[Sensitive topic; reader discretion advised]

[Caitlin Collins]

Warning: Sensitive topic and emotionally intense or graphic; reader discretion advised

• Takes place before Dylan finds Dee’s wand in Ollivander’s
  
• Dylan & Caity only
  
• Since it wouldn’t fit into the topic heading as well as the warning, the title of this is “News of Mallan”

---

Caity yawned as she sat down at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast, reaching into the middle of the table for some crumpets and butter. Chewing slowly, she let her gaze wander about the Great Hall to see if there was anyone else she knew. Noting a couple of her friends on the tables of their respective houses, she smiled in their direction and turned her attention back to her breakfast as she ate. It was the weekend so she didn't have any lessons, but had woken up early and not been able to get back to sleep, hence why she was eating breakfast at this time when she had no classes to go to. She wondered what she could do today. Finish the potions homework, she supposed, remembering her encounter with Cavan the other night in the Hufflepuff common room. Unable to concentrate on doing her homework at that time at night, she had ended up just talking to him.

The morning post arrived and, not expecting any correspondence from anyone, Caitlin was surprised to see a large, weary-looking barn owl approach her. She didn't recognise the owl and couldn't think who it might be from. It dropped a small package in front of her, which landed with a soft thud on the table, before flying off again. It didn't even stop to pick at her breakfast, as many other owls did when delivering mail to students. In fact, just down the Hufflepuff table she could see a very tiny owl shaking itself off, having just perched on the edge of a cereal bowl and fallen into the milk.

Picking the parcel up, she slowly unwrapped it and two things dropped out – a letter and a small notebook. Curious now as to who would be contacting her with a very formal appearing letter and a notebook filled with scrawls of distinctly familiar handwriting, although she couldn’t place it from memory, she opened up the letter. Glancing it over, one word immediately stood out to her – “Mallan”. A small grin came onto her face as the thought came to her that this must be from him, writing from wherever he was training. She hadn’t received any other correspondence from him but had simply assumed that he was either too busy or wasn’t allowed to send letters. After all, she supposed, letters including information on the lightfighters could easily go astray or land in the wrong hands. It did not take long, however, for the smile to slide off her face like water down a drain as she read the first few words of the letter.

Dear Miss Collins,
We regret to inform you...

She did not get any further than that before freezing up in worry and a minor panic, a stricken look on her face. None of the usual connotations with that particular phrase were good. We regret to inform you... The words echoed around in Caity’s head as she sat, unmoving. She had never heard him speak so formally. It wasn’t even his handwriting – glancing down to the bottom of the page, she saw it was signed by a member of the Order of the Light. The name sounded familiar – had that been who Mallan had said he would be training with? Master Xiu? Was that it? Two thoughts came to her mind, unusually pessimistic for her. Something was wrong. Something had happened to him. Suddenly not wanting to read it in front of anyone else, she kept her eyes fixated on those words she had already read, not allowing herself to look any further than that. If it was news from or about Mallan, she probably shouldn’t be reading it where others could see either, or awkward questions could arise. Standing abruptly, holding the letter and notebook and leaving her half-eaten breakfast to go cold on the table, she hurried from the Great Hall and headed to the sixth floor, the distress and worry plainly visible on her face. She had been told how to get into the Room of Requirement and did so now, not noticing how tightly her hands were clutching the items she was holding.

I need somewhere quiet, somewhere where I can read this, somewhere I feel safe...

The thoughts tumbled through her mind as she paced up and down the corridor, wringing her hands in anxiety and apprehension, but that one phrase she had just read kept coming back to the forefront of her mind. We regret to inform you... We regret to inform you... She had actually turned a few more times than was necessary before she realised that the door had already appeared. Swinging it open then closed again as soon as she had entered, she found herself transported back to a semblance of her old bedroom in India. It had been her home for years – her new room in England, nor her current dormitory next to the Hufflepuff common room, had never quite felt as homely and as safe as this room she was in now did. Even a warm breeze flowed through one of the open windows, and she could almost hear the constant babble of noise that would have been coming from the people a few storeys down on the streets below, bartering for their goods and jostling as they navigating the crowds.

Although the momentary distraction was nice, when her thoughts returned to what she might possibly be holding in her hands it made it all the more worse. Crouching down on the tiled floor and leaning her back against one side of the neatly made bed, she cautiously reopened the letter and began to read once again.

Dear Miss Collins,

We regret to inform you of the death of one Mallan Baine, Elemental Master of Wind, which took place during his training with us...

Her throat suddenly constricted, Caitlin could only quickly glance over the rest of the page, unable to make herself read any more. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t... Mallan? Dead? He was sixteen, the same age as her... die at sixteen? It wasn’t allowed, shouldn’t be allowed... Thoughts of Wysteria rose in her mind but she pushed them away, not wanting, not currently able to accept the facts. Biting her lips together tightly in an attempt to hold in whatever this immense feeling was that was currently roaring about inside of her, she forced herself to read the last few paragraphs that she had seen held mention of the notebook, and Dee. They had tried to contact D’rorah but couldn’t so this was being sent to her instead. The notebook was a diary he’d kept during his training. His thoughts. Letters he wanted to send to her but couldn’t. Secrecy... he wasn’t allowed, or something...

Desperate for some sort of distraction that would prevent her from having to accept or even think about that short phrase she had just read at the top of that letter, she opened the notebook cautiously, hands shaking even as she tried to control them. Why was she shaking? There was no reason for her to be acting like this, because it just couldn’t be true. They must have got it wrong – there was a mistake; that had to be it. Trying to read Mallan’s writing, she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the content of what he had written. He was finding the training hard, no; difficult, no; it was getting worse every time he wrote a new extract. He couldn’t seem to juggle being an anchor for both herself and Dee. He missed her, wanted to be back at Hogwarts. He was writing this for her because he wasn't allowed to send letters to her, and wanted to have some record of his time to give to her when he got back.

Caitlin continued to read, the words in front of her blurring as she flicked through more and more rapidly, skim-reading to get a general idea, until she reached the last page, about half way through the notebook. His writing had been worsening throughout the notebook, but here it was the worst; a barely decipherable scrawl. There were other marks on the page – tears, and dark red stains that looked horribly like blood. Except, that couldn’t be right, because that would back up what Master Xiu had said in his letter to her.

To my heart, my sun, my only star,

I am here… the words are drifting but I can hear them. My voice or yours; I know them. This pen fights to be free but I know I must bear it. You must see! The voices they are here… be quiet and do not fear… I am with you now. I can see you now. It drifts and you follow. My heart you hold and it bleeds… (illegible scribbling). Close your eyes! The dark! Can you see it consume the light… but the light is ever-present. My love, my heart of hearts, you cry and …(illegible darker scribbling) Watch, a third eye now bends and the colors they shift! A dark rift but do not fear… I am here. Their voices are taunting but I do not hear! I write to finish… no… no… No! (a word is drawn out into nothing and there is a break on the page before writing continues)

It fights! It burns! Who… are… you? You are not mine! (a few words in another language: a lullaby or chant from Dee’s memories) My star, my hope… I see you now… your eyes… (a hole in the paper from the pen) (Start Dee’s handwriting:) There is someone; you must be careful… ever careful. She watches with eyes among us. (:End Dee’s handwriting) It deteriorates; this world… it… no! It fights… it fights among itself… (Start Caitlin’s handwriting:) Peace… it calls out… I can here it’s voice… a voice of blinding light. It burns! I can do nothing. The euphoria… (:End Caitlin’s handwriting) The light… the wind… it scars… my room… my eyes! They swirl… I cannot see but before me… they are there! My walls are broken I cannot hear their voices. Father? No… Father? No… Three fathers… three mothers… No! These words are not to be…

If… only… (the last words trail off illegibly)

As she finished reading, the notebook slipped out of Caity’s hands, the letter also fluttering slowly to the floor to join it. All through Mallan's writing had been becoming more and more nonsensical, but this last entry was the worse by a long way. It was as if he didn't even know what he was talking about; like he'd just gone mad. And there was nothing else. No more entries, just... the tear stains, and blood stains, splattered frequently on the yellowing paper. What had he done? What had happened to make him stop writing?

A sick feeling was in the pit of her stomach, and her breathing was coming more and more rapidly as she began to hyperventilate. Unable to hold it in any longer, a short, strangled sob escaped her lips, closely followed by another as she finally broke down, at last accepting what she had been trying to deny for however much time it had been since she had read those first few words. We regret to inform you... Clutching her head in her hands, she curled up into a ball, as if to protect herself from the knowledge she had just come across. Mallan was dead. Mallan was dead. Mallan... he’d been so kind to her, so chivalrous, so blatantly Gryffindor... When she’d summoned that cobra in Transfiguration by accident, he’d immediately stood between her and the snake to try and protect her... Bittersweet memories came back as she thought to that time just before he had left for his training. Knowing that he would miss the Christmas ball, he had invited her down to the ballroom a few days before and they had had their own, private ball. Numerous other occasions flashed through her mind when she had been with the Gryffindor as she cradled her head, tears flowing freely now.

[Dylan Cooper]

Tired of being stared at in the Great Hall Dylan was, as usual, retreating with his collection of food to somewhere decidedly more peaceful. Thinking where to go, he ruled out the kitchens simply because he wanted to be alone, and of course the library because otherwise he would be flayed alive by their newest, very trademark, old and crotchety librarian. Letting his feet make the decision for him, he ventured up a few staircases before snapping out of a daydream about D’rorah and found himself approaching the corridor that contained the Prefect’s bathroom.

Looking discontented and not wanting to consume his breakfast inside of a bathroom, no matter how nice it was, he kept moving and soon trailed up one last stairwell to find himself on the sixth floor. Ringing his hand on every doorknob and finding most of them all locked, he kept moving and, looking straight, saw a student pass by up ahead. Wondering where Caitlin was going and why she, too, wasn’t eating at the table, he found himself quickly following her to what appeared the Room of Requirement.

Facing what was now a blank stretch of wall, he walked back and forth wishing for the place Caitlin had disappeared to. A door appearing before him, he had a brief doubt as to whether or not she wanted to see anyone, especially someone who wasn’t exactly close to her. Grimacing with indecision, he pushed aside his brief worry and followed her inside to what appeared a bedroom that was quite foreign to him. His eyes trying to absorb everything, it was a while before he finally found the reason he had entered in the first place.

Crouched with her back to the bed, her hands trembling alarmingly, her breath coming in rapid bursts and tears escaping from her eyes, Dylan could only attribute her current expressions and movements to the parchment and notebook lying abandoned on the floor before her. “Caitlin…” Watching as, almost as if in slow motion, her hands moved to cradle her head and her entire body curled into a ball like an injured hedgehog, his features creased into an expression of worry and he crossed the room quickly on soft feet. Not knowing what was wrong; not really needing to, he crouched down beside her and wrapped both arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

[Caitlin Collins]

Caity didn’t hear the door open, nor did she see Dylan enter; she was trapped in a whirlwind of emotions that seemed to be pressing down on her from all sides. Sound roared in her ears and, to her, it felt as though the whole building was smashing down around her. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, it was like she was trying to stop herself from seeing anything that might confirm what she had just found out. The moment she felt Dylan’s touch she flinched away in an automated response, but as his arms wrapped around her, her body went limp in that embrace, as though it knew that Caitlin needed the comfort but that she couldn’t work that out for herself right now.

She was finding it harder to breathe and her heart was beating faster and faster as her thoughts ripped around in no plausible direction. Mallan is dead. Why is he dead? What had happened to him? How could he be dead, when he’d promised that he’d come back? He’d promised! You shouldn’t break promises, everyone knows that... [/color][/i]

Even as the panic attack gradually ebbed away and her breathing became slightly less irregular, her mind was still focussed on the one person she just wanted to see in front of her. More memories darted past, faster and faster but still just recognisable enough that she could process them and feel the loss echo more and more through her. In the Hogwarts grounds, he’d drawn those wonderful pictures of her, and as much as she’d wanted to see them while he was drawing, he had made her wait until he was absolutely done with all of them, then handed them to her. They were up in her dormitory now, kept safe from prying eyes. He was an astonishingly good artist and she’d asked to see more of his drawings, but now... Another sob fought its way through her body and escaped her lips, sounding completely foreign to her as she battled futilely for control of her own emotions.

The sweet smell of freshly picked flowers seemed to appear from nowhere, maybe in an attempt by the Room of Requirement to supply what Caitlin wanted, and the room shifted. No longer was there a warm breeze, but a cool one that she had come to associate with British weather. Inching her eyes open just enough that she could see the new setting, and still clinging to the anonymous student, whom she still hadn’t pinpointed as being Dylan, dull eyes took in an overview of the surroundings. It was by the lake, just past where the gardens were, and this in turn brought up other memories from that lovely afternoon spent with Mallan outside. He had revealed his telekinesis by picking single flowers for her from the Hogwarts grounds as they had been walking past and then, when they reached the end of the garden, presenting them all to her at once. Only when she had asked had he revealed his unique ability and exactly what he had done.

Her breathing had come back down to a level that was closer to the average rate by this point, and, with her eyes open, she finally realised exactly who it was who had intruded on her grief; Dylan Cooper. Safe in knowing that he was also a lightfighter, her mind was working enough to work out that they had lost another person from their team; another Elemental Master. Mallan would need to be replaced. The very word ‘replaced’ brought up another wave of nausea and she let out a choking whimper, still shaking. “Dylan...?” she croaked, voice cracking half way through. “I, he... he.. no, no,” she cried quietly, quickly giving up on trying to speak aloud and closing her eyes once more to block out the external forces surrounding her.

Actually knowing it was Dylan there reminded her of the Charms lesson he had walked out of, when she and Mallan had discovered and used that telepathic link between Shadow Warriors and Elemental Masters, she remembered, biting her lower lip to try and contain any more sobs. The mental link... she could use that! She had to be sure of this; had to know there hadn’t been a mistake. At the same time, she was filled with a sense of anxiety at knowing that this was it – if she did this and got no reply, there would be no denying that Mallan was indeed dead.

Mallan? she called out cautiously, almost a whisper in her uncertainty. She tried again, her mental voice cracking just as it had done when she had spoken aloud only a few minutes ago. Mallan! ...Mallan! Nothing, there was just an empty, deafening silence when he was supposed to answer. This wasn’t right, he was supposed to respond! He was supposed to reply and tell her everything was alright, that there had been a mistake, not just leave her waiting for a response that would never come. Mallan! she screamed mentally, whimpering the same name aloud at the same time. He had to answer, he had to!

[Dylan Cooper]

“Caity…” he repeated quietly, his arms tightening their hold as he fretted over her internally. Feeling perhaps she needed to let whatever was upsetting her out before she expressed exactly what it was; if she felt like it, he kept his silence once more. From the corner of his eye he attempted to peek at the materials strewn across the floor, but couldn’t make out anything altogether distinguishable. Exuding a small breath, he simply waited. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he waited anyway; for a word from her, for any indication of something.

He had felt the brief flinching away, and understood it, having had many times of enormous grief in the past few months. He felt now, however, the limpness in her body, as if everything that meant anything had been taken away from her upon reading the contents of the items strewn across the floor nearby. Holding on tight to her and refusing to let go until he was sure that she was more stable, he was glad to at least hear the change in her breathing; her body was still, he estimated, largely unable to support itself.

Hearing easily the sob that escaped her lips, his arms tightened ever-more around her and he held her close, wanting her pain to ebb away or just fade altogether. Unfortunately, he knew all too well that it simply wasn’t that easy. Suddenly, his eyes caught a barely perceptible reality as the room began to shift and morph into a new scene. Staring in wonderment as he felt the change in wind from a soft, calming breeze to a brisker stream of air, he took a deep breath and clearly heard the small whimper that called his name and carried a trademark questioning lilt. As she continued, his eyes creased in sadness and he put one hand softly on the side of her head and drew it into his chest, resting his own cheek sideways upon her head.

“Shh…” he murmured quietly. The first words that came to mind were ‘it’s alright’, ‘you’ll be alright’, but he simply didn’t think that was true right now; even if it had been, he strongly doubted that it would have helped. Instead, he simply remained quiet and, in the near silence of the moment, reflected his thoughts inwards. His mind flashed back to the last time he had properly seen Mallan; in this very room when those Masters and Warriors who had not joined stopped to do so. Himself and Susan had moved into the Elemental room of Earth purposefully and there they had been instructed by the now missing D’rorah on how to join. His mind stopping briefly to focus in a very negative manner on his noticeably absent girlfriend, he forced his thoughts to quickly avert to whatever he could next remember. He recalled easily the strange sensation that had arisen in the pit of his stomach as he’d sat with Susan; he had wondered at the time what it was and had been confused beyond belief.

Lingering on the memory, he recalled that he had felt it once before, also around Susan. He had joined with her… they had shared the memories and emotions of each other, the most intimate thoughts and feelings that were never usually shared between two people. Things Dylan could never even begin to describe had been understood in instants by the exuberant young Gryffindor, and his eyes opened in realisation as he finally understood what it was he had been feeling around her. It had felt slightly familiar both times because he had felt it once before; when he had first spoken to D’rorah in the library.

Exhaling a soft breath, he lowered his eyes to the floor and knew that whatever he might feel for Susan, it was most probably only because of that intimate connection, and not from any other source whatsoever. Considering his options, he knew there was really only one. Whatever it was that was confusing him, he was most certainly not confused in any way about what he had with his fellow Ravenclaw prefect. He was, quite confidently, in love with the charming, beautiful and intellectual young woman known to a few as the Shadow Warrior of Wind. And somewhere out there, that selfsame woman was quite possibly without any ally and at the mercy of who knew what.

Without warning, his attention was diverted by the whimper of Mallan’s name from Caitlin’s mouth. He didn’t know if she had meant to do it… He didn’t know what was going on, but he did know that Mallan was currently supposed to be training in China and that, quite obviously, something had gone wrong. Why Caitlin had been informed he didn’t know; perhaps it had something to do with himself connecting mentally and emotionally to Caitlin in the same way Dylan himself had to his own Shadow Warrior. Confused but not going to intrude upon her grief for the sake of his own benefit, he simply remained right there on the floor with her, her sobbing body still within his arms.

[Caitlin Collins]

The sound of her harsh breathing contrasted greatly with the mental silence in reply to her call. He wasn’t answering. He really wasn’t answering. What did that mean? Was it true? Was he really... dead? Finding her throat choked up again, she gasped for air, leaning her forehead against Dylan’s chest and tears still dripping from her eyelashes. This was impossible. How could she do this? How could she just continue on as if nothing had happened? How was she supposed to be one of the lightfighters when she knew next to nothing about what she could do; about what she even was. Shadow Warrior? What the hell was that? They wanted to kill her true Elemental Master, Gat Soldier. How could she ally herself with people who wanted more death? How could she fight in a battle, in these ‘Shadow Wars’, when she didn’t want to hurt anyone? She never had, but with this news of Mallan – another sob escaped her, slightly quieter than previously, as it hit her once more that he was gone – it made her want even more to be pacifistic. She couldn’t put anyone else through this; what she was feeling right now. She couldn’t...

“Shh…”

Dylan’s voice filtered through the chaos reigning in her mind and she tried to calm her breathing so that she could think straight. He would want to know what was going on. He needed to know what was going on, all the lightfighters would need to know. And from the short amount of that letter she had already read, she was the only one who did know. She would have to tell them.

How? she demanded herself in frustration. How did it happen?! She knew that the knowledge was likely to be held in the correspondence from Master Xiu, but at the same time was loath to discovering more.

Exhausted, she wasn’t sure how long she lay there with Dylan’s arms wrapped around her, trying to regain control. The same thoughts were whirring about in her head continuously, even accompanied by a dull buzzing in her ears that was usually associated with the word. Mallan was dead. He couldn’t be dead. How was he dead? Memories of the short time they’d spent together. Mallan was dead.

Turning her head slowly and finally reopening her eyes, she stared down at the floor with barely focussed eyes. A numb feeling was spreading over her, as if she’d cried all she could and now didn’t know what to do. A few tears still trickled down her cheeks, but mostly she was silent as she watched the cool wind move the edge of that letter slightly. Subconsciously she focussed on the words just below ‘We regret to inform you’.

Mister Baine took his own life on Wednesday 31st December, and was found later in the afternoon...

If Caitlin had thought she’d been numb before, it was nothing compared to now. Mallan had... killed himself? Unable to cope with the extra information, she shook her head in denial, sure that it couldn’t be the case. There was no reason for him to commit suicide. No reason... A little nagging place at the back of her mind wanted to know more, wanted exact details, but she ignored it for now. She couldn’t deal with any more information.

Repositioning her head so that the letter was not in her line of sight and clinging to the sleeves of Dylan’s robes, it was like she was using him as an anchor. Staring blankly into the distance, she finally spoke to Dylan, her voice hoarse and cracking. “Mallan... he’s dead,” she gulped. “I got... a letter, at breakfast, this morning,” she continued rapidly, unaware of the droplets of salty water sliding gently down either side of her face. Her insides felt empty, but it was more than just a normal hunger-like emptiness. It was as if everything was just gone. She couldn’t explain it any more than that, even to herself.

[Dylan Cooper]

As she shifted her position ever so slightly, his tense nerve endings caught the movement and sent the information through to his mind, full of thoughts about what exactly he had stumbled into and why it had happened. Not understanding and not expecting to be enlightened any time soon, he merely held her close, letting her know without words that he was most certainly here for her and would be in what would almost definitely be the hard times ahead. Never having been the best of people to comfort those in dire need of it, or even those who simply wished for it, he remained quiet and strangely isolated from the usual awkwardness he felt in such situations; he didn’t know Caitlin well, but he knew himself, and if he didn’t feel that awkwardness as he held her close, it was a good sign for their friendship.

As she faded into silence and adjusted her head, he waited patiently for her to do what she must, wondering what exactly that might be. The fact that he had found her in this state was disconcerting enough, but having her simply break down like everything in her world had simply disappeared or been shattered… Dimly the thought that perhaps her family had been harmed entered his mind, but he waited for some kind of suggestion or hint as to what was happening before jumping to any conclusions. Surely if it was anything about D’rorah, anyway, she might have told him by now, and almost certainly wouldn’t be this upset, let alone have been contacted about it for any reason. The only people he suspected might be contacted concerning Dee were her caregiver and… well, no, that was it. The idea offended him more than slightly.

Re-focusing his thoughts on the small girl in his arms, he felt a stronger tug at his sleeves and tilted his head down to find only the top of hers in sight. As she spoke the name of Mister Baine, Dylan froze. Not only did Dylan quite like him, as far as he could say that he liked someone he didn’t really know, but he was also one of the lightfighters; more importantly, D’rorah’s Elemental Master. And afterall, that was the predominant way in which he thought of the Gryffindor, since Mallan’s presence could keep his girlfriend grounded and largely protected from the shadows. If something had happened to him… And from the sounds of it, something quite significant had indeed happened, Dee would be without an anchor, and their ranks would be one less.

His ears perking up at her next words, both his expression and heart fell in great contrast. Mallan was… dead? His thoughts rushed, somewhat recklessly and perhaps selfishly, directly toward the still missing Dee. What if she was captive within the Shadow Realm once more and somehow managed to escape a second time, desperately needing her Elemental Master there to anchor her? She would be alone, and completely vulnerable to the darkness, and Dylan absolutely couldn’t stand the thought. Desperate to know more, to reason out why on earth this had happened, to form some kind of base for the overwhelming information he was receiving. It was nowhere near as much of a personal blow as the news of his father and foster father had been, but it presented a much more different feeling; one of great concern for the lover he was already excessively worried about.

Unable, despite himself and his own desires to gain answers, to force things out of her while she was in this condition, he simply pulled her into an even more intimate embrace. “Oh Cait… I’m so sorry,” he said, his words genuine; Mallan had seemed like a nice guy, and he’d noticed the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff pair together a significant amount of the time. He didn’t know how deep their relationship might have gone, but with any kind of friendship at all it would be difficult to accept a death.

[Caitlin Collins]

((I know I’m not supposed to be posting but I really needed to get my mind off things, and this seemed the best way to do it))

Dylan’s arms around her and the soft words he spoke provided a little comfort in the knowledge that someone else was there; someone was actually trying to comfort her. With her breathing becoming more erratic again she attempted to balance it out. What was it you were supposed to hold it for? Five beats? In for one, two, thr– then out again quickly and back in again in a gasp, coughing as she did so. It’s harder than they make it out to be, she thought to herself inconsequentially before her mind rewound back to the reason she was in this state and another choking breath escaped her.

Breathe, she reminded herself forcefully, noticing in confusion anger was bubbling up inside at herself. Not just herself. At Mallan, too. He’d promised he’s come back, he’d promised, but he wasn’t going to, but how could she be angry at someone who was dead? No, breathe. In, out, in, out, in- in- in-choke... out. Her throat feeling more painful by the minute she concentrated on remaining at a constant rhythm of inhaling, then exhaling, until slowly it went back to a mostly normal rate. She found her hands had moved from around Dylan to clutching her own head, as if to protect herself. Gradually withdrawing them she blinked a couple of times to clear her eyes of any more tears that were in danger of being released, feeling the stains on her cheeks from tears that had already done so.

There was something else, she needed to tell him. Dylan would want to know, but what was it? Something in the letter, about... D’rorah.

“They – they said they couldn’t contact Dee,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know... W-why?” she asked croakily, changing the topic abruptly as the question came to her. “Why w-would he do that?” She turned somewhat so that she could see his face and suddenly became aware that Dylan likely had no idea what she was talking about. “He... it says, the letter. Master Xiu, he says that, Mallan killed himself?” she finished eventually, the questioning end asking for confirmation.

A trembling hand reached for the parchment and Caity pushed it towards the Ravenclaw. She hadn’t actually read it all the way through but couldn’t face processing it again. She didn’t know how Mallan had committed suicide and although part of her wanted to, the large majority did not. Nevertheless, the details were contained in the scratched out words on the parchment she pushed at Dylan. How he’d taken the dagger – a ceremonial knife he’d been practicing with, the letter would explain – and pushed it up through his chin, through the bone and blood... Caitlin didn’t know this. She could only imagine, and right now was afraid that her vivid imaginings would turn out to be something like what had actually transpired. She didn’t need to know it right now. That could wait. It didn’t occur to her at that time that Dylan might not want to know those details either. She just needed confirmation. Confirmation that she wasn’t imagining things. That she hadn’t misread what it said. And to see if he could shed any light as to why on earth Mallan would do such a thing.

[Dylan Cooper]

Feeling her arms slip from around him, he hoped that might have been a good sign and found that, no, she was still extremely upset. He didn’t know where that irrational thought had come from; surely anyone would still be upset at this stage. Unable to see her, cuddled up as she was, he could only feel her hands move up onto her head and he wondered why, though wasn’t able to satisfy his curiosity. His ears perking up once more as she began to speak, he took a moment to absorb the information with his dulled senses, until the name of his girlfriend hit home. His eyes widened slightly as he realised what she had said; Dee could not be contacted. Not only had she failed to show up for the Ball and for work, not only had no-one from school seen her in about a week, but the Order themselves could not even reach her.

A small sadness set into his eyes and his mind wandered away from the room that contained them for the moment, but was drawn back slightly earlier than he was content with by her continued murmurings. Feeling her turn, he flicked his eyes down to hers. As she finished with a small question, as if she doubted the contents of the letter on the floor, his eyes made a slight narrowing movement and deepened in intensity. Killed himself? The thought made him more frustrated than perhaps he had ever known; someone with such a responsibility on their shoulders didn’t have the right to do something so selfish. The delay inevitable in finding the next Elemental Master of Wind would set them back, force them to train someone else; back to square one.

Seeing the hand that extended toward the parchment and how shaky it was, he longed to pull her closer and hug her tighter once more. Refraining, he noticed it pushed back toward himself and knew he needed to read the contents. Caitlin had probably not gotten into any details, and someone needed to. Taking the parchment in his own, un-trembling hand, he brought it toward his eyes and traced his gaze slowly across it. Dear Miss Collins, it began, the small, neat handwriting seeming to contrast so greatly to the subject. Flicking through the remaining contents of the slightly tear-splattered letter, his expression became stonier as he progressed.

His jaw clenching uncontrollably, his eyes moved back up in an attempt to find hers and he shook his head slowly. Letting his eyes wander away from hers and down back toward the floor. “The pressure… The stress,” he said in a quiet voice, indicating perhaps why Mallan might have done what he seemed to have done. “I can only imagine how difficult and exhausting that training is, as well as all the weight of supporting two Warriors and being thrust into this war…” he muttered, in a voice so quiet he could almost have been talking to himself. Dylan didn’t believe that any reason was good enough, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand.

[Caitlin Collins]

She waited, not saying anything as Dylan took the letter from her, probably reading it. She couldn’t say for certain since her head was still buried in her hands, but what else would he be doing with it? What else could he do with it? Rip it up? Wait... what if he was ripping it up? That was all the evidence she had, all the confirmation, all the information. If he was destroying it, maybe to prevent her from having to find out how Mallan had killed himself, then she might never find out why he had done it. In a few seconds her idle thought had turned into full conviction that that was what was happening behind her and she turned quickly, slipping a hand on the floor to stop herself falling as she twisted. Her expression was full of alarm, but no. He wasn’t ripping it up. Had she been in a better state Caitlin might have felt slightly embarrassed at the sudden movement for a completely illogical reason, but as it was she just stayed still, staring at Dylan blankly as he read. Her eyes felt heavy and a great weariness had come over her.

“The pressure… The stress. I can only imagine how difficult and exhausting that training is, as well as all the weight of supporting two Warriors and being thrust into this war…”

His voice was quiet but Caity could pick out the words he spoke easily. She was under pressure, she was stressed, but still she could not comprehend wanting to get away so much that she’d do something so drastic. And if she couldn’t understand something so completely, she got scared. The same had happened with Zee... She couldn’t understand how he could gain anything from torturing Dylan – hadn’t it been in here, in this very room? Well, not in this place that the Room of Requirement had conjured up for her. Somewhere else.

As if listening to her thoughts, the room responded, remembering of its own accord how it had housed the Ravenclaw and Slytherin prefects during that encounter. The landscape shifted, the breeze faded and suddenly she was in much less comfortable surroundings. A white room... completely white; walls, ceiling, floor. “What – “ she began, sitting up straighter and wiping a hand over her cheeks to try and clear up some of the tear tracks. No, I don’t like it here! she tried to shout at the Room mentally. Can we go back? To where we were before?[/color] Unfortunately, the Room apparently didn’t want to respond to such a request, and nothing changed. An ominous feeling grew inside of her and she felt her eyes getting teary again, spinning her body around to face Dylan once more. The harsh light only made it worse. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice still croaky and blinking rapidly to stop any more droplets of salty water falling from her eyes. Her right hand clutched at Dylan’s arm, desperate for something to ground her and keep her from falling apart again.

Suddenly she remembered the book with the letters in it from Mallan and spun around yet again to find it. There it was, lying on the floor behind her. She grabbed it and tucked it in the inside pocket of her jacket, where it only just fit. That was all she had left of him and no matter how little sense it made, she wouldn’t allow it to be left behind. All she had left of him was a book of parchment with ink scrawled over it. Ink and parchment. That was it. With brute force she pushed the thought away, but the Room didn’t want to do that. It seemed to want to visualise her thoughts. A book of parchment had appeared in front of her, with a quill and bottle of ink writing out words on its own. It paused so many times, sometimes losing control as it dive-bombed across the paper, stabbing holes in it occasionally and sometimes shifting so that the handwriting changed. It started pausing more and more frequently and the parchment appeared to be getting damp from an unknown source. Then the quill dropped to the floor and without warning blood splattered over the page. Then it stopped, and slowly faded out of sight.

Caity continued to watch the spot where it had been, her mind blank of her previous thoughts. Had that... had the Room of Requirement just replicated Mallan’s last moments from the book’s point of view...? But that was crazy, a book didn’t have memories... did it? Although magic was crazy, too. Killing yourself was crazy. This whole war was crazy. So why not a book too?

[Dylan Cooper]

Jolted out of his slightly senseless lull by a sudden movement, his eyes flicked up to see Caitlin facing him with wide eyes, as though he stupidly dared to read the parchment she herself had given to him. Confused as her expression shifted to one of blankness and she merely sat, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. Trying to think of something else to say; to gauge her response to his already spoken words, he felt a deep agony claw at him as the room around them faded and up came another variation of a room that was all too familiar to him. Forgetting all about the Hufflepuff for the first time in the last hour or so, his deadening eyes widened slowly with the dawning of horror of where they were.

Missing her first, incomplete sentence, he got slowly to his feet, his senses both dulled and yet strangely sharpened; the present faded as the past ran through him, making his head burn, his body tremble, and his heart ache. Only the slightly different feeling of her hand clenching his arm threatened to draw him back, but still failed despite the aid of a croaky query, as he delved into his memories of the not so distant past, or rather, was drawn back into them. The bright, stark walls brought images of flames before his eyes, and the feeling of a haunted slash going through an imaginary boil running across him. The smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils and he nearly choked on it, turning away from the door, his eyes desperately trying to find a distraction. And one they did find.

A book of parchment seemed to be directly before both himself and the sixth year, a quill dipping into a bottle of jet black ink and beginning to scrawl across the pages. Slightly disturbed by the unnaturally hostile attitude with which it wrote and sometimes stabbed, he was thoroughly glad when the quill fell to the white surface of the floor. For one last surprise, however, thick, copious amounts of blood splattered against the white page and black ink and the entire scenario faded.

Unsure as to what to do, he stepped closer to the back of the older girl, close enough to touch her with a vastly unextended arm. His eyes intensely concentrated on something Caitlin would not be able to see, and his eyebrows furrowed in sadness at the memory before him, he took yet another step closer to her and wrapped both arms around her from behind, leaving her enough room to turn around if she wished, but holding on tight enough that he was comfortable in the embrace. “Everything will be alright… One step at a time,” he whispered softly into her ear, his voice hollow for once as he remained largely off in his own world, thoroughly disturbed by the reappearance of this particular room.

[Caitlin Collins]

Even in her distinctly upset demeanour, Caitlin could not fail to notice the change in Dylan’s own manner as the room shifted. He climbed to his feet and she did likewise, a little stiffly and slowly, but on her feet nonetheless, still hanging onto his arm – possibly a little too tightly. She made a small effort to loosen her hold so that her nails weren’t digging into his skin quite so hard, not altogether succeeding. She could feel him trembling a little through her hold on him and wondered again where the Room had dumped them. If anyone else tried to enter, would it let them? Hearing Dylan cough violently she stared up at him in alarm. He seemed to know where they were, but wasn’t sharing at this moment in time. His gaze seemed haunted, and she finally released his arm, taking a couple steps forward so she could see the book clearly.

As the book finished its performance and faded, Caity backed up slightly, stumbling once. The sudden movement of down then up again forced a few more tears from her eyes and she wiped at her face again, trying to make it feel less damp. Licking her lips, which had become incredibly dry since... however long it had been since entering the Room, she could taste the saltiness in the corner of her mouth where tears had reached her lips.

She felt Dylan’s arms reach around her from behind and stepped back so she was immediately against him, grabbing the arms around her so she was half hugging herself, half hugging him. This was more than she’d ever experienced before and it was all happening at once, within just one morning, and it was truly terrifying. She wanted to get out, but couldn’t see a door anywhere near. What if they couldn’t get out?? What if they got trapped here??

“Everything will be alright… One step at a time,” the soft words were whispered to her. It was oddly appropriate really, referring both to their situation in the room and her current emotional rollercoaster – and it was a huge rollercoaster, the kind they had in theme parks in Florida, or California, that she’d never been to and likely never would. Mallan had had some relation to America, hadn’t he? She realised she hadn’t thought about him at all in the last minute or so and a wave of unmistakeable, illogical guilt overtook her. She was forgetting him already! What would it be like in a week? A month? Years in the future, would no one remember the sweet Gryffindor who’d killed himself in a foreign country, far away from family and friends? She couldn’t let that happen, had to remember him. Keep thinking of him, however much it hurt, keep thinking so she couldn’t do anything without being reminded of him. The thought brought a lump to her throat. They said you were supposed to “Move on”. How could you just move on from something like this? What if she didn’t want to move on? Surely moving on meant forgetting about him, forgetting his once-existence. He’d soon be replaced in terms of his Elemental Master status, and there were plenty of other Gryffindors that he would hardly be missed.

She turned and immediately buried her head against Dylan’s chest, clenching her teeth together and wrapping her own arms around him in a parallel motion to his. Despite being younger, he was in fact taller than her by several inches, although that was no surprise. She was shorter than the majority of older students in the school – 5th year, maybe even 4th year upwards. “I’m scared,” she admitted, half-crying again by this point and her voice muffled as she spoke into his shirt – already tear-sodden form earlier. Still, the closeness to him, even with the dampness of his shirt, was more comforting than standing alone in this ominous place. This was when she wished she had the Gryffindor bravery Mallan had doubtless had within him.

Although her mind wasn’t really very good at thinking clearly when she was in this state, she tried anyway. If it was visualising her thoughts, as it had with the book and the garden, what had she been thinking before when it had changed? Not understanding why Mallan had done that, and comparing it to Zee... Oh no... she thought, suddenly understanding where they must be. The room had seen her thoughts about Zee torturing Dylan, and had brought them here, where it had happened. No wonder Dylan was so shaken. Another lot of guilt struck her – it was her fault they were there, her fault he was likely reliving it all in his head right now. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, crestfallen at what she had done. Just... so long as it kept it like this. Nothing else, no... visualisations, like it had done with the book. The Room could easily find them within Dylan’s mind as it had been doing with her own and the book, but would it? Could it even access his mind, or was hers just so weak that it was easy enough for a child to read? She turned her head to the side so her head was resting just below his chin, glancing around nervously as she did so to check there weren’t any more horrific animations.

[Dylan Cooper]

As she reciprocated his hugging movements and turned her body into his, he tightened his hold on her and leant his head onto hers in a comforting motion. As she spoke into his shirt, he increased the strength of his hold once more, his brows creasing in sympathy. Kissing the top of her head lightly, he produced a tiny flicker of a smile, finally managing to gain access to one moment free of the memory of his torture endured in this very room.

Before long, however, she was apologising and he could only assume it was associated with how they had found themselves in this transformed Room of Requirement. “It’s alright… Let’s just… Change the scenery,” he replied quietly, wanting more than anything to do just that. Taking a moment of concentration to focus on exactly what he wanted, slowly the room obliged, leaving behind the room so reminiscent of the blood he had shed and emerging into a lush, green paradise. A bubbling stream flowed past a bit further in, and trees and grass, shrubs and bushes emerged all around them. There, this was better. Much better.

His mind more at ease with the surrounds, he rocked side to side slightly with the Hufflepuff in his arms. He was slightly tempted to shuffle over to a nearby oak and sit down, but his present positioning and the situation they were currently in made him think that over again, and finally reject the notion for the moment. As he felt her turn her head, he brought one hand up to rest a thumb on her chin briefly, and his other fingers flicked over to rest on her cheek. “One step at a time,” he repeated softly, half to her and half to himself.

[Caitlin Collins]

Feeling Dylan’s hold on her strengthen and a soft kiss on the top of her head, she continued to hug him tightly, clinging to the one thing, or person in this case, that she thought she could rely on. He, unlike the room, wouldn’t change form on a whim and (hopefully) he, unlike Mallan, wouldn’t just leave.

Feeling pretty guilty about the situation she had brought the pair of them into, Caity bit her lip to stop more apologies flowing from her. She was sure it wouldn’t help make him feel any better, or her for that matter, and instead put her mind to thinking up a way out of here. Not that she was succeeding much at that either. No sensible ideas came to the forefront of her thoughts. The only way she could think of to get back to where they were before, or somewhere else entirely was through mental effort. And as far as she knew, she wasn’t particularly mentally strong, so how could she do anything?

“It’s alright… Let’s just… Change the scenery.”

As she turned her head, Caitlin witnessed the scenery change apparently of its own accord – although it was more likely that Dylan had caused it, when she thought about it. The harsh light faded to a simple sunny illumination that lit up a grassy landscape with a river running through. It half reminded her of the Elemental Room of Water, but with the trees and brush she thought it might be something like the Room of Earth as well – not that she’d ever been in there. In any case, it was more comfortable and less threatening than their previous location.

He rocked from side to side gently and she closed he eyes, dropping her arms slightly so they were wrapped around his waist rather than upper back, and loosening her grip by a small, yet still noticeable, amount. The tension that had crept into her muscles suddenly escaped. She went to rest her cheek on his chest again, but before she could he caught her face in one hand and she glanced up. Meeting his eyes for possibly the first time since he’d entered the room, she wore an expression of deep weariness in plain sight.

“One step at a time,” he repeated.

She nodded once with barely any movement, prompting a single tear to be released from one eye. It feel with fluctuating speed, one moment fast and the next almost at a standstill, until it hit DY;an’s hand on her cheek and she could no longer track its journey. She blinked rapidly a couple of time to stop any more escaping. Averting her gaze once more, first from his eyes, then his entire head, she found her line of sight drawn to the stream. She took a breath, wanting instinctively to be enrobed in the flow of the water. Unfortunately a degree of rational thought had returned and she knew that if she did take such an action as diving in she would probably end up with pneumonia. For now, attempting to breathe it in would have to suffice.

Compared to the rivers in India it was just so clear, she mused, the light glistening off its surface like a crystalline shield separating liquid from gas. Entranced, she didn’t realise she was staring at it. Although the exhaustion was still there, as was the grief and depression, it was less prominent – at least, until her mind wandered back to another time, with another boy by another stream in this same room. A sigh left her, closely followed by the temporary peace she’d found by staring at her element.

[Dylan Cooper]

As she dropped her arms to his waist and loosened her grip somewhat, his eyes met hers. An entire morning of emotions flooding through him all at once, each of which was drastic and important in its own right, his heart and eyes saddened when he saw a tear fall from her eye. Feeling the small, warm droplet hit his hand, he attempted to search her eyes but found his target robbed from him, and with a sigh he followed her eyes to the stream.

Watching the water flow over the smooth rocks at the bottom and sparkle in what seemed to be sunlight, but which he somewhat doubted it was, he became slightly entranced and was grateful on some level for the slight distraction that the sight offered. The moment soon passed, however, and he realised that the room his mind had chosen to revert them to greatly resembled the Elemental Room of Earth, something that in his normal state might not have surprised him too much, but that in his current state shocked him quite considerably. Not that it was a negative shock, just… Very surprising.

Quite frankly unsure as to what to do next, he simply remained where he was, holding her, hopefully comforting her, and remaining silent. His body motioning unconsciously; rubbing his thumb over her slightly wet cheek, rubbing his hand softly across her back, his mind was preoccupied with what to say… What he could say. Typically, he never found the right words very fast in such situations, and this was no exception. He didn’t know how long they stood there together; didn’t really care. The only solace he could find in his inability to locate any words for the moment was that at least he was here, and surely she should not be alone at a time like this.

Finally, small parts of sentences forming in his mind, he managed to put them together to form one whole, but in the end decided not to use them. Afterall, perhaps this was exactly what she needed; not words, but just to be comforted and held; to have someone with her. With a silent sigh, he stood his own two feet and remained there with the Hufflepuff, hugging her closer and wondering about both the past, present and future for himself and the other lightfighters; a few in particular.

[Caitlin Collins]

Dylan’s hold on her was soothing to say the least, compared to what she’d just gone through that morning. She honestly had no idea of how long they’d been in the room, and really wasn’t too fussed about the length of time. She knew there was homework that needed doing, but really... homework? There was no chance of her doing that any time soon. And classes, too... and her job she’d only just started, at Gladrags... it all seemed a little pointless. Why should she bother going to any of them, what was the worth in doing so?

She dropped her right arm from around him so that she was just leaning against his body, left cheek rested on his chest and eyes closed again. Just block it all out, try and deal. She brought a hand up to her face and rubbed it tiredly, eyes open again only by a few millimetres. Her other arm fell from around his waist and brought it back up to just below his shoulder, next to her own face and holding onto the material of his shirt.

She was so tired... Sleep would be nice. Sleep, so she could forget everything. Even if it was only for a few hours while she recovered herself from the exhaustion of going through all that emotional distress in such a short space of time, she still couldn’t think of anything better to do. A yawn crept into her mouth, and she didn’t realise until it had half escaped already. Rubbing her eyes, she didn’t see the room change one final time back to how it had been originally – her bedroom in India. The warm breeze was back, the barely perceptible chatter entering through the open window, her feet placed firmly on the tiled floor. The door was there too, so either of them could exit whenever they chose to.

Her eyes hardly open, she finally let go of Dylan completely and put all the weight on her own feet, rather than rested against him. The weariness she’d felt earlier reared its head again and she took a few small steps towards the bed, beginning to bend over as she did so and sliding onto it as she released another yawn. Her eyes flickered open momentarily to search out Dylan with her last sense of perception and logical thought, finding him soon enough. “Thank you,” she told him, in a part-murmur, part-whisper. Then her eyes soon closed back up and she curled up like she always did before going to sleep, like a dormouse about to hibernate for winter. It didn’t take long at all for the much-needed sleep to overtake her, blanketing Caity in a brief state of calm that was nevertheless interrupted by whispers of nightmares. Occasionally she would let out a small cry, but generally it was the most peaceful she’d been all morning. One hand at least was always clutching that tiny book in the folds of her clothes, however much she tossed and turned.