The Vanishing Cabinet...Black

twelve. broom closet

tw: abuse, ptsd

REG HAD STOPPED WRITING TO HER. 

Malka thought it odd at first, and as time went on and her letters remained unanswered, she felt quite hurt by it; she thought they had a connection. So it was quite a shock when she saw him on the platform ready to go back to the castle, looking like he'd just come back from a battle in hell.

That was all she could think about through Cass's incessant chatter on the train ride, and she kept her eyes on him the entire evening, watching him push peas around his plate. He looked quite sad.

"Erm- Cass?" Malka said, tapping her fellow Ravenclaw's shoulder. 

"Yes?"

"Remember back in Como when I told you about Mister Black and I's correspondence?" Malka asked.

"Ooh, of course I remember," Cass said, eyes glittering with excitement.

"Well- and it's not good news," Malka said warningly. "He...stopped writing back to me. I dunno why,"

"...Oh," Cass leaned back. "Hmm, did his letters have any hints as to why? He does seem a little dejected tonight,"

"True. He mentioned fights within his family, but he also said that there are always fights in his family. He's used to it," Malka said, rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip in thought.

"You should find him after. But if he doesn't give a good enough reason, dump his arse. He was never good enough for you anyway, love," Cass said firmly.

"Thanks, Cass," Malka smiled a little. 

Cassana gave really good advice sometimes. It was a shame she never listened to herself.

Dinner ended swiftly with a short few announcements relevant to the upper year students. Fifth-year career meetings would be within the next twelve days, any amends to Quidditch teams must be completed within two weeks, and that there was a new scoring guide on the Charms essays in the O.W.L and N.E.W.T exams. The Ravenclaws filed out, a mass of black and blue and bronze, as Malka slipped out unnoticed. She looked around and watched behind a suit of shuffling armor as the Slytherins headed the opposite direction to the stairs that led to the dungeon, before she saw him.

Reg looked shorter than he did before the holidays, but that was because of how much of a slouch he had. His hair was significantly longer than before, now growing past his shoulders in stringy waves that Malka knew how to make into curls with hair potion. His cheeks were slightly paler and more sallow than before, and Malka felt a bit worried that he hadn't been eating as much. No matter, as she reached into his mind.

His mental shields seemed quite strong; he'd practiced Occlumency over Yule, and he'd had a good teacher. Yet no one at Hogwarts besides Dumbledore had strong enough shields she couldn't penetrate, so Malka leaned into his mind, and recalled a childhood memory.

And when you want to send a message to someone, you move into their cerebellum. Imagine sliding under a rug, that's what the movement is like. And then, you speak your message, and like a slithering snake, you retreat back out. This isn't the most difficult part of Legilimency; projecting images are. But it's quite useful, bebé. And the best Legilimens can do it from hundreds of miles away.

Remembering the words of her mother, Malka reached into Regulus Black's mind, and whispered 'turn around'. Reg jolted like someone had shot him with an electric shock, and frantically whipped around like a puppet. Malka felt a pang of guilt as she realized he had been exposed to messages through Legilimency before, and it had not been used in an ethical way on him.