Trigger warning: Do not read if you have a sensitivity to mental health topics, though the content is still PG-13.

“If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person?”
– Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club






Aida opened her eyes to find herself inside one of the team bench areas in the London Quidditch Stadium. The stadium itself was deserted since it had already been cleaned after the recent Durmstrang vs. Hogwarts match and, without another game coming for several days, no one had any reason to be here. So why was Aida here? She searched her mind for the answer. The white witch had been tenting with her team normally, yes, so why should she awaken here? Was this another nefarious instance of lost time, or was this simply sleep deprivation blocking her grasp of reality? Aida simply had questions upon questions without any answers. If she woke up here now, what had she been doing earlier that had brought her here?

"You won't like what you have become. What you are. What you will be."

What had she become? She didn’t entirely know herself anymore. What ever happened to that strange herding girl in the backwaters of the Highlands, singing to animals and dancing alone with the glow worms? She used to be strong, like she could take care of herself in a physical struggle against someone her size or against most creatures. Not against a grown-up certainly, which had been proven countless times in those struggles with Sean, but against someone her own age surely she would have been able to manage. She had felt strong when she cut away the cocoon of the acromantula. She had felt strong when she could run all the way from the castle to the old oak tree without stopping. Now that she was here, restricted to the stadium area, Aida never ran anymore. There was nowhere to run to. Her hallucinations were also continuing despite the absence of life-threatening situations. Were they continuing due to a bored imagination, sleep deprivation, or because she was actually still in the cocoon, paralyzed and schizophrenic, and this entire summer was a dream? Or were these the wages of a failed, mutant seer gene gone horribly wrong?



Ever since the incident with the house elves, Aida had felt the burgeoning of her animal instincts. Knowing things she shouldn’t have because something smelled a certain way, or because they just felt a certain way. She felt increasingly distant from humans even as she ostensibly gained more friends. She did have real feelings for Dealla, Ileen, Sylvain. Her team mates, her fellow Ravenclaws. Pericles, whom she had tried to save from the acromantula and who had given her a gift on his own birthday. She told herself she could trust them, and that they were nothing like the grown-ups who kept piling stricter and stricter dictates upon her life. They weren’t like the house elves, manipulating and using her, right? Could she trust Xailah, the seemingly half-cat half-witch? Could she trust any semi-humans? Aida was fully human, but she didn’t feel like it. In light of her memory loss, she did not feel like she could trust herself.

Aida once saw creatures as a refuge, and she had promised Griffith that she would be strong in order to be a refuge for them in turn… but what kind of refuge was the acromantula that had nearly killed her? What kind of refuge was the mosp, who had poisoned her and left a gouge across her hand, nevermind the house elves. Had the creatures of the ranch not simply been using her? For that matter, what refuge had she been for creatures? Even as she had promised the Undead King that she would stand up for non-humans, Aida felt she had killed the mosp. She couldn’t remember what happened to the acromantula, probably from a mental block from the PTSD, but probably it had died too. Her words were not cunning enough, her strategies too facile. Worst of all, what kind of refuge had she been to Manticore?



Aida began to weep. Alone. She could not even sense the presence of the Undead King. She was so severely alone. Her heart cried out, and her screams cried out in kind, streaming through the completely empty stadium. Its high walls towered imposingly, distantly, on every side as if she were at the bottom of a great fjord. The walls of the stadium were so far, however, that she could not even hear the echo of her own voice the way she could in the old gorge. She had always found that echo comforting, pretending that the stone at least could hear her.

Aida looked down at her arms. When had she gotten so skinny? When was the last time she had eaten? For the first time, Aida began to realize that she had been physically wasting away all through the summer. She sensed that her strength, her endurance, and her agility had left her. All the while, they seem to have been replaced with delusions and flights of the imagination. Not even real visions the way seers had, but indeed, completely imaginary hallucinations. Aida’s nightmares had long since begun entering her waking life as her extreme insomnia began to warp everything around her.

The girl with bone-white hair tried to conjure the face of the Undead King in her mind so that she wouldn’t be alone, but in her exhaustion-addled brain the only thing she could see was the face of Alexander. But it wasn’t just his face; his face had turned skeletal. Skeletal because she failed to save him. Because she had killed him. At least, this was her delusion. She could never seem to find him around during the summer, and so her greatest fear had become her waking nightmare. She was convinced that she had failed some strategy somewhere, she didn’t even remember where. Maybe it was in the Forbidden Forest, or maybe it was back during the house elf incident. She didn't even know which one had come first. She couldn’t remember but that made perfect sense. If there was anything she would block out, it was how she killed Alexander. Just like she had killed Manticore, and the mosp, and probably a thousand creatures tread beneath her human heel.



Aida felt like she was finally remembering why she had gotten so messed up. She had promised, that night at the lake, that she would never let him die… and somewhere along the way, her greatest fear had become one for Alexander. She wished the Undead King would just take her away, but he would not appear. Not even his shadow. Had she even killed the undead? Aida’s chest heaved with grief as her entire body shook from keening.

Valentin had not yet gone back to Durmstrang after the big game, so today he was going for a walk. Or as he liked to put it, taking his broom out for a walk, since he was lugging his silver arrow around out of emotional attachment. Where else would Durmstrang's obsessive first string seeker go but back to where it had all happened?

Entering the very-nearly empty stadium, Valentin took in his surroundings, inhaling the fresh nostalgia. With his incredibly keen eye, the boy immediately picked out the shape of a very white figure tucked away inside the bench area where his team mates had previously sat during the game. Hopping on his broom, he arrived quickly alongside the sole inhabitant of the huge stadium. It was a sleeping girl.



Hmm, she's beautiful, thought Valentin. The girl also looked incredibly sleep deprived and she was just as skinny as he was. He knew his reasons, but he wondered about hers.

Sitting facing her on the next bench, Valentin put down his broom next to him. The sound it made was not that loud, but it was otherwise so silent that it caused the girl to rouse. As she opened her violet eyes, she looked upon him with a bizarre, indescribable gaze. Truth be told, it was a little creepy. Eyeing the pearls of her necklace, Niffler was intrigued.

"I saw you during the game," Valentin observed. Naturally he was looking over her person in the hopes of finding the snitch that she had been wearing earlier.

Aida was having a dream. In this dream Aida knew that once the Undead King arrived she would be able to sleep again, and this time she would sleep forever— like in the children's fairy tale "Sleeping Beauty." But then, she couldn't go yet. There was a skeleton approaching her bedside. The body of Alexander Varellion, whom she had failed to save and, through her own failed strategies, inadvertently killed. So long as this skeleton was here, she had no need to depart. His bones were so beautiful.



"I'm so sorry, Alexander," she said to the skeleton. "Not only did I lead to your death, but after I had promised you that I would always remember things about you, I have gone and forgotten how I killed you. Do you remember how you died?" she continued in despair. The skeleton shook his head— perhaps the dead were not able to remember their lives unless they had fully become a ghost. Aida was glad that Alexander was not a ghost, wanting him to have peace in his hereafter. She hoped that he could find happiness, regardless of everything that had happened.

Suddenly a clash of thunder ripped the dream apart. Aida opened her eyes and saw the sky, but it was blue and free of clouds. Turning her head, she saw an albino boy of about her age, sitting on the bench beside her. There was a very fine broom by his side, gleaming with polished silver. The boy himself had a silver tinge to his otherwise violet-colored eyes. As the haze of sleep fell from her, Aida realized that this was Valentin Schnell, the famous seeker of Durmstrang. She had even donated money to his team because she had heard they had an albino player. Sitting upright, Aida squinted. So she had been dreaming up the skeleton. Now that she was awake, could she remember how she had killed Alexander? ... No, nothing, still. Her heart ached over her sacred promise.

"I saw you during the game," said the boy.



"I... what?" said Aida, confused. Had he seen how she had killed Alexander? Was it some kind of game to him? How did he even find her? Aida's mind was still a complete wreck after a month of continuous sleep deprivation.

"At the quidditch match. With a golden snitch. Your neck," he said with his imperfect English. Aida remembered now, when she had watched the Durmstrang match. Valentin was a very skilled seeker. At the time she felt it had been very inspiring.

"Why are you here?" she asked. The boy replied with a large grin.

"Because I live for the game, and I wanted be here again," he answered, amused. He thought it was pretty cute that she was so confused.

Aida rummaged around in her pockets, finding that she had kept the snitch necklace with her since the game. She held it out to demonstrate. Valentin's eyes glistened as his grin grew wide and full of pearly teeth. Suddenly the boy snatched the golden orb right out of her hand, nabbed his broom, and took off running on top of the benches of the stadium.

If the boy had wanted to escape, why wouldn't he just use his broom?

If that boy had seen Aida kill Alexander, then maybe he could tell her how it had happened. Even if Alexander were dead, Aida wanted to try to restore her promise to remember things for him… especially when it came to something as important as how he had died. Gathering up her strength, Aida’s brows furrowed and she took off running, just as she had so many times… but somehow she was not as fast as she used to be. It was like running through water, but this was no dream. She had to catch him. He was the only way she would be able to keep her promise.

Aida’s feet clattered loudly against the benches of the stadium and the running seemed to go on and on. The boy wasn’t slowing down, and the reality of it was that he was quite fast, probably twice as fast. At this rate she would lose him. Desperate and lashing out with latent anger at having lost Alexander, Aida decided to cast a spell to stop him. Searching her person as she ran, Aida feared that she had lost her wand during all the turmoil, but it was there, tucked against her backside. Hot anger began to well up in her as she tried to take it out on Valentin with a stark, Flipendo!

With as much arcane power as almost anyone her age could conceivably have, Aida’s wand blasted out at the young Niffler [rolling a 15 plus 10 ARC]. Catching him square in the back, Valentin went flying down the bleachers, tumbling as he went. Aida, for her part, was stunned that she had hit the boy so hard with her spell. She had never had so much magical power before, not even in all of those earlier dire circumstances. However, Valentin had the advantage of having learned how to fall from his ten thousand falls during quidditch training and matches, and the boy was tough as nails when it came to taking a beating. His hand never released the snitch, and he crawled back to his feet with a grin and a laugh. He would not have to go so easy on the girl. A tiny amount of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, which was visible to Aida as she was nearly catching up to him. Valentin had just climbed back onto the seats when Aida put all of her power into her legs. She leapt, ferociously clawing out with her arms as Valentin tried to evade [14 vs. 17] but missed him. After all, Valentin was a trained athlete accustomed to stronger people than Aida coming after him, so even on the uneven terrain he was able to dodge her. Clattering to the bottom of a seat, Aida smacked her arm hard against a corner. It hurt terribly, but Aida had been getting used to pushing past pain during her struggles. She would not be stopped.

Clattering to her feet, Aida began to run again, but she knew that she would stand no chance if she kept up the previous tactic. If she were to knock him down again, he would likely just keep getting up. “No, you don’t!” she cried. “Tarantallegra!” Suddenly the Niffler’s legs started flailing uncontrollably. The only thing he could do to not fall over was to slow down, dancing as he tried to run. However, he could not outpace Aida now. Though she had become weakened over the last month, Aida was still a hardened runner who used to go very fast. Now, she was fast enough. Reaching out to grab the pale boy, it still proved difficult to grasp him, dancing wildly as he was. Valentin was not accustomed to taking his wand everywhere and did not have it now, having been born with relatively little magical power, and so his only defense would be physical. Aida’s eyes were clear and deadset on their target [15+10 ACC vs 17+6 EVA] and the dancing boy could hardly control his evasion as the girl tackled him to the ground. Suddenly Aida had a flashback of a time at the ball when she had tried to tackle someone… but she had been trying to do too many things at once then, both removing boutonnieres as well as trying to interrupt Alexander’s cast. This time her objective was singular.



Trying to stay on top of the wriggling dancing boy to weigh him down and prevent his escape, it was a struggle of featherweight against featherweight. Catching one of his wrists in her hand, she feared the other one holding the snitch would come in for a punch against her. However, the blow never came. Rather, the boy started laughing uncontrollably as if he were being tickled. Seizing the opportunity, Aida managed to grasp Valentin's other wrist.

“Tell me how I killed him!" she yelled. She was not after the snitch. She wanted information. Valentin looked up at her confused as Aida's spell began to wear off. His legs ceased in their wild convulsions and his face turned serious.

"What? What you saying?" he asked. Aida could read the boy's emotions from both the look on his face as well as from her animal instincts. He clearly had no idea what she was talking about. She must have dragged him into this on accident.

“I... I'm sorry... I must have thought... something wrong," said Aida apologetically. Valentin looked up at her, utterly unaware of what had been going through the girl's head. However, he understood that she was apologetic and probably kind-hearted, despite just having been knocked on his butt a couple of times. This was just how the game was played, he felt.

"You don't want snitch?" he asked, worried. Aida couldn't help but smile given the baffled look on the boy's face.

“Well... actually, I will be taking that," she said, now using both hands to try to wriggle the snitch out of his grasp. Opening his hand, Valentin gave up the little golden ball. After all, he had gotten what he had wanted. As Aida took the snitch from the pale boy's hand, she noticed that his fingers were actually quite long. Touching the snitch, the ball uncurled its little wings and opened up from its haptic memory. It was the first and only snitch Aida had ever caught, back during a practice match with her team.



"I want to be a seeker one day," Aida admitted, trying to make the scene at least a little less awkward. "I joined Ravenclaw quidditch team to be a strategist, but after seeing you fly during the game... I just... I want to learn to fly that fast." Aida was a blunt person and was not about to conceal such feelings now. Valentin's face twisted back into a wry smile of understanding. He loved compliments.

"Then you must train. Train hard," he said. Aida nodded solemnly.

"I want to become faster, more powerful. I think this training will help me. Help me to keep things from happening again as they did..." Aida said, eyes closing at the thought of a lost Slytherin boy. "Do you think it's possible to resurrect the dead?" she asked suddenly. This mercurial style of thinking suited Valentin just fine, who would often get bored from the slow and predictable pace of most conversations. Well, those not with his team mates. Any words from them were his treasure.

"You wish to train? You wish to seek? said Valentin, full of pride. "I teach you, голубушка. In time you soar like falcon," offered the boy with silvery amethyst eyes. Aida thought about it for a moment. Without Alexander it seemed like all the meaning had gone out of her life. She wasn't sure that necromancy was even possible, or if it would produce the desired outcome without creating a pyrrhic victory. However, she knew one thing. If she had not saved Alexander, it was because she was not strong enough.

"Train me," said Aida boldly. "I will make it so you won't regret it." The albino girl's eyes were full of fire, and Valentin responded with excitement. Scrambling out from underneath her, Valentin stood up and pointed to the broom that had dropped back where he had first tumbled down the bleachers.

"You do not fear pain, I know it. Go get broom. Today you fall a lot more. And I catch you," he said, pointing at the Silver Arrow commandingly. He then held out this hand to Aida, who took it as she rose. Springing into a run, Aida dashed towards the broom. She would become strong. So strong that she would not fail again. For Alexander's memory, Aida would not allow herself to remain weak... and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to find a way to undo what she had done, even if it meant learning the forbidden knowledge of time magic. Even if it meant being sentenced to Azkaban. Aida would have to become very, very strong, and she would have to start now if she were to have enough time. The witch felt that if she could just go fast enough, she might be able to travel through time, and if she could do that, maybe she could find a way to go back. Go back and save Alexander.

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