had changed, and with it, everything she thought she knew. As she looked into Ashley’s eyes, Finnlay knew that nothing would ever be the same again and a part of her in the back of her mind whispered that it was not change in a positive manner.
*scene*
Montpellier shimmered under the morning sun, the air thick with the warmth of late summer. The city felt alive, like a living, breathing organism, its heart beating in time with the rhythm of our footsteps. Luna was just ahead, her eyes wide with excitement as she took in the sights. The narrow streets, with their cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, beckoned us forward, almost as of promising discovery around every corner.
Luna looked and acted different. She seemed more at ease, more at peace as if everything was finally right in the world, as if she wasn’t tied to it anymore.
"Mom, look at that!" she called out, pointing to a cluster of buildings, their facades a patchwork of pastels—soft blues, warm yellows, and pale pinks. I felt something bloom inside at the way she called me. Mom she had said. I had never thought that only one word felt akin to having the stars in my grasp. I already knew without even trying to look into a surface or a mirror that I was probably smiling like an idiot.
Wrought-iron balconies overflowed with geraniums and ivy, cascading down like green waterfalls, adding a touch of wild beauty to the ordered elegance of the architecture. The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread and pastries, wafting from nearby boulangeries, mingling with the heady aroma of jasmine and lavender that seemed to bloom from the very walls of the city.
Montpellier was a city that carried its history with pride, where the ancient and the modern coexisted in perfect harmony. As we walked, the medieval buildings of the Écusson—the old town—rose around us like guardians of the past, their stone walls steeped in stories of the ages. Yet, there was a vibrancy here, a youthful energy that pulsed through the narrow streets, where every café, every boutique, seemed to hum with life.
It was so different yet so similar to the Montpellier I had known, that I had walked, had fun in, had loved and run through the rare times I had been able to see my oldest sister. It was literally another life.
We made our way to Place de la Comédie, the beating heart of Montpellier, where the city truly came alive. The square was a vast open space, anchored by the elegant Opéra Comédie on one side and the stately Trois Grâces fountain in the center. The fountain, with its three graces—Aglaea, Euphrosyne, and Thalia—stood as a symbol of beauty, joy, and abundance, their marble forms glistening under the sunlight. Around the square, café terraces spilled out onto the pavement, filled with people savoring their morning coffee, the clink of cups and the murmur of conversation creating a soothing, familiar soundtrack.
"Isn't this place amazing?" Luna said, her eyes sparkling as she spun around to take it all in.
I nodded, feeling the same sense of awe that she did even if it was probably inferior to hers. It wasn’t my first time here after all unlike her. The square was a whirlwind of life—street performers juggling and playing music, children chasing pigeons, couples strolling hand in hand. It was as if the entire world had gathered here, in this one spot, to celebrate the simple pleasures of life.
We wandered down Rue de la Loge, the main artery of the old town, where the city's pulse quickened with the flow of people moving through the narrow street. The buildings here were tall and narrow, their stone facades carved with intricate details, their windows adorned with lace curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze. The street was lined with shops, each one a treasure trove of delights. There were boutiques selling handmade jewelry, leather goods, and vintage clothing, their displays a riot of colors and textures.
I noticed that Luna’s attention was drawn to a small shop, its window filled with delicate pastries, their golden crusts promising a sweet indulgence. We stepped inside. I ignored how all gazes turn and fell on us, how before my eyes, I watch them become entranced by our appearances without us even casting magic. I guess nothing else could be expected. It was a good thing that Luna didn't seem to care more focused on the pastries than anything else.The shop was filled with the scent of sugar and butter, and we couldn't resist buying a few éclairs, their chocolate glaze gleaming temptingly.
As we continued our walk, the sound of our footsteps mingled with the laughter of children playing in the street, kicking and playing with a football together. The sky above was a brilliant blue, unblemished by clouds, and the light seemed to dance on the rooftops, casting the city in a golden glow.
We passed by the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre, its twin spires reaching towards the heavens, a monument to the city's rich history. The cathedral was an imposing structure, its Gothic arches and stone gargoyles standing proud, as signs of the talent, hard work and craftsmanship that had shaped it. I wondered what would happen if I chose to enter the cathédrale in this world seemingly devoid of supernatural Abrahamic influence except me. I guess it could wait a next time.
A group of artists had set up their easels in the shadow of the cathedral, capturing the beauty of the scene with swift, practiced strokes. Luna was watching them, seemingly entranced by the way they seemed to bring the city around them to life on their canvases.
"I'm going to paint like that someday,” she told, her voice filled with certainty. I didn't doubt her a second.
"You can do anything you set your mind to," I replied, placing a hand on her shoulder almost as If to validate my words.
As the day stretched on, we made our way to Les Halles Castellane, the bustling marketplace that was the soul of Montpellier. The market was a a riot of colors, sounds, and smells that enveloped us as soon as we stepped inside. I guess that there weren’t any true difference with what it would become in the future.The vendors, their stalls overflowing with fresh produce, called out to us, their voices a mix of French and Occitan.
We moved through the market, sampling olives, their briny taste a burst of flavor, and bought a loaf of bread still warm from the oven the way it was only right to do.
The market was filled with people—locals doing their daily shopping, tourists marveling at the abundance of fresh, local goods.
My parents had taught me that one of the simplest but most important thing in life was a warm loaf of bread with cheese more specially some bleu because it was their favourite with slices of ham. Of course this was with a cup of red wine on the side. I guess the wine part could be diargarded for Luna. I may care about her, love her but I couldn’t forget that she was born and raised British and that other cultures like the American and the British ones could be weirdly puritanical on some things like you're telling me you can join the army at 18, you can buy guns, you can vote, you can pay taxes but you can’t legally drink a little bit of alcohol before 21?
By late afternoon, we found ourselves at the Jardin des Plantes, Montpellier’s verdant oasis. I guess that it was a good thing for Dumbledore that I wasn’t scheduled to teach again until tomorrow because there were no chances I would interrupt my trip with my daughter because of him.The garden was a world unto itself, a place where time seemed to slow, and the hustle of the city faded into the background. The paths wound through lush greenery, past ancient trees that had witnessed centuries of change, their branches probably filled with history.
Luna ran ahead, her laughter blending with the rustling of leaves, her joy seemingly as infinite as the sky above.
"Mom, look!" she called out, pointing to a small pond where koi fish swam lazily beneath the surface, their scales glinting like gold in the dappled sunlight. The garden was alive with the sound of birdsong, the chatter of squirrels, the hum of bees moving from flower to flower. It was a place of peace, of reflection, where the beauty of nature was on full display, a reminder of the simple pleasures that life had to offer.
We sat on a bench by the pond, the scent of roses and lavender filling the air. Clara leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I broke the hesitation I felt at touching her, at being affectionate with her. I was supposed to be her parent and I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer. No words needed to be said.
As the day began to wane, we made our way to Le Petit Jardin, a hidden gem of a restaurant tucked away in a quiet courtyard my sister had once shown me. The restaurant was a warmth and full of charm. The tables were set beneath the shade of ancient trees, and the lights twinkled like stars. The menu was a what you could expect with the characteristics and story of the region—fresh seafood, seasonal vegetables, and delicate pastries, each dish a work of art.
We dined slowly, savoring each bite, our conversation flowing easily. We talked about everything and nothing—about the creatures Luna had created in her fight against Walpurgisnacht to protect the others. I guess it meant that no one could accuse her of saying of nonsensical when she had even if temporary brought to life Heliopaths. We talked of other simple things like the beauty of the city, about how the experience was.
It was a conversation filled with laughter, with the kind of ease that should have only comes from years of knowing and loving someone. The food was exquisite, each dish worthy of being praised. I wouldn’t say that it was the best thing I've ever eaten. The original Rias’ memories had spoiled me in that regard but saying that it didn't taste good would be a lie. The sea bass was tender and flaky, the fennel adding a delicate sweetness, while the heirloom tomatoes were bursting with flavor.
As we finished our meal, the tarte Tatin a sweet end to a perfect day, I looked at Luna, her face lit by the soft glow of the lights. She looked happy, truly happy, and that filled me with a sense of contentment. It made me forget for an instant everything I gave up to Sophia. For a moment, I didn't feel angry or sad to a point where nothing else seemed to matter. For a moment, I felt happy. For a moment I was at peace. Knowing that I had succeeded in making her smile, in making her happy for this moment, everything was exactly as it should be.
We walked outside of the restaurant when we had finished , the streets of Montpellier quiet now, the city settling into the stillness of night. The buildings, their stone facades now bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, seemed to watch over us as we walked aimless in the city, which had been so alive with energy during the day. Montpellier at night now held a quiet beauty. Montpellier felt peaceful, peaceful in a way that mirrored the calm in my heart.
“It is time to go back Luna,” I said softly to my daughter. She gave a last look at her surroundings before nodding and coming closer than me. A touch of her shoulder and we disappeared, reappearing at the gates of Hogwarts.
As we walked toward, I heard the sound of the chatter of students. It seemed we came back while they were having dinner. As we reached the doors, Luna turned to me, her eyes filled with gratitude, as if I had given her the world. "Thank you, Mom," she said, her voice soft. "Today from your class to the trip to France, all of it was perfect."
“I thought you would be angry,” I told her “angry about how I dealt with those two girls.”
“I won’t lie that a part of me wish that it could have been done differently, that it had been less painful for the rest of the class but I won’t say that I regret it. You made me realize that I needed to believe in myself, how important it was that I do so, how by doing so, I could do anything. It was something I needed to learn so for that I am thankful and glad of what you did. Just next time, if there is a next time, talk to me please?” she asked me.
“I will,” I said to her yet it felt as if I had lied to her.”
Luna decided to hug me “It feels like a dream, you feel like a dream. I hope this dream, that all of this won’t stop, that this dream last forever.
"It will," I told her, liar a voice in the back of my kind whispered as I pulled her tighter into the hug, holding her close. "It won’t end,” I told her. “I'll try to make it last forever for you" I lied as if I wasn’t seeking death, as if I wouldn’t be dead in three years or less directly or indirectly due to myself.
She smiled at that, a smile that was all her own, a smile that I would carry with me always, a reminder of this day, of this moment. Looking at the smile, I hid the pain I felt as I felt my heart break In my chest. I could only while hugging her mentally apologize.
Comments
allen 1996
Thanks for reading
Jason Smith
Thanks for the chapter!
