Charlotte Winfield - Third Year - Slytherin

𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 Charlotte 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 Winfield 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓼 part-veela

𝓪𝓰𝓮 14 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻 Third 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 Slytherin

cw

CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW 𝔻earest Confidant ... 𝕀 was never very good at speaking. This was the fault of my father. I was never good at kindness, either, though that could more be attributed to my mother. I was born when it was cold, the peak of fall right before it shifted to winter. Mother says I was loud, though Anadil was much louder. That made sense to me. 𝕀've grown up in the same house all my life, a giant mansion in Cambridge that belonged to my father's father, and his father, and his father, and so on and so forth. I never knew what to do with all that space, even when it was filled to the brim with my other siblings. Five others, now counting the baby. Though only four of them are really a part of this family. cw 𝕋hings changed quite quick for me. I don't believe there was ever a time when it didn't feel like every day was a speck of sand in the world's smallest hour glass. One day, I was hiding in the library as my mother and sister had a screaming match, and the next day, Anadil was gone. My mother didn't take this very well. She banned all that was the eldest Winfield, including pictures, clothes, and valuables Anadil hadn't swiped away before she left. 𝕄y mother tried to make me feel angry, and perhaps I should have been. But she had been kicked out of our house for the same things I kept secret. A love of muggle art. In all honesty, I'm worse than her. I don't just love their art. I love everything about them. I love their words, their history, their cautionary tales and funny ways of simplifying the extraordinary. They don't need wands to be magical. They just need words. 𝕆f course, my mother can never know. It just means that I have to be discreet. Once upon a time, I could tell my sister all my thoughts. Read her my favorite passages from my favorite books, tell her grand stories of the Romans and the Greeks and the Natives. But now she is gone. I feel as though I've retreated into my mind, become a shell of a human. All my thoughts are held so tightly to me that I fear even thinking them in private will spill them all over. If my mother found out, she'd cap it early. Burn all the books and lock the doors tight until I no longer had the capacity to yearn for that knowledge. And then I would have absolutely nothing left. Not my sister, not my books, not my mind. cw 𝕀 can't say my parents are all bad. They've certainly made my transition from homeschooling to Hogwarts a load easier. They raised me on magic, teaching me the fundamentals at a young age so that I would be set up for success upon entering the wizarding school. Really, they made me who I am. I can't truly hate them. Honestly, can anyone hate their mother and father? cw ℕonetheless, I was infinitely relieved when I finally got my letter. I knew I would, but it had really been a waiting game since Anadil left. My mother had become irritable, and my father even more closed-off, which I hadn't thought possible. Mother fussed over Eugene. She fussed over everything. Her hair, her parties, Louis, me, my little siblings. I knew that, actually, she was fussing over Anadil, but she wouldn't speak her name, so I didn't. 𝕀 miss them. Really, I do. It's strange, because I was so angry, and all of a sudden that anger has turned into guilt, and all I want to do is run into my mother's arms and apologize for everything. I guess maybe I just want everything back to how it was. Back when Anadil was a girl with a bright future, and Louis was a quidditch star, and mother would brush my hair, and Francis could hardly walk, and Ethel could hardly speak, and Eugene didn't exist yet. And everything was normal. At least, normal enough. ... 𝕐ours Truly

cw