Beyond the Foggy Path

Chapter 10: Vibration

Erela was walking down the hall and was awkwardly talking to Michael when they both saw the headmistress with Erela's father. She stopped and hid around the corner whilst Michael pressed his back to the wall next to Erela.

"She hurt someone without realizing it . . ." the headmistress said.

Erela's heart fell as she listened to the adults. She could already imagine her father running his large hand through his greying dark hair and pinched the bridge of his nose afterward. "Merlin's beard . . ." he mumbled.

"It was a good thing she was stopped before it became worse . . ."

"How bad would it have been?"

The headmistress didn't answer at first. Michael watched Erela as he listened to the adult's conversation, Erela's expression was concerning and terrified of the subject . . .

"If professor Mcnair didn't come in time . . . Erela may would have killed the boy . . ." she finally said. All color from Erela's face drained the moment she heard the headmistress say that. "The boy described the feeling to us that there was some sort of high pitched noise. It was rather difficult to get a more description about the incident, but from the result of the student's ears bleeding, we might have an idea of what it is Erela is capable of."

Erela was trembling at that point before she walked away, she just couldn't handle the subject. Michael followed just behind her without exchanging a word, Michael knew well enough that talking wasn't the best idea, not when someone had just learned a terrible truth about themselves.

"Erela . . ." Michael tried calling her calmly.

She didn't respond.

"Erela . . ."

Again, no response.

"Hey, Ela," Michael picked up the pace and took her shoulder. "Hey. It's okay. It was an accident," he reassured her. It took Erela a while to explain to Michael what had happened, word of the incident spread around the first years like wildfire and Michael kept pushing for information out of her.

"I don't think it was . . ." her voice shook. Michael cocked his head curiously. "It—it was just a thought. I didn't mean for it to happen . . . I—I wanted him to die . . . I kept thinking that the boy should die for being a prick . . . I wanted him to—"

"Ela, stop," Michael took both her shoulders and lightly shook her to make her stop. "It was an accident," he reminded her. "You didn't know."

"I know . . . I just—" She stopped herself and ran her fingers through her hair. "It's just not a brilliant feeling to experience when a lot is on your mind . . ." she sighed.

Erela yawned and rubbed the corner of her eyes before she sat up. She had fallen asleep on the couch of the Hufflepuff common room in front of the fire and by the looks of it, she had taken a longer nap than planned.

"Dammit . . ." she sighed. She would have to do her homework first thing in the morning.

After her father's visit back in her first year, Michael had been too curious about Erela's power. Of course, she was furious at him for suggesting her to use it on him. He wanted to know in order to understand his friend. Erela was even horrified at the fact she was curious too. She felt so satisfied when she put all her stress and coped up anger onto that student. Like a heavy weight had been lifted when she used it.

And the news of her power only resulted in more heavy weight of guilt, regret, and self-loathing. During the weekends of their first year, Erela and Michael made sure to be away from other students to experiment a little. Of course, Erela was terrified out of her wits for even agreeing to hurt Michael.

"Are you sure about this?" Erela asked Michael as they sat at the bank of the lake.

Michael nodded. "Don't be too harsh . . ." he said.

Erela nodded. She would only try. Erela timidly stared at Michael and waited for the feeling to come back to her, but nothing happened. The heavy weight was still there and Michael wasn't screaming. "Anything?"

He shook his head.

The brown-eyed Hufflepuff pursed her lips and exhaled a breath through her nostrils, her gaze intensified and concentrated hard. Michael stared back at her, a small spark of worry in his eyes as he anticipated for the pain to come about.

"Still nothing . . ."

"I'm really trying and really trying not to . . ." Erela mumbled. She didn't want to hurt him as terribly as she did to that boy.

"So you're holding back a little?"

Erela didn't answer him and kept her intense look on him.

"How about thinking of me dying?"

She had a pained look on her face when he suggested that and looked away. "I don't want to . . ."

"It's just an experiment," he reminded her.

The first year didn't look at him for a while and let the words sit in her mind for a while. She exhaled a breath slowly and looked back at him. Erela allowed her memories of that day to come back, the boiling annoyance and hatred she felt and the desire to kill the boy was bubbling up inside her. The girl channeled that emotion on Michael before the boy winced in pain and let out a small cry before Erela blinked and pulled back.

"Michael! I'm sorry," she stammered apologetically.

"It's okay! It's okay," he stopped her. "See? I'm still alive."

Erela huffed and shook her head. "This is mad . . ." she mumbled and was about to get up, but Michael pulled her down.

"No, no, come on, Ela. We have to know—"

"No, we don't!" she interrupted him. "We don't know if this experiment will go wrong and I end up killing you in the end."

"But you know about now," Michael said. Erela was going to fight back, but couldn't find a comeback or an excuse to stop. "You know about your power, so you won't hurt me that badly . . ." he muttered.

"I won't be able to stop as fast as just now . . ."

Michael shook his head at her. "You don't know that until we try again . . ."

Erela pursed her lips and let out a sigh. "You are the biggest idiot I have ever met."

He shrugged and smirked at her before adjusting his seat and readied himself. "Okay, ready." Erela sighed and stared at Michael. The anger slowly started to bubble up inside her and a quiet screeching sound was ringing in the back of her hand. "Okay, I feel something, bring it up a notch?" Michael asked. Erela nodded and slowly let the anger boil hotter and hotter. Dead . . . dead . . . drop dead . . . Michael's eyes started to show evidence of wincing pain and Erela was about to fall back, but Michael saw the look in her eyes and held her hand. "Just a little bit more . . ." his voice croaked.

Erela's eyes burned with concern. Mad. He was absolutely daft. She slightly inched the pain meter up a little bit more, and in response, his hand squeezed tighter around her hand in an almost death grip. Three . . . Two . . . One . . . She pulled back and the screeching stopped.

Michael gasped and let go of he hand before rubbing the bone of his hand against the temples. "You're an idiot, you know that? Why did you keep asking to go longer and stronger!?" she yelled at him.

He didn't answer her. Michael dabbed his fingers to his ears and looked at his tips, as if he was expecting to see blood. "It's almost like you have telekinesis," he mumbled.


"Telekinesis. You're able to do things with your mind," he explained. Michael kept rubbing his temples as he let the pain subdue. "Okay, I think I get what you're going."

They did some research whenever they went on break to understand the human brain and results due to brain experiments. Michael described that the screeching sound made it feel like his head was vibrating and that the noise made it feel like steel fists were crushing his head and became harder and harder to bear. Textbook-wise, the sound would wound the eardrums or pop a vessel in their brain. As for the vibration, the brain was a strong muscle, but terribly sensitive to harm. The shock of the vibrations would fight against the brain and eventually (if she used the power longer) shut off the brain. In other words, she was capable of killing people's brain.

It was a terrifying power. And she hated herself even more for being alive. Why did she have to be born a witch? She probably wouldn't have such a "gift" if the magical genes were weaker than the muggle genes.

Erela let out a sigh and pushed off the couch. As much as she loved being a witch, she questioned if any good would come out of improving and strengthening her magic.

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