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TOMORROW.

The first task was tomorrow. Tomorrow. As in tomorrow, less than twenty-four hours away. Tomorrow.

Holy shit, it was happening tomorrow.

Albany couldn't sit still in Transfiguration class. Her legs were bouncing incessantly, her handwriting had become illegible through the growing tremor of her fingers. She couldn't focus on what McGonagall was saying, nor the writing on the chalkboard; what the lesson was even about, she had no idea. Fred and George sat on either side of her, hiding her from the professor's pointed glances as she attempted to practice Carly's spells under the table with little to no success. Faith's occasional glares from a few rows ahead did not make anything easier.

"Don't burn yourself out," George whispered. "Take a break, Albany."

Her wand hand trembled as she glanced over to him, fear swimming in the depths of her brown eyes. "Tomorrow, George," she lamented. "I don't have time."

"Yeah, but panicking now isn't helping you at all," Fred pointed out. "When you panic, you can't cast your spells, and then you panic more."

"Then I have to get over that issue today," Albany whispered fiercely, clenching her fists. "Or I'm dead. Lumine guidante."

A pale spark fizzled out at the end of her wand. She felt her chin wobble and let her arms fall limp under the table with a shaky sigh.

"You had it perfectly yesterday," George assured her quietly. "What you need to be practicing is calming techniques, not your magic."

Albany turned to him helplessly. "I'm out of time.... What can I do in one day?"

"What other spells do you have down?" Fred asked. "Do you know how to send up flares? That's typically a surrender, if you really get stuck tomorrow."

Albany nodded miserably. "We practiced a couple duelling spells too, just in case, but they weren't very strong." She rubbed at her eyes, face screwed up in frustration. "It's impossible! There's too wide a base to cover without knowing what I'll even have to do."

George appeared solemn. "If there's absolutely anything we can do for you, let us know," he offered, though didn't argue her point. "We got you into this mess in the first place, so let us help."

"Yeah, maybe there will be some way you can have us help you," Fred suggested, the slightest evidence of a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips. "Find a loophole in the rules."

"You've both helped me so much already," Albany sighed. "But... thank you."

"It's the least we can do," George said, a kind smile offering her the smallest of comforts.

Classes that day seemed to be going far faster than usual, to Albany's dismay. She would have sat in Transfiguration for an eternity if it meant she would never have to face the first task, yet in what felt like a matter of mere seconds, the bell was ringing across the castle and the students were dismissed from class. Albany felt like a ticking time bomb; every inch of her was bubbling over with nervous energy, and her thoughts were running wild, rushing with the power of a flooding river.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, they chanted, and she didn't recall leaving the classroom but she was pushing through a crowded corridor now, moving on autopilot. She was having a funeral for herself in another corner of her mind; she could see her gravestone next to her brother's, and Harry Potter was standing next to her parents, all dressed in black. "Albany," he was saying, with oddly placed concern, given she had just died-

"Albany?"

She blinked and lifted her head; the flow of the crowd had carried her to the edge of the courtyard. Oh right, I haven't died yet. Fred and George had moved past her, unaware that she had stopped, though glancing over the heads of the crowd, she could see their bright red hair making their way back towards her up the hall.

Harry Potter called her name again, and she focused lazily on the boy in front of her, who was standing as though he were itching to get somewhere else, buzzing with the same nerves that plagued her.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, trying hard to pull herself out of her head. "Need something?"

"I know what the first task is," he said under his breath, eyes darting around with caution.

Albany felt her heart immediately plummet to new depths. The world and the rushing corridor and the noisy students all became intensely silent behind her as she stared at Harry, scared to breathe.

"What...?"

"Dragons."

Harry must have punched her in the stomach, because the little air in her lungs rushed out so quick she was left winded. Was she falling? She reached out a hand to catch herself, but only stumbled back a step, sure she had been swaying dangerously on her heels.

Dragons?

"You - you're sure?" she asked, voice like a whisper.

Harry nodded. "I saw them myself," he said. "All the other champions know, so I thought I'd tell you."

Each breath was an intense labour; her skin felt clammy and prickled under her robes. Dragons. Breathe in. Tomorrow, dragons. And out.... Holy fucking shit, dragons.

"Th-thanks," she stuttered, and took a gasping inhale. When had breathing been so difficult...?

Harry nodded awkwardly, and hurried off, fading into the surrounding silence. Choking, suffocating, chilly but simultaneously sweaty silence-

"Allie!" Fred called, and he had stepped into the pocket of space around her, George too. "You didn't tell us you were hanging back here-"

They were close, too close, they were going to get swallowed too if they didn't step back, step back-

"Dragons," Albany gasped, can't breathe, tomorrow, dragons why can't I breathe?

George's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She glanced up at him with a desperation for the grounding he always brought her, counted the freckles that scattered over his nose, one, two, three, dragons, four, TOMORROW, DRAGONS.

"Dragons?" George echoed. "Al-"

"The first - the first task," she explained, and her shoulders heaved with the effort of speaking; she didn't have enough air, she was going to die tomorrow, was she dying right now?

Realisation flooded the twins' identical features, as did horror and concern.

"Albany? It's going to be okay, you've practiced for this," Fred reasoned. "They won't put you in life-threatening danger, there'll be people on the side to help if you need...."

His voice had grown distant, but his mouth was still moving; George was staring at her with concern, concern because she was going to die, she was dying, dragons dragons tomorrow tomorrow can't breathe, and then he was reaching out a hand, he was going to rest it on her shoulder like he always did, to comfort her, support her, ground her, but he was too close step back step back get away-

"Don't touch me!" she shouted, and her robes were too heavy and too hot - dragons tomorrow dying breathe - and her face was boiling over, she'd yelled at George, she didn't want to be touched didn't want them to see - stop looking get away step back - was she crying? Her eyes were burning up and she couldn't hear, couldn't breathe, something was clutching at her lungs, at her heart, her skin was crawling and so cold but so hot, hotter than fire dragons dragons DRAGONS TOMORROW DRAGONS!

She had to run, she had to move, away from the silence, away from the suffocating, she was dying but if she died the dragons couldn't kill her, DRAGONS TOMORROW CAN'T BREATHE TOO HOT DYING, she was stumbling forward before she'd given her legs the command, pushing past Fred and George, into the courtyard, was it the courtyard? She blinked hard, students staring stop looking get away STEP BACK, she needed to be alone, needed to - dragons DRAGONS TOMORROW-

She was moving without realisation that she was moving, stumbling and staggering as though she were drunk, can't breathe as she ran clumsily through groups of students, crowds of students that were too close, stop looking, GET AWAY, she was drenched in sweat under her robes, screaming without sound, DRAGONS TOMORROW DYING BREATHE HOT as her entire body trembled with the effort of movement, the effort of breathing, sustaining her thoughts as they overflowed, drowning her, suffocating her, DRAGONS TOMORROW.

When her body finally gave in and collapsed beneath her weight, she didn't know where she was, but she was alone, trembling like a lonely leaf in a hurricane as she struggled to regain control from her spiral. The ground felt rough and cold beneath her, and she wished it would swallow her, embarrassment and regret and guilt dragging at her chest like chains.

A soft pop sounded before her, and she glanced up so suddenly her head reeled, gasping for breath.

The figures before her were blurry, swimming in her watery vision, but she recognised them immediately, and collapsed into sobs.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, shoulders heaving with the labour. "Sorry, I'm sorry, sorry...."

"Albany," Merlin said gently, and he wasn't too close, wasn't too tall, nor too loud as he crouched opposite her, keeping cautious distance. Arthur crouched beside him, and their expressions were cool and calm, unlike the worried and panic-stricken faces of Fred and George Weasley. She'd yelled at George, she remembered suddenly - fuck, she hadn't meaned to, she needed to apologise....

"Breathe," the wizard instructed, voice soft.

"Can't," Albany choked out, wiping at her face with shaking hands. "'M sorry, I'm sorry-"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he assured her. "Copy me, okay? I believe in you."

"Sorry," Albany whispered hoarsely.

"Look? Breathe in," Merlin said, and made a point to take a long inhale through his nose. Albany followed him, though couldn't quite match his even breaths, and continued apologising helplessly. "That's okay, you're doing good. Now breathe out...."

They must have spent ten minutes just breathing, Albany thought, as she followed his instructions yet again. He had stopped talking a while ago, though kept breathing, and they remained like that until her trembling had ceased to obstruct her lungs and her mind had quietened. She dug her palms into the cool ground, and shivered as the chilly air began to cool her clammy body beneath her robes. She felt as though she'd just ran a marathon. Fuck, what the hell was that?

"You came back," she whispered, glancing up at the two young men through watery eyes. "I knew you'd come back."

"I'm sorry we left in the first place," Merlin said quietly, and seemed genuinely apologetic as he met her gaze. "That was our mistake."

Albany went to argue with him, and then it crossed her mind that he thought it a mistake because she clearly couldn't look after herself. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and she bit her cheek hard.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, casting her gaze downwards. As she ran a wobbly hand through her hair, she realised it was a mess, though felt far too exhausted to fix it. "I don't - I don't know what that was."

Arthur and Merlin exchanged glances, and she bit her cheek a bit harder.

"Well... I hate to assume, but I'd say it was a panic attack," Merlin said cautiously. "Not your fault. We should never have left you to deal with this alone."

Albany slumped. "I can handle myself," she argued, though given the state she was in, she knew it wasn't the strongest point to make.

"That doesn't mean you couldn't use some help," Arthur said, and she was grateful for the way he phrased his words that didn't invalidate her argument.

"The first task is tomorrow," she pointed out quietly, too exhausted to acknowledge the seize of panic her heart gave at the thought. "What help can you give?"

They exchanged glances again, and Albany might have rolled her eyes if she wasn't still recovering her breath. She'd forgotten this part of being in the ghosts' company; they interacted almost telepathically half the time.

"I really don't think now is the best time to be dropping bombs," Merlin said warily, "given that you're still recovering from a panic attack."

Albany straightened her back, tensing her hands to hide the lingering tremble in her fingers. Had he not heard her? Tomorrow.

"Given that it's only a matter of hours, I don't think there's a better time," she argued, raising her head to stare him in the eyes. "If you've got help to give, I need it now."

Either her persuasion or air of confidence must have reassured him enough to spill his secrets, as he sighed, shoulders falling. Albany swallowed hard, mentally bracing herself for whatever she was about to hear; knowing Merlin and Arthur, it could be anything. Her energy felt far too spent to work herself into another panic, at least.

"Well, the first task is dragons, right?" Arthur asked carefully. "We heard that much."

Albany nodded, biting her cheek. Dragons, tomorrow, her thoughts echoed quietly, and she shut them down, weary but firm.

"Well, we won't be absolutely certain until you actually confront a dragon," Merlin said slowly, "but as my descendant, I reckon there's a pretty strong chance that you're a dragonlord."

Albany stared dead at him, too exhausted to feel surprised.

"A what?"

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❃ a/n:

can you tell i was excited for this chapter because i've written, edited and published it five hours after publishing the last one :)

i was in heavy debate over whether or not albany would have a panic attack in this chapter, as i recognise that they're a serious thing and i hope my writing reflected that well. given the amount of stress and anxiety that has been building since like chapter 15, however, i figured it would be strange if it didn't eventually overwhelm her in such a manner. i hope i did it justice, as i find them extremely difficult to portray through writing.

also i wrote the ending while listening to "moves like jagger" which i think is a feat of its own lmao

big things about to happen ;)

- A x