Malak Aboul Gheit is no stranger to suffering. To death. But she is neither a stranger to love.
The path of this young Egyptian witch as she joins Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy in 3rd year seemed uncertain, but she will soon be trapped i...
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In her childhood, Malak Aboul Gheit had spend countless hours observing the waters of the Nile. The constant, tireless flow of the river seemed fascinating to her, and inspired a sense of relentlessness that she found endearing.
She had always loved to just sit and watch the water flow.
The Great Lake of Hogwarts paled in comparison to the fluvial basin, yet the observation of its still water had a calming effect on the Egyptian witch.
Specially at dawn — the golden hour in which she knew she could be at peace with nature itself as her only companion.
It was a cold morning, that of the 12th of December, but Malak Aboul Gheit didn't care.
In fact, she welcomed the chilly weather that morning. The burning sensation of the icy air filling her lungs.
Two hours ahead of the Scottish time, somewhere in Romania, in a similar weather — if not colder, Charlie Weasley would be getting the grill started, to enjoy a barbecue by the lake with his friends and colleagues on the occasion of his birthday.
That very morning, Malak had asked if she could join for maybe the millionth time, but Charlie had refused. Ultimately, she had unwillingly agreed that it was for the best — had she gone anyways, he wouldn't had been able to enjoy his own birthday party, and that defeated the purpose.
Sitting in the cold overlooking the lake, albeit not nearly enough for her liking, she felt some sort of connection with him. But that was all she was going to get, so she was determined to hold on to it.
She had to.
Time passed by, and soon enough the Durmstrang students started to leave their boat, headed to the Great Hall to enjoy their breakfast.
Malak decided against it. She wasn't hungry. She was not in the mood to eat.
Above all, she feared that if she were to eat, upon seeing Fred Weasley she would choke on her food or throw up whatever she had ingested.
No, she was definitely not going to have breakfast.
She was lost in her thoughts until someone sat next to her.
"It's cold."
Malak smirked, without looking at him. "Is it, really?"
"You don't think so?" He spoke with his characteristic sharp tone.
"No, I do think so." She nodded her head pensively, finally turning to look at him. "But I wouldn't suppose this is very cold for you, Viktor."
He snickered while giving her a curt nod, moving his head to look at the lake. "Bulgaria is colder."
"You don't say."
"Are you sad?" He spoke abruptly.
"Sad..." Malak thought about it for a second. "Not exactly," she hesitated. "Worried, maybe? I'm just thinking too much these days..."
