Viktor looked out at over the lake hours after the Weighing of the Wands Ceremony, many emotions whirled through the seventeen year old’s head. Confusion was the most prominent one; confusion over the unexpected name that had been spit out by the Goblet, the name of an underage member of the host school. The name of a girl who looked like she should have been starting school this year rather than having three years already under her belt. The name of a girl who was famous throughout her country for ‘defeating’ their Dark Lord in the eighties. The name of a girl who was sitting out on the shore, shivering in an overly large shirt… Wait, what?
Éliette quietly slipped out of her bed and tiptoed to her trunk, as silently as she could she removed her dad’s invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map. She snuck down to the common room, tucked her wand and the map into the pocket she had sown into the bottom of her shirt for this purpose, after checking the map quickly to see if anyone was near the entrance to the Griffindor common room, then she slunk out of the portrait hole and ventured silently out to the lake. When she reached the shore she sat down and let the cloak pool around her waist. Éliette looked up at the stars for about five minutes before the day caught up with her and she began sobbing. She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and just sobbed. She let out all the emotions that had been coursing through her body since the Goblet spit out a forth name. She cried over Ron’s disbelief over her innocence, over her house’s vilification and praise, over the other house’s scorn, over Hermione’s recent abandonment, over the feelings of betrayal the teachers left her with. Violent sobs racked her body, her shoulders shook, tears streamed down her face. Éliette sobbed for the first time since she was seven and realised nothing she could do would make her aunt love her. Dark thoughts swirled in her head. Nightmares that had been plaguing her sleep were brought to the forefront of her mind. The horrible memory of her father’s last words and her mother’s death the Dementors had helped her remember. The numerous memories where her uncle beat her throughout her childhood. The horrible names her aunt called her. The dreams she had of Voldemort.
Éliette was quickly swirling into depression and panic when a large hand grasped her shoulder. Éliette stifled a shriek in her knees.