❝The monsters were never
under my bed.
Because the monsters
were inside my head.
I fear no monsters,
for no monsters I see.
Because all this time
the monster has been me.❞
[MARAUDERS ERA]
[METANOIA SERIES B2]
[COVER: -VOIDLEGENDS]
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— chapter ten — A SMALL VICTORY
—
HER FACE HELD no expression, lips thin as she sat with a straight posture for Professor Slughorn to arrive. He was currently meeting with another student about their grades as she waited silently in his office. She was pretty sure that the student was Dorcas Meadowes, and she heard that her grades were declining after the death of her friend; Marlene McKinnon.
Longingly, her thoughts went to Sirius, betraying her conscious as she thought of him grieving. They were friends, you know. They were great friends – not as close as the boys – but close enough that he mentioned the girl to Remelda sometimes at night when she needed to calm down after the yelling of their parents. She was a muggleborn, Death Eaters killed her, Remelda was going to become one of them, and that was all.
Remelda blinked. No, she couldn't think of Marlene. Couldn't ask what she wanted to do with her life, couldn't ask if she ever thought about having children, and couldn't ask if she wanted to marry someone at all. She couldn't. Marlene was dead. So even if she wanted to be a Healer, or wanted children, or wanted to marry someone she loved, she couldn't. Because Marlene was dead and she was Sirius' friend and now he was grieving.
She couldn't comfort him, though, because she couldn't forgive him. Not yet. He had broken her in too many ways and she couldn't allow herself to let him in just yet.
But she didn't have to think of that anymore as the door opened and slammed again and the head of her house was smiling at her and going to sit behind his desk. "Hello, Miss Black, how may I help you this evening?"
"I wanted to talk about another student in Slytherin," she coolly said, "Regarding my attack from last week."
"Please, go on," Slughorn smiled, "I hope that you know you don't have to speak about this. If you want to move on, we don't have to talk about it. I won't pressure you."
"No, I need to talk about this," Remelda shook her head, "It was Alfred Wilkins."
"Your friend?"
"Ex-friend. I don't consider those who stab me in the back a friend anymore," her lips twitched to a frown, thinking of her (ex)brother for a second. No, don't. Don't think about that.
"Yes, yes, I understand," Professor Sughorn nodded, "But are you sure it was him? This is a serious offense, Miss Black, and we wouldn't want the wrong person to punished."
Of course she knew that. Of course she knew that, if she were to die, he could've been sent to Azkaban if caught. She knew that well, and she knew that he deserved to pay. The letters demanding an explanation from her parents or another lecture about not ratting out family friends be damned. Because she knew that. She knew that they would sent her letters, demand to know exactly what happened before sternly telling her that she couldn't do that.
