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It was going to be another night sleeping on the floor. Virgil had really tried to answer the riddle, but he just couldn’t do it. So far, his third year had been nothing but miserable. Classes were only getting harder, the gap between him and his classmates had only gotten bigger, and now he was getting trapped outside this damn door every day because his friends weren’t allowed to help him anymore.
Their teachers had tried to discourage their help before, but it had never gone this far. One of them had even talked about moving him to a different house entirely.
“Surely there must have been a mistake.”
What was worse was that he knew they would still punish him for breaking curfew.
“He can’t possibly be a Ravenclaw.”
He tried one last time to find an answer to the riddle, but the words were already slipping away.
“Do you think he may have been cursed? Like maybe his memory was altered?”
Virgil didn’t have it in him to ask for it again.
He leaned against the door, hoping for some sleep to come before he was caught. Once that happened, it would be another detention, which meant less time to study, less time to sleep, and he would only get worse.
He wondered how long it would be before they finally expelled him.
That wouldn’t be all bad. School had only gotten worse over time; being a Ravenclaw certainly didn’t help matters. He was supposed to be smart; his grades weren’t just supposed to be good, but perfect; he was supposed to be wise. On top of all of that, he was a seer; he should be even better than his classmates, or at least give a decent prophecy once in a while, but he could barely remember anything he saw, and what he did, he never dared share.
It was torture watching his classmates learn and grow while he felt like he had barely changed since his first year. He wasn’t even sure anymore if his friends stuck around because they liked him or if they just felt sorry for him. Watching Rowan get every answer stung; studying with Charlie was torture. They got everything right on almost the first try. Maybe they would get an answer wrong once, but then they never forgot again. Virgil felt so stupid working with them, getting the same question wrong again and again, hearing them say it was easy, that he knew this one, that they went over it together. It should have been easy.
Maybe being sorted to a different house would help.
The Gryffindor kids, who sometimes had classes with them, seemed to struggle a little more. Maybe then he wouldn’t stand out so much. Then again, he would be the new kid in a group that spent the last three years together.
Maybe he could walk to the infirmary and pretend to be sick. At least then he wouldn’t stand out; he could probably at least get a bed for the night, maybe even avoid getting in trouble if he played it well enough.
How many times was that excuse going to work?
He could say it was a vision, but then they would ask for details about what he saw. He could barely do that when they really did happen, much less when it was fake.
“Have you thought about sending him to Saint Mungo’s?”
He shuddered at the thought. Virgil had spent time there before, when the visions first started, when his parents noticed his memory issues, when he didn’t seem to perform the same accidental magic as his sister when they were young. He had had so many visits in person, in dreams, and in visions that he barely knew which parts of it were even real anymore.
All of it had slowly congealed into a jumbled mess of boredom, embarrassment, and fear. The pattern of the yellow wallpaper had burned itself into his mind. The screaming of other patients in the next room still echoed in his mind. All of this to say nothing of the visions he got when he was there. All those lost souls who were just as trapped as he was, all that trauma, all that pain. Even if it kept dragging him back, Virgil still knew he was one of the lucky ones. So many people there would kill for the chance he had to leave, even if it was only temporarily.
It was cold comfort, though.
That horrible building had its claws in him. No matter what he did, Virgil knew he would be dragged back into its walls one day.
He was going to die there.
That was one vision he had no trouble remembering. He had had it so many times over the years. There were plenty of that place, but this one was special. He could feel the world fading out around him, the darkness closing in, and that pure, indescribable silence.
All things considered, it was kind of peaceful. At least then he could rest. At least then there would be no more expectations of him.
No one left to disappoint.
He had no idea when it would come; he had never been brave enough to find out how; he only knew where.
“Virgil,” he was jerked from his thoughts by Professor Flitwick shaking his shoulder, “Did you get stuck outside again?”
He nodded solemnly, “I’m sorry, Professor.”
“That’s the third time this week.”
Virgil nodded again, not daring to meet his eyes, “I know.”
“You have detention for the next month already, correct?”
Virgil nodded. He was sure to be expelled this time.
“I don’t want to punish you more,” Professor Flitwick murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Virgil tried not to cry as he forced the words out.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
Virgil managed to clear his throat, “Am I getting sent home tomorrow?”
“No,” Flitwick shook his head, “I know it can be hard, being different. I can’t promise what others might do, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”
A few tears snaked down Virgil’s face before he could wipe them away, “R-really?”
“No one needs to know except us.”
Virgil hugged his professor as a few more tears ran down his face.
Together, they walked into the common room and shared one last hug before Virgil crept the rest of the way to his room. At least for another day, he was safe. Hopefully the visions would be quiet tonight.