Depths of Despair ✶ Theodore Nott

twenty six. growing concerns

Valerie Leclere was not afraid of many things, however had she been asked the question under the influence of veritaserum — forced not to withhold the truth — she would have given two answers.

Her mother, and her very own memories.

She recalled the Boggart lesson during her third year: the whispers of confusion when her Boggart took the shape of Olenna Leclere, Remus Lupin's rather terrified gaze trailing her every movement.

A mother is meant to love and to care, however Olenna had capable of doing neither. When shamed and scolded for a born gift of which she can't control, it was only natural for Valerie to slowly rummage out of control. It was no surprise when she one day tipped over the edge, the limits of her own mind blurred with those of others she could no longer help but to involuntarily listen in on.

When you're too busy fearing yourself, control is only a faded fragment of imagination.

"Focus, miss Leclere." The voice sounded far away, yet Valerie felt the tugging on her mind: someone trying to intrude the very same way she could do seamlessly.

Deep inhalations, and so she shut her eyes: recalling every piece of advise she'd ever been given to shut someone out. Relaxing was the key, however when able to sense the intrusion yet unable to do anything to prevent it, her body seemed to react the opposite way — heart beating faster, hands somewhat begging to tremble from exhaustion.

One second was all it took, and so her conscience seemed to blur; Valerie free falling into the depths of her own memories.

White walls of a bedroom came into view, a young girl entering through the doorway — hazel tinted eyes wide as she tried her very best not to break down in tears. "Mama?" No answer came, and she hesitantly continued further into the room: unruly locks of hair spread out like a halo around her face. "Mama, are you there?"

A woman sat on her bed, sighing deeply when going unnoticed by the two year old aching for her attention. Doing nothing to conceal her irritation, Olenna Leclere slammed the book she'd spent all afternoon peacefully reading with no disturbances shut, glaring down at the child. "What do you want?" Her words were like daggers, and immediately did the younger version of Valerie seem to regret even daring disrupting her mother's tranquility.

"I—"

"Stop stuttering, child. Spit it out and be done with it."

Although skilled with words for her age, two-year-old Valerie retreated: shoulders slumping, eyes directed into the ground while silently thinking over her sentences to commit no mistakes. "I'm bored," the young girl spoke with perfect enunciation of each letter, however the mother remained displeased.

"And why do you presume that is any issue of mine?" The woman callously shot back, taking pleasure in the way her daughter fought back tears. Every inch of Valerie reminded her of her greatest mistake, and there was nothing she'd like more than for him to suffer. "Get out of my room, and do not come back."

It took a few seconds for the young girl to take in what she'd been told, which only appeared to add on to her mother's anger.

"Well, what are you waiting for, child? I wand you out of my sight," Olenna called out. "Now!" The two-year-old was quick on her feet when hurrying toward the door, trampling back to her own room with tears flooding her eyes.

Valerie could not recall a single time she ever dared set foot near her mother without being called for ever since then.

"Miss Leclere." It was like being resuscitated after having been drowned by icy-cold waters, for when Valerie re-opened her eyes shivers ran up and down her spine, her whole body set into a tremble.