In on the secret Solo Finished

Winter Break 2020

She was back. In the ballroom. In that terrible, terrible room. The half-giants lumbered towards her. Smoke filled her lungs, fires raging around her. No matter which way she tried to turn, tried to run, she was trapped. And she kept seeing that table, that awful table, behind which was someone who could very well be dead, her blood pooling around her...

Bridget woke with a scream, sitting straight up in bed. Heart pounding in her chest, soaked in a cold sweat, it took her a moment to figure out where she was. Not at the Masquerade Ball, at least. But not in her bed in the Slytherin dorm, nor in her room in Edinburgh. Taking in the wall across from her where a painting of wildflowers hung, she remembered. She was at her grandparent's house on winter break, Christmas fast approaching. They did this every year, her whole family and her cousins gathering in the large estate. She was safe, if not constantly dodging questions about school they sent her way.

Her attention was drawn to sounds of movement outside her door. The door creaked open, a head of sandy blonde hair peeking in. It was Connor, her favorite cousin. Yes, she had a favorite, and it was hardly a competition. He was the only one she ever talked to, really, since she either didn't like her other cousins or they were off doing their own thing. He was her age, even more socially awkward with how fast he always talked, and shared her love of reading. Granted, while she stuck mainly to nonfiction to broaden her knowledge he was into all things action, including comics.

"You okay? I heard you screaming something about fires and giants or something." In the dim light filtering through her window she could see his look of concern. That was what she liked about him--beyond shared interests, he actually cared about her, something few others did. Still, she wasn't sure what to say. The giants. The fires. The blood. The fact she was a witch and hadn't told him because she wasn't supposed to.

"I'm fine. Just a nightmare," was what she settled on. Perhaps she could say it was just a rather fantastical dream; that would explain the giants. He crossed to her bed, plopping down next to her. The mood of right now was a sharp contrast to their enthusiasm this afternoon, sitting on this same bed, as Connor caught her up on everything he deemed important that she'd missed, which mostly included whatever sci-fi or Marvel movies had come out and the like. She'd had to make up something about her school not allowing electronics since they "distracted from education", which he raised an eyebrow to but didn't question. Because he trusted her. She'd been lying to him all day and felt terrible for it.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked. No, no she didn't. Of course she couldn't tell him what her dream had actually been, so she'd just be lying to him. Again. When she didn't say anything, he added, "So, giants, right? And fires. I heard you saying something about Cora or whatever, too. You could start there."

The twelve-year-old bit her lip. "Well, um, yeah. There were... giants. Chasing me. And everything was on fire. And my friend, Thora, actually, not Cora, was in it too." There, that wasn't so bad. Unlike the rest of the day, she wasn't even lying. But he was frowning, staring at her as if trying to read her expression. She squirmed under the examination.

Finally, he sighed. He spoke again, his words for once slowed down. He always, always spewed out everything he had to say as fast as he could, sometimes making it hard to understand, but the fact he wasn't now unnerved her. "Look. I don't want to accuse you of lying. I trust you. But, honestly, all day something's felt off. I- well, be honest. Please."

He'd figured it out. It was much too late to be dealing with this, which was probably part of the reason she crumbled. Besides, what did it matter anymore? She was tired of lying to everyone she cared about. She couldn't tell her best friends. Couldn't tell anyone. Still, telling Connor, who she would trust with her life, couldn't hurt.

So she told him everything. About her magic. About Hogwarts. About the friends she'd made and her Quidditch team and classes. About the terrible Masquerade Ball. Bringing out her wand from where she kept it under her pillow, never quite feeling safe without the length of wood within reach, she offered it up as evidence, let him hold it. Even if she couldn't cast spells, the fact she had a wand at all was proof. Grabbing her sketchbook, she showed him the drawings she'd done of various parts of the castle.

By the end, she didn't feel nervous, as she'd expected. More relieved, really. Between how close they were and the fact Bridget had never been one for fantastical stories, he said he believed her. "Who all knows?" he questioned, likely so he would know who he could and couldn't talk to about this if it ever became necessary.

"My parents. Grandpa Max. No one else but you." He nodded, and then came the barrage of questions. He was back to his normal, fast-talking, excitable self, and she no longer felt so guilty. Maybe she wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but it anyone needed to be in on this massive secret, it was Connor.