Who: Rolf Scamander What: Reflecting on his friends and this virus Where: Madam Puddifoots - their room When: After Ronnie's gone Warnings | Status: narrative | complete
Rolf looks around the room, there's telltale signs of life, of an existence outside of his own. It's the remnants of two girls he knows personally well, friends and in some way, loved ones. The truly appalling nature of the thing disturbs him though--their beds are empty and what's left are just reminders that they've gone away. They aren't far, though. Hogwarts and the Infirmary aren't much of a walk up the way.
Really, it just makes Rolf think of those they have lost for real. He knows that each year and almost all the Houses have lost a student, that their dormmates have an empty bed staring them in the face whenever they go there. With nothing but memories to fill in the blank spot in their lives. It's saddening. It's disgusting and it's the result of war and fighting. Their wounds hadn't even begun healing and now this..
Rolf detests the Quarantine. What's the point of placing them here if others can get in? What's the point of confining them if they can get ill anyway. It rankles him. It makes him angry. But he knows he's angry because he feels helpless. He feels like there's nothing he can do and that bothers him. He hasn't been vulnerable since he was a small child. And he's afraid. He's afraid of catching the sickness himself, afraid everything he'd hoped to be would be ripped away by happenstance and what then?
What then?
Rolf pushes the thoughts away, sinking down onto his bed and pushing his school books away. He changes the question around in his mind. What now?
Tomorrow won't matter if he doesn't survive today.
He sighs and pushes his unruly hair out of his face. He's not leaving, if he's caught their illness it'll spread through him, too. Best he stay.