The Sun and Her Moon- Remus Lupin

Letters and Lies

The days were flying past Aveline so quickly she barely had time to catch her breathe. The Professors had started rapidly firing the seventh year with overwhelming conversations about their upcoming graduation. It seemed the only talk nowadays within the seventh year population was of academy acceptance letters and job applications.

"It came this morning," flaunted a girl in Aveline's herbology class, as a bunch of people were crowded aroud her desk .

She recieved a letter from St Mungo's accepting her for a healing intership starting that summer. Aveline too, had applied for the same internship and so far she had not heard a peep nor recieved a letter. She tried to bite back the jealously in the back of her mind as she watched the girl pass around the letter to read and bitterly looked back to her notebook pretending to be interested in the different types of mandrake leaves.

"Say Aveline," Dorcas began, turning to the blonde girl. "Didn't you apply for the same intership? Did you get a letter?"

Dorcas did not mean any harm— she was merely the type of girl who couldn't tell a grizzly bear from a puppy even if it was roaring in her face. So even when Aveline gritted a no under her teeth Dorcas was about as oblivious to the girls anger as deep sea creatures were to the sky.

"What was that— "

"No," she snapped, then upon seeing the taken aback look on Dorcas's face she sighed, repeating herself in a much more gentle tone, "No. I haven't gotten a letter."

Aveline did not consider herself particularly boastful or proud, but upon submitting her application this past fall she was sure she was top choice for the position.

Who else had letters of reference from Alastor Moody AND Albus Dumbledore?

She was certain the snarky bitch who was currently letting her letter circulate the classroom for the third time this class did not.

"Don't be down," Dorcas whispered kindly, leaning in and following Aveline'e eye to where they rested on the girl. "I'm sure you'll letter will come soon."

Once again the girl meant her words in good nature, but all Aveline could do was respond with a tight lip smile and fight the back the urge to walk over and shred the letter into a million pieces.

Maybe she was more like her father then she thought.

Certainly she deserved it she kept telling herself. She got the best grades, had the best references, she was a prefect— she had done everything right in the metaphorical how-to-get-a- career -after -graduation book.

The bell came and went, so did lunch and her afternoon classes in a haze that was much ignored by Aveline as her mind controlled these thoughts.

The entire day every time she spotted an owl fly by her hopes slighly peaked— her eyes widening praying for it to come to her and deliver her an envelope with her future written inside.

It never did come .

Though as Aveline was moping through the halls after dinner, what did come was a little first year with a timid grin and fumbling fingers.

"Mrs Rosier, a letter from Proffesor Dumbledore," the girl said, holding out a piece of parchment paper for her to grab.

She eyed it cautiously, almost as if the she was eyeing something far more dangerous — like a bottle laced with poison. Ever so slowly, like a timid creature about to approach a trap, she reached out and took the letter from the girl. 

"Thank you," she told the girl, but truthfully she didn't feel very thankful.

One thing the girl had learnt over the past year, is Albus Dumbledore wanting talk to you always meant something was happening. What that something could be, was anything from your family dying to accusing you of dark magic.