Stealth, At Its Best, Seen Here (ety ^.^)

Oh holly night … Why just this night, by the way ? Because it seemed that some of the Gryffindors pupils can’t just sleep. And in fact, it was exactly the case of a seventeen years old girl, who laid on her bed, in the dormitory, her blue eyes wide open. Sleep didn’t want to come this night. She was too excited, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, she was too frightened. She was nervous, and she didn’t manage to reach Morphee’s arms. That would have been a good thing thought. It was the beginning of the school year, and the lessons were already more and more tiring. So all the students of her year were deeply asleep, trying to rest, in order to be okay for the next day. But not this girl. This one was turning and turning something in her head, that keep the sleep away. And this thing is …





“Eterna, Eterna!”

A young girl of the seventh year turned her head towards a familiar voice who was yelling and calling her through the noise of the four tables. Sat at the Gryffindor’s, she saw Ludivinia running between the tables. Her friend stopped and said, trying to breath:

“Mc .. McGo … She as just .. just .. come out of … her office … with .. with the list …”

Eterna’s heart sunk. THE list. With the prefects’ names, and, most of all … the Quidditch captains! She put her fork down in her plate. Eggs and bacon … Her stomach wasn’t ready to accept any food at the moment. She has put her name in the box. She’s DARED to pretend that she could be captain of the Gryffindor team. She was part of it since her second year. As Keeper. Olivier left school two years ago. And Angelina last year. Who could possibly be the next? Her? She has wondered a lot if it was possible. And the answer came finally: why not? But now … Her hands were shaking nervously. My goodness! And if it was somebody else? And if it was HER? How would Kagura react? Ohhh …She became blank, as Ludi put gently a hand on her shoulder.

“Keep calm … It’s will be okay. I will try to find Kagu … See you later!”

Yes. As in a dream, she stood up, and walked through the doors. She reached the Great Hall. It was overcrowded. Everybody wanted to see the name of the lucky persons. Screams of joy or of despair came of everywhere. Excited girls, new prefect … She saw Alea, a large smile on her face. A good new. The shit of paper on the board disappeared under students and students … She couldn’t see anything. But suddenly … yeah, Pierrick prefect! A good thing for their nights “escapes”. Tom, for Slytherin.. pouah, but that was evident. The captains …

Citation :

Gryffindor => Eterna Wyrven

She thought she was exploding. Captain. She managed that! She was the Captain! A shinny smile appeared on her lips. It was so good. She wanted to yell … She moved towards the stairs, she wanted to go away, she couldn’t realize… She nodded as people congratulated her. But now …





Now she was in great doubt. She had a really heavy task. Gryffindor team, as far as she could remember, has always been the best. They have won all the cups since her second year at Hogwarts. And they mustn’t fail this year. They have to win. There was no other choice. And she was in charge. Horrible. The others teams would be great, and determinated to make them fall from the top.

Finally, Eterna stood up, making her pillow fly and crash on the floor. Her bed neighbor made a noise impossible to classify. She had to go away … Silently, she left the dormitory and crossed the common room. The fireplace was nearly empty, and a very little light projected shadows on the walls. Gloomy, isn’t it? Yes, but at this moment, Eterna didn’t care at all. She walk through the portrait, ignoring the questions of the Fat Lady, who didn’t insist. They weren’t what we can call friends, but there was a special link between their band and the portrait. After several years of nocturne explorations …

The young girl walked and walked, focalized on her aim: the Trophies Room. She wanted absolutely to go there. This may calm her. Maybe … Stairs, steps and steps, empty corridors … And finally, THE room! The door was slightly opened. Someone already in? No, nobody. She enters the room, making sure to close the door correctly, and go straight where she wanted to go. The windows containing the Quidditch cups … Here they were. All the cups, since the beginning of the school. Cups won during hard tournaments. And the fourth lasts … These that Gryffindor has won since she was in the team. And here, at the right of the line. That’s where this year’s cup would be. But which name on? Gryffindor? It had to be Gryffindor. Slytherin … NO ! Certainly not. Go on Eterna, you’ll be all right. Taking a deep breath, she made a step forwards but …CRACKK

She started. What? What on earth was it? Thrown into panic, she ran towards the door, and bang it opened. To her great amazement, there was someone behind. No time to see who it was, a voice screamed in the silent:

“PEEVES! YOU LITTLE …”

The Gryffindor catch the person by the arm (“come on!”) and throw him properly into the room, closing the door in the same move. Trying to keep calm, she closed her eyes, listening to the noise in the corridor, as Filch passed near them. But he continued, and she could heard him climbing the stairs. They were saved ! She looked at the boy. He was sat on the floor, and looked at her. Well, it was this boy of the History lesson, Nate. A well known troublemaker. She smiled uncertainly at him:

“Uhhh … Are you all right? Sorry, that was that or be caught by Filch. I am sure you would have made the same choice, am I right?”

So as I was saying, Nate was hoping it wasn't Filch, because as far as he knew, Filch was even worse than Umbridge, since he jealously hated every Hogwarts student. The Gryffindor didn't really knew - not yet - what that froglike woman was capable of, on the contrary of the caretaker, whose punishing methods were legendary. Even Snape's detentions were not as dull as Filch' ones.

But he didn't have time to procede to a deeper analysis of that loud CRACKK that echoed in the corridor, because the next second, it became clear who was at the origin of the noise. Most of all, Nate's worst fears were confirmed. Filch was obviously patrolling the corridor and, as far as he was concerned, he was running straight to the Trophee's Room. Which meaned Nate was in trouble. He had to move. No matter where and no matter how. He just couldn't stay here.
And then, almost simultaneously, a hand, stretched out from behind the door, closed itself on Nate's arm and pulled him violently into the room. Unbalanced, Nate staggered from side to side, before he had definitely fallen on the floor. As he was trying to stabilise his breathing, they - yeah, because there were at least two non sleepers at Hogwarts that night - heard the caretaker cross the corridor and reach the stairs, still running.

He never sleeps that guy, does he ? I wonder where he gets all that energy to run day and night... said Nate incredulously. This thought had crossed his mind, and he didn't mean to say it out loud. It just snapped out.

His coasts were aching a bit when he got to his feet, his dark eyes fixed on those blue ones of the girl who stood next to him, trying to identify her in the darkness. It didn't take more than two or three seconds. It was Eterna Wyrven, the new Gryffindor quidditch captain. Forgetting the sharp ache he felt, he was quite lucky it was a Gryffindor. A Slytherin would've been funny, but quite risky. Anyway, find a Slytherin in the corridors at this time of the night ? Fat chance. They're too cowards to risk their necks out of their dungeon, with Filch patrolling every tiny bit of the castle.
And then, if we look closer, Nate was exactly where he wanted to be. The Trophee's Room. His original destination. That was a good thing, for instance.

No problem. Yeah, I certainly would have grabbed the person standing next to the door without checking who it was. And.. if it was to be a teacher, I ... think I would have knocked him out with a spell and run away before I got expelled.

So, in a way, I'm lucky I'm not a teacher.. had conclued Nate with a sort of smile. Strangely, there was no trace of fatigue on his face, and his talkativeness was almost worse than at daytime. Strange, yeah. Well.. I suppose I am to thank you, so .. thank you.

He wondered why she wasn't in bed. Gryffindors were often walking in the castle by night, but there had to be a reason. Moreover, it had to be a good reason. Because nobody was fool enough to sacrify 8 hours of sleeping for something stupid. Well, with some possible exceptions.

What were you doing here, anyway ? Anti-Slytherin graffitis while everyone's asleep ?

A smile, followed by a laugh, crossed Nate's face when Eterna mentionned Snape. Yeah, would he have been Snape, he would have been given a kick in the nose... He could easily imagine the scene. Eterna was the Gryffindor's keeper. Kicking Snape wouldn't have been much more difficult than hitting a Souaffle. And much more enjoyable. And much more tempting. Nate had to get a grip on himself not to do so every time his potions' teacher was sticking his nose into his cauldron, in order to find something wrong with his potion. Well, it wasn't taking a long time, beacause there actually WAS something wrong with his potion, always. Failed potions was a part of his every day life. But what with Snape being an adept of the dark arts, he unfortunately couldn't, at least if he wanted to stay alive. And in spite of appearances, Nate loved life. But in the dark... sticking Snape a nice slap without risking a ten years' detention... he would've dreamt of!! Dream of.. yeah... But given him a choice, he would've probably chosen not to meet Snape at all.

Nate didn't know exactly what had pushed him to come here. Walking in the corridors by night had become almost automatic, for he was doing so nearly once a week. And once a week was enourmous. I don't know if you imagine what this "once a week" represents for someone who loves, who so badly needs to sleep a lot. So he didn't really know. He had just been lost in his thougts and his feet submissively carried him out of the Gryffindor tower and to this room. The trophees room. One of his favourites.
But the mentionning of graffiti had given him a lift. He always wanted to do so... even more dearly than kicking his potions' master in the nose. Il the four years space, Nate had done a lot of troublemaking... but strangely, graffiti weren't on the list. Not yet.

But he had to admit that graffiting the Trophees room had not the slightest interest. It wasn't... ostensible enough. That's why when Ety mentionned the Great Hall, Nate's face lightened. And he actually wanted to do it. But he had merely had time to slip in an enthusiastic "That's an idea!", that Ety sighed and continued to speak.

Me, dating Filch ?! Oh no, he's not my kind of men. I'd rather date...

But they never knew who was the person of his dreams, because a loud yell of rage resounded somewhere in the corridor. Nate grinned. He had been waiting for it to come. Looking at Eterna's questionning expression, he rolled his eyes and explained in a satisfied voice :

That's Filch. I love hearing him complain at the fact that the old flea bag Norris's furry coat has turned yellow. (A large grin of self-satisfaction was crossing his face.)

Or else at the fact that her tail had somehow become singed during the night, as it arrived every couple of weeks or so. How he loved torturing felines... Well, actually, Nate liked animals, but when it camed to satan's creatures, they didn't have a prayer.

Anyway, he started, looking at her with a rather puzzled expression on his face. I may not be a good confidant, but if you want to speak about it... And if not, we can always go and do graffiti on the Slytherin table :)

Voilà, voilà pourquoi tout le monde avait une dent contre Rusard : il avait le malheur d’apparaître là où on l’attendait le moins, là où il n’était absolument pas – surtout pas – invité ; et surtout, aux moments les moins bien choisis. Avouez, vous auriez tous adoré en savoir plus sur le grand fantasme de Nate. Nez crochu, lèvres pincées, yeux exubérants, taille d’un elfe de maison… ou un mix de tout ça à la fois ? C’est vrai que niveau physionomies insolites, les profs de Poudlard étaient plutôt bien garnis. Mais manque de chance, Rusard avait choisi cet instant précis pour pousser son hurlement de rage et le secret de Nate était maintenant destiné à ne jamais être divulgué – jusque dans sa tombe. Pauvre Rusard… le rouge et or en aurait presque envie de compatir.

Il retourna son sourire à Eterna, fier de sa petite farce, bien que peu originale. C’était toujours un plaisir que de torturer Miss Teigne, le but de la manœuvre étant de faire comprendre à Rusard que l’ensemble du château se porterait bien mieux sans cette fouine sans poils. Et si accessoirement lui-même pouvait prendre sa retraite, Nate n’en ferait que péter le champagne.
Amusé par la remarque de son interlocutrice sur le mauve, Nate se dit que finalement elle n’allait pas si mal que ça. La perspective d’aller taguer les murs de la Grande salle l’avait sûrement ragaillardie. Avec un haussement d’épaules pour la forme, Nate répliqua :

Je dois avouer que je n’ai jamais été très doué pour assortir les couleurs… mais je prends note pour la prochaine fois..

Ses lèvres s’étirèrent à nouveau en un sourire espiègle à la question d’Eterna. Question à laquelle la réponse était évidente, aux yeux de Nate ! C’est pourquoi il lui répondit sans la moindre hésitation.

On improvise, bien sûr ! quoi de plus drôle ?

Il se voyait déjà, des spray multicolores à la main, en train de vandaliser la grande salle, en grand artiste qu’il était. Oui, car vandaliser la grande salle était une forme d’art, tout comme teindre Miss Teigne ou encore émailler le couloir de Bombabouses. Alors oui, Nate était un grand artiste. Odieuse Moche Butée Repoussante Amorale G…ruelle ! Exécrable... il voyait déjà ces mots flotter au-dessus de la table des profs, explosant en feu d’artifice gargantuesque dès lors qu’on essaye de les faire disparaître…
Il aurait aimé explorer davantage ces horizons-là, mais un bruit de pas résonnant de derrière la porte l’extirpa de ces douces rêveries… Il se raidit, l’oreille aux aguets. Eterna aussi avait entendu, et les tous deux se surprirent à garder leur respiration, attendant que la tempête passe. Sauf qu’il y eut un léger hic, la tempête s’annonçait de longue durée, bien plus qu’ils ne l’auraient souhaité… : les bruits de pas semblaient se rapprocher de la porte, et ce n’était plus qu’une question de secondes avant que la poignée métallique ne grince et laisse entrer une McGonagall – car c’était indéniablement elle – implacable, avec une semaine de retenues sur ses talons.

Vider les lieux sans attendre ? Oui, Nate était d’accord. Difficile de taguer la moindre parcelle de mur au bureau de McGo avec McGo à vos côtés qui plus est, n’importe quel Crabbe et Goyle le concevait. Seul hic, par où sortir ? Il semblait au rouge et or, que la seule issue était la porte d’entrée. Il faut dire aussi que la salle des trophées ne faisait pas partie de son quotidien, Nate n’étant pas du tout adepte des coupes et trophées en tout genre. Lui son truc, c’était plus les avertissements de comportement, mais ce n’est pas vraiment le sujet.
C’est donc perplexe qu’il suivit Ety à l’autre bout de la salle derrière une vitrine particulièrement imosante, où il découvrit avec un étonnement teinté d’enjouement une porte jusque là ignorée par la partie mémoire de son encéphale – par son encéphale tout court d’ailleurs. Alors que l’autre porte s’ouvrait à la volée, les deux Gryffondor s’élancèrent assez brutalement dans l’unique échappatoire qui s’ouvrait à eux, à savoir un couloir interminable bordé de tableaux et armures en tout genre, autrement dit aucun endroit susceptible de leur servir de planque. Et Merlin sait qu’ils en avaient bien besoin : quelqu’un était à leur poursuite depuis le début, et la distance entre ce quelqu’un et eux-mêmes diminuait dangereusement.

Presque à bout de souffle – c’était un véritable sport, le troublemaking - , ils arrivèrent enfin devant un escalier en marbre menant à l’étage inférieur, et à côté une grande statue représentant Gryffondor. Suite à un rapide calcul, Nate en déduisit qu’ils étaient donc quelque part dans l’aile gauche du château ; il s’apprêtait à s’engager dans cette volée de marches afin de rejoindre le passage secret le plus proche, quand il sentit la main d’Eterna se crisper sur son bras et l’attirer violemment derrière le pauvre Godric qui se prit plus d’un coup ; et Nate eut même l’impression – mais sans doute n’était ce qu’une impression – que la statue se balança dangereusement sur le côté avant de reprendre sa position initiale.

Discret… souffla-t-il entre deux expirations silencieuses – du moins aussi silencieuses que ses poumons en feu le lui permettaient.

Ils n’osaient bouger, sachant qu’il y avait un maniaque dangereux poursuiveur de gryffondors à moins de soixante mètres de la statue. Occupé à reprendre sa respiration, Nate n’eut pas trop de mal à rester immobile. Cela dit, au bout d’un moment, cette immobilité commençait à lui taper sur le système. Profondément. Et plus il se concentrait dessus, moins ça lui paraissait évident de garder cette position là – peu confortable – encore ne serait ce qu’une minute. D’autant que quelque chose d’assez pointu lui rentrait dans la côte gauche, débris, morceau de verre, bout de baguette magique cassée, il n’en savait trop rien, à part que c’était de plus en plus insupportable. Nate n’était pas une chochotte, loin de là, l’aurait on privé de nourriture pendant toute une journée, il ne se serait pas plaint ; l’aurait on envoyé sur une île déserte sans Vendredi, il ne se serait pas plaint… bon, un peu quand même. Mais là, c’était bof comme situation. Un peu comme le yoga, il fallait vachement d’endurance pour supporter une position aussi inconfortable aussi longtemps.
Finalement, ce qui devait arriver arriva : il craqua. Passant prudemment une main derrière son dos tordu depuis quelque chose qui lui paraissait comme une décennie, il balaya le sol poussiéreux à la recherche de cet objet de malheur qui lui déchirait la côte depuis tout à l’heure, et finit par sortir un petit tube en verre ou cristal ou quelque chose du style, avec des extrémités plus fines que le centre. Un truc bizarre dont il ne savait pas ce que c’était, sûrement une bricole quelconque abandonnée ou perdue. Il en émanait une faible lueur verdâtre ; avec un regard interrogateur au moyen d’un sourcil arqué à l’adresse d’Eterna, Nate s’empressa de le planquer un peu plus derrière la statue, mais la curiosité l’emportant, il le fit glisser vers la jeune fille – peut-être savait elle ce que c’était.