[First Year 3/6] Empathy

History of Magic was, by far, the most exciting subject the students ever had to be subjected to. It was like its own story hour. She took diligent notes. In fact, it was the subject that Echo could focus on the most, for everyone in the classroom felt the same exact thing.

But today was different from every other day. The lesson was about famous empaths. Echo was excited at the beginning of class as her mother had told her they went on to do great things. And that part was genuine. They were among the world's best interrogators, lawyers, but there was one crucial detail her mother left out.

The strongest ones always went insane.

Echo's hand shot up, and Professor Tillywater stopped, "Miss Santi?"

 "But do they all go insane? Why?" she questioned.

"Being able to be so in tuned to someone's emotions, even influencing them, comes at a cost. It would begin to affect your emotions." Professor Tillywater answered. "Now, as I was saying. Prude-"

"But doesn't being strong mean being in control of your power? If you let it run rampant, isn't that the same as being weak?" Echo interrupted her.

"Sometimes power cannot be controlled, Miss Santi. In this case, the more power the person has, the more likely they would go insane from it. Power is good, but too much power can corrupt even the strongest minds. History proves this very thing. Look at some of the greatest wizards of all time. Many, not all, but many go to the dark side. Now, if you'd allow me to continue." Professor Tillywater returned to lecturing.

Echo, the rest of the class, didn't pay attention. She was staring out into her own little world. But this world was full of depression, sadness. Would she go insane? There had to be a way to control it, to stop it. She didn't want to go insane.

Echo jumped as people began to pack their things. She hurriedly did, too, stuffing her half-finished notes into her bag. She left with Damien, though she made no effort this time around to chat with him.

Usually, Echo dreaded class change; It filled her with anxiety, knowing she was about to see many other students. But she didn't even think about that this time around. She was consumed by depression, worry for the future. She just walked forward silently, clutching her books to herself.

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Throughout the week, Damien had found his two favorite classes. Most classes were magic-based, which he lacked ability in. So the ones that weren't were the ones he could enjoy. Potions and History of Magic. Of the two, he would have to say Potions was his favorite.

And now, one of his favorite subjects took a strange turn. He looked up from the notes that he had prepared yesterday and grabbed a fresh parchment. The teacher began to speak on empaths. Damien wasn't quite as interested in it as he probably should have been, given he'd never met an empath that he knew of. The idea of reading emotions sounded rather dull. Thoughts, sure, but emotions?

But as he was absentmindedly writing on his parchment, a familiar voice spoke up and asked a question. Damien looked up to see Echo asking a question, and he tuned in to try to see what the deal was about.

Echo and the teacher were talking about why all Empaths went insane. He found himself curious as to why she was so curious about that subject but got no answer from the conversation.

In fact, by the time the class was over, the only thing he understood was that something about that conversation was affecting her. Did she know someone who was an empath? Was it something else?

When class let out, and they walked down the hall, she seemed so lost in her own thoughts and what appeared to be worried that he couldn't help but feel concerned for her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down an empty hall before letting go of her arm.

"Something's bothering you," he spoke, moving so he was standing in front of her, "something about that conversation you had with the teacher about empaths. Now, I've never really had anyone to be concerned about before, so perhaps this is all wrong. But still, If you want, you can talk to me about anything."

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Echo was pulled out of her own thoughts. She stumbled to keep up with Damien as he brought her down an empty corridor.

'You can talk to me about anything.' The problem wasn't talking. Echo could speak with her mother. Words alone don't fix anything. 'I'm sorry you go through that.' 'That sucks.' 'Deal with it.' All statements that, at the end of the day, were meaningless.

Still, it comforted Echo feeling his genuine concern. Most people would ignore her. Or be freaked out by her. Only her mother was ever really concerned.

It was enough to get Echo to run a hand through her hair and look at him- really look at him. His emotions were so different from anyone else. Damien was unique.

"I..." Echo started to say. "I don't really know what to say. I really appreciate it, but... I'm not sure talking about it will fix anything. I'm..." she bit her lip. "I'm an empath."

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Concern was all Damien felt for the girl before him. He couldn't understand what was affecting her, but he wanted to try despite living on the streets without any friends.

He waited as Echo hesitated, not pressuring her into saying anything. He would have rather she spoke of her own volition. So when she did speak, he couldn't help but feel a bit happy that she was talking to him about it.

He quirked a brow in curiosity at the statement before shrugging, "I figured you were upset because someone you knew is an empath."

He took a breath before staring down at the ground, his mind whirring with thoughts and ideas. Theories and simple curiosities. "Perhaps those people who went insane did so because they didn't try enough. If someone is told something the entirety of their life, most will begin to believe it, even if it's wrong."

He took a breath before continuing, this time delving into his own experiences. "Likewise, if someone's told they're something, like worthless, for their entire life, they'll start to believe it."

He raised his eyes to look at hers, a fierce determination filling his mind. "So I'll make you a promise. I'll help you search for a way to prevent that ill fate. At the very least, try to help you hone the ability so you can control it."

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Echo took a long, deep breath. He was determined; she could tell that even without her power. The problem was, he didn't know the beast he was getting into. He didn't know what it was like to be an empath.

"Imagine you're flying over an ocean when you're dropped right into the middle of it. That's what I feel when I'm in a crowd. I'm desperately trying to keep my head above the waves. Some days I'm good. I can go to the Great Hall and eat and spend time with you. Other times, I need to stay in my dorm and skip food entirely. Starving is better than braving the sea of emotions." Echo shifted. She would miss eating days at a time when her power gets truly unruly. When all she could feel were what others felt.

But why was she so negative? What if Damien is right? What if there was a way? Echo found it hard to believe that those great Empaths would have accepted their insanity, but then again, here she is at 11, ready to do the same. She ran her fingers through her messy hair. "I know the Forbidden Section of the library has some information about empaths. It's supposed to be about their most horrific cases, but we might find some stuff there. I know there was one wizard bent on recreating the power of empathy through a potion. Mom told me about that before. He ended up killing himself after testing it. But there might be a book about that. It sounds Forbidden enough."

She just had to hope, right? Let his determination fuel hers? It's not like she has anything to lose.

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There were many things that Damien didn't understand about this new world he found himself in. He'd had a few days to get used to the castle and the classes, but still, several things overwhelmed him about everything, though he still loved the idea of learning it all.

Before he got his letter, when he wasn't stealing food or begging for money, he often found himself at the public library. Not only was it a good place to shelter in a storm, but he could also satisfy his desire to learn about the world around him. And try to find hope for rising off of the streets. Occasionally, he would bring a book or two that he liked into a small cubby. There he would cut off the library bindings and tags with his hand-crafted dagger. That way, he could take them where he could read them freely without limit.

But then the letter came, and everything changed in a heartbeat. Magic was suddenly real (and he sucked at it), and he had hope. But nothing ever changed, and at Hogwarts, he was an outcast as well. But now he had the hopes of a friend to help kindle.

"While I can't say I share understanding with that particular scenario, I've had experiences with similar, though opposite ones..."

He took a deep breath before bringing a hand up in front of his face.

"Imagine your vision again, but change the ocean to a sea of people. Flowing and changing, but staying together. Everyone's living their lives, having security. Food on their tables every day. A roof over their heads. No worries. I don't belong in that crowd, but instead of being above it, I'm underneath it. I'm in a hole several miles underground, constantly trying to claw my way up. But no matter what I do, I never get closer; I only seem to get farther away."

 He sighed deeply before lowering his hand again, staring into her eyes, his eyes showing a fierce determination. His hope, his ambitions, his decision to make them real all in one gaze. But this time, instead of being for himself, it was almost like he was thrusting them upon her. Feeding her his own hope to match her lowered ones.

"Books, journals. And I can try talking to the Potions Professor. He's nice enough, and I'm doing well in that class. He might give me permission if I claim it's for research on potions."

He pushed off of the wall before giving her a sly grin and wink, "And If that fails, I'm pretty accomplished at sneaking around to steal something."

He waved his hand, gesturing for her to follow, "Now let's get to the next class before that teacher has an aneurysm. What class is next, by the way?"