Year III: But you stayed, for some reason

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You care and it's all over the place.

— Anne Sexton, "A Self-Portrait in Letters"

I slammed my hands onto the table, but she didn't lift her eyes

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I slammed my hands onto the table, but she didn't lift her eyes. The brew in Merula's cauldron simmered with a rich crimson hue, reminiscent of wine, roses, and her suspicious blush. Snyde arched an eyebrow, her gaze still locked on the shimmering surface in the cauldron, as she added ingredients.

"What are you here for, Gellder? I'm studying," she said, her eyes never leaving the mesmerizing swirls inside the cauldron.

Crack! Merula expertly cracked open a glimmering orange egg, casting the shell aside. Waves of warmth radiated from it, distorting her features like delicate, semi-transparent silk. The heated air played tricks, blurring her face.

This was the first time I'd seen Ashwinder eggs and their contents. Gloop! The viscous lava-like substance flowed into the cauldron, thick as caramel.

I shifted my focus back to Merula. She still hadn't looked at me, seemingly indifferent.

"Cannot believe I'm saying that, but I was hoping we could talk."

She made a surprised sound, then reached for another ingredient without breaking her stride. A fragment of moonstone emitted a faint blue glow.

"If this is about you and your bird boy," she began, inspecting the crystal from every angle, "I already told you I didn't hear anything."

"Do you really think I'm that naive and gullible?"

Snyde chuckled softly, her lips curving into a smirk. "Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

She finished examining the stone, apparently deeming it suitable for her potion, and tossed it into the mortar. The moonstone vanished under the pestle with a satisfying crackle. Crack! Crack! She pulverized it with the precision of an executioner, and for some reason, I imagined her grinding not the stone but my face.

"I heard the tale you spun for the professors in the Library," Merula continued, undeterred. "Maybe you'll get away with it again, but how long can you keep this up? Who knows."

Merula's hands angrily snatched up a label-less vial, uncorked it, and sprinkled its contents into the cauldron. The powder settled on the potion's surface, shimmering beautifully under the dim dungeon light. It was crushed pearls, the same kind Penny had in her potion kit. She had quite the collection.

"Not my fault," she retorted while inspecting the concoction, her voice laced with annoyance, "that you and your reclusive friend are so careless with secrets. Although, what did I expect? Ravenclaw standards seem to have plummeted if they still accept idiots like you two."

I firmly gripped her chin, finally forcing her gaze upon me. Her eyes held a mix of anticipation, bewilderment, and something else, something intense and swift, which I hadn't seen before. It felt like a challenge.

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