An Unwelcome Letter Solo Finished

May 2, 2020

Dealla had been here for a while now. It was probably nearing curfew, but she barely wasted a thought to it, barely even noticed the passing of time. There had been a few students in and out of the Owlery in the time she had been here, but she hadn't paid them any attention, either.

There were more pressing things on her mind.

Her day had been amazingly normal, for the most part. It was a Saturday, so she had slept in, had gone for breakfast late. She had done some homework, and spent the rest of the time exploring, or with friends. There had been lunch and dinner, barely notable in her memory, and at some point, she had gone back up to the Ravenclaw Common Room, to spend the evening there.

But then, the letter.

It had been one of her peers who had let the owl in which had knocked on the window with its beak, and taken the letter, Dealla would have never noticed it. It was uncommon for owls to deliver post at any other time than breakfast, and she hadn't been expecting a letter - and even if she had, she certainly wouldn't have been expecting this letter.

Dealla looked down at the sheet of parchment in front of her, laid out on the windowsill in the Owlery. There were crossed out words all over it, some places were torn where she had pressed her quill into the page with too much force, ink stains everywhere. A few words were slightly smudged, as if they had had an encounter with droplets of water, although they were long since dry now.
It looked a lot like Dealla felt.

How dare you

Never write to me again

Why would you send

Why now?

How do you even know my name? Did dad

Don't call me that

I hate you

Is it true that dad

You're lying

I hate you

There were the rustles of feathers in the background, owls waking up and spreading their wings, some leaving for the night, maybe to hunt. Otherwise, it was quiet. Curfew really must be close.

Dealla tried to swallow around the lump in her throat as she pulled another sheet of parchment from her pocket, where she had put it only a minute prior. It was already worn around the edges, creases deep and starting to tear from how often she had unfolded and folded it. It was slightly crumpled, too - she had squashed it into a tiny ball of paper in her hand, before she had regretted the action and smoothed it out again. Still, you could see that it was heavy, expensive, of high quality. It had come in an envelope of the same paper, with a noble looking sigil sealing it shut. She'd torn that one off the envelope and thrown it off the Owlery tower over an hour ago.
She had contemplated tearing up the letter too, but something, some tiny doubt inside of her, had kept her from doing so.

Now, Dealla unfolded the letter, to read it for the hundredth time.

Our dearest Dealla,

we are very sorry that this letter is so late. We only now heard that you were at Hogwarts, or we would have written to you sooner, now that your parents cannot keep you from receiving our messages.
We hope you are well. We heard that you have been sorted into Ravenclaw, a fine and worthy House, although we are sure you would have made an outstanding Slytherin as well. We are also pleased that, despite his other misled decisions, your father decided to name you Dealla. It is an honorable name and you should be proud of it.

We do not know what lies your parents have told you about us, but please believe us when we say that it was not our choice to not be part of your life. Your parents have been keeping you from us, and even moved to the other side of the country to make sure you would not know us, and it breaks our heart.
We have been waiting impatiently for you to come to Hogwarts so we would have a chance of knowing you.

We know this must be hard for you to hear, and come very unexpectedly, but we would really love to meet you this summer. You can spend a week at our manor if you want to. We are sure your parents would not deny you this wish.

In hope to meet you soon,

Your grandparents
Rosalie and Hayden Creek

Reading the words, penned in an elegant cursive, again, brought another wave of rage rolling over Dealla. Other misled decisions? What, was that code for falling in love with her mother - for having her? For the first time, Dealla was glad she hadn't ended up in Slytherin.

Her building, consuming anger finally got her to do what she had been hesitating about: She tore the letter apart. First into two pieces, then four, then eight, and in the end, she had her hands full of tiny shreds of parchment - and regretted it immediately.
What if there was some truth to the letter? What if her parents had been keeping things from her? Lying to her?
She didn't want to believe it. No, she refused to believe it. But still...

Biting her lip, Dealla placed the shreds carefully on her unfinished letter, and drew her wand.
"Reparo," she whispered, carefully drawing the spiral and then touching the tip of her wand to the pieces. She watched the words knitting themselves back together, until the letter was perfectly restored, the sentences on the page seeming to glare up at her.
She ignored them, raising her eyes to the horizon instead. The sun had set a while ago, she didn't exactly know when. She didn't care to know, either.

Suddenly, the impulse struck her to just burn the letter. She could pretend she had never received it - no one would know. It was much better, much more final than just ripping it to pieces. But it would also mean irrevocably destroying the only piece of her grandparents Dealla had ever seen.
So, instead, she folded it up, put it back into her pocket. She would hide it, she reasoned. Never look at it again. Her parents would never need to know about it, either. She could just forget this has happened.
Resolutely, Dealla turned around, and headed back to the Common Room.

Her crossed out replies stayed there, forgotten.