Law of Three

Aamon never did come out to breakfast the next morning. The night was misery, covered in a strange, red, raised rash that seemed to mysteriously proliferate all over his body. His mayo slick body would not find rest, even after the thick white cream was replaced by a strangely scented pink salve.

His room was empty, his roomate had stationed himself in the common area. He tried to find rest but found himself incapable so prior to dawn he left his cabin and wandered the grounds. He was not entirely sure of what he was looking for. His bedroom door was closed and he gave no mention of where he was going or that he was even gone. It was likely they assumed he was late to rise, a tangle of bedsheets on his bed could have served as a crude nest for the preen teen but there was no boy there.

It was strange. Beauxbatons was supposed to be pretty. It was supposed to be all enchanted roses and floating lights, grand staircases and shiny floors that made him feel like he’d wandered into some fairytale. And yeah, sure, it was all those things, but it was also… wrong.

It was too quiet in the pre dawn hours.

He had never thought about silence before. Silence was nice. Silence meant the absence of problems. But this silence wasn’t like that. This silence pressed against his ears, wrapped around his chest. It felt watched. Like something just outside his vision was holding its breath, waiting for him to notice.

In the castle. the halls stretched out endlessly in either direction. Towering windows threw long, slanted shadows across the floor. The sconces along the walls flickered too much, like they were struggling to stay alive. And the air—it smelled faintly of wax and something sour.

Aamon swallowed hard.

He should’ve gone back to his room. Should’ve ignored whatever wrong feeling had settled in his stomach and buried himself under his blankets. He should have...

Tip. Tap.

He froze.

The noise came from behind him. No, not behind, not exactly. From somewhere just beyond the edge of the light.

Aamon's breath came fast, uneven. He told himself it was nothing. Just the castle settling, or another student out of bed. Yeah. That was it. He tried to tell himself. Slowly, he turned his head. He looked behind him, and there was nothing. Just an emptiness. Perhaps the nothing was a something. The sconces flickered. The dark corners stretched a little further than they should.

Aamon let out a shaky laugh. “Okay. Haha. Great. You’re losing it, mate.” Who was he talking to? Nobody, that's who. He ran a hand through his mop of hair, trying to shake off the feeling creeping along his spine. Nobody was here. It was just him. He tried to self-soothe. Eventually he took another step.

Tip. Tap.

Louder this time.

Closer.

Aamon’s blood turned to ice.

He didn’t turn around. He wouldn’t turn around. He just had to keep walking. Just hurry back to his cabin. Something clicked behind him. A quiet, delicate click. Like porcelain tapping against stone. His stomach twisted. He took off running.