Depths of Despair ✶ Theodore Nott

fifty. inevitable confrontation

this is not proof-read, feel free to point out typos and such :)

Had the newly established procedure of teaching Defence against the Dark arts been perceived as a tragedy amongst the student body at Hogwarts, it appeared the situation would from there only deteriorate.

Weeks were all it took until Umbridge ruled the byproduct of the ministry's fear upon the entirety of the school - rule after rule applied until the concept of 'fun' was a memory gone lost all together. On an ordinary Tuesday, Theodore had walked the halls when suddenly his tie thrown messily over his shoulders had been done up, tightened and corrected by magic: Umbridge stood lurking in a corner, overlooking her by-passers to forcefully ensure they all maintained proper dress. The next Tuesday, Valerie and Kieran were midst an outburst of hysterical laughter when the pink-clad woman appeared behind them, clearing her throat before telling them to be silent. Then she prohibited music during study hours. Then she interrogated teachers during lessons. And then professor Trelawney stood midst the courtyard, bags in hand, about to be banished from school grounds.

For once, it appeared all houses had unified in common hatred for the new High inquisitor — well, all apart from Draco, whom said woman had taken particular liking to due to his father at the ministry. Valerie wished she had the energy to care, however her mind was elsewhere: head up in rainy thunderclouds for majority of her time. Had she not been suffocating underneath the urging task given out by Voldemort to somehow probe into Dumbledore's mind and extract information, she certainly would have been furious.

Snow had began to settle on the ground, and christmas break was only coming closer. The Dark lord had demanded information by the time she returned to her mother's house for the holidays, and quickly frankly, Valerie was running out of time. Dumbledore spent most of his days locked up in his office — his mind hence unaccessible for reach.

"Valerie."

"Hm?" lost in thought, she blinked - confused by her surroundings when resurfacing only to realize she was sat at the Slytherin table with a plate of breakfast before her eyes. Had she really walked all the way down to the Great Hall without realizing?

Theodore held back a sigh, staring at her with his eyes blank. "You need to eat."

He was right, her plate so far left untouched whereas her friends, she realized after a quick look around, friends were close to finished. "Right," she replied, however hesitated to initiate the meal. She didn't even remember serving herself.

However, seeing Theodore glance worriedly at Kieran seated across the table, she put aside the mild concern for her own sanity gathering in the center of her chest: forcing herself to reach for her cutlery. Her bacon and eggs tasted bland for some odd reason, but building her facades high she concealed her disgust. Still, she felt as though she was truly going insane.

As a perfect distraction from her odd state, the screeching of owls filled the hall only seconds thereafter: everyone (including herself) turning to look up toward the ceiling. Not long after, a letter dropped in front of Theodore. Then one before Draco. Then Blaise, and so it continued. It came to no surprise when an envelope decorated with James Potter's handwriting landed right before Valerie's plate — she only pretended to sigh when picking it up, although it was a great relief that her father remained willing to write her: she could only assume the mark carved into her left arm was known information amongst the order by now, curtesy to Dumbledore.

Her relief did, however, quickly turn sour after scanning the first few sentences of the letter. No.

Fear must have traveled across her features, for suddenly Theodore's hand was delicately squeezing hers: his dark eyes examining the left side of her face for any further reactions from her. "What—"