A Thin Line
September 1, 2026
It was the first day of Skylar’s second year at Hogwarts, and the end of summer at last. Yet, she could barely bring herself to enjoy being back. After her afternoon class, she deliberately separated herself from her classmates, looking for somewhere quiet where she could be alone and simply pass the time until the dinner feast began. She wandered aimlessly around the grounds before eventually stopping at the viaduct. The view alone was enough to keep her there.
She stood by the stone railing, watching the steady rhythm of the water below as it moved beneath the bridge. Dense clouds gathered overhead, slowly turning the sky from blue to a dull shade of grey. A cool wind swept across the grounds, blowing strands of her hair across her face as she rested both arms against the railing. If it was going to rain, then let it rain. She would not bother avoiding it. She would want to stand there until she was completely soaked, because there were no words that could carried the weight to describe what she had been feeling. Summer Camp had helped, at least a little. Being away from home had given her enough space to breathe, to laugh, and to forget about everything happened at the Astor manor. But the wound was still there. It had never really disappeared.
The word ‘twisted’ remained lodged in her mind as though it had been carved there. She had heard it too many times to simply forget it. Even today, she had barely been able to concentrate in class. The pen could break. The ink could dry. Life could decay. But somehow, her thoughts remained, endlessly circling the same words. Twisted. Wrong. Difficult to fix. A stray from the Hufflepuff bloodline. She looked beyond the mountain to shake that voice off. Her grandfather’s voice that echoed in repeat, reminding her that no one in their family had ever strayed so far from the values they had inherited. Their Hufflepuff bloodline. Yes. The pure bloodline that they had been carried through generations, and apparently, she was the one who had somehow failed to carry it properly. So it was her mistake that she was born as an Astor?
She lifted her chin towards the sky, silently hoping the rain would finally pour down and wash away every unpleasant thought that had followed her all the way back to Hogwarts. The sadness. The frustration. The anger. All of it pressed tightly against her chest until she felt a sick sensation in her stomach. She clenched her fingers around the cold stone railing. “I’m not twisted.” She whispered. Of course, she had made mistakes. She knew that. And yes, she had broken rules, experimented with things she probably should not have touched, wandered where she had been told not to go, and asked questions that made adults uncomfortable. But was curiosity really enough to make her a bad person? Was being different from the rest of her family enough to make her something that needed fixing?
Skylar let out a quiet breath. Somewhere below her, students were laughing as they mysteriously walked into the Boathouse, their voices distant and muffled by the wind. Skylar glanced at them with the corner of her eye. She did not care as long as they were far away from her. For once, she did not want anyone asking if she was all right. She did not want to explain. She simply wanted to stand there until the sky finally decided what it wanted to do.
She stood by the stone railing, watching the steady rhythm of the water below as it moved beneath the bridge. Dense clouds gathered overhead, slowly turning the sky from blue to a dull shade of grey. A cool wind swept across the grounds, blowing strands of her hair across her face as she rested both arms against the railing. If it was going to rain, then let it rain. She would not bother avoiding it. She would want to stand there until she was completely soaked, because there were no words that could carried the weight to describe what she had been feeling. Summer Camp had helped, at least a little. Being away from home had given her enough space to breathe, to laugh, and to forget about everything happened at the Astor manor. But the wound was still there. It had never really disappeared.
The word ‘twisted’ remained lodged in her mind as though it had been carved there. She had heard it too many times to simply forget it. Even today, she had barely been able to concentrate in class. The pen could break. The ink could dry. Life could decay. But somehow, her thoughts remained, endlessly circling the same words. Twisted. Wrong. Difficult to fix. A stray from the Hufflepuff bloodline. She looked beyond the mountain to shake that voice off. Her grandfather’s voice that echoed in repeat, reminding her that no one in their family had ever strayed so far from the values they had inherited. Their Hufflepuff bloodline. Yes. The pure bloodline that they had been carried through generations, and apparently, she was the one who had somehow failed to carry it properly. So it was her mistake that she was born as an Astor?
She lifted her chin towards the sky, silently hoping the rain would finally pour down and wash away every unpleasant thought that had followed her all the way back to Hogwarts. The sadness. The frustration. The anger. All of it pressed tightly against her chest until she felt a sick sensation in her stomach. She clenched her fingers around the cold stone railing. “I’m not twisted.” She whispered. Of course, she had made mistakes. She knew that. And yes, she had broken rules, experimented with things she probably should not have touched, wandered where she had been told not to go, and asked questions that made adults uncomfortable. But was curiosity really enough to make her a bad person? Was being different from the rest of her family enough to make her something that needed fixing?
Skylar let out a quiet breath. Somewhere below her, students were laughing as they mysteriously walked into the Boathouse, their voices distant and muffled by the wind. Skylar glanced at them with the corner of her eye. She did not care as long as they were far away from her. For once, she did not want anyone asking if she was all right. She did not want to explain. She simply wanted to stand there until the sky finally decided what it wanted to do.
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| “To be misunderstood is not to be broken. It is to be rare.” | Poison Resistance / Statistically Relevant (wisdom) |
Ⓢⓚⓨⓛⓐⓡ Ⓐⓢⓣⓞⓡ |
┊ Sta: 6┊Eva: 6┊Str: 4┊Wis: 10┊Arc: 8┊Acc: 6┊ |