End of a cycle Solo Finished

Mentions: @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

A lone Slytherin sat at the great table. Removed from any of the other students, from first to seventh year. A lone viper, outside of the warmth of the nest. In front of him, all that could be seen was a a piece of paper.

Alexander blankly looked downwards at the piece of paper in front of him.
It was a simple letter, one almost all first year students of Hogwarts had.
A piece of paper telling him that he had graduated to second years. That his marks had been sufficient and that he could graduate.

Alexander hand's clenched into fists.
Second year.........
He had graduated to second year.
His eyes went slightly wet, and for a moment he was glad that Aida was not here. Right now he just wanted to feel the emotions. The sadness, the rage, the emptiness. At least that way he knew he was still him. Not just an empty vessel, it told him that he was alive. That he had not forgotten.
Or at least not forgotten that he had forgotten.

Magic made things complex.

As he reminisced, he softly noted the feeling of something wet and salty going down his right cheek. And absentmindedly swiped it away with the back of his hand as he sniffed a bit. Then he suddenly stood up and walked away, once more back to an isolated corner of the castle. Even as he looked around, making sure he did not see a familiar albino girl.

Honestly he should not be avoiding Aida. Rationally he knew it was the exact opposite of what he should do. He was making her hurt as well due to his own pain. But he just..... he could just not talk to her. It was all too much these days, the last day before school was to end. The day that students returned back to their homes. The students that had homes at least.

Once more he felt this vague pressing sensation in his chest. Even as he felt empty.

Alex's hand wandered towards his pocket and softly touched the letter in there. That stupid letter. The one that had been stuck in his mind for days. It was not always at the forefront, there was crescendo and decrescendo. But it was always there, even if it was soft and pianissimo.

Alex shook his head, as he rapidly walked down the halls, his eyes moist and his footsteps echoing.
A funny thing that he thought in musical terms, but at least there it made sense. Much more than magic did. Magic which had been the greatest curse to him. It all made sense, it was all written down and spoke to the hearth.

He longed to hold his cello again, the graceful and slick wood. The beautiful sound that would vibrate in the air and would give voice to the emotions of him and hundreds in the year before him.
The cello he had deemed not to bring to Hogwarts, as it was too big an item and it was better kept at home. Which he could visit again in the summer.
The cello that he had not seen for three years. That was now probably gathering dust. That or it h been sold. An awful reminder for those who deemed him lost.

He absentmindedly noted that his chest was now shaking, tears coming down from his cheeks even as he walked through the dungeon. In the corridor towards the potion classroom. Which was mostly abandoned these days, as lessons had finished and most students were hanging out with friends. Enjoying the days before vacation, talked about summer plans.

He leaned against the wall, and continued to sob.

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Timeskip

Alexander stood at Hogsmeade station. He noticed an albino figure, looking even more than usual, looking around. Probably for him, but he did not wish to be seen. He did not want to put the heavy weight on her that he suffered, he did not want her to suffer even more. Not for her to suffer due to being his friend.

He did not wish for her to be dragged into more danger. To also have her memories kept getting erased. For him to drag her into the mystery that were the two lost years. In which probably terrible things had happened. Things with dark consequences, that leaved pain and misery in their way.

It was better if she just thought he had abandoned her. In the end it was for the better.

In the middle of the crowd of young students, friends chatting happily to each other. Alexander stepped onto the train, heading towards the toilet and locking the door as quick as he could. The most secure place in the train.

And as he sat down, and put his hands to his face. He could not help but be glad for at least one thing.
He remembered, and the cycle had been broken. Now he just needed to figure out how to stop it from happening again.

And of course find out why this had happened, how it had happened and who had done this.
So that he could set wrongs right again, and make sure that those who had inflicted this fate on him. This uncertainty and pain.

Would pay