CHAPTER FIVE

It was happening more and more often—the voice. Cato's voice. The sound of it echoed in her mind at the most unpredictable moments, leaving Kit in a constant state of unease. The sheer unpredictability of it sent her emotions spiralling. Panic, sadness, anger—everything churned inside her, dragging her down into an ocean of confusion and grief.

At first, she tried to drown it out, muffling the world around her by dulling any and every sound. She avoided crowded spaces, skipped meals in the Great Hall, and even skipped Hufflepuff Quidditch matches, which used to bring her comfort. But no matter what she did, the voice persisted. It was always there—soft, familiar, haunting.

It wasn't real. She refused to believe it was.

"You know," a voice broke through her thoughts, startling her. "Being apprehensive can sometimes make things scarier."

Kit flinched at the sudden sound and clutched her book tighter, her heart racing. Slowly, she turned to see the Ravenclaw half of the Scamander twins—Lysander—standing a few steps away, one leg propped on the bench she was sitting on.

"Excuse me?" Kit asked, lowering her book slightly, and giving him a suspicious glance.

Lysander's lips curled into a small grin, his trademark cheekiness peeking through as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. He observed her for a moment, his gaze soft but curious, before letting his eyes wander to the pile of books between them.

One book in particular caught his attention, its title gleaming in gold script.

"Fear Can Be Overcome," Lysander read aloud, picking up the book with an amused hum. "You know, when Mum wrote this, it wasn't exactly meant to be a self-help guide. It was more of an experiment she was dabbling in. A hypothesis on fear and how we cope with it."

Kit snatched the book from his hands, her face heating slightly with embarrassment. She quickly masked her emotions with a neutral expression. "It's just for light reading," she lied, though she knew the pile of books surrounding her betrayed her words.

Lysander raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Light reading? Sure, if you ignore the fact that the rest of these books look like they're trying to teach you how to confront the horrors of your own mind."

Kit sighed, her fingers tracing the spine of the book in her lap. She didn't have the energy to argue.

"I think," Lysander began, his tone softening, "the only way to really overcome fear is to face it. Whatever it is."

"You say that as if it's easy," Kit muttered, her voice laced with bitterness. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge if he was being serious or just trying to sound wise.

Lysander leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "It's not easy," he admitted. "Not even close. But fear... fear is something we create. It's a shadow we let grow until it consumes us. If we're the ones who make it, doesn't it make sense that we're the ones who can end it?"

Kit hesitated, her fingers tightening around the book in her hands. "Some fears are too big," she murmured, barely audible. "Too frightening. Facing them feels impossible."

"Then don't do it alone."

Kit's head snapped up at his words, her eyes wide with surprise. Lysander stood now, gesturing vaguely to the world around them. "You're not alone in this, Kitty. Letting people in—it's hard, I get that. But..." He trailed off, his gaze shifting downward as hesitation crept into his voice.

Kit watched him carefully, noticing the way his expression changed. She could tell there was something he wasn't saying, something he was trying to avoid.

"You don't have to be so cautious about it," she said quietly, lowering her gaze to her lap. "I know what you mean."

Lysander looked at her, startled by her candour.

Her voice trembling slightly. "But you—I know how much he meant to you as well."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for so long.

Lysander finally sat down beside her, his usual playfulness replaced by a quiet solemnity. He didn't respond with words, but his presence was enough.

Kit stared at the worn cover of the book in her hands, her fingers lightly tracing the embossed title. The words blurred as her thoughts spiralled, looping back to the fears that had gripped her for what felt like an eternity. They were a constant weight, pressing down on her chest, stealing her breath. Facing them? The idea was overwhelming, an insurmountable mountain that loomed over her every waking moment.

But then there was Lysander, sitting beside her in quiet solidarity. His earlier words echoed in her mind, nudging at the fragile walls she had built around herself. You're not alone in this, Kitty.

The nickname, once an irritant, now carried a warmth that she hadn't realized she needed. It was a reminder of a time before everything had unravelled, before grief had stolen her twin and left her fractured. She glanced at Lysander out of the corner of her eye, his usual cheeky demeanour replaced with a quiet sincerity.

For so long, Kit had convinced herself that no one could understand the depth of her loss, the suffocating weight of guilt and fear that followed her everywhere. She had pushed people away, too scared of burdening them, too afraid of letting anyone close. Yet here he was—offering nothing more than his presence, and somehow, it was enough.

Her grip on the book tightened as a flicker of something unfamiliar stirred within her. Hope. It was faint, and fragile, like a single ember in a dying fire. But it was there.

She drew in a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this, Lysander."

He tilted his head, his gaze soft but steady. "You don't have to know. Sometimes, it's not about knowing. It's about trying. One step at a time, yeah?"

Kit's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. It wasn't much, but it was something. "You make it sound so simple."

"It's not," he admitted with a small shrug. "But that's why you don't do it alone. You've got people, Kit. Me, Lorcan, your housemates—we're here. You just have to let us be."

She let his words sink in, the truth of them both comforting and terrifying. Letting people in meant opening herself up to vulnerability, to the possibility of more pain. But it also meant not carrying everything on her own, and for the first time in what felt like forever, that idea didn't seem so unbearable.

Kit looked down at the book again, her thoughts slowly beginning to settle. The fears weren't gone—they wouldn't disappear overnight. But maybe, just maybe, she could start to face them. Not all at once, not in some grand, sweeping gesture, but little by little.

And as she sat there, the weight on her chest felt just a fraction lighter. She glanced at Lysander once more, his presence a quiet reassurance.

For the first time in a long while, Kit allowed herself to believe she didn't have to carry everything alone.