Reparo
『 °*- ღ -*°』
When Professor Flitwick, taught all the second-year students the restorative spell, Sirius was overjoyed.
It was one of the few spells, which he practiced with fervor and diligence, to the point of surpassing all of his classmates in performing the repairing charm. His friends were confused, the scholar of the group was Lupin and, although Sirius was by no means a disaster at magic, he tended to stick with what he learned in class.
They would see him waving his wand under the table and purposely breaking objects to repair them, especially sheets of paper.
“Aren't you bored, Sirius?” James questioned, watching as Sirius continued to mechanize the incantation in the dining room, “You've done that spell so many times, that if I were to break in two, you'd certainly get me back together again.”
“Why don't we try it?” Lupin suggested, cutting his bread into four triangular slices.
James feigned false fear, managing to make Sirius laugh.
“I'm practicing this for my witch of a mother.”
His friends put the food back on their plate and looked at Sirius, adopting a tense posture. Although they each had different fragments of the family situation the Blacks were in, it was easy to get an idea that Sirius' mother was not an overly friendly person.
He repeated the spell just to counteract his mother's fits of rage, when she would smash all his Muggle decor, tear up his “ordinary” clothes, and try to impose tastes on her son that were not his own.
Professor Flitwick was impressed at the graceful execution of the incantation, but part of that feeling of awe was for the student executing it. He congratulated him, even though Sirius cared little for the grade. He got to the point of doing the incantation so well, he didn't even need a wand to conjure it anymore.
That summer, he found the daunting sight at home as soon as he arrived. The floor was covered with her posters shredded into tiny pieces, as well as superhero decorations or crumpled comic books.
On top of the made bed, with a sober quilt in a neutral shade of green, rested a violin next to a pile of “boring” clothes. Sirius thought the spell: the surrounding things began to float and tidy up where he left them before he left.
On that occasion his mother showed off, but he was sure it was the last time she did it.
Of course, his mother, seeing how he returned the clothes with a confident smile, went up to the room in a rage, but when she saw how the objects that had just been destroyed were repaired, she became so angry that she grabbed her son by the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to the basement.
“You asked for it, Sirius!” “I've told you so many times that those Muggle things are in disgusting taste!” Sirius recovered but did not waver in his stance. “Come on, you know what you have to do now, take off those awful clothes.”
Try as he might that night, he found that the mending spell didn't work on oneself, to heal the wounds that bled around his thin body.
“It doesn't seem to work to repair my heart either.”
『 °*- ღ -*°』
19/46
:(