Whoever Said Breathing Was Easy?

S

Stefan Mosyakov

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This was the third time in a week that Stefan had gotten short of breath just walking around the hallways of Hogwarts castle. He was slightly concerned that he was getting sick already, and classes hadn't even started yet, but the feeling was sporadic and without cause, to his eyes. The young Russian boy had no experience with anxiety, and the sheer amount of people that he was forced to interact with on the daily was too much to take in. After breakfast on a clear Monday morning, Stefan found himself power walking, jogging and then sprinting to the library, which was a concerning new symptom. Whatever he had didn't seem to be dangerous, so it didn't warrant a visit to the nurse, but perhaps he had been hexed. This called for some research.

The tightness in his chest eased as he retreated into the quiet, stately environment of the library. Curious. There weren't many students in attendance, with study not being at the forefront of people's minds so early in the semester, but one or two seemed to find it a haven like him. It reminded him of the castle, and Stefan felt a guilty pang of homesickness. You should be happy to be gone from there, he told himself, moving to sit down at a wingbacked chair with a few old tomes already on the table in front of him. Feeling melancholy, the first year picked up the book and began to read without much fervour.​
 
Wilfred was simultaneously feeling like he had never been so sad and excited in his entire life (which was completely inaccurate). His family was celebrating the arrival of a new sibling, and Wilfred was all over his new baby brother - except for the fact that he was so rudely packed right up and sent back to school. The Hufflepuff wanted to stick his younger siblings in his suitcase and take them with him, but there was nothing that could be done. He couldn't get such a plan past his papi, and his tata would be endlessly disappointed in him. What did help him were daily letters back to the family, and his new assignment. Last year was to not get into mischief, which he did very well. This year was to look out for Stefan Mosayokov, his tata's father-figure's somehow-related-to-him-child. Anyone related to someone as awesome as Zimbru had to be equally awesome - Wilfred had no concerns.

After a little bit of light, perfectly innocent stalking, the Hufflepuff eventually surmised that the Ravenclaw would be in the library, a place Wilfred did not frequent nearly as much as his papi would want. Wilfred was not someone that could walk into a library quietly. The Hufflepuff accidentally announced his presence by closing the door too loudly and seemingly finding every creaky floorboard possible. "Hi Stefan!" he greeted genially, with a level of familiarity that probably didn't belong in a first proper meeting - but Wilfred felt like he knew the Ravenclaw already. "My name's Wilfred, Zimbru told my... dad that you're here, and my dad told me I should look out for you. It can get really lonely and weird here. How're you doing?"
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Stefan winced as the silence was disturbed by some very noisy footsteps, and he looked up to see a very cheerful face heading directly towards him. The Russian immediately tensed and set his book down, hopping to his feet and standing akimbo with his hands loosely by his sides. He looked as though he was preparing to be attacked, but didn't want to look like he knew it.

"The Bull has told you that I am here?" he repeated, fixing a stare onto the other by that was both frightened and frightening in equal measure. He knew the name that his brother's 'family' used for him, but he couldn't know that Wilfred had brushed up on his Romanian, and so used the translation for clarity's sake. "Who is your father? What is his name?"​
 
Wilfred was completely oblivious to Stefan's posture, though the Hufflepuff subconsciously kept a distance from the young Ravenclaw (at least, moreso than usual). He sat down, despite the fact the Ravenclaw stood up, and remained smiling at him pleasantly. It was always best to remain as pleasant as possible when meeting new people, it had to be why his tata made friends everywhere he went.

"Yes, Zimbru," Wilfred responded, not hearing the actual translation too often and wanting to make sure that Stefan knew it. He'd certainly need to be able to pronounce it during the holidays when he went back to the Circa, or so Wilfred presumed. "His name's Robin, he was one of the acrobats. Brown hair and big happy grin and arms that are like... this big!" Wilfred used his arms to make a circle that was perhaps slightly exaggerating the size of his tata's arms.
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Only a slight exaggeration, Stefan had to admit. He did remember Robin after all, and he was frightened of him until his brother had reassured him that he was harmless. Robin seemed to always be covered in children, and he liked to pet the resident stray cats at the Circa, so Stefan was content to ignore him. This boy, though, he was not content to ignore Stefan. What he supposed to be some kind of bodyguard? He smiled too much, and he looked barely older than the Russian, himself.

"I don't understand, said Stefan quietly, sitting back down slowly and pulling the book back into his lap. He couldn't even remember what he'd been reading. "I don't need a ... keeper. Thank you," he added awkwardly, and tried to smile, but his confusion and slight hurt twisted the expression and made him look more forlorn than dismissive. "But Zimbru was mistaken, and your father. You don't have to 'look out for me'. I look out for myself."​
 
Wilfred nodded, trying to understand where the Ravenclaw was coming from. Obviously he wasn't too excited about Wilfred inserting himself into his life (he was getting some serious Papi vibes right now), but that didn't mean Wilfred couldn't convince him to at least entertain the idea for a bit. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not here to be your 'keeper'," the Hufflepuff assured him, relaxing into his seat and looking ready to stay right where he was for the next few hours. "You won't need a shadow, it's nice here and there's always someone to talk to and hang out with. I just thought - and I guess Zimbru and my father - I'll call him Tata - agree that it's nice knowing someone when you're somewhere new." Story time: with Wilfred Lichester. "This is only my second year, so I'm still kind of trying to figure everything out so I might not be super helpful with like... directions and stuff, but that doesn't mean we can't have breakfast sometimes! Sometimes it's not about being looked out for or anything, it's about knowing that it's there anyway. Nothing's all that weird if you've got someone to think it's weird with."
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His brother thought that he needed ... friends? Well, allies could be helpful, although Wilfred looked about as useful as a chocolate teapot, and he talked far too much, but as he listened to the Hufflepuff chatter on, he found that he didn't mind the sound of his voice. His constant dialogue was strangely soothing. Stefan found it easier to listen than to speak- having said that, English was not his first language, and keeping up with Wilfred was fairly difficult.

"I'm sorry," said the Ravenclaw after a pause where Wilfred seemed to run out of breath. "English can be difficult for me when spoken in such amount. Maybe, less?" he suggested hesitantly. "But there are some weird things that can't be shared," he continued. "I am here to research shortness of breath. I haven't looked at the right book, yet, but maybe, you have some experience with this?" suggested Stefan hopefully. "It will make it easier to learn and fix."​
 
It wasn't surprising to find that English wasn't Stefan's first language - his accent said it all. Wilfred lived in New Zealand, he knew the accent perfectly by now, and the Circa was a European circus anyway - he sounded Russian, though, which Wilfred knew reasonably well. It wasn't his best, but then again, neither was English. It made more sense for them to speak something that at least one of them knew very well, and Stefan didn't seem like he was going to talk a lot anyway.

"I can speak Russian for you?" he offered, though he had already made the decision anyway. His accent tumbled for the first few words, but in the end he slipped into home-habits and he repeated himself with clearer words. "Do you know why your breath is short? Are you running or climbing, or just walking normal? Are your lungs good?"
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Stefan's eyebrows rose as Wilfred effortlessly (well, not quite effortlessly) switched to Russian for him. A small smile graced his features for the first time, and he sat up and stopped cradling the book on his lap. He didn't comment except to nod his thanks, and they continued their conversation much more comfortably.
"My lungs are very good," Stefan explained, "And I have never had shortness of breath while running, before. I have only experienced it here, at Hogwarts. That's why I suspect it is a hex. Actually," Stefan looked very slightly contrite, "When you introduced yourself, I thought that maybe you had done it, because I couldn't think of anyone who knows me here. It's alright- I don't think that now," he amended. "Especially as you are Robin's son, and my-" Stefan stopped himself. He'd actually begun to say 'my brother' out loud. 'Do not speak of me to anyone at Hogwarts.' "-Zimbru has asked you to stand by me. He would only ask those he trusted, so I think he trusts you."​
 
Hmm. Well, if Stefan's lungs were fine, and he could run around without panting, then the problem wasn't his lungs or that he was 'inside fat', or whatever his papi could be called. He didn't think it was a hex, though. Stefan only just arrived, and he couldn't think of a reason why someone would cast such a spell on someone, or if it were possible to do so anyway. He couldn't help but be saddened by the fact that that was Stefan's first thought.

"If I put a hex on someone," Wilfred began, his posture becoming slightly fearful. "My papi would be so cross with me. Tata would be really... upset." He meant disappointed, but lacked the word. At least he seemed clear of suspicion now, especially since he genuinely doubted this was happening because of a spell. Wilfred was not an expert, but he knew what it was like to have trouble adapting to new places and new people, and his experiences resulted in some panting, too, among other things. The mentioning of Zimbru perked him right back up, though, like a flower in the sun. "Zimbru's amazing," Wilfred gushed momentarily, adoring the man. "I do not think this is a spell, but. Do you just get short breath? Do you feel it right now?"
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Stefan boggled inwardly at Wilfred's very physical responses to their conversation. He seemed to shrink at the idea of his 'Papi' being 'cross' with him, which was mildly concerning for a moment, but lit up the room at the mention of Stefan's brother. That was odd- Zimbru was an extremely large, unsmiling man, and certainly not a person he could imagine Wilfred spending a lot of time with, but then again, all people at La Grande seemed to gravitate towards Zimbru, so there was no reason for the Hufflepuff to be any different.

"No, I don't feel short of breath, now," Stefan replied. "It only happens when there are many people about. Not so much at La Grande, but here, very often. If it's not a hex, then maybe it's allergies? I'm not allergic to anything that I know of, but this is a very new place for me, and I've never seen so many people together at once. When I came to the library ..." Stefan seemed to hesitate. "I got the ... compulsion?-" He'd read that word a few times, and it seemed right. "-to run. So I ran here, and then it stopped when I came inside."​
 
Wilfred had considered allergies, because whenever he sniffed some types of plants, he would sneeze, cough and had a terrible time. It mattered where he was and how many people were around, but at the circa it didn't really matter. There wasn't much different from the library and the rest of the castle, except for the amount of people in it and the fact that it had a lot of books.

"So, it was okay when in here?" he repeated, for clarification. He did specify the amount of people around, which probably made that bit important. "Do you like groups?" Wilfred was willing to say he didn't, since he didn't really... scream people-person, kind of like his papi.
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