A.N: Hey guys :) Things will start to clear up soon! It's confusing now but that's only because as readers, we're following Valeria's stream of consciousness. It'll start to make a lot more sense in the next couple of chapters. We'll see Valeria piecing everything together a lot more quickly.
Dear Diary,
Hogwarts isn't the same. Not when I'm thinking about Mother all the time. Rod and I aren't speaking either. I mean sure just before we got off the Hogwarts Express, he reminded me that I can't tell anyone about what we heard that day hiding away in the secret passage (after having ignored me for the remainder of the holidays!) and since then he has been moody and distant at school too. I suppose it's because Father punished him extremely harshly when he had learned that Rod and I had not in fact actually gone to Aunt Cissy's. Regardless, I don't understand how that's my fault anyway.
After Rod had finally woken up in what I can assume was an extremely uncomfortable and ILL-TIMED nap (honestly what was he thinking?), we thought it would be wiser to use the fire place in the blue room just in case Dotty was waiting for us in front of the usual one everyone uses in the front hall. But in the end if did not matter which floo Rod and I attempted to use. Dotty had apparently gone straight to Father after she eventually stopped shouting for us, and Father had temporarily blocked all fireplaces. Rod and I had been holding hands tightly -mainly because he could see that I was so afraid- and we spun around once, twice, a third time in that sooty hearth before we fell out in a tumbling heap and were left facing the blue room once more. It took Father less than ten seconds to find us after that. I was told to go to my room and Rod was forced to clean the snake garden. He still sports the purpling tell-tale bruise of a venomous bite that Father would not heal until Rod was screaming he was sorry in the most inhumane cry I had ever heard. It echoed in the hallowed halls of our manor and I remember wondering briefly where Mother was. Could she not hear Rod? Did she even care right now? Eventually Grandfather Perseus strolled in confidently in to the portrait hanging above my bed, even though he's not supposed to do that. Father has warned him time and again that he will remove his portrait otherwise. Grandfather Perseus told me that Mother was sleeping in her chambers and that Father had slipped her a dreamless potion putting her to bed. She was okay. That was the main thing, even if Rod clearly wasn't. I stayed in my room, too scared to help Rod knowing it would just make his punishment worse and nervously awaited my turn.
Father came to me the next morning and pulled me on to his knee. I had been too anxious to sleep, afraid that finding me asleep would anger him even more. The fear of waiting had been a punishment itself. But perched on Father's lap, I suddenly felt overwhelmingly ashamed at what Rod and I had done. Father stayed silent waiting for me to speak. I tried to clear my throat, say something, anything at all but in the end I settled for crying. The first thing Father said in that gruff, throaty voice of his was that Rod was okay. I hid my face into father's neck hoping that what I had coming would not be as cruel as what Rod had to endure. He let me cry into his neck until I found myself falling asleep only to be shaken awake.
"Your mother… your mother's illness is not something for you to meddle in. It's a case that the Dark Lord himself is deeply invested with. Do you understand what that means?"
I nodded my head and tried to curl in on myself whilst desperately wishing that Rod and I had simply just done as we were told. Eventually, I found my voice. I could not help it. I had to ask Father why Mother had called him such awful names. Who exactly she was screaming for. Father refused to answer.
"You'd do well to forget everything you heard Valeria."
After that, Father simply slipped me off his knee until I stumbled and straightened into standing in front of him. No trips to Hogsmeade. That's my punishment. Dotty repeatedly reminded me that I was too spoilt when she packed my luggage for Hogwarts. She had wanted me to suffer the same fate as Rod.
In other news, Father wrote me two nights ago. He has spoken to Headmistress Thorpe and requested that Rod and I be allowed to come home for the weekend. Mother is in a happy mood and she misses us. Thorpe will permit it of course. She's too frightened of Father to say anything else. After I received my letter, I ran out of the common room in search for Rod. It was a perfect excuse for us to start speaking again. I made my way through the relatively empty halls knowing for sure that Rod would be in the library as he always is. It is his sixth year and if Rod is not top of his year then he gets angry with himself. I found him sitting right at the back, the betraying signs of the raven black hair that we share tied back with a black ribbon - he still won't cut it short and lately I've not been trying to convince him otherwise. Once Rod saw me however, he sighed and started packing up his books. It stung. It still stings. I tried to whisper, asking if he received a letter but he simply just walked away saying he had homework to do. He is so infuriating! After Rod left, I sat in his vacated seat and wondered just how long Rod intended to punish me for what had been his grand idea. Except something caught my eye. It was a torn bit of parchment with a list of book titles. I could recognise the calligraphic slant of Rod's writing. Looking closely, I saw that they all had one thing in common. They were all books on memory. One title in particular had been underlined three times read, Breaking through Memory Spells and its consequences by Verity Lourde.
Verity Lourde.
As in the same Verity Lourde who has visited the Manor on many occasions as Father's guest. I've always hated her. She always wears dress robes two sizes too small and a bright red lipstick that expertly coats the curves of her falsely enlarged lips. Her hands are quick to touch Father's arm with every little thing that he says and her laugh so loud it makes me want to dig my fork into her forehead. Mother is always ill at these occasions, asleep in her chambers or else I'm sure she would not be happy either with how comfortable the twit is with Father.
Mother is always ill… when Verity Lourde comes to the man-
Fuck.
Valeria
-X-
