❝Sometimes I feel my sanity slipping away from me. Then I wonder how strong of a hold I even had on it in the first place.❞
In which Viola Jugson attempts to hold her world together, but it insists on crumbling apart.
BOOK TWO!
started: 1st january...
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"IS DUMBLEDORE trying to make you buy him Acid Pops? Because I know you've got money, but he definitely has way more," said Viola.
In Harry's hands was a note from Dumbledore that had just been delivered by a younger — very nervous — student. It detailed his plans for a lesson with Harry on Saturday night, the postscript mentioning his love for Acid Pops.
"Well, if we're making requests," said Ron, "I've been running low on Chocolate Frogs."
"He's not asking me to buy him sweets," said Harry, folding the letter into his pocket for safekeeping. "It must be the new password for his office."
Viola frowned. "The most brilliant wizard in the world and that's his idea of a safe password? Maybe we should send him to St. Mungo's for a checkup."
"I suppose that makes it less predictable for someone to guess," said Hermione. "You know, Viola, I'm still quite surprised that he hasn't invited you to take part in these lessons, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you and Harry are both being targeted. And you have been through everything together since the Triwizard Tournament. I would have thought it would make sense to give you both lessons."
Over the past few weeks, Viola had wondered the same thing a handful of times. They all knew by now that Voldemort had a personal vendetta against her. They knew her father was back with the Death Eaters. They knew she had an uncle who wouldn't mind casting a Killing Curse in her direction. And yet Dumbledore didn't deem it worthwhile giving her the same lessons as Harry.
Did it bother her? Yes. It really did. It burrowed deep down into her chest and took ahold of her, that familiar feeling that she wasn't as important as those around her. It had been a while since that particular belief had bothered her — it was hard to feel irrelevant with a target on her back. Yet, even through all of the fear and the danger, a part of her was grateful for it. She didn't enjoy peeling back the layers of her thoughts, but she sometimes indulged it. It usually led to the question of whether anyone would still care about her if she was nothing more than a regular person. If anyone would worry over her if there was no worry she might be killed. But that felt too childish to admit aloud, too honest. Not to mention too dark. She didn't want them to feel bad for her — pity her.
Besides, even with her own decreasing opinion of Dumbledore festering inside of her, the others didn't think the same. They trusted him. Viola wasn't sure exactly where to pinpoint her own feelings — she would always harbour some level of respect towards him — but trust wasn't a word she could fully indulge in anymore.
So she plastered on an unbothered smile and shrugged, refusing to let them see into the chaos of her mind. "I'm not the Chosen One."
They spent the rest of the break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. Viola didn't know what to think, other than the fact that she might not be the fated saviour of the wizarding world, but she still had a legion of enemies. And Dumbledore was leaving her to fend for herself.
