Reece Campbell (Draco Seeker)
Seeking answers.
Sun Feb 2, 2014 10:21
83.172.124.209

Hanging in the air high above the Quidditch field, the lanky Scots boy tuned out the sounds of players and balls clashing below his dangling toes and allowed himself one moment of silence. ‘One moment.’ One moment of not thinking, not questioning, not accepting, not anything, not everything. He had been tied up in his own thoughts all throughout last year; the childish part of him had hoped that Midterm would return a sense of normality to his life but instead January First approached, waved vague greetings at him, and passed without any sign of changes, and Reece continued to be tied with thinking. Had the utterly non-artistic boy been asked to draw some sort of artistic comparison to the way his brain was feeling, he would have probably referenced spaghetti. Long, tangled spaghetti noodles, dumped from a bucket over his head.

‘One moment.’ He hadn’t needed these silent moments before, but he hadn’t been forced to undergo such oscillating thoughts before, either. Even back when he’d first been kidnapped -- if he could even call it that anymore -- no -- remember -- one moment -- even then, he hadn’t felt nearly as confused as he did now. Because it made sense, back then. The early risings of the scientific experimental process were the easiest to manoeuvre. In those beginnings, there wasn’t any evidence or explanations available, only a hypothesis that could be proposed without any real details behind it, because a hypothesis was only an idea, an initial interpretation. From there, the scientific process became much more complicated, as the hypothesis had to be proven and disproven multiple times over. Theoretically, after such a thorough examination, a resolution would be reached and then life would be easy again.

But here, lately, Reece had been finding himself stuck. The hypothesis had been prodded at relentlessly during his chain of experiments and small results had cropped up along the way, but the final answer was still evading him.

‘One moment.’

Imaginary pasta sauce dripping down behind his ears, the fifteen-year-old blinked grey eyes back into focus, sheltering them briefly from the sun while he did a quick scan of the air around him. The Snitch was nowhere in sight and so he hunched over his borrowed broom, pushing it faster to roam down the length of the field.

‘One moment… there you are.’

Ducking his head, he spotted a dart of gold below him, hovering somewhere closer to the stands. The winged ball was evasive yet surprisingly easy to find when he put his mind to it. So then why was it that an answer which should have been easy to uncover was perpetually avoiding him, even though he’d set his mind to finding it years ago? The harder he searched, the deeper it hid, playing games with him in the trail of talkative painted portraits and coloured smoke curling up from boiled reptile limbs and the merciless forces of gravity repelled by plain wooden sticks. Reece frowned down at the Snitch, gloved fingers clenching and unclenching on the handle of his broom, and then without really thinking about it, he swung his leg over and leapt off, shaggy black hair forced back by the wind as he fell with arms outstretched towards the tiny golden dart. Gold balls were easy to catch; shouldn’t one simple answer to one simple question be even easier?


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