The abyss beckoned. Okay, it wasn’t the abyss… the ground was not actually that far away—not even enough to be useful. If he fell (or jumped or was pushed), he wouldn’t even die. He’d probably break several important bones… possibly puncture a lung or something… but Madam Pomfrey would have him back in class within a week or so, so it was hardly worth considering. The astronomy tower, now… that fall would almost definitely be fatal. That couldn’t really qualify as an abyss either, though, since the view from there was more scenic in nature, and not as black and oppressive and endless as an abyss should be.
Nigel wasn’t seriously considering throwing himself off of the stone bridge, but he happened to be standing there, and sometimes things just occurred to him. Especially if it pertained to death. Actually, he didn’t want to die at all, but he thought he should prepare himself for the eventuality. And the eventuality was soon to become the reality, he was sure. His mother had a vastly greater selection of resources available to her; all he had was about 50 Galleons to his name (most of which had come from her as an allowance), an eager-but-somewhat-ineffectual solicitor, and a determination, which, in all truth, had been wavering lately. However, his will to live was reaffirmed if he thought very long about his mother actually succeeding. It was horrible to contemplate; actually, it angered him.
If his father had wanted his mother to have that money, he would have left it to her. He did not. It was Nigel’s, by right, and he would not let his mother bully it away from him, even if he had to fight to the death. Someone had to take a stand. Besides, he was positive that in terms of accumulated wealth, his mother had surpassed what Nigel would receive on his birthday. It was clearly not the money; it was the principle. She didn’t like being snubbed in the will, and this would be her revenge for the slight. Well, Nigel had principles, too. Or, at least, he was stubborn, which basically amounted to the same thing.
After a few moments of contemplation, he dropped his bag on the stone floor and climbed up on the ledge, dangling his legs over the edge into the non-abyss. A little thrill of danger sparked up his spine, making him shiver slightly. He was tired of being afraid all the time. Honestly, and he knew he would be judged if he ever told anyone this, he’d rather like it if someone just killed his mother and had done with it. He would feel so much better. No one who actually knew her could say she didn’t have it coming, but unfortunately, most people did not really know her. She put up a good front, usually until it was too late. Her children and her many late husbands knew the real woman; no one else had seen through the façade.
It really was quite relaxing up here like this, he thought. Not too relaxing, though; he was not about to fall asleep there despite his fatigue. Somehow, the sun on his face and the wind in his hair made him feel better about life, even while his mind was filled with his numerous problems. He was feeling so good, in fact, that his guard was involuntarily let down, and when there was a noise from behind him, he jumped in alarm and nearly lost his balance. Fortunately, his fingers caught an outcropping in the rocky ledge, and he hauled himself to safety before he could hardly register the danger. The danger definitely registered once he was firmly on the floor of the stone bridge, and it was with wide eyes and a flushed face that he faced the cause of his near-death-experience. “Oh. It’s you. You nearly gave me a heart attack!”




