Disclaimer: We don't own it. JKR does along with a bunch of other folks who have paid good money for the rights to it. We just write this for my own twisted enjoyment.

Letter To No One

By Rowanrhys and Dancingkatz

August 1996

Mother sent a note up saying that she wants me to accompany her to the Charitable Witches' Institute's Musicale & Gala next week. I wonder what charity they are fundraising for now.

Not that I really care. I've got too many other things on my mind at the moment and none of them are conducive to peace or sustained concentration.

I'm still trying to decide if I behaved as father wanted at that unexpected formal dinner the other week. When I went downstairs, it was a repeat of the formal dinner back in March. The same "associates" were present with the addition of a few other guests, at least three of whom were unwelcome; namely Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle.

Just before the bell rang for the meal, Professor Snape appeared, looking the practically the same as usual. His formal robes aren't all that different from the ones he wears every day at Hogwarts. The familiarity of his appearance, including the misogynistic scowl, was strangely comforting as I tried to make small talk with my father's compatriots without sounding callow, trite, boring, or even worse, stupid.

After the house elves took the last of the platters and plates away, Father personally got a dust covered bottle from the side board and poured it into the waiting glasses which were all that remained on the magically stain free damask table cloth. Then I found out what that dinner back in March had been about.

It seems that Father's associates made a report to Lord Voldemort about my suitability for taking the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord was apparently pleased and has ordered that I present myself before him on the night of my 17th birthday.

I could see jealousy blaze in Zabini's eyes before he smothered it and offered me congratulations. Then I was surrounded by everyone else, all of them wishing me the same thing, but their expressions varied from askance to satisfaction and every emotion in between. When Professor Snape congratulated me he muttered something cryptic about responsibility and consequences.

Then Father handed me a glass of the brandy from that dusty bottle. I managed not to gag on the stuff, it had a peculiar bite that caught the throat and a sly, dusty after taste. Zabini didn't fare as well, he sputtered like a Third year who had sneaked his first taste of his grandfather's Old Ogden's Fire Whisky. I couldn't help but laugh, especially when Father did so along with half the company. I think that if his father hadn't been present offering a handkerchief and an anecdote about the first time he'd tasted 130-year old Efrit Brandy, Blaise would have pulled his wand and hexed us all.

I managed to make that glass last all evening until I could beg the pardon of the company and escape to my room. Blaise wasn't that smart. He proceeded, like his father, to get completely foxed. Before I left, I could tell that the company wasn't too impressed with him.

They're all coming back, this time with their wives and daughters, to a big dinner tomorrow for Lammastide. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow night; I'm likely to end up affianced to Pansy Parkinson by midnight or something equally dire.

The morning after the Lammas dinner, Aldona was perched on my pillow tugging at my hair with her beak. When I opened my eyes, she hooted softly and turned her head. I looked and saw a little scops owl sitting patiently on the windowsill. I almost fell out of bed in my haste to get the message the bird had tied to his leg.

The letter was from Cordelia. She had just returned to her home from a surprise trip to the Lake District with two of her aunts. She apologized just in case Aldona hadn't been able to find her.

"…right after my last letter, my two crazy Aunts Genevieve and Gilda came and swept me off to a tour of the Lake District. Half the time I didn't know where I was exactly so how could anyone expect an owl to find me?…"

I managed to stifle my laugh. There was no point in waking up Blaise, who had the room across the hall from mine. I was so relieved. She hadn't just sent my letter back unopened, poor Aldona just couldn't find her!

She was going to be leaving for her great-great-great-grandfather's 125th birthday party and family reunion at Fairing-under-Sezincote tomorrow and promised to be waiting at Fortescue's at 10:30 in the morning on the 10th.

I can't believe how happy (and relieved) I feel. Ever since Aldona came back that night, I've been trying to convince myself that I wasn't upset and depressed. Cordy's the only real friend I have. Everyone else that Potter and his little crowd think are my friends are just sycophants or gaolers. She's the first person I know who I can talk to about anything… literally anything… and really trust.

If I could be sure of finding a place where we wouldn't be observed or overheard and knew for sure that she'd speak to me afterwards, I tell her about that dinner last week and the plans for February. Not everyone in Slytherin are of my father's mind after all. No. It's safer not to. Besides, it would worry her to know about it. I don't think I could bear to be the one who takes that smile off her face.

Things are still quiet across the hall. I think I'll get my broom and a practice Snitch and enjoy the peace and quiet, and try to come up with a new strategy to surprise Cordelia with at our first Seeker practice in September.

It's only two days before I get on the train back to Hogwarts and I haven't been able to write much of anything since the morning after Lammas. I'll be surprised if I can read this the next time I look at the parchment since half the time it seems I'm still seeing double.

I went out to do some Seeker practice while everyone else was still asleep and just as I was about to grab the Snitch, two rocks came flying straight at me. I swerved but the Snitch took off and the damn rocks swung around and headed for me again.

I figured it was a joke, but when no one came out laughing at how stupid I looked trying to get away from them, I got worried. Nothing I did made a difference and there was no way I could let go of my broom long enough to pull out my wand to end the spell that was on them. Whoever did this was being malicious. I headed towards the house and saw Blaise on his broom, his wand in hand. He had such a malevolent look on his face I froze, sure he was going to cast one of the Unforgivables on me.

The two rocks came at me again and I woke up from my shock enough to dodge them. I should have known he wouldn't only hex two rocks, a third one bigger than my head ploughed right into my chest and I couldn't breathe. I remember feeling a sharp pain in my right side and then nothing until I woke up in a private room in St. Mungo's.

If this was what someone feels like after being hit with a Cruciatus, no wonder it's an Unforgivable Curse. They told me that I'd been unconscious for a week and I was lucky to have survived the fall from my broom. I didn't try to tell them what I thought had happened; I could tell my parents had already figured out a nice straightforward explanation that involved a failed flying spell on my broom, and the bad luck of having it happen over a particularly rocky part of the estate. All of that quite easily explained the cuts, bruises, broken bones, dislocated joints, punctured lung, various internal injuries and the skull fracture that the mediwizard seemed to relish listing for me like some demented maitre'd listing the vintage wines available with a high priced dinner.

I stayed there for over a fortnight even though the broken bones and bruises and so forth were easily healed with potions and spells. There's not much anyone can do, even at St. Mungo's, about head injuries and brain trauma. Father stopped in at least once a day for a few minutes on his way to meetings in the City until he was sure that I was going to survive.

Mother was another matter. She came every day for long and aggravating visits and she was there the moment visiting hours began. She'd turned inexplicably maternal and spent her visits alternately weeping or trying to "nurse" me. She was exhausting and I frankly preferred Father's neglect. Luckily, visiting hours were limited or I might have strangled her out of self defense. I found that by pretending to relapse and spending most of the visiting hours with my eyes closed and lying as still as possible, she quieted down. She didn't go away but at least she wasn't pawing at me and knocking the bed around as she straightened blankets and arranged pillows.

Once the mediwizards let me go home she went back to ignoring me. I couldn't use the floo network, I hadn't learned to apparate yet, flying was completely out of the question, and she refused to use Muggle transportion. And, of course, a son who lists to the side when he stands up isn't exactly what she wants to parade around her socialite friends.

I've been staying in my rooms sleeping more than usual, trying to figure out how to salvage my Herbology project, and finish up my other hols assignments. The mediwizards were right for once; head injuries take a long time to heal. I've spent more time than I want lying down with my eyes closed and the curtains drawn. The first day I was back from St. Mingo's, I insisted on going to the conservatory to see how the Bitterstars were doing and found that entire section of the conservatory a shambles. House elves were scurrying around with shovels and potting soil and wheelbarrows of dead and dying plants.

While I was in hospital that damned Whomping willow went berserk and smashed everything within 15 feet of itself, including my Herbology project. The Bitterstars are now miniscule fragments of leaves and stems and there is no time to start the project again.

I still have a good yard or so of essays to finish for Professors Snape and Vector but I seriously doubt that I'll get them done by the time the Express pulls into Hogsmeade the day after tomorrow.

The worst thing is that I still haven't heard from Cordelia. By the time I woke up in St. Mungo's I'd missed our meeting. I couldn't owl her because I couldn't write while Mother was there and by the time she left, I was so exhausted, I couldn't do anything but sleep. The first thing I did when I got home was scrawl a note and send Aldona off to her.

Aldona didn't come back until today and when she got here, she was furious and my note was still attached to her leg. I had one of the house elves bring her a good meal and she's sleeping in her cage now. The seal isn't even broken on my note.

I've been telling myself that her crazy aunts dragged her off again, maybe this time to Outer Mongolia or Timbuctoo but I don't really believe that. I let her down, and worse, she probably thinks that I stood her up on purpose.

All I need now is a summons from Father to meet him in his study for my annual reminder about what he expects…