Therapeutic Chain of Events [Nick]

[Artemis Isis Saggezza]

Its 3am and Artemis is still awake, for the third day in a row. Just like every year previous to this one, since she was 6. The week before this date, each and every year, she fails to sleep. At all. No amount of sleeping draught knocks her out, no amount of alcohol. And so she waits, every year, for the week to pass, for her life to resume its somewhat normal routine. And it does, eventually, but not before something goes wrong, and something always goes wrong.

Last year, she almost got expelled for wandering around campus completely wasted for the entire week. The year before that, she decided to camp out in the forbidden forest in a tree and was almost killed. Inevitably something goes wrong.

This year however, she was determined for that not to happen. So, even after countless nights of staring at the ceiling, she managed to keep her temper and her moods in check. But, soon she grew tired. Tired of controlling herself, tired of trying so damn hard to not let her past or her present, be known to anyone. Hissing into the night, she clenched her fists in a futile attempt to calm herself as she lay in bed. It didn’t work in the least.

Inwardly cursing herself she rose from her bed and silently dressed. She pulled on a black lace skirt and corset top and made her way out of the Slytherin common room stealthily. Normally, she would have grabbed a sweatshirt to cover her arms, hide her past, her pain, her scars, but tonight she didn’t feel the need. It was 3am in the middle of the week, and no one would be wandering the castle.

Her converse laden feet moved swiftly, silently throughout the halls, her mind elsewhere. Her thoughts swirled in her head, overwhelming her entirely. She clutched at her arms, nails digging in, breaking skin. She barely noticed. Knowing what she wanted so badly to do she forced herself to think differently and made her way to the boy’s bathroom. She needed to splash some water on her face, to calm down, and knew she couldn’t handle moaning myrtle right now.

She averted her eyes as she entered the bathroom, making her way to the sink. She did not want to look at herself, as she knew what the reflection would show, it showed the same thing each and every year. Pinpoint pupils, a look laden with fear and sadness, emotions she tried so hard to hide from the world, from herself.

Turning the sink on, she rinsed her hands with ice cold water in a vain attempt to feel something, anything. Much to her surprise the water turned red, as the blood from the previous scratching dripped down her arms. She stared helplessly at it, mesmerized, until slowly without meaning to,she raised her head and looked in the mirror.

And as always, saw the same scared and saddened little girl from so long ago. She stared at her reflection for some time, remembering that fateful night. Emotions coursed raged through her body, her mind raced, her pulse quickened. She knew what was about to happen, and knew she had no way to stop it. And, just like each year previously, she lost it.

She hauled back, and with all the strength she had, with all her pent up rage and aggression, punched the mirror, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. She heard the glass tinkling to the ground before she realized what had happened. She hung her head in shame, and once again a glistening of red caught her eye. Blood. Her hand was gashed open, bleeding profusely.

The room spinning, she sank to the floor, pieces of mirror surrounding her, and put her head in her hands. The blood from her hands and arms mixed with the tears she was unaware of streaming down her face. She stared aimlessly into the darkness, completely stuck in her own head.

[Nicholas James Potter]

Snoring. Are you serious? His dorm mate, one of three, was snoring so loudly that it work the rest of them up. It had been like that for a week or so, and Nick and his roommates had tried everything - from Potions to Spells, to just plain telling him he was a snorer and should find a way to stop. But nothing could conceal that awful raucous sounds that the boy nearby him was making steadily. Nick was the first up, and since he had been only sleeping in shorts, he pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, and sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes groggily. His room mate sat up in his own bed, and Nick whispered, "I'm going for a walk." before standing and leaving without another word. He was walking around in his socks, yes, but he had not planned on going very far. Nick was only going down to the Common Room. Nobody would scold him there, after all, it was, 3am? As he checked his watch, Nick swore under his breath. The room mate had woken him up yet again at an early time in the morning. Great. Nick summoned his trainers with his wand, slipped them on his feet, and continued from the Common Room outward. His hair was unruly, slightly curly, just like everybody told him his father's had been. There was truly nothing he could do about it; it was that way naturally and spells would not even tame it past what his hair wanted to be. It was like it had a mind of its own. Through the portrait hole Nick went, groggy and unpleasant. Yet, after he'd woken up he already knew there would be no going back to sleep easily. He may as well wander and try to find something or someone to make his night easier to get through. He promised himself that he would be requesting help from his Head of House the next morning to get the snorer either moved or quieted. It was all too much for him and his roommates.

Nick trailed his way down the stairs, climbing down the marble stair case until it shifted in the middle of him just about to reach the Fifth Floor. He grasped either side of the staircase, attempting to balance himself. He could see down to the ground very far beneath him, and a gulp came easily as he backed up, moving along with the staircase. It halted to a corridor Nick had never ventured into, but figured he would venture to when it was daylight - when he knew what was around him. His heart was beating quickly - he saw shadows in the unknown corridor before him, as he turned back. He dismissed it falsely as being the suits of armor shadows and the light coming in from the window contrasting them that was the cause of what he'd seen. Once Nick's staircase was connected to the Fifth Floor, he bolted off, his Converse trainers hitting the marble with a dull thud of victory over the stairs. He was off, into the darkness of the corridor. "Lumos." Nick whispered, and the wand in his hand lit enough for him to see about. Paintings began to whisper or scoff, glare at him and complain about the light that had been created. "Turn that light off, boy!" whined a portrait of someone, and he muttered his apologies while moving on. He got complaints until one of the portraits exclaimed, "That's Nick Potter! That's the son of Harry Potter himself!" and Nick halted. He could understand if they made the connection from Harry Potter to himself, but knowing his name, well that was just slightly creepy. "Nick, m'boy. Glad to see a good Potter still roaming the hallways at night! Why it seemed like only yesterday your father was roaming these halls!" Another portrait informed him. "Yeah, that's great-"" Nick began, but only got that out before a smashing sound rang from the bathroom, and Nick turned, both curious and slightly alarmed by the sound in the middle of the night.

It was the Boy's Bathroom that Nick followed into, assuming that was where the sound came from. His wand was aloft, and he dimmed the light of his wand, so that he could prepare himself in case of the need for battle. Besides, the light from the moon shining through the windows of the bathroom were enough to light the room so he could see. The firs thing he encountered was glass beneath his feet, and the crunching sound made him pause. "Reparo!" He chanted, and the mirror repaired itself like new. He could feel the last piece of the mirror under his foot, scrambling to get out, and he lifted his foot to allow it to reassemble itself into its proper place. He looked around then, trying to source out a cause for the broken mirror, and found a blonde girl in black slumped down onto the ground, her head in her hands, one of which was bloody. Nick's eyes widened and he turned to her, aware that there were tears as well as blood on her face. He liked blood, and the smell overwhelmed him for a moment. Nick was a vampire, and he needed blood to survive. But, controlling himself, he knelt beside the girl, not touching her for fear she might yell or scream. Nobody knew he was a vampire, so he was safe from being pointed out as a killing machine. "Are you alright? You're bleeding quite badly." asked Nick, and he'd stated the obvious, but he wanted to help her. But if she told him to back off, then he would. She looked kind of pretty, even with the blood and tears littering her face. He was stuck now in a situation he could not just leave from, but then again, he had always been a guy who liked to help anyone who was in trouble.