Stranger

Chapter 13 - Letters

"You haven't the faintest idea what's important to me."

It was finally the weekend. The first Triwizard Tournament challenge loomed just two days away, but for Violet, the weight of anticipation was overshadowed by a more personal struggle.

She woke with a familiar, gnawing headache, a sensation that dragged her back to her childhood. The dull throb behind her temples, the fog in her mind, and the distant murmur of voices. These weren't unfamiliar symptoms, and over the years, she had learned to live with them, sometimes even finding strange comfort in the whispers she heard in her head—like an old, unwelcome friend. Today, though, they felt more insistent, more urgent, as if urging her toward something.

As she swung her legs out of bed, her foot knocked against the box—the box, the one Dumbledore had given her weeks ago. She hadn't gone through it since that emotional day in the headmaster's office. Maybe she hadn't been ready. Maybe she still wasn't. But the strange pull in her chest this morning, combined with the whispering in her head, told her that today was different.

Curiosity piqued, Violet grabbed the box and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over her legs. She gently placed the magical rose—a rose that had neither withered nor lost its beauty despite its age—on her bedside table. Her hands shook slightly as she opened the box and began spreading its contents across her bed: old, faded letters, some of which were clearly written by her grandmother, Elise Rowle, during her years at Hogwarts. But other letters... they were different.

One stack of letters stood out. These weren't written by her grandmother. They were signed by a man—a man named Athius Rowle.

Violet's heart skipped a beat. Athius. A name she had never heard uttered within her family. A name she never knew was a part of her bloodline. She carefully unfolded one of the letters, her breath catching as she began to read.

___

My Elise, 

I have no regret for what I have done, and we both know this is what the world has become now. It's life or death. If you do not stand with me, I do not know what the dark lord might ask of me.

Elise, please, come to your senses. If not for us, if not for yourself, do it for Rosie. She deserves to live without fear, and that can only be done with us on his side.

He comes for us all, 
Athius R.

___

Her fingers danced over the papers, and she quickly grabbed another letter.

___

Elise, 

You know Whitmores will never stand aside from the battle, Marcus and Adeline have always been too stubborn to understand. That will be the death of them. I can not save them but I can still get through to you.
You see how much misery our family has endured because of this split. You know that your place is by his side.

I don't want Rosie to die. Not with our grandchild on the way.

Love,
Athius R.

___

Violet gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Rosie?

"Rosie... Mum?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. The name echoed in her mind as if it didn't belong there, but it did. Rosie. Her mother, Rose, who had never spoken of her own father. Her mother, who had never mentioned the Rowles. It all began to connect in a way Violet wasn't sure she was ready to accept.