"You are an Alinac....that means you have power, ambition and the capacity to change the world. But a name is only a name, Leila, unless you make it something."
Two young rivals are headed into a war they know will change them forever. The question...
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Remus felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't uttered a word in nearly a hour, as he sat on the sofa in the common room staring into the fire. He watched as the flames danced, scraping against the bricks threatening to encase them. The blend of orange and red melted as his eyes lost focus.
"Remus..." James started, coming to sit beside his friend. "We need to do something about this."
That was the part that Remus couldn't wrap his head around. How? How did she know? He ignored the soft comforting comments from his friends and focused on the fire. The fire was natural. It was science. It had a beginning and and end, a source and a fuel. He could conceptualise that. Not this.
"There has to be a reason why she hasn't said anything." Peter supplied. "Why dont we ask her?"
"And give her the chance to kill us for taking her diary?" Sirius snapped back, before taking a steadying breath. "Sorry mate...I just don't see how we can get out of this."
The room went silent again. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the back corner the only sound. Each click ricochetting against the walls. Remus closed his eyes, and gathered his thoughts. Sirius came and sat on his opposite side, his scent gently brushing over Remus' nose.
"I'll talk to her." He said. James rested his hand on the shoulder of his best friend. The boy who had been troubled with too much at far too young of an age. He understood why Remus needed answers, but this wasn't just anyone they were talking about. This was Leila Alinac, as close to death incarnate as Hogwarts could get...
"We'll do it together, okay?" He whispered, as Remus turned to look at him. James grabbed a spare sheet of parchment from the table infront of them and began writing.
---
The letter arrived in the early hours of the next morning. Leila was sat staring at her breakfast as her friends chatted around her. She could think of eating. She couldn't think of anything else. Her fingers fought against the tremble as she tried to raise the spoon of porridge to her lips. She savoured the scalding burn as it went down her throat. The bags under her eyes looked withered and bruised as she stayed up all night, haunting the halls of Hogwarts like the spirit of a lost wizard.
There was no ignoring the repercussions this had. Without the safety blanket of her diary, she was vulnerable. Her flaws, her short-comings, her insecurities on display for everyone to see. Paranoia was like a blot in her vision. She always knew that the diary was never certain, after all she couldn't stop everyone from trying to stab her in the back. But it was a remedy, a calming potion. Without it, she felt manic.
As the owls spread their wings and soared through the hall, she watched with an unnatural hunger as a letter fell to her spot; landing on the table in front of her. She tore into the envelope with an animalistic fury. Gripping the letter so hard it crackled at the edges as she read:
