Forgotten Rose || Daughter of Sirius Black

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 13

The dresser itself stood taller than the lanky man, which was a great feat. The cacophony of whispers reached an all-time high as confusion encapsulated the segregated huddle of students.

"Did he really bring in a boggart to class?" A bright-eyed Gryffindor asked no one in particular.

"Of course you dimwit, how else shall we learn." The blond-haired Slytherin hissed.
That comment had thrown the class into a heated debate, which was pretty one-sided.
"Uh, can we quiet down please?" Remus attempted to break the Gryffindor jeering.

Building onto the chaos, which was the Gryffindor's collective shouting, was quick-witted responses from the Slytherins.

Rose heard unfamiliar voices, the whispers were guzzling gasoline into the already prominent fires of her mind.

The demons that terrorised and took reign of her otherwise serene landscape of thoughts screeched. It felt like nails were clawing her head in.

"S-stop." Her voice was feeble.

Nobody listened to her.
Not the class and certainly not the people in her head.

"Please." She begged.

Once again her whimpers didn't invoke much, although Remus seemed to have noticed Estelle balled up with her hands over her ears.

"STOP IT, MAKE IT STOP." The cry echoed around the bare room much like the voices in her empty head.

Silence. Nobody spoke, and nobody moved. All eyes fell onto the, now hyperventilating, girl.

Remus broke the stillness of the room by rushing to the girl's aid.

"Please help me." She grabbed Lupin by his scruffy robes. He gulped nervously, he didn't know what to do. That's what scared him; he always knew what to do, why now did his mind buffer in confusion and fear?

They stopped, the shrill screams had stopped.

"Miss Black, are you okay?" Remus asked after noticing her lack of tears. She nodded her head, barely.

The class, once again, broke out in whispers; they were talking about her.

- TIME SKIP -

The students had been placed in an oddly formed line in front of the wooded wardrobe.

"Okay!" The teacher clapped his hands together, "Today we'll be experiencing a Boggart."

"Repeat after me: Riddikulus!"

"This class is ridiculous." Draco rolled his eyes at the grown Gryffindor. Estelle nudged him to stop.

Neville, a timid-natured boy, happened to be at the front of the line. He staggered a few steps back before knocking over a burly Slytherin who returned the favour, shoving Neville closer to the trapped boggart than he was before.

"Go ahead."

Remus noticed that the red and gold-clad boy firmly planted his feet into the creaking oakwood flooring. His eyes flashed with raw confidence.

He was ready.

The class was silenced by the jangling of the rusted chains that held the mirror fronted door closed, a previously warped reflection of the class had been replaced by a shadowy presence. Quickly, but surely, the shadow gyrated at a ridiculous speed. A phantom of Snape had burst from the ball of energy. He lumbered forward, setting his sights on the now panic-stricken Gryffindor.

"Longbottom!" He snapped, vim was the only scent of his voice, although undertones of disappointment wafted through. Neville whimpered a whimper so pathetic even his dorm mates snickered; even the noble Harry Potter.

"Neville, think of something silly." Remus was met by an unamused Neville.

"W-what?" he spluttered out, taking small steps backwards.

"Your grandmother!"

"Excuse you."

"No, think of what your grandmother wears"

A bead of sweat rolled down Longbottom's freckled neck, leaving his collar with an unfortunate patch of wetness.

"R-riddikkulus!" Pictures of his nan's furry hats and silly coats filled his mind, and when he managed to open his eyes he saw Snape cosplaying and his Granny. There was a ripple of laughter throughout the students.

As the class repeated the task over and over again, Remus snuck off to the back of the room where El had situated herself.

"Are you feeling... Better?"

"Yep." The girl had elongated the end syllable to elevate the awkwardness between them. Remus' eyes glazed over becoming murky with the rose-tinted memories of a former friend.
She was just like him, just like her father.

"Can I have a go?" Estelle asked.

"No."

"That's not fair!"

"Well, life's not fair." The man childishly quipped.

She would come to learn that life is fairer for some than others.