| If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine |
| If it had a home would it be my eyes? |
| Tris murmured as the pale sunlight fell on her face. She hadn't bothered to close her curtains, and the curtains were drawn in the windowsill, so sunlight from the morning streamed in. |
| "No...no..." She said in her sleep, rolling over to avoid sunlight. |
| She was having the dream again. Reliving the night her friend and fellow Ravenclaw Heir had died. Seeing herself just...stand there. Not do anything, as her friend fought who they had fought for years. Stand there as she died. Just holding Armelle Celeste; Phoebe's daughter. |
| "No!" Tris screamed, bolting upright in bed. She looked around. The room was eerily empty. Casting a glance at her clock, she had overslept again. Sighing, she gathered her things and headed to the bathroom. |
| Spying her reflection in the mirror, she rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. She was still shaking from the nightmare; her skin was pasty and her nightgown clung to her. She blinked. She just thought she saw Phoebe in the mirror, replacing her reflection. The image of Phoebe singing to Sabrina and herself while she lay dying replayed in the mirror. Lord Voldemort's evil grin then appeared instead. |
| "Stop it! Just stop it!" She screamed. At that exact moment, cracking sounds echoed through the bathroom as all the mirrors in the bathroom shattered at the exact same time. As if someone had randomly flew at each with a hammer as they walked past. The built in cabinets flew open. When the cabinets flew closed again, all that was left was Tris's distorted reflection. |
| Would you believe me |
| If I said I am tired of this |
| Well here we go now one more time |
| *flashback* |
| Tris was reading another thick book, researching. She had gotten some bad feelings walking around Hogwarts for the last few days. After having some peace; the only odd thing being Phoebe getting pregnant; everything was somewhat okay. She quickly skimmed the page, then turned it. When her eyes fell onto something about possession she gasped. A vision clouded her eyes as she saw herself bound and gagged and bleeding on the floor. When she came out of it, she blinked a few times and then stood up, shaking a little. But instead of fear, anger took over. |
| "No! I don't to do this anymore. Not anymore." She said to the portraits of Rowena and Unisour. They were silent; as always. Always held that pride, pride of being Ravenclaw. Tris couldn't share in that right now. |
| "Why did you have to pick me? Why?" Silence. The only noise came from the crackling of the fire. |
| "Answer me! I'm tired of having to be your messenger. I'm tired of having premonitions. I'm tired on having the wizarding world rest on all of us. I'm tired of being a target to whatever evil is in this world. I...I..." Her anger dissolved to tears as she picked up the book and flung it into the fire. The fire roared, and she ran out of the room sobbing. |
| Cause I tried to climb your steps |
| I tried to chase you down |
| I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground |
| I tried to earn my way |
| I tried to change this mind |
| You better believe |
| That I am trying to beat this |
| Tris pulled herself from her memory. She was standing amongst broken glass, panting. She leaned against the smooth white tile wall and slid down it's length. She sat on the floor, her eyes bright and somewhat glazed over, her head throbbing from the sudden use of power. |
| "Oh Phoebe. I should have been able to stop this. I should have been able to see what was going on...what kind of a prophetess am I anyway?" Tris said out loud. She was fixated on her distorted reflection in the mirror- that mirror hadn't lost any glass, but there were cracks running through it. Like the cracks in her heart. |
| "I'm supposed to be one of the most gifted witches in the wizarding world, descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw. And the 1st witch in 5 generations of squibs. I'm supposed to possess the power they never had. But I couldn't see this coming! And...I couldn't be a better friend for you. I let you down. I let all of you down!" She screamed, echoing in the bathroom. |
| "I should have tried harder. I should have done better. I don't feel like I gave enough to everyone. Even if I could have been hurt on the night you died, I still could have tried to hex Voldemort. Or tried to hold him off. Instead I let you die. And now Sabrina and everyone else is heartbroken. And Armelle will never know her mother. And I feel responsible for all this." She wiped away a single tear. |
| "I'm trying. Believe me. I'm trying to beat this. But it's too much. I can't take it anymore. It just won't go away! I've spent so many nights trying to be in your shoes. Climb your steps. And every time I try to, I can't. Maybe if I had just spent more time with you, I would be able to. But I can't. I can't..." Tris spied the piece of glass on the floor. It glared in the light, and sparkled. It was about as big as one of her bookmarks, and it looked oddly beautiful. She picked it up. A thought crossed over her mind. She grasped the piece of glass and looked at the reflection in the glass. Tears were rolling down her face, as she couldn't recognize who the person was. She held the glass to her arm. With a shiver she realized her hand was trembling. |
| "This is for not trying enough." A cut. A wince. Red. |
| "This is for not being a good enough friend." Another. More red. Deeper. |
| "This is for not fighting on the night Phoebe died." |
| "This is for not being a good enough Prophetess." |
| Her arm was scarred with deep red lines, and blood slowly began dripping down onto the floor. A slow, dull ache crept into her mind. Her thoughts seemed to slow down and stop as she became hypnotized with the lines, with the red ribbon running down her pale arm. "I'll shed this for all the mistakes I've done. That must be enough. Eye for an eye. Blood for blood. For the blood that those possessed kids shed. That I could have stopped." She whispered. She kept cutting. Suddenly, her shaking hand dropped the glass, and the sound shook her out of her trance. She realized what she was doing, and cried. With a force she never thought she had in her, she flung the bloodied glass across the room and it shattered against the wall. |
| So when will this end it goes on and on |
| Over and over and over again |
| Keep spinning around |
| I know that it won't stop till I step down from this for good |
| I never thought I’d end up here I |
| Never thought I’d be standing where I am |
| I guess I kind of thought it would be easier than this |
| I guess I was wrong now one more time |
| Tris looked on, her face almost devoid of emotion. Her robes were dark black, and she wore a dark dress underneath. The sky was filled with heavy clouds, as her fellow Heirs cried. The coffin before them was decorated with roses. It was dark brown wood; etched into it was the symbol of Ravenclaw |
| It was Phoebe's coffin. |
| All the other Heirs were holding roses as well. Sabrina had finished her speech about Phoebe and she motioned for Tris to stand up and say something. Tris stood up, and walked over to the front. She was careful to tug down the sleeve of her robes- a small scar, one of many on her arm peeked from the top. |
| "Phoebe was a great person. She was selfless- she gave her life for all of us. For the wizarding world. She gave up her own life. She was kind, brilliant...a true Ravenclaw. An essence of what Ravenclaw should be. I don't think any of us expected to have to be here. None of us knew what to expect when we became Heirs. I didn't expect any of this to happen. I...I kind of thought it would be...easier. Easier than this. I never expected to lose anyone. It never crossed my mind. I...I guess I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong..." Tris lost her composure and began crying. Dumbledore stepped onto the podium and led her away. |
| Cause I tried to climb your steps |
| I tried to chase you down |
| I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground |
| I tried to earn my way |
| I tried to change this mind |
| You better believe |
| I tried to beat this |
| When will this end it goes on and on |
| Over and over and over again |
| Keep spinning around |
| I know it won't stop |
| Till I step down from this |
| Tris was dreaming again, but the dreams had changed. This time, she found herself on a big, old-fashioned carousel. The carousel began to spin eerily, playing an old-fashioned song. The animals on it morphed. The horses, painted in white and other colors morphed into her fellow Heirs. The wooden seats on the carousel became Eagles. As she spun, it became faster and faster. The world around her, outside the carousel melted into a blur. Other things began appearing; two of the animals became the elegant Rowena and Unisour; another became evil Phoebe. Tris looked on in shock, having not seen that Phoebe in a long time. She sat on her horse, which became another Eagle. This one was blue, with patches of gold. Spinning around one more time, she glanced at who was at the controls. It was Lord Voldemort. Tris screamed as the eagle she was sitting on dissolved into a pile of snakes. The serpents wrapped her up, as the carousel spun harder and harder. She was yelling, crying for it to stop, but it wouldn't. Voldemort grinned at her evilly as a hole appeared in the carousel and she fell through. |
| Sick cycle carousel |
| This is a sick cycle carousel |
| This is a sick cycle, yeah |
| So when will this end it goes on and on |
| Over and over and over again |
| Keep spinning around |
| I know that it won't stop |
| Tris walked around the Ravenclaw Heirs room one last time. She was wearing a cap and gown. Now a 7th year, she had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her fingertips ran along a frame. But it wasn't one of Rowena or of Unisour. |
| It was the picture of Phoebe. |
| "I never asked to be an Heir." She whispered to herself, and partly to the frame. She looked into those eyes. To her, they seemed a little sad. The portrait had been painted a few months before her death. Could she have known what was coming? "And I enjoyed having power, being important. But..." She looked up. "I lost too much because of it. And now that I'm graduating...I want to leave this behind. Not you...but the idea of being an Heir. I'm sorry." Tris said. Her eyes fell onto her arm; years later, a few scars still lined her arm. The darker side of being an Heir. All the charms, potions, lotions and creams couldn't take it away. Her Professors said that it was probably there for a reason. Tris would stroke the scars, and a dull ache would enter her head. She thought it showed that yes, she showed remorse. But she would always wish that it hadn't resorted to that. Right above them, in the crook of her elbow was her indigo Ravenclaw mark. A tear dripped onto the arm. She looked at the room one last time; gave one last stroke to the Eagle. She pursed her lips, then whispered a good-bye to the room. She closed the door behind her. Click. |
| Till I step down from this for good... |
