Entering my third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I heard the worst news on the first day of the new term. Sirius Black, a murderer who had escaped from Azkaban Prison, was apparently after me. Worse, he was the one who had killed my parents.
During nights when I couldn't sleep from fear, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher appeared. His name was Remus Lupin. An older man in worn-out robes with a tired face. But his classes were more interesting than any I'd ever t
Forbidden Love - False Letters — The Night of Rock Bottom, Thoughts of Death
October at Hogwarts had already dipped one foot into winter.
The Great Hall was freezing in the morning, the cold seeping from the stone walls crawling even under her robes. The sky reflected on the ceiling was a low-hanging gray, threatening rain at any moment.
Fianna MacGregor sat at the end of the Gryffindor long table, scooping warm oatmeal with her spoon. The seats around her were empty, as always, as if people were avoiding her. No one tried to sit beside her. Over the past few weeks, it had become a completely ordinary sight.
(A woman with werewolf blood)
(An impure female student who seduces Professor Lupin)
The two rumors Seraphina Malfoy had spread raced through the school in an instant, and now they were inseparable from Fianna's name. Walk down the corridor and she heard mocking laughter; return to the dormitory and her classmates averted their eyes. Faces that had exchanged greetings with her yesterday now pretended not to know her today.
(Even so, I)
Fianna pressed her lips together and brought the oatmeal to her mouth. It tasted like nothing.
That was when it happened.
Near the entrance of the Great Hall, in front of the notice board, there was a stir—a ripple in the air.
"Hey, look at this."
"What the hell is this... Did MacGregor write it?"
"It's addressed to Professor Lupin. Seriously?"
Fianna's hand stopped.
She set down her spoon. The sound of her chair scraping back echoed unnaturally loud.
Pushing through the crowd, she walked to the notice board. The students noticed her and quickly parted to make way. In every gaze there was curiosity, contempt, and a thin smile.
A single piece of parchment was pinned to the board.
Familiar handwriting.
(...This is)
Her heart clenched as if it had been crushed in a fist.
'To Professor Lupin. I want to search for a way to cure your werewolf curse together. I want to know everything about you. Fianna MacGregor.'
The content, the shape of the letters—all of it was hers.
But she had no memory of writing it.
"... No. I didn't write this letter."
Her voice trembled. Her Scottish accent bled through strongly with fear.
"Oh yeah? Then who wrote it? This is your handwriting, isn't it?"
"Cure the werewolf curse? Is Professor Lupin a werewolf? Or do you just think he is?"
"Seduce a professor and then call him a werewolf—how shameless can you get?"
The murmuring spread.
"Cure the werewolf curse?"
"Professor Lupin?"
"MacGregor seduced a professor?"
"Disgusting."
"Pathetic."
Voices poured down from every direction.
Fianna tore the letter from the board and crushed it in her hand. The texture of the parchment bit into her palm, unnervingly vivid.
"This isn't something I wrote. Someone copied my handwriting."
She looked around. Was there no one who would believe her?
But all that came back was mocking laughter.
"It's your writing. Who's going to believe you?"
"A orphan like you reaching for a professor—you don't know your place."
"That birthmark of yours makes the monster blood stir, doesn't it?"
Fianna bit her lip. She tasted iron.
(It's not true)
(It's not true, but)
(No one will believe me)
She clutched the crushed letter to her chest and left the Great Hall, as if trying to shake off the laughter chasing her from behind.
She couldn't focus on a single thing in morning classes.
In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall was lecturing about something. The diagrams on the blackboard, the professor's voice—all of it was distant.
(Who wrote that letter)
(The handwriting was perfect)
(Someone who can imitate my writing that well)
The answer came immediately.
Seraphina Malfoy.
That woman was capable of it. No—there was no one else.
Fianna stole a glance at Seraphina sitting on the opposite side of the classroom. Her silvery platinum-blonde hair was perfectly groomed as always, and her ice-like blue-gray eyes gazed coolly forward. An elegant profile.
(You did it, didn't you)
Perhaps sensing the gaze, Seraphina slowly turned around.
Their eyes met.
Seraphina twisted her lips, just slightly.
She smiled.
A poisonous smile visible only to Fianna.
(I knew it)
(It was you)
Fianna clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her palms. The pain barely kept her anger in check.
Lunch break.
Fianna was summoned to the staff room.
"Sit down."
Professor McGonagall's voice was colder than usual.
Fianna lowered herself into the hard chair in the staff room. No one else was in the room. The midday light streaming through the window reflected off Professor McGonagall's silver-rimmed spectacles, making her expression unreadable.
Professor McGonagall placed a piece of parchment on the desk.
The letter Fianna had torn from the board that morning. The marks of being crushed were clearly visible.
"This was posted in three locations within the school this morning. The Great Hall notice board, the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, and in front of the Slytherin common room."
Fianna felt her throat tighten.
(Three places)
"This handwriting matches yours."
"It's not mine. I didn't write it. Someone imitated my handwriting."
Professor McGonagall's eyebrow twitched.
"Who, and for what purpose?"
"... Seraphina Malfoy. She did it to frame me."
Silence.
Professor McGonagall stared at Fianna for a while.
"Miss Malfoy can perfectly replicate your handwriting?"
"... She can. If it's her."
"Evidence?"
Fianna was at a loss for words.
Evidence—she had none.
"I am aware of your situation."
Professor McGonagall's voice dropped a notch.
"Over the past few weeks, disturbing rumors about you have been circulating throughout the school. Rumors that you carry werewolf blood. Voices questioning an inappropriate relationship with Professor Lupin. And now, this letter."
She tapped the letter on the desk with her fingertip.
"This constitutes inappropriate contact with a teacher. It could also be taken as defamation of a professor through false claims. If this letter truly is not yours, I want you to explain why it matches your handwriting perfectly."
"... I can't explain. But I didn't write it. Please believe me."
Tears welled up.
(Don't cry)
(If I cry here, I'll be suspected even more)
But they wouldn't stop.
Professor McGonagall let out a deep sigh.
"MacGregor. If you continue to pile lies upon lies, I will have no choice but to consider further disciplinary action."
"They're not lies."
"Then I will ask you one more thing."
Professor McGonagall's eyes fixed on Fianna's left shoulder.
"Students are spreading disturbing rumors about the birthmark on your left collarbone. That it is proof of a werewolf curse. Is it true? Answer honestly."
Fianna's entire body froze.
(The meaning of the birthmark)
(Even I don't know)
A birthmark she'd had since she was three years old. The sisters at the orphanage had said it was "congenital." But no one had ever told her what it meant.
"... I don't know. Even I don't know."
After a long silence, Professor McGonagall said quietly.
"You may go."
Fianna stood up.
Her legs were shaking.
"MacGregor."
A voice called from behind her.
"I was proud of you as a Gryffindor student. ... I still want to believe that."
She couldn't turn around.
Fianna opened the staff room door and fled into the corridor.
After school.
Fianna walked the castle corridors without knowing where her feet were taking her.
(Even Professor McGonagall suspects me)
(She was trying to believe me, and yet)
(Even that, now)
Cold wind blew in through the corridor windows. The October sky was darker than it had been in the morning. Rain had begun to fall, drop by drop.
"Hey, look. It's the rumored wolf girl."
Voices.
Fianna looked up and saw five Slytherin upperclassmen walking toward her from the far end of the corridor.
(Bad)
She quickened her pace. But they were faster.
The five of them surrounded her—front, back, left, and right.
"Where do you think you're going, MacGregor?"
"An orphan with no parents, seducing a professor—know your place."
"Is the monster blood stirring? There's still time before the full moon."
"That birthmark is proof of a curse, right? Show us."
Fianna reached for her wand.
But she was outnumbered. And if she used magic here, her position would only worsen.
"... Move. Let me through."
Her voice managed to stay calm. But her heart was pounding.
"Huh? What's with that look?"
One of the upperclassmen poked her in the chest.
She lost her balance and slammed her back against the wall.
"You've got textbooks, right? Hand them over."
"... Why?"
"Just hand them over."
Her textbooks were snatched from her arms.
"Don't need these. A wolf girl doesn't need to study."
The upperclassman slammed the textbooks onto the floor.
With a thud, pages scattered.
Another upperclassman stomped on them.
"Whoops, they got dirty."
"Poor Gryffindor, picking up trash like this. Letting an orphan with cursed blood into the house—how far the spirit of courage and chivalry has fallen."
Laughter.
Fianna, her back still against the wall, stared at her textbooks being trampled.
(I want to fight back)
(But I can't)
(If I use magic, it'll be "the werewolf blood went berserk")
(I'll be cornered even more)
The hand gripping her wand was trembling.
That was when it happened.
Footsteps sounded from the opposite end of the corridor.
Fianna reflexively looked that way.
It was Professor Remus Lupin.
Clad in old robes, with a tired face—the owner of those warm amber eyes.
(Professor)
Help me.
She wanted to scream it.
But no voice came out.
Professor Lupin stopped for a moment between Fianna and the Slytherin students.
His face twisted in pain.
(Professor, please)
(Don't look at me)
(But please, help me)
Contradictory feelings tangled messily in her chest.
Professor Lupin tried to say something.
His mouth opened slightly.
But no words came.
He looked away from Fianna.
And without saying anything, he left.
His footsteps receded.
The light faded from Fianna's eyes.
(Even the professor)
(Abandoned me)
The Slytherins' mocking laughter echoed in the distance.
"Aw, even the professor ignored you."
"Of course. Someone like you getting close just bothers him."
"Serves you right."
Fianna, still leaning against the wall, slid down to the floor.
Her textbooks were covered in muddy shoe prints, crumpled beyond recognition.
Night.
The rain had turned into a downpour.
Fianna slipped out of the castle so no one would find her and headed for the base of the Whomping Willow.
(No one will come there)
(There, I can be alone)
The Whomping Willow was thrashing its branches madly in the rain. But Fianna knew. If she poked the knot at its base with her wand, the willow would stop moving.
(I found it before)
(The place I fled to that night)
She thrust her trembling wand forward and stilled the willow.
Then she slid into the hole at its base.
An underground tunnel.
Cold. Dark. The smell of damp earth.
Fianna put her hand against the wall and went deeper and deeper.
(No one is here)
(No one, here)
The end of the tunnel.
She leaned against the wall and slid down.
She hugged her knees.
The cold stone wall sapped her body heat.
"... I won't trust anyone anymore."
Her voice echoed in the darkness.
"I won't love anyone."
The tears wouldn't stop.
"I'll live alone."
(But the truth is)
(I don't want to be alone)
(I'm lonely)
(I want someone by my side)
(I want the professor by my side)
Fianna traced the birthmark on her left collarbone with her finger.
The shape of a crescent moon.
Cold.
(I want to die)
For the first time, she thought it.
From the bottom of her heart, truly.
(I want to disappear)
(So I won't be a burden to anyone)
(So I won't be in anyone's sight)
She cried until her tears ran dry.
She didn't know how much time had passed.
Outside, the rain seemed to still be falling.
(...But)
Fianna suddenly raised her head in the darkness.
(I can't die)
(Because there's still)
(
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.