Panic drowns the senses pv Mika H.

Pattern recognition was an image skill of hers. Being highly logical and practical in her daily life, as far as her brain allowed her to be, she felt as if her mind was a stronghold, where things that repeat get categorised. That is how she learnt to remember dates in lessons: make it a pattern. But from what she was currently experiencing, unbeknownst to her, at the same time as Mikaela, she realised that they were very much alike. In fact, this would have been her way of thinking two years ago- no. That was her way of thinking when she ran. Unconsciously terrified, but knowledgeable. Maybe too knowledgeable. Just like what they thought about prodigies.

Her tongue was getting looser, as for once she could speak out the words she only said to herself. It felt like a fervent escape from a suffocating reality that was her thoughts of being an heiress. Because once, she was vaguely aware that she would have to uphold a house one day and manage all affairs. Now, it was all so real and even though the duties placed on her shoulders at such an age would have been important, but she was the one who had to uphold the reputation in the wizarding world hub that was Hogwarts. And that suffocating social reality and need to act and lie to make it to the next day, coupled with her mind and introverted nature, made life a weird experience where even if she tried her best, she always knew she could do more.

And when does the act of hiding who you are become so convoluted, you impact the social pattern? And when does the social pattern become so unexpected, everyone has a different impression of you, even if they don’t know a thing?

Mikaela seemed not to agree with her previous statement completely, but the partial similarities only validated her assumptions. The eagle described it by referencing a muggle book Eugenia had heard of once or twice in the library and really wanted to get her hands on. Her description wasn’t much different however.

A world where up is down and down is up and every way is wrong and right at the same time. It felt like the vortex of a paradox called socialisation, especially in Eugenia’s condition. There was no way they were living the same thing. Absolutely no way. But their descriptions were similar and the similarities between them were astounding. Sometimes, with everything that was currently happening, it felt like at some points, she was losing her mind. Especially when memories jumped in the way like they usually did and made her suffer. (Lord, give me five minutes of not having a memory swim by my eyes.)

“Well, I have to agree with you, this is actually how it feels sometimes. Like every move you make is watched for some reason or the other, while you never know if it’ll end up chopping your head or make everything you build crumble.” Her chuckle was tired, in a way that subtly betrayed how she felt like it was making her lose her mind. Her exasperation over everything happening.

And it felt true. Because she sometimes felt free talking, and sometimes like losing her mind. When she was alone and drowning in her thoughts, sometimes it was, paradoxically, freeing, and sometimes it felt like going crazy. What Mikaela said made sense in a way that was probably a connection between their minds and those alone. As if the intellectual level brought pain and a desire to change one’s action to make them dumber. “It’s always the smallest action. Those things we were meticulously taught to do or to condemn that never made sense, or a cue that lets someone have that wild assumption that makes it all spiral towards the ground. Talking is a vicious cycle really. Especially when they’re polite, as you said. You never know if it’s faux or genuine. Or if they’ll use you as a charity case or something for their own reasons, the walking encyclopedia or an actual friend.” She paused slightly.

For some reason, her mind went back to her own, younger naïve self. She had made many mistakes back then, thinking that trust was something she could give to those she deemed worthy. But she now didn’t know who was. How to trust? And Mikaela seemed to be distrusting of anyone who knew who she was. And for some reason, she felt an urge to warn her.

“Mikaela, as much as you seem to already know this, not many are supposed to be trusted. I want to just stop remembering all those who used it or chose to leave eventually. But this doesn’t mean that you can’t trust those who know who you are. Sometimes, you can trust those people, because some are genuine. Especially those who don’t assume immediately. Remember that you’re still human, even if the social Wonderland haunts you.” She turned to the Ravenclaw and smiled, twirling her wand in her fingers. “Should I call you Mikaela? Or something else?”

¹: translation:

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@mikaela hendricks date: 01/09/2026 place: ab. toilets phantom returned

mentions; @Eugenia Smyrdini date; 01/09/26 location; Abandoned Toilets, second floor.
wc; 638/200 speech; Mikaela, Eugenia. outfit; Click me
ooc notes; HOLY YAP

Oddly enough, Mikaela seemed to be more open than she was, something truly confusing as she had been the one requesting that the other leave. She internally smiled, and felt relieved, because maybe she was a better person than she thought, after all. When the intrusive thoughts hit her once again, she had an extra moment of resistance, and for now, that felt good. As she was consumed, however, by those horrid thoughts, it was now much more difficult to resurface in the quiet. If she had made considerable progress, it was now crashing down with a bang. So long for happiness.

Because even if Mikaela had wanted to hide, she wouldn’t hide behind a lie. She would simply not say the truth. But she, Eugenia Smyrnidi, spun a convoluted web of lies, and like a spider, tried to trap everyone in it. A lie about her heritage became her ground for building more and more and more falsities, and trying to make everyone believe it. Instead of announcing the impurity and doing something about it as a family, and staying true and objective to their values, they got consumed by the need to keep their power- Oh, that list for power? Or was it survival? Or was it masked as survival? That primordial need to control all around you and the wish to remain of status, pertinent and rich in a bigoted society where hatred was woven into the very being of it, but oh so promising and rewarding… But in its reality, what would this mean for her? Social exclusion, the demise of family trade.

No, it would mean that the hunt would intensify. If they knew their wealth, their family, their refined magic, was based on such a foolish and detectable lie, the great impurity that changed books, they would be in far more danger than otherwise. The death threats that came ever so often, in the form of questions or extremely directly to a relative’s face, would become a reality. The running for her life on that faithful new first day was like entering a new lifetime, where running became a tactic, lies became the only way to survive, and crying was by night. She had applied for an odd room this year: a room for each occupant and a common area. The privacy would be beneficial, the thoughts of her current place and sins and tears would stay in her room and her room only.

Instead of her senses drowning, they heightened uncomfortably, like any sound made was to be perceived more intensely, like every single light hurt her eyes. It was lucky the abandoned lavatory was dark and a quiet place, a much better place for such panic than the great hall. Outwardly, her measured expression didn’t change. Her eyes though seemed to become more dark, likely an optical illusion as the moon’s vibrant rays were obscured by a dark cloud. It was going to rain.

The first words Mikaela uttered cut the silence, but Eugenia was soon drawn out of the unseen panic by her curiosity. And she understood. The feeling of knowing more than her peers because she was taught how to remember, making her feel like she is bored and three steps ahead. Only, when the adults asked her, they would revert to extremely advanced questions rather quickly…

The ending of the story though was wholly unexpected. She had a hard time imagining Mikaela younger, a little kid, beaten unconscious in a storeroom, rethinking the simple choice of making a fried and standing up to the literal exploitation she was facing. At age five. “No sugarcoating, you were not supposed to have lived through that. If the adults simply presumed that because you were mentally and academically more capable than you peers, you must be able to be adept socially and physically in a way beyond your age, then they are awfully incompetent. Especially the teachers. You were kid, weak maybe, but not clueless. They should have done something; the literal exploitation you were facing was probably visible. Nine year olds usually don’t blackmail and do eventually get caught. It should have never reached that point.”

She noticed a tremor going through the other girl, and mentally made a note to observe her. If she was feeling cold, she could offer a cloak later. “Perks, more like necessary evils. I learnt to read by the age of three, all alone. I remember too much anyway, I think I’ve got some condition or something, because my parents were terrified of me not being able to learn things. So they taught me how to remember. If I choose to focus, I can absorb something. So, when I’m asked by an older person about something I’m not meant to know, chances are, I will remember it. And will probably act on it, if it’s connected to something emotionally important to me. And the adults never have faith in me, as if I’m an adult and a toddler at the same time, thinking I’m not capable of finding my own ways to survive. And when they do trust me wearily and let me and I succeed, they’ll applaud me. And go back to doing the same. Like we are not human, yet untrained machine.”

She worried if she had said too much, but she never talked about the specific events. And it was something they both shared. Maybe she could be that older person that didn’t take advantage of the Ravenclaw, but was there all the same. Poor girl, she needed someone genuine. But was Eugenia genuine enough. “Δε μπορώ να σταματήσω να θυμάμαι. Είναι ευεργεσία και κατάρα…”<sup>1

1</sup>: translation: I can’t stop remembering. It’s a blessing and a curse.

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@mikaela hendricks date: 01/09/2026 place: ab. toilets phantom returned

mentions; @Eugenia Smyrdini date; 01/09/26 location; Abandoned Toilets, second floor.
wc; 562/200 speech; Mikaela, Eugenia. outfit; Click me
ooc notes; shorty bc if I talk longer I'll cry with her

The tilt of head that served as Mikaela’s response seemed more like an expression of exasperation to the inner workings of the world rather than agreement to Eugenia’s statement. And deep down, she knew it was true. She had seen many pure bloods getting away with cruel behaviour towards others. Issue was, many families were like that, sacred twenty-eight or not; people of stays so high, they could get away with anything as a family, had all their enemies silenced, and could never have a tainted lineage. Tainted by lower blood, by rumours or by outside hatred. Families like the Athanatos, that could monumentally change the school and no one would bat an eye. Families like those in the P.U.R.E society she wished to join, simply because their name and affiliation was a protection.

But she forever knew that even though her family was strong in Greece, one of the most ancient hub of magic, they were disposable in the global perspective. If she stopped excelling and being the prodigal heiress she was, all chances of being restored would be long gone. The price of such an act was another issue. But one day, something would happen and whilst she would be punished, to those influential enough, no one would bat an eye.

She didn’t want Mikaela to reach her state. Because even though she seemed plagued by pain, fake friends, and panic, she wasn’t really playing with her life. And there is a certain point beyond which your life and your family is on your hands and one action could destroy her. She didn’t want Mikaela to reach the point of such responsibility that one wrong move could get her killed; didn’t want her to reach the point where lies, manipulation, distrust and paranoia where the only ways to live. She didn’t want her to meet the grim reaper. And she was afraid that she would go to the ends of the earth for those who truly saw the value in her, those who truly saw and liked the Mikaela Hendricks opposite them. The thoughts pummelled her. She saw the eyes of her little sister in her, covered by the thin veil called rage, hating the world and all it’s circumstances. Because if they were the prodigies, Eugenia and Ifigenia were the Karageorgiadi sisters. The kids who ran from their home, the kids who hid, because if they went out, chances were they’d end up with the knife at their throat.

No, no, no. No more memories of that wretched year, wretched plan to live. They were in Hogwarts and saying a word about this would make her unsafe. It was the one subject she never breached. Because deep down, she knew she didn’t want Mikaela, or her sister, to become a cold monster like her, who wove their lies into shields. She was worse than Procrustes at work, chopping off the legs of the passerby’s.

"We're. not. human." She felt that in her bones. “It does feel like we are machines, kids who no one knows if they are broken or glorious.” She knew that feeling. That rage. When they asked her too much, the constant quizzes to see if she still is as good as an heiress as she is supposed to, the social tests of the balls. Everything. A mind fragmented in so many pieces, each had its own use now. But when she crashed in her bed exhausted, and the mask of eloquence fell, it hurt. The pain took over her body and she would cry or spiral, so deep inside she sometimes woke up thinking she had gone mad. When she first saw her boggart, she knew those around her expected something close to failure. Not the body of someone they couldn’t recognise, a train of blood, and a bloody dagger at Eugenia’s feet. Not the despair that consumed her momentarily, before casting the Boggart Banishing spell.

They saw her only as a book, those people. And even though they weren’t all, she felt isolated in a way she wondered if she was broken beyond repair. She agreed. Life did suck.

It he tear that rolled down the Ravenclaw’s face, a testament to her furious adrenaline rush of emotion, made Eugenia yearn to help her even more. It didn’t matter that she was harsh. If reality is cruel, it’s evil to sugarcoat it for a person old enough to know it isn’t the real deal. Not pointing out what’s wrong. “I’m not going to act like the people who this friendship is magic that fixes everything. It usually fixes certain things, while others are even worse when you’re alone. No one will ever treat you fairly, because there is apparently a limit to what you can know, and what you can do, too many labels and social conformities for you to fit in, so you are something they will make a category just for. The kid who is either an idiot in disguise, or who should know the answers to a problem five years above them before they enter their first year of school. No one gives a damn about your exhaustion and they don’t see you are human, just like them. They make you into another species.”

She sighed and looked at the younger girl earnestly. “I think you are doing just fine. Nothing can soften the reality, bar perhaps the thought that we at least have a roof over our head and someone waiting at home for us to return. At least we know we aren’t alone.” It didn’t really help, but it was true. The moments that felt the worse were often the ones you came to a realisation.

The odds are forever stacked against you, but you must always know how to act and survive. Prodigy. “How much did they hurt you?” At least they weren’t alone now. She wanted to help her so much; she shouldn’t fall into the edge of the spiral. Mikaela deserved better.

But darling, you both deserved better, even if you feel like too much of a crooked girl to believe it.

¹: translation:

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@mikaela hendricks date: 01/09/2026 place: ab. toilets phantom returned

mentions; @Eugenia Smyrdini date; 01/09/26 location; Abandoned Toilets, second floor.
wc; 555/200 speech; Mikaela, Eugenia. outfit; Click me
ooc notes; xxx

Three years ago, a young Eugenia stepped in this very school for the first time. Smile wide after that illustrious train ride, looking around the gorgeous hall for the first time, taking everything in. Four tables sprawled in front of her. Four tables whose histories she knew by heart, until now. Now, she was getting the chance to live them. The bubbly eleven year old walked confidently to the wooden stool when her name was called, and waited eagerly for an answer from the hat placed on her head.

The hat would claim he saw all characteristics in her, in different amounts. The kindness, occasional patience, and social disposition she had were upfront currently. It claimed that they would always claim some part of her moral compass, even though sometimes she felt like it wasn’t there. It then referenced her intelligence, something that was easily seen, but rarely valued correctly. For sharp mind and exceptional memories are viewed as either divine blessing, or idiotic characteristic, and rarely ever was it’s value placed upfront. Then, it talked about her bravery. When she felt threatened, or worse so, that someone was approaching her sister, she’d jump right in despite her young age. Determined, she’d give her all to reach her goals. Hidden, as they’d moulded her into becoming, was the cunning and resourcefulness she had. Eugenia knew how to use things to her favour. And the hat reminded her that as she got older, she’d learn how to tip words and actions to her advantage, making the board hers.

It ultimately claimed she was very balanced, and neither trait seemed to override the others. But before placing her into Hufflepuff, it warned her that difficult times were coming. That she would shift from the perspective she saw. Ultimately, it meant she would soon cease being the stereotypical Hufflepuff. It never said what she would become. A wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or a brilliant sheep in the clothing of a wolf..?

Three years later, Eugenia still didn’t know what it had meant back then, yet the moment, or the conversation, for it was longer than 5 minutes, was etched permanently in her mind. When had she stopped being a little girl and when was she forced in the role of a woman? When did the spark in her eyes change shape, from innocent to knowing? When did she shift?

December 24th, 2024. Her own nameday. The day her name went down in history. Eugenia seemed to have everything, yet in reality, she only had few things. And in the pureblood world she lived, she wasn’t safe. She would never be. Not even from herself. Because kind girl turned to a manipulative heiress really fast. And was it really survival? Or had she given into the list of sin? Was she really only broken, or was she crooked from the start?

You wanted to help her. You never lost the moral compass. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be normal. Not enhanced memory. Not a prodigy, a word she had been avoiding since forever. Not s fake heiress. Not a monster. God, please. Religion would have shamed you, yet you are still devoted.

Mikaela’s counter question was not anticipated. At all. Rather, Eugenia was so confused at first, she couldn’t answer. When the knot that was her tongue loosened in her mouth, she spoke laconically. “In ways I would never admit. Born a girl, forged a weapon, masked into a beautiful flower. All because Fate chose its prize to sacrifice. Because some people’s lives were never meant to be easy. If it’s more or less than you thought, I don’t know. But it never was the innocent young. Never my sister.”

Her answer was more cryptic than a riddle in runes but she didn’t care anymore. The answer was buried so deep they wouldn’t learn. The unease of being discovered was always there, feeding paranoia like it was a newborn child. But when would it ever fade; it wouldn’t fade ever. She was meant to live with it, spun in a web. “Πολύ περισσότερο απ’ ότι νομίζεις. Η ζωή μου κρέμεται από τα χέρια μου. Δεν ξέρω ποιος φταίει πια. Αυτοί, ή εγώ που δεν είμαι πλέον καλή; Αρκετά καλή για κανέναν. Διάνοια έλεγαν.”

She had escaped death’s claws and still had its remnants. Poor Val. It was never his fault, he wanted to help. She refused. You were so scared, young one. Yet so clever, and so loving. She remembered how she helped around when she could, because she felt awful being at their home. Both Val and Nik had been the warmest, trying to help her when she arrived. She should have trusted them. They still trust you, most probably.

Eugenia reached up to her sleeve, her hand splayed on the skin there. The jagged scar was visible, and at such a close procimity, Mikaela might have seen. I wanting to draw more attention to herself, Eugenia refused to speak about it. But should Mikaela enquire, she would make it clear it wasn’t abuse. She had been hurt, yes, and hunted, and almost killed. But never, ever hurt by her own. She knew they’d die before they’d autonomously hurt her.

She turned to Mikaela again, shivering at the admiring look on her face. Was she wanting to be like her? No, no, she wouldn’t want that. Please no, she hoped, because Eugenia had made herself into this fortress out of need, out of a need for survival. She didn’t want her sister killed. Not the boggart, God please-

Yet she composed herself and responded. “You never answered my question though. How much did they hurt you?” The mask never cracked, never fell. But the girl inside hurt so much, she had changed. Into a monster of lies. Prodigal heiress, prodigal daughter.

¹: translation: Much worse than you’d think. My life hangs from my hands. I don’t know whose fault it is anymore. Theirs, or mine for not being good anymore? Good enough for anyone? Genius, they said.

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@mikaela hendricks date: 01/09/2026 place: ab. toilets phantom returned

mentions; @Eugenia Smyrdini date; 01/09/26 location; Abandoned Toilets, second floor.
wc; 689/200 speech; Mikaela, Eugenia. outfit; Click me
ooc notes; xxx

Was this even intelligent at this point? Why was she giving answers to a girl who would have never asked if she hadn’t offered? So much for wanting to be detached when inside her, she saw a girl she felt the need to protect. Again.

It had failed with Abbey. With Abbey it had failed disastrously, and even if she feigned ignorance and calm at the fact she was left with no answers, it hurt her. Because it was the first time she trusted someone and that someone had looked up to her. But they couldn’t be roommates. Ever since they opened up to each other, she left. Like closeness was a game to be played, something fleeting. She probably hadn’t meant it like that. The first year could have found friends more suitable to her tastes and left without realising it.

But Eugenia was broken. Her mind never forgot. And her analytical yet overthinking mind, the hyperthymnesiac one, could not let that sense of weariness go. Was it becoming like this? Obviously, it would never replace Ifigenia. And she knew it. It’s not every day you are prepared to give your life for someone, and that someone isn’t anyone. While she would go to grand ends for her parents and other family, she would only sacrifice herself for her sister. Maybe a few cousins and “protectorates” added in the bunch occasionally. But for ever? Betray herself to keep them safe? Only her sister.

She’d go to absolute lengths for her and she knew it. She already was. Eugenia knew the younger girl’s silent disappointment that followed after some of her decisions. It was better than being forced though. And she’d rather take her blame than her parents, than the world. If Ifigenia lost her faith, would she still love her big sister?

That question hurt her. The heiress made the conviction to do anything to block harm coming her way, the Smyrnidi name a burden she could not lift.

And now, she showed a piece of her heart to an eagle, a prodigy like her, who longed to feel human. At Mikaela’s tilt of head, she sighed. Was it interesting or terrifying? Her laconic answer was far from the truth, for how could she explain without betraying? She missed her first year self. Their virtues and identities seemed to be so far apart, she could only wonder what had gone wrong.

People were all objects to fit into boxes and boxes to be categorised. That’s what a logical mind would say. Everything could be rationalised. Yet you are not meant to see some boxes. Or search beneath them. In some cases, you’ll come a breath away from this box, yet you’ll never open them. And sometimes, certain boxes, or rather, many boxes are not ones you should be with. It sometimes destroys you now, sometimes the box, and sometimes both, once you part ways. Fate had to make things unpredictable. So the only statistic to use is “sometimes”. Ah.

Mikaela would willingly open a sliver of her box. She answered her question, finally, without diverting. An eye quirked up at the “not even a half” comment. How could she know? Did she downplay her own pain, or were her eyes that empty? That pained and that anxious? She tried to keep her composure again. She couldn’t break, couldn’t slip- no, no.

Her mind could only muse when hearing. “The wanted to study you, as if a specimen? You never really had a choice, did you? Stereotypic behaviour of people who wish to use. Like an animal behind a glass.” Yet, she expressed the thought of having reached larger goals at this age, as if she longed to do. She grew up as a muggleborn, from what she understood, because her medical tests and exams were always done by healers. What did the muggles think of smart kids? As a liability or an animal who needed pity? A sort of necessity? Or was it everywhere the same?

A blessing and a curse; simultaneously.

“You're a child still, you know? No one is meant to do these things. Just because they say so doesn’t mean that they know you. Your mind can be used for many things, maybe even better things. You’re doing enough. And you’re a witch. That is a blessing too, even if it’s sometimes a curse. You bend the laws that they learn at schools. Essentially, you have the upper hand. You’re stronger than them. And you, you act like a person. You still hold empathy. Might seem like a speech to you, but it’s a truth I’ve observed. And I’m not saying it to comfort you. If they were in your position, they’d know.”

It might have sounded meaningless, but she wanted to make her see the truth. She could afford the truth. Eugenia did not. But she could. Even though the truths were different, you can compare. A soft melody in her mind, her eyes closed while she took some breaths to steady herself. They were so far apart. Mikaela didn’t want to be her, and she shouldn’t become her. She had a few things to and some duties to uphold.

You are sin and she is not. Mikaela is human, you’re a monster. It’s your actions at fault. If you hadn’t found that box, no one would know. You were the harbinger. Always a monster. No one could be saved from your wrath. She reached down to her leg, drawn to her chest, away from Mikaela, and ran her fingers up the scar. Her eyes started to water, her head pounded. Thoughts filling her head. “Ifigenia, I saved you, but I lost my integrity. I’m not worthy, yet you are; you both are.”

The Ravenclaw speaking again after the long silence made her turn sharply. Her hair. It seemed she didn’t like it, a small frown of what seemed to be disdain on her face. Eugenia would look her up and down, noticing the lack of initiative. Would she feel freer that way? Would the heiress learn more? Was her curiosity cunning, or care?

She would extend a hand toward Mikaela’s hair. “May I?” If she accepted, Eugenia would pull the band from the dark hair and untangle the perfect braid with gentle movements, ones she had done many times before on her own visage and to her darling sister after exhausting balls. When the hair was loose, she’d look back at Mikaela, her face polished again, but a little calmer. Her eyes would be sad, rather than desperate now. “Fo you prefer it that way?”

If Mikaela refused, her hands would be back on her lap. “Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.” She’d look at her as if trying to observe.

Regardless, she’d ask Hendricks. “Do you prefer being here? At Hogwarts, in the Wizarding World?” It was a question she needed answering. Would it have been better if she had known all along? Was the life she was living enough?

She needed to live.

¹: translation:

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@mikaela hendricks date: 01/09/2026 place: ab. toilets phantom returned