Remilda Jane Potter [1]

1.19 ϟ A Letter from Molly

[Authors Note] Have you ever fallen in love with a character so much you can't help but expand on their story? Well, Jacob Potter is getting his own spin-off story! It'll explain more of him, his family, his history, the Order's History, and you'll meet characters that don't come into play with Remilda for awhile! Keep an eye out for it!

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The next few days went by fairly quickly. In fact, since the D.A. started, Umbridge had less reasons to go after any of them. They all kept their heads down around her, just to make sure that Dumbledores Army wasn't revealed to anyone. Well, most people did that.

Remilda had made herself comfortable in the Great Hall. Her cloak taking up space on one side, and a pile of paper and notebooks on the other with their rightful textbooks. Then the Transfiguration homework and textbook she was using for her assignment was in front of her. Across from her sat George, who had a free period. Usually Fred would be there as well, but he had received a detention. Then Lucy would be joining soon as well, she had Care of Magical Creatures that hour, and they always got out a good twenty to thirty minutes early.

"Don't you have any homework?" Remilda asked, glancing at the sports section that George had open in front of him. "I'm positive that nothing in the Prophet would be of any help for any homework."

"Course I do," George replied, "but there's also a Quidditch match this weekend that I won't get to be a part of. So I have to get my fix in somehow."

"If you hadn't gone after Malfoy or encouraged Harry, you'd still be able to play this weekend." Remilda stated.

"Nah, if Malfoy wasn't such a git then I would still be playing." George corrected her.

She sighed heavily, "I'm not saying he's not..." she shrugged as a big black owl swooped down and landed in front of her.

The bird dropped a folded piece of paper that folded and had her name on it before taking off again. Probably to go back to the owlery. Remilda grabbed the piece of paper and examined the name, part of her had hoped that it had been from her father. But it wasn't. Instead it was in dark purple ink, and the writing was nothing like her fathers.

"That my mums ink," George pointed out, examining the purple ink from across the table. "what's she doing writing you?"

Remilda unfolded the paper and held it so he couldn't see, "Is it any of your business?" she asked raising an eyebrow and then smirking a bit.

George smirked and looked back down at the paper in front of him.

Remilda read the letter at least twice. Don't worry too much? How could she not worry too much? That was her father sitting in Azkaban. Arthur couldn't risk his job? Her father risked everything for the Order, and they couldn't do the same?!

"Everything alright?" George asked.

"Yeah..." she sighed as she folded the letter up again and put it under her Transfiguration book. "it's nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"You don't sound sure."

"I'm sure." she retorted, "Really, it's nothing."

George sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, "Was it about you know who in you know where?" he asked after a moment.

"You are very persistent." Remilda replied but then nodded, "But yeah. It is." she frowned. "Your mom says I shouldn't worry...that he'll be able to find a way out of it."

"I'd believe it," George replied, "he is friends with Padfoot after all." he addedquietly, leaning over the table.

Remilda mimicked his posture over the table and in a equally as quiet voice said, "I'm sure things at Azkaban have changed since he escaped."

George rolled his eyes, "Do you ever just have a bit of faith?" he asked, "Or are you always so negative?"

Remilda rolled her eyes, "George, I have every right to be a bit negative about my dad being in Azkaban."

He sighed and nodded, "Yeah you do," he paused, "but he is a Potter. Harry should be dead by now. But he has scary good luck. I bet your dad has the same. It seems to run in the family."

"I've never gotten myself in a situation like Harry or my dad and I'm a Potter-"

"Blimey, Remmy," George groaned, "sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall." he stated, "Your Dad is going to be just fine. You just have to choose to believe that instead wallowing in your own pity." he finished dramatically.

Remilda stared at him, glaring almost. "I like you better when Fred's around, you know." she stated, "That way all it is are some jokes and complaining about Umbridge instead of you being..." she paused, "being all wise." she crinkled her nose up.

George laughed.

"Honestly your like a entirely different person sometimes."

"Please don't call me wise again," George sighed, "not until I'm at least fourty."