Deafcat33

Deaf college student Loves stories and writing her own stories Enjoy my blog

[deafcat33]

About me,

Hello everyone, I'm deafcat33 but you may call me Deafcat. I am deaf, female, and in college.

A little warning, I'm new to posting things, so I will be inconsistent with posting, and absolutely rubbish at posting 😂

I don't care who goes on my post but don't you dare comment stupid things, thank you.

What I will post: my OCs, rambles (probably, again new), short or long stories occasionally.

OCs: I have created OCs over the years, and noone knows about that, and I really would like people to see what I created while being anonymous. So tumblr is the best place for me to talk about my favourite people I created.

Rambles: I've always wanted to talk about things but people irl never wanted to spend time on me in a long conversation.

Stories: I have created stories in my mind, not on page, regarding of the OCs. Now, my OCs are characters embedded into real stories, like harry potter or James Cameron's Avatar. This allows my OCs to be detailed and expanded and described throughout the story. I do tweak the original stories to stick to my route but I never disagree with the original stories and films because it's is the original story, although I can complain about the event in a story. Anyway about short stories, I will start creating my stories with the OCs on Tumblr, the very ones that manifested in my mind. But be warned, it's not now, later on. And it will be inconsistent and will be shit, because I only ever written two short stories irl and it's very beginner level. I would appreciate if people can give me tips, thanks.

rules

My OCs are my OCs, not yours, so please, ask for permission to use my OCs anywhere, I don't care what you do with it, you can post it or use it but it have to be very clear that it's mine not yours.

I do not tolerate any bullying, racism, homophobia or any kind of hatred to anything towards me and anyone who interacts on my posts. If I find anything like that, I will block or report you depending on the severity of the situation.

Do please give me tips of story writing, I wish to improve my writing (and plead my crowd, if I have one actually reading my stories when I post them).

I will be posting +18 content someday, probably never but incase if I do, minors do not interact, but I won't be held accountable if you decide to read +18.

I don't expect this to happen but don't come asking for more chapters of my stories because the chapters will not be good if I force myself to write chapters when I'm not in the right mood to write. Do let me know if you are reading them though 😁

My posting of the stories will take a while each time because I am inexperienced in writing fast and for a crowd. So be patient if you are expecting a chapter to come up.

I understand the original stories I use for my OCs are not mine and copyrighted to their creators. I'm just using their stories all entirely on my interests.

[deafcat33]

Traces of what remains: chapter 4

A/N: Now we are touching onto the juicy bits but imma torture you a little more 😝 2247 words in this chapter, cool, a little less than what chapter 2 was, chapter two was thick =⁠_⁠=

word count: 2.3k

Warnings: none

Traces of what remains: chapter 4

Chapter 4

The wheels of my suitcase rattled against the smooth King’s Cross station tiles, their steady clack echoing beneath the high, arched ceiling. Warm light spilled through the glass roof, glinting off polished floors as the scent of fresh coffee mingled with the faint, oily smell of the tracks. Around me, voices rose and fell like waves — hurried calls, laughter, and the distant announcement of an arriving train. People weaved past in a blur of coats and bags, each carrying their own destination. A large clock hung over the tracks of king’s cross, the hands saying 10:15. With every pull of the handle, my suitcase seemed to drag not just clothes and belongings, but the weight of excitement, worry and the promise of the journey ahead.

There is something different about me today, specifically 1st of September, I woke up feeling incredibly insecure of my deep scars and the fresh added wounds that are half healed from the full moon transformation two nights ago.

Remus noticed immediately when I walked downstairs for breakfast, and he suggested a concealment charm to cover my scars and wounds, and the charm will disappear as soon as I go through the gates between platform 9 and 9 ¾.

I immediately agreed, I hate the charms, but it’s better than walking around with dark thoughts that shouldn’t fill the mind of an 11 year old werewolf, and with the scars out in the open for the muggles to stare, pity and disgust on, it doesn’t feel satisfactory.

I blinked as I brought myself out of my thoughts. Remus is ahead of me, carrying a large duffle bag filled with extra things I needed. He automatically walked to platform 9, where I can see families in ones or twos running towards a pillar that is part of the arch at platform 9, just before they were about to crash, they suddenly disappeared as if the wall was just an illusion.

I grinned as I looked around, noticing that the muggles aren’t noticing the disappearing wizards and witches, which made me feel bad for them, as they are missing out fun, crazy things in their life.

I stepped into the weak line of the magical beings, letting muggles pass me while Remus whisper in my ear, “Remember, don’t hesitate, keep running, and whatever you do, do not be afraid of the charm lifting.”

I gripped my trunk and nodded, staring at the wall as the wizards disappear through with their children.

The feeling of the cold presence is more persistent, more colder, sharper, and I’m trying my best to ignore the cold interrupting my thoughts, despite king’s cross station humid air blocking the September chill outside warming me up. When I don’t know what is going on in my mind, I tend to ignore it until the problem intensifies.

I feel Remus’s hand gripping my shoulder as we got ready to run. Then he pushed me forwards, making me step towards the wall.

The brick wall grew closer

….5 feet

……4 feet

…...3 feet, I’m imagining the embarrassment I will feel if I body slammed myself into an obviously solid wall.

…...2 feet, the noise intensified in the station as my fine-tuned ears heightened as my anxiety increased.

.……1 foot, I closed my eyes as I grips my trunk tighter.

……...the sound changed, what was the loud yet dull waves of trains and voices, now is the heavy shouts and calls of families on the large platform and the whistles of the Hogwarts Express, far more intensified, filling the giant cavern of the smaller yet more busier king’s cross in the magical side of the world.

I expected a crash, a shock of pain, but I feel like I went through a thin cold silk veil.

Oh…the charm….it got lifted.

I opened my eyes, and before me, greeted odd people waving wands, pushing trollies of thick luggage and hooting owl cages, occasionally a rat or toad sit on a person’s shoulder or luggage, fathers in the rich boast their wealth in suits, poor mothers in shawls and full of worry send their children to the magnificent red and black beast of metal and magic. Younger kids cry and moan about their lucky siblings going to Hogwarts. Older siblings that already left school bend down to their little siblings and whisper tips and tricks of surviving the large school of wizardry they are about to embark in.

I winces slightly as I feel the sting of fresh wounds underneath my clothes, although it’s still a dull pain after years of experience. At the same time, the persistent cold seeps into my bones, I’ve always been a warm person, always seeking fire but even my wolf core can’t battle the weird comforting cold that seem to hug close to the edge of my mind.

Remus looked down at me, smiling softly as he takes in the sight of his daughter, now bare and scarred for the world to see, looking around in wonder and interest and a hint of worry.

We walked through the large crowd of families, occasionally looking at the windows of the Hogwarts Express to guess if the compartment is not too busy.

At a distance, I noticed a group of freckled red heads. This group is far by one of the loudest and extravagant family.

In the middle, stands a plump jolly woman with loose wavy ginger hair, her clothes screams poor but happy. Next to her is a girl, with straight hair that is deep bold ginger just like the woman next to her. She looks like she’s around about 8 or 9.

Standing on the other side of the mother, who is currently screaming at two very identical 12 years olds, is a tall lanky freckled boy. He is grinning as he looks at the twins. That boy and the girl looks like they are not going to Hogwarts.

The twins in front of their mother are grinning, like they pulled a prank and enjoyed it. Standing next to them as he shook his head in amusement is a young man, lightly dusted in muscles. He started scolding the twins, whacking the duo's heads upside down as the twins burst out laughing.

Further from the group stands a grumpy teenager with a head of bright curly ginger strands, older than the twins, younger that the oldest brother.

Remus leaned down to my ear, “that’s the Weasley family, stick close to them, they are the kindest people you can meet, well minus the twins, prankers. Do you want to meet them?”

I looked at the family, “will they…comment on my scars?” I whisper in his ear. Remus immediately shook his head, “no cub, they won’t.”

I nodded, “alright, sure. But I don't want to talk to them now, can I put my bags in the train while you go and speak to them?” I asked as I pulled the duffle bag out of Remus's hand.

Remus blinked in surprise but nodded, “yeah, well, give me a hug before you get on the train.”

I chuckled and nodded, “of course papa.” I replied and hugged my father goodbye tightly.

We parted, and I pulled my luggage to the train door of a compartment that looks relatively clear.

Out of the corner of my eye, the same grumpy Weasley approaches the train door as well, having to have given up being with his family who just won't stay serious. His long legs propelled him further and he looks back in case someone needs help as he boarded the train, which is a slight surprise since he looks far too unapproachable for that.

His eyes flicked to mine and held a hand out as I approached the door. I raised my eyebrow, surprised he even wants to interact with me, “what? Are you asking if you can help?” I asked about his outstretched hand.

The boy rolled his eyes and nodded, “yes, what part of it do you not understand, hand out means I want to help.”

I scoffed softly and shook my head, “Okay Grumpy, whatever, I'm doing it myself” I called him as one of the seven dwarfs,

He stepped out of the way as I threw my duffle bag onboard and hauled the trunk in as well. The tall boy stared at me as I pulled my luggage with me, I ignored him, knowing he is unconsciously taking a look at my scars closer as I walk by him.

I walked down the compartment for a best seat.

My hand grips my duffle bag tighter as my eyes looked at my right, where the smaller double seated compartments squashed up against eachother sat on the longitudinal section of the train.

After five compartments passed by, it's all not occupied, filled with children of all age, some chatting to eachother, some laughing, some shoving luggage in the tiny holds behind seats and above the seats.

I stopped at the next compartment and peeked inside. It's empty. Perfect.

I stepped inside and puts the trunk behind the seats before lifting my duffle bag into the overhead luggage storage. I then shuts the compartment glass door.

Shrugging off my shabby coat, I sat down right next to the window. The platform is busy with families waving their children onboard. I sighed as I looked at the Weasley family, Remus is with them, his tall form overshadowing the short Weasley which I remember is Molly Weasley, the mother of the family. Standing next to her, now reduced from six to two children, is the youngest boy and girl, who I still don't know the names to.

Remus's head is bowed down to Molly, his mouth moving as I looked at them. Molly looks sympathetic but reassuring, she put her hand on Remus arm and said something to him which made my father smile, I assume they is talking about me, but god only knows what about. My thoughts got interrupted as a knock tapped on my glass sliding door.

Turning my head to them, feeling the usual rise of anxiety that refuses to go away despite experiencing this for nine years.

A shock of ginger hair, freckles, lots of freckles, and a mischievous smirk that belied their innocent young look. Oh and there is two of them.

I looked at them, “yes?” I murmurs

Their smiles split onto grins, “Hey, Leila right?” The left one said.

I nodded, “I assume my father spoke to you?”

The right one shook his head, “Nah, Mr lupin spoke to our mum, hoping there is somone who can ‘look after’ you while you are in Hogwarts for the first time.” He air quotes to show his reluctance but happy to do so.

I nodded my head slowly, “well erm, thanks I guess." I looked at the window, then spoke, “what are your names? And are you identical twins?”

The twins nodded and spoke simultaneously, "yes, we are, Fred and George at your services, nice to meet you, Leila.”

I nodded and waved at them to dismiss them, the right one chuckled, "yeah, your old man did say you'll be slight annoyed. We'll go now" and with that, they left, pulling their luggage with them. I sighed in relief and slumped back in my seat.

The train suddenly whistles and some children who took their time started to rush to get on. Remus waved at me, I smiled and waved back at him. Then the dark feelings came. And the ever shifting colours and chill in my mind amplified.

Oh...my full moons will be lonely, my god, what happens when I'm alone?

Will it be more painful? More stressful?

Will I kill someone now that I don't have Remus helping me to be calm?

I shook my head as I scolds myself, you'll be fine, millions of werewolves transform by themselves.

The train started to move. Pulling itself out of king’s cross. I sighed as I looked at the station moving past me as the train started to pick up speed.

I pulled my jacket hood up and leaned my head on the window, feeling my fresh soon to be scars throb with pulse, pain running through the cuts under the bandages that wrap around my torso and arms which are covered my jacket.

This cold.....this persisting chill in my mind, very rarely, it overshadowed Fenrir, but it seems that today it is. Running through my mind like smoke curling from the chimney, are the cool and dark colours of thin strands that seem to be snow coloured underneath the unique shades.

I shivers as I grip my arms, my hands over my wounds, at least the pain distracts me from the odd yet welcoming sensations.

I closed my eyes, for once, not caring about the children stares as they walked past my door. Not one of them even think to take the space of my compartment since I only took up 1/6 of the two seats facing eachother.

The feeling increased, it felt like someone is coming, getting closer to me. Someone unique, someone otherworldly.

Then a knock cracked through my distorted mind. I blinked my eyes open, hesitatingly while I turned my head to the door.

My heart beats harder, as my eyes widen slightly, and my thoughts, for once, went silent, pure quiet, as if the sensation in my mind was also pulled to silence.

......hot and cold clashed

.....rage and happiness merged

.....wild and calm danced

Like, comment, follow 😄

[deafcat33]

Traces of what remains: chapter 3

A/N: The third chapter. I had fun researching about wand types for the character 😀 I can't wait to introduce the new character soon 😆 and I'm happy with how the chapter turned out. 2059 words long.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: a tiny mention of blood.

Masterlist | prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 (coming soon)

Traces of what remains: chapter 3

Chapter 3

So that’s how I found myself walking through the busy streets of Diagon alley, I feel far more comfortable in the magic world because people don’t stare as much and most of them are too busy over themselves to notice me and my father.

Remus was marching through the shouting people, trying to find an easy way through while his hand clutches onto mine. I looked around the place. On either side of the street, cramped with magical shops and cafés, people streaming through doorways, some shouting prizes above others' heads. A few children ride father's shoulders as they weave through shorter beings, the street is absolutely packed to the brim.

Earlier this morning, we devised a plan to get the books, then equipment, my cloak and my wand last. All morning, we were busy, we have collected everything on the list.

Now we have a wand left. Remus looked around for the familiar sign of Ollivander's Wand Shop, muttering underneath his breath on how busy the alley is. My eyes wander around, taking in the sights that never failed to make me immersive.

Then I was suddenly pulled through a group of arguing men and into a quiet shop.

The immediate information I can see as soon as I walked in was boxes. Not just any boxes.

Wand boxes, stuffing the entirety of the shelves and overflowing as it also stacks up against walls and book piles. Some boxes flew through the air to neatly push themselves into shelves or stack on piles of things or other boxes. Ollivander’s shop smelled like dust and old wood, like a library for magic itself.

There is a desk at the back of the wand shop. Standing behind it and observing a brilliant white feather under a magnifying glass, is a man with wispy shock of white hair and moustache, his face looks wise and old, yet a little eccentric.

He looks up to see Remus pulling distracted me into the shop. He smiled as he looked at Remus, after all, he is known to remember every customer and the wands they walked out with.

"Ah, Remus Lupin, I remember you, a skinny tall 11 year old, your wand was 10¼ inches long, made of cypress and contained a unicorn hair core. The wand was.... pliable, I assume you still have your wand?" His croaky voice filled the quiet shop.

Remus smiled as he approaches the desk, "yes, Mr Ollivander, still powerful and saving me always." As he spoke, he pulls out his wand to portray it to the wand maker, who wasted no time in studying the old wand he sold years ago.

I stood next to my father, my eyes scanning the wands on display, wondering which one will choose me. I was deep in thought with the designs of the wands, thinking of the good shades of pencils to use to sketch it, when Mr Ollivander looked at me, before speaking, "I assume that is your daughter or a relative?"

I turned my head to look at him as Remus spoke, "yes, this is Leila, she is my daughter and is starting in Hogwarts this year."

Ollivander nodded and muttered under his breath before walking off to the narrow hallway full of shelves of wand boxes. He grabbed a couple and returned back.

Popping the boxes down, he spoke, “Leila, you must understand, you are going to be finding a wand, the one that choses you. Not the other way around."

He started to hand me wands, muttering the details of the wands as he gifted it to me.

*******************

I perched on the little wooden stool, arms crossed, trying not to scowl as yet another wand fizzled in my hand. Sparks shot sideways into the boxes lining the walls, and I flinched, muttering, “Seriously?

”Remus stood behind me, calm as ever, but I could feel him tense every time a wand sparked too close. I didn’t blame him — I’d been through enough to know how dangerous magic could be when it didn’t want to cooperate.

Ollivander carefully took the wand from me. “Curious… very curious…” he murmured, sliding it back into its box. That made nine. ten. I’d stopped counting.

He returned with another wand. “Try this — eleven inches, spruce, unicorn hair—”

I touched it, and immediately a cold rush ran up my arm. Sparks erupted violently from the tip, pinging against a stack of boxes, making it collapse. My stomach flipped.

“No, definitely not,” Ollivander said quickly, whisking it away.

I let out a long sigh. “Is something wrong with me?” My voice sounded small, even to my own ears.

Ollivander’s pale eyes met mine as he stopped before he was about to go back into the hallway. They were sharp and probing, but for a moment I thought I saw… concern?

“Not wrong, Miss Lupin… forgive me. Your magic resists traditional matches. It’s as though the core and wood disagree the moment you hold them.”

I frowned, unsettled. Resists? What does that even mean? I’ve been a mess since I can remember… maybe it sees that.

Remus stepped closer. His brow was tight, that quiet crease he always gets when he’s weighing whether to say something.

Finally, he exhaled. “I didn’t want to complicate things… but I think you should know, Mr Ollivander, something about Leila.”

I blinked up at him. “Dad?”

He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Leila… tell him.”

My throat tightened. I could feel my pulse in my jaw. I look up at the old wizard before speaking, hating how quiet my voice is, “I’m… a werewolf.”

Ollivander froze. The silence that followed was heavy, almost sacred.

Remus added softly, “She was bitten as a toddler. Fenrir Greyback.”

My stomach knotted. Here it comes. The horror. The disgust. The way people look at me…

But Ollivander’s reaction was different. He wasn’t afraid. Not disgusted. Just… understanding, like a light switched on. “Ah. That… explains quite a bit.”

I blinked. He…understands? That’s new.

He moved among the shelves with new certainty, like he’d finally caught the scent of what I truly needed.

“Why didn’t I see it sooner? I should have known. Your magic is layered — lupine instincts intertwined with human will — a rare and potent combination. You don’t need a gentle wand. You need one capable of standing with its master, even at the wildest, most dangerous times."

I held my breath as he selected a dark rusty red box from a high shelf.

“This,” he said, opening it reverently, “is blackthorn. This particular wand have phoenix feather as the core, it’s length is 11¾ inches, the flexibility is unyielding. One of the most unusual wood… it favours warriors and survivors. People who have endured great hardship. It won’t fear your nature."

I stared at the wand. Dark, storm-cloud grain, roughened almost like it had been tempered for battle. Phoenix feather glimmered faintly in its core. It’s… beautiful. And it doesn’t flinch at me.

I lifted it, hesitant. The moment my fingers wrapped around the handle, warmth shot up my arm. Not fire. Not pain I always feel and came to welcome. Recognition. The wand hummed through me, silver sparks dancing from the tip like moonlight on water. I gripped it tighter, feeling it mold to me.

Ollivander’s eyes gleamed. “There it is. Magnificent.”

I let out a shaky breath. Finally. One that gets me. One that… understands. Not just my magic, but me.

Remus stepped closer, a small, proud smile on his face. “Well done, cub.”

I couldn’t help it — a real smile tugged at my lips. My wand pulsed once against my palm, alive and steady. This is it. This is mine. Mine, and mine alone. Finally, something in the world is mine that doesn’t try to fight me.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like magic itself wasn’t afraid of me.

******************

I stepped through the doorway of my cottage, carrying new books wrapped in paper, and my wand on top. Remus followed me in with the other equipment and my cloak.

I feel happy and excited to start the new life in Hogwarts, but as I walked upstairs, I feel the usual anxiety; my insecure thought raced as I stepped into my room;

What if people don’t like me?

What if people beat me up like the kids in primary?

What if it’s the same as primary, what if people don’t want to be my friend?

What if the teachers don’t understand me?

Oh god, what about the full moons?

What if I lose control, what if I hurt someone, kill someone?!

I shook my head I threw the stuff down in the open suitcase next to my cupboard. Gods, I’m overreacting, dad went to Hogwarts, and he now have a husband who was his best friend in school, and he had friends who loved him, it shouldn’t be hard….right?

I sat down in front of my trunk and started packing it with the stuff I brought including the old clothes and my black sketchbook I take with me to most places.

I folded and put in the clothes, meanwhile I could feel Fenrir’s presence in my mind, he is not here but he always leave an unsettling feeling when he was teasing and making me nervous in my mind as I slept, causing me to be far more tired than I should be.

As I folded my robes and tucked books into my trunk, my thoughts kept slipping away from the room, drifting into places I never want to visit.

Colours flickered behind my eyes — greys, shadows, silver flashes like moonlight caught on something sharp and bloody. And then him.

Fenrir Greyback.

When I am awake, He never appeared clearly, never as he truly was, but as a heavy pressure in the back of my mind. A presence, cold and watchful, like a breath at the back of my neck that wasn’t really there.

Some nights when I dreamed, he spoke.

Not loudly. Not angrily. Just…talked, as if he knew I couldn’t escape. His voice threaded through the darkness of sleep, calm and deliberate, reminding me of the things that had happened when I was too young to remember properly. He never showed the moment itself — only shadows, the feeling of helplessness, the confusion of being so small in a world suddenly tilted and wrong, and blood, lots of blood. But the way he described it made my stomach twist, like I was being made to stand in memories that weren’t fully mine.

As I packed my socks next to my potions kit, a shiver ran through me. Why now? Why doesn’t he just leave me alone?

But tangled between those unnerving flashes was something else — something I didn’t understand at all. A presence that wasn’t heavy or menacing. It felt colder, yes, but… softer. Like winter air drifting in through a cracked window. It didn’t crowd my mind. It brushed along the edges of it.

Sometimes, when I was half-asleep, I caught fleeting ting pieces of someone — a pale wrist, long fingers, a strand of hair like white smoke, the ripple of a shifting colour I couldn’t name. Never a full face. Never a name. Just little impressions.

The impressions clung to me like thin smoke. Forever disappearing but its warmth stays.

I would wake with my heart racing and fingers restless, as my hand reached for the sketchbook on the bedside table, in a blink, I found myself sketching what I’d seen: a sliver of jawline, the corner of an eye in same shape but forever confusing me with various colours, a lock of hair I could never quite get right no matter how many times I tried.

I didn’t know why I drew them. I didn’t know who the pieces belonged to. But they felt… familiar, in a way that tugged at something deep and quiet inside me.

My distracted mind snapping back to the present, I hear Remus’s voice calling my name from downstairs. “Leila, dinner time!”

I finally closed my trunk shut, before I sat on the edge of my bed and let out a shaky breath.

The world was changing. Hogwarts was coming. And somewhere between Fenrir’s dark shadow and the colder, gentler presence that drifted through my dreams, I felt like my life was already being pulled toward something — or someone — I didn’t understand yet.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Why not research the wand types and comment on which one is yours?

[deafcat33]

Traces of what remains: chapter 2

A/N: welcome readers! This is the second chapter of the book. This chapter is long, cause its a timeskip summary of some sort. You'll see. It's 2665 words long. I promise the next chapter will be more consistent and more like a dialogue and interactive rather than time skips all the time. But the next chapter is the main storyline. I will be absolutely busy tomorrow, so hopefully on the weekend I can send that third chapter, please comment to let me know you like it, and want to continue on. Quite a bit of triggers in it.

wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: bullying, abuse, mentions of self inflicted harm (not SH in general), self hate if you half close your eyes

Masterlist | prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 (coming soon)

Traces of what remains: chapter 2

Chapter 2

The early morning sun filtered through the window hits my eyes, forcing me awake. I yawned as I pushed myself up on my single bed, pushing the dark blood red sheets off. The colour contrast from the beige toned room.

I looked around in my room; the bed facing the opposite wall with the door on my left wall and the window on the right wall overlooking the fields between our cottage and town; the wooden floor is covered in a round different coloured red carpet of soft fabric; an old skinny brown cupboard, filled with second handed clothes handed down from my father, sits in the corner between the bed and window at my right; pushed up against the wall in the middle between the cupboard and door, in front of the bed, is a desk, on the desk is covered in papers of unfinished drawings, pencils and books of different genres; on the door facing the inside of the room is a long full body mirror; scattered all over the beige walls are sketches of finished drawings of my environment, whether it’s nature, buildings or people, some pictures are annotated in my messy small handwriting.

Some drawings have odd sketches that portray parts of a body so cold and unique that is so familiar in my mind, but I never knew who they were, and never saw. I would know because this person feels ethereal and cold, opposite to the warm bodies I see every day.

I blinked the sleepiness, which felt like someone else’s as well, out of my eyes as I swung my legs out from under the duvet, standing up, I stretched my arms above the frizzy bed head of curls.

I looked out of the window, the expansion of wheat fields stretching outwards, making me feel like I am the only person living on this land. Oh, how that would be so peaceful. I mused in my head. I turned around and stopped in my tracks as I saw myself in the mirror on the door. I sighed as I see the girl I am forced to be.

The PJ on my body is a scrappy second handed pastel blue night dress that belonged to my grandma, Hope Lupin nee Howell, when she was a teen. The nightdress hung off my skinny nine-year-old body, stopping below my knobbly knees.

My face is soft, still have baby fat on the fuller parts of my body. My small bulbous nose have a very subtle bump, my eyes dull yet rich of dark brown, my skin light beige with a warm undertone, my eyebrows dark and rough, my rich warm brown hair have weak curls that thinned down due to pressing it on the pillow last night; after a shower, it will regain back to its natural thick bouncy small curls. My chin is a faint cleft chin, and lips are bow shaped and yet always dry. But worst thing about me is that no one notices those features through a feature on me that is so profoundly conspicuous.

Littering all over my body, in places my hands can reach, deep and shallow, light and dark, new and old are scars. Some scars are even on my face. The deepest scars are located on the sides of my ribcage and back. The roughest scars on my face is the three lines running down my right side of the young face.

I sighed as I looked at myself, even at 9 years old, I’m so conscious of myself, always leaving my hair down to cover my face, always having hoods up. A week till the next moon, I think to myself as I forced myself to look away. Stepping to the cupboard and opening the door, I looked inside, there are old clothes that seen better days, all handed down from my dead grandma or my father. We are not rich, we’re poor, if you ignore my stepfather’s money which my dad doesn’t want to use because it’s not his and the owner of that money is in Azkaban.

I pulled out my primary school uniform, one of the rare clothes that is all entirely mine, before laying it on my messy bed. I went off to have a shower.

A few hours later, hair all poofed up back to its shape, dad dropped me off to Elsmore Common primary school in town. Its a muggle school but I know about the wizarding world and my father, Remus lupin, taught me some of the basic spells so I can be ready to learn advanced spells when I come of age and if Hogwarts will accept me, which I’m not entirely sure because of my dark nature.

I waved to my father as I walked towards the school I despise, inside are full of primary muggles who don’t understand boundaries, always staring at me, like I’m the most grotesque thing to ever walk the halls of Elsmore common.

Remus called out behind me, “be careful Leila, don’t let them get to you, remember, you are not alone.” Before he walked back down the road to enter the town centre for his job.

I rolled my eyes and entered the corridor, I knew he was just trying to make me feel better, but that’s hard to do when you have the entirety of the students staring at you or whispering behind their hands as they sneak peaks at my scars. I pulled my hood up as I walked deeper in school. Teachers look at me with pity, thinking I went through something so traumatic only once. They don’t understand, don’t understand the horrors you go through every full moon. Don’t be angry, don’t be angry, Leila. I repeated in my mind as I stared at the floor, letting my feet take me wherever I mindlessly go.

The day went by in a blue of teacher’s voices; from the kids, whispers, stares, disgust, and confusion filled my ears and eyes; my pencils scratching the papers as I lose myself in my imagination. That is the usual every time I go to school, I have been going since I was four, two years after since I became a beast, a monster to both muggles, magic and my eyes.

Suddenly the bell rang, the shrill sound shooting through my mind, jolting me out of my mid-draw of a full moon lit forest with a dim shadow of a humanoid wolf in the protection of the trees, the wolf large and glaring up at my face as I stared down at the sketch of the very thing that haunts my mind and consciousness in sleep.

Around me, kids stand and packed away their things, their voices rising as it gets muddled together. I stood up and grabbed my unopened bag and sketch in my hand. Before sneakily and smoothly slipping through the gaggle of muggle children. I stepped into the corridor and joined the crowd. After a while, I found an open door leading outside, I took that route to get out of here and go back home as soon as possible.

I walked through the back of the school to the gates. After a while of walking through the old historic town, I entered the green fringe of the town or rather yellow due to the barley wheat fields, my cottage is located at the tree line of the forest a mile further. Walking through the tall wheats on the muddy road, for once, I feel at peace, as much peace I can feel with the lurking presence of Greyback in the back of my mind, he is my maker, the werewolf who ruined my life as well as my father’s when he was four.

I closed my eyes as I slowly walked through the tall wheats. And doing so made me fail to hear the approaching group of boys in year 9. They are all tall and bullies of the town. One of them yanked the paper out of my hand and leered at me. I turned around at the intrusion. I glared at the group of five boys. The first boy spoke, “woah sick picture. That your daddy?” he teased as the boys circled me.

Warning lights flash in my mind, they are not here to just tease me, they’re here to beat me up. Why....I spoke to myself.

I spoke in real life. “No just a doodle.” I muttered as I look for weak spots of the barrier of boys around me. The boy noticed and ripped the paper up and stepped to me, “looking for a way out, monster? Well bitch, I’m going to make sure you will never want to go back to the town, because people like you don’t deserve to live, you know why? cause ugly people infect the population, like bacteria. And you are not pretty to look at.”

I stared at him, feeling anger rising, a part of the anger coming from the faint pull of the nearing full moon. The thing is, this anger felt different, like it’s a mix of mine and someone else I should know, “Really? Look, I’m nine, a child, even I know what you just said is the weakest form of insults, so I suggest you think better, oh! Right of course, you are dumb, so no thoughts in your mind can save you.” I groans inwardly as soon as I realised my mistake, why….Leila. Why, you are going to be beaten up, you stupid little girl.

I looked up at his reddening face and immediately dashed. I shoved past the boys and pumped my legs as fast as I can into the darkness of the tall wheats around me. Night is falling, fast.

Behind me I can hear shouts and thudding of the many pairs of feet following me. I weaved through the stalks, hoping to lose them quickly.

Suddenly a solid object slammed into me, shoving me into the ground roughly, somebody body-slammed me down. My hands dug into the soil as I tried to haul myself back to my feet. But I felt a foot pressing down on my back, that foot hits against my back, making me fall on the ground, hard and painfully.

I groaned as I slowly looked up at the grinning faces of the young boys, I managed to speak, “Please, what did I do to deserve this?” The boy in the middle replied, “Nothing but your looks. You are scaring everyone in our town.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “that’s a stupid reason.” Which I received a boot to my cheek. I gasp as the hit shocked my body, my mind working overtime to keep me calm. “Wai-” I tried to speak but the strongest boy started kicking my body. I yelped and curled up and protected my head. The boys shouted slurs and insults to my face as the kicks and punches rained down on me.

After a handful of minutes with the sky steadily darkening, they decided to leave, laughing as they walked into the gaps of the barley plants. I lay there, bloodied, and bruised, tears streaming over the ridges and dips of lines on my face. So…how can I explain to dad that I have been beaten up to the point I don’t think I can walk without a limp, while trying to not let dad go on a rampage and demand answers from the boys and probably piss them off too. I think to myself glumly.

So that’s the normal day in a life of mine since I joined primary school. Including at nights, my bones and flesh ripping to accommodate my new body every full moon since I was two years old, and Greyback haunting my mind, by making me relive the memory of the attack even when I can’t remember it myself.

Until I turned 11 years old, things began to change.

It was October in the late cold evening in the year 1990, I was sipping hot chocolate in the living room, the fire flickering in the background, moving magical pictures highlight the warm living room. Remus lupin sat opposite me, sipping his own hot cocoa in his larger mug. His scars are far fainter than mine because, my wolf belonging in the smaller percentage of the population of werewolves, my body forced me to rip myself in shreds to distract myself from the snapping bones stabbing into my flesh at full moons.

I was sketching a portrait of my father, when suddenly a letter swooped into the living room, narrowly missing the fire as it goes straight to my face. I gasp as I dropped my pencil and caught the letter a split second before it hits my face, while handling my drink simultaneously. Remus looked up and his face split up in a wide grin as soon as he sees the letter stamp on the back of the letter. He spoke, putting the cup down on the little coffee table, “Leila! That’s the letter from Hogwarts, go on, open it up.”

I widen my eyes as I popped the cup down, my eye staring at the letter, written in dark green loopy handwriting:

Miss Leila Orion Lupin,

1 Low Street,

Lastingham,

North Yorkshire,

I ripped open the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper. On it, is the same writing in black this time, I widened my eyes as I read it. In the typical lettering style, it says:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss. Lupin,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagal

Deputy Headmistress

Then I picked up the next letter, the list of things I need.

UNIFORM First-year students will require: . Three sets of plain work robes (black) . One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear . One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) . One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS All students should have a copy of each of the following: . The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk . A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot . Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling . A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch . One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore . Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger . Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander . The Dark Forces–A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT 1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

I looked at my father and threw the sketchbook aside and jumped to my feet and hugged dad, “Oh my god! I’m going to Hogwarts, yes!” I screamed in joy. Remus laughed and hugged me back.

“Let’s go to Diagon alley tomorrow to buy the stuff I don’t have, so, you need to get the other equipment, the books and your cloak but the rest of the clothes, I can give it to you, is that alright?” Remus spoke as he read the list again.

I nodded, “of course, I can take your school uniform, I’m happy with trousers.”

I squealed as I jumped in my father’s arms.

“I can't believe this, dad! What if something happens, something that will change my life? oh, what am I talking about? My life won’t change….I think.” I spoke, feeling the familiar persistent angry presence of greyback and that unknown cold presence which is somewhat comforting.

A/N: well that was a long write and edit. Be patient, we will meet the next character, have to be one of my favourite OCs because.....can's say anything, spoilers to the story 😫 I really can't wait to start writing the juicy bits of the story. To clear up some confusion, the maker, Fenrir greyback, is obsessed with Leila lupin, and loves to go into her mind and talk to her, Legilimency is the name. The chats are very innocent when she is a child but still traumatise Leila, he gets stronger as she gets older. I will be absolutely busy tomorrow, so hopefully on the weekend I can send out that third chapter, please comment to let me know if you like it, and want to continue on. Also don't be afraid to give tips. Happy waiting and reading. 😁

[deafcat33]

Traces of what remains: chapter 1

A/N: hey readers! You are in luck because I was close to finishing chapter 1 when I posted the prologue hence why it's published on the same day. This is the first chapter to the story, and it's long, specifically 2281 words long. So hold your horses and read at your pace cause the next chapter won't come straight away. There is a trigger so be careful.

wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: blood, I guess that's it?

Masterlist | prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 (coming soon)

Traces of what remains: chapter 1

What if, instead of being poor and homeless and struggling to find a will to live before harry potter crossed paths with him, Remus lupin had a home, a dead mother of his child, a husband who is in Azkaban for reasons the world, including himself, believes and a daughter of the night who will change a course of the wizarding history in the most brutal way possible? Read the story to follow the life of the daughter of Remus lupin to find out who she is and how she shapes the future.

Chapter 1

Two years later, in the setting sun of London, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial in 1981. He was imprisoned for the murder of James and Lily potter, leaving one year old Harry Potter orphaned, Peter Pettigrew and 13 other muggles, and accused of being the right-hand man to Voldemort.

At the same time, Remus was sitting in Leila’s bedroom, sipping hot chocolate as he watches his daughter sleep. He didn’t know about the arrest until later in early morning, when he had about three hours of sleep since he’s an insomniac werewolf. He was stirring water into his coffee, wondering about when his boyfriend, the unofficial stepdad of his daughter, will come back from rushing off last evening after finding out someone revealed the Potter’s location to Voldemort.

As he was deep in thought, a letter swooped through the chimney, a barn owl flying away from the childhood cottage he grew up in. The letter gracefully landed on the kitchen counter next to his coffee. Its addressed to Mr Remus James lupin from the ministry. He raised his eyebrows as he stared down at the letter. He knows the letters he receives from the ministry are always threats about his werewolf identity and how he should give up his job where he works in a random family-owned muggle shop, trying to make ends meet for himself and his daughter, despite Sirius trying to help him with his rich family Black money.

He sighed in annoyance and picked up the letter, while he magics the milk to be added to the coffee. Remus turned around, leaning on the counter, he opened the letter and pulled it out of its snug envelope. What he thought to see was threats, but instead it’s a brief statement about his housemate as the ministry thought Sirius is that to the Lupin household. He widened his eyes as he read about Sirius being sent to Azkaban for the murder of 13 muggles, Peter Pettigrew and even worse, the involvement of the murders of James and Lily potter, their lifelong best friend and his wife.

Remus stood there speechless. He thinks to himself, how can I look after Leila on full moons, how can I raise her alone? And that’s not Sirius, he would never do that, he’s not a murderer.

Then his mind was interrupted with a cry upstairs coming from his two-year-old Leila, who just woke up in the wrong side of the bed. He groans at the revelation of Sirius, before walking upstairs. Coffee all forgotten.

Time skip, a year later. Leila is now 3 years old. Remus is doing better than he thought, he still has the same crappy job, but he found a witch that works in a job for looking after children who are the offsprings of werewolves, at full moons, protecting the child as their parent(s) go off to transform under the full moons influence. He is very grateful for the use of nannies. His daughter’s nanny is called Beatrix, and she is a plump middle-aged woman with light ash brown hair.

Beatrix is very jolly and loves Leila like a niece and additionally always makes sure Remus pays the minimum price. She also stays in the morning after full moons to look after the daughter while Remus rests his weary cursed body.

On the night of a full moon in august, seven months after the arrest, the very curse was bestowed on Leila all purely because of the hatred of the lupin family from the attacker.

It was a warm rainy autumn night, pained howls can be heard across towns and cities as werewolves transform under the full moon, Remus is one of them, prowling through the forest near his cottage, his skinny wolfish body silking through the low branches as the horror happened in his home unbeknownst to his hungry werewolf mind.

Beatrix was on duty, rocking the three-year-old to sleep. After she was sure that the toddler was soundly asleep, she puts Leila in her bed and went downstairs to make coffee for herself. The mistake was that the window in the little girl’s room was wide open to cool down her room.

What Beatrix didn’t hear is the large grey monstrous thing crawling up to the top floor and slipping into the Leila’s room. Its nails lightly clink on the wooden boards as it approaches the bed where the peaceful toddler slept. Its snout nudge against the curly brown head of the girl, coaxing her awake, its seemingly aware mind wanting the girl to experience the horrors awake rather than half asleep.

Leila woke up with a start, and she screamed in shock as the thing suddenly yanked the duvet back, exposing her fragile body to itself. Beatrix heard the yelp and grabbing her wand, she scrambled upstairs, kettle whistling loudly behind in the kitchen, she rounded around the banister to reach the toddlers bedroom. But before Beatrix touched the door handle, a blood curdling scream emitted from the room.

Inside, the monster has bitten Leila in the stomach, not killing her but just enough to make her bleed out and haemorrhaging with the creature’s venom running through her veins. The door banged open and Beatrix gasp in horror as she sees the monster which she connected in her mind, is a werewolf.

Not just any werewolf. Fenrir Greyback, with his iconic grey muscular body and the ragged scar on his snout which is now bloody and buried in the stomach of the crying screaming pale girl.

Beatrixs face paled and she screamed out, pointing the wand at the snarling werewolf. “Locomotor werewolf!” and she yanked the wand to the window. The wolf flew out of the open window, its head bashing against the window frame. He slammed against the tree line, but Greyback simply stood back onto his four paws, shaking his head and licking the blood off his snout. He ran off as soon as he heard the warning howls from the other wolves, muggle and magic alike.

Beatrix, as soon as she expelled the wolf out of her client’s cottage, rushed to the bleeding girl, she knew she have a matter of minutes before she dies. She pulled her jacket off and wrapped it around Leila’s ruined stomach and hauled her into her arms. Beatrix muttered under her breath as she gathered courage and strength to apparate to st mungo’s. With the wailing girl in her arms and a hope that she doesn’t accidently splinch herself or worse the toddler, a crack resounded in the now empty bloody bedroom.

Wet, cold London is bathed in the warm full moon, cobbled street acting as veins of London, full of old shops under flats of small shabby homes. In a street, in the poorer parts of London, where it’s unsuspecting and quiet, hold a magic barrier on a shop window, specifically a barrier for muggles and a gate for the wounded wizards and witches. If you would walk past this barrier, you would suspect it is a material clothes shop. A creaking old sign swung above the door saying Purge and Dowse Ltd.

The air was disturbed by a similar sounding crack. Beatrix appeared out of thin air, almost tripping on her own two feet, clothes, hands and arms covered in Leila’s blood, she stumbled to the grainy window, her pale face looking back at her. She hurriedly screamed at the mannequin not caring about the sleeping muggles in homes above her. “A toddler, bitten by greyback!”

Suddenly the window shimmered, and a hand emerged and yanked the poor nanny through the portal. A nurse was the owner of that hand, she immediately guided Beatrix towards the double doors, helping her with the bleeding toddler. The waiting room full of patients glared at the nanny, thinking that it’s not fair for her to go through immediately, but as soon as they saw the blood and the pale curly haired girl in her arms, they looked away in shame and shock.

The nurse spoke to her as they hurry into the elevators. “what’s her name? and where was she bitten?”

Beatrix pants softly as she leaned against the elevator wall, the nurse slamming a finger onto the creature induced injuries, which is the first floor, “Leila Lupin, and she was bitten in the stomach.” She sobs as she hugged the little girl to her bosom. The nurse nodded and guided them through the open doors into a long dimly lit corridor. As they hurried down, a woman in doctor’s uniform stepped into the corridor at the end from a room. The woman has black hair tied up in a secure bun, a few strands grey with age, her eyes blue as the palest seas, her skin very lightly winkled, she seems to be too old to be in her 30s but too young to be in her 60s. the nurse called out to her, “a toddler, named Leila Lupin, she was bitten by Greyback in her stomach! Very severe, lots of blood lost.”

The other woman’s eyes widen at the name, Lupin, and she pales slightly at the name, Greyback. She lets Beatrix into the room. The room is bustling with doctors and nurses, lined with beds and cabinets of medicine, and a separate room at the far end of the main room. The beds are half full of either sleeping or moaning bandaged patients. The nurse whispered in Beatrix’s ear as the doctor barked out orders, “That’s Doctor Pomfrey.”

Doctor Pomfrey pulled fainting Leila out of Beatrix’s arms and rushed her the closed room at the back. Other doctors and nurses carrying trays of equipment followed Pomfrey into the room like a parade, inside the room, Beatrix briefly saw an operating bed.

The nurse who helped her though the hospital guided her down onto a bed and handed her a damp rag to clean the blood left on her from Leila’s bleeding. Beatrix burst into tears, “Oh my god! Leila! She’s too young to die! I failed as a nanny!” she cried into the bloody rag.

The nurse rubbed her arms, trying to calm her down, “Please, calm yourself down, you mustn’t worry, Doctor Pomfrey is the best doctor when dealing with severe werewolf and vampire attacks, your kid is in good hands, I promise.”

Beatrix gasp as she remembered something and went back to sobbing. The nurse looked at and waited for her to calm down. Beatrix blew her nose in the dirty rag, not caring about the blood.

She spoke after a second of silence. “That kid…I was looking after her for a werewolf father. I should have expected this, the father is the son of Lyall Lupin, well known for his role in the beasts division in the ministry, his father made a negative comment about werewolves, said it right in front of Greyback, that led to the werewolf attacking Remus when he was a wee little lad, but Leila….at two years old! Oh, my gods!” she burst out crying once more.

The nurse frowned as she hears her words, that girl will have a rough childhood, she thought.

The door opened and a nurse walked through, she approached the seated duo, and spoke to Beatrix, “madam, Leila is now stable, she will live, she is being closed up…but unfortunately, she now have lycanthropy.”

Beatrix gasp in horror as she looked up at her. “Ooh but how can Remus handle that?”

The door opened again, and Doctor Pomfrey walked out. She is removing bloody surgical gloves off as she spoke, “we have companies that helps with werewolf families, please let the father know after he is ready to hear the news.”

Later on in the early morning, after ensuring Leila will be safe and stable in st mungo’s, Beatrix was sent out to go back to the lupin cottage.

She stepped through the front door, fearing the worst. The house is dark and there is a flickering fire light on the ground on the hallway emitting from the living room. Beatrix slowly peeked into the living room. Sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, hands in head, sat Remus, new red scars that haven’t healed from the full moon last night peeking out of his clothes. Remus looked up, and Beatrix gasp at the state of his pale worn out face who looks like he is over his thirties when he is only 24 years of age.

Remus spoke first, “where is she….where is my daughter? Why is her room covered in blood?” he whispered, the crackle of the fire almost overshadowing his voice.

Beatrix sobs as she walks into living room and sat down next to her client which she is becoming to see as a friend and someone she wants to protect. She began to explain what happened in the previous night. Remus listened and sat back on the couch, his head falling back as he closed his eyes, his face a passive calm, masking the anger and pain in his eyes.

“So let me get this straight, greyback found a way into my house, attacked my daughter, my daughter is now a werewolf?” he muttered low and grave.

Beatrix nodded, “yes, I’m afraid so, but there are companies that helps with werewolf families, maybe you would want that?” she suggested.

Remus groans, “Hold on Beatrix, I just found out my daughter have been bitten by my maker and somehow survived, just please, we have four weeks until the next full moon, enough time.” Beatrix nodded glumly and sat back as she stared into the fire.

They both stared at the fire, wondering how their lives will progress onwards.

A/N: hope you liked this, comment and like! Love you all if you read and loved it. Let me know that you like it and want more. I will still be writing chapters but will be motivated if I know people enjoy it. Make sure if you have tips or suggestions, let me know.

[deafcat33]

Masterlist of “Traces of What Remains”

The chapters of the harry potter oc story. It's not finished, I will be adding chapters in once I post the chapters out.

Blurb: What if, instead of being poor and homeless and struggling to find a will to live before harry potter crossed paths with him, Remus lupin had a home, a dead mother of his child, a husband who is in Azkaban for reasons the world, including himself, believes and a daughter of the night who will change a course of the wizarding history in the most brutal way possible? Read the story to follow the life of the daughter of Remus Lupin to find out who she is and how she shapes the future.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (coming soon)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[deafcat33]

Traces of What Remains: prologue

A/N: This is the first prologue of the book i am making. In the world of harry potter. There will be spoilers in the story to anyone who haven't read the books or films (I would be really shocked if you haven't) The story starts after the marauders left school.

wordcount: 2k rounded up

Warnings: slight swearing, homophobia, blood, birth, death of mother. Read at your own risk.

Masterlist | prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 (coming soon)

Traces of What Remains: prologue

What if, instead of being poor and homeless and struggling to find a will to live before harry potter crossed paths with him, Remus lupin had a home, a dead mother of his child, a husband who is in Azkaban for reasons the world, including himself, believes and a daughter of the night who will change a course of the wizarding history in the most brutal way possible? Read the story to follow the life of the daughter of Remus lupin to find out who she is and how she shapes the future.

prologue

In the year 1979 in early January winter night, it’s cold, moody and quiet, the pouring icy rain a backdrop for the city of London with the barely noticeable new moon hanging low just above the jagged horizon of homes and offices. The night, dark yet alight with stars lit up the cobbled street of old shops under flats of small shabby homes. Within this street hold a magic barrier, specifically a barrier for muggles and a gate for the wounded wizards and witches. If you would walk past this barrier, you would suspect it is a material clothes shop. A creaking old sign swung above the door marked with a name, Purge and Dowse Ltd. Dummies in the front window covered in fabric and pins, a large handbag of varied materials sewn together sat in the middle, the bag looks like an old colourful hag could use it.

A tabby cat scrolled down the street peacefully and sat down in front of the rundown shop and started licking its paws.

Suddenly, the night is disturbed by a loud crack. Appearing in thin air, three people are standing in the middle of the street. The cat yowled and hissed at the trio. The hiss was followed by anguished low moans and gasps of pain. Two of the people are men and seem to be holding the third person upright, who turned out to be a heavily pregnant pale woman with dark, brown curls and a pained expression on her soft face, she is clutching her round belly, bent over slightly.

The first man is a young wizard with sharp striking features and long shaggy black hair framing his face, holding a black wand and banishing the startled cat to the side with his wand as he stepped towards the dusty, scratchy window of Purge and Dowse Ltd, leaving his male companion behind holding the pregnant woman, who is trying to keep her wailing down. The young brunette man, mangled with three faint scars down his face, his unkempt light brown hair falling short, is pale with shock and worry, or is he just naturally worn out beyond his years?

The raven head man stumbled to a mannequin through the grainy window, shoving his wand into the back pocket of his trousers, and with a rushed panicked voice, barely keeping it down for the unsuspecting sleeping muggles, he spoke to the inanimate statue of colours, “p-pregnant woman giving birth!” And the hand that was leaning on the window sank through the glass; the man yelped and grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her with him as he stumbled into the waiting portal. The brunette, thinking quickly, grabbed her and half-dragged half-carried her to the window that seem to act like a water surface.

As the trio stumbled through the window, they were transported into a different world, a bright white and light green world. They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. It didn’t matter if it is the middle of the night, it is like daytime inside the odd building. The room was far less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards.

But all of this wasn’t registered by the trio as they were at once approached by a nurse pushing a wheelchair over to them. The men collectively sighed in relief and helped the now wailing woman into the chair. Without a word, the nurse wheeled her towards the double doors next to a row of two register desks at the back of the waiting room, somewhere suitable for birth. Before they disappeared, Elise screamed out, “Don’t follow me, both of you, wait for me, I’ll be fine” Elise screamed as a new wave of contraction hits her.

The brunette ran a hand over his face before muttering to the raven head, “I have a bad feeling, Padfoot. Elise is screaming too much, you know she have a higher pain threshold, so high she is classed as a psychopathic person to society. Why the hell was she doubling over like that, when she said she barely noticed the contractions?” he stepped closer and rested his head on the shorter black-haired head.

The man shrug, “I don’t know, Moony. Gods…I don’t fucking know.” He whispered as he grips the other man’s waist.

Then Padfoot felt his other hand being tugged on. He looked down to see a noticeably short elf in a small uniform like the nurses in lime green, looking up with him with what one could describe is an angry tawny owl look. Padfoot, despite the situation and true to his nature, snorted in amusement and spoke, “yes, elf?” Moony raised his eyebrows at the sight.

The elf bristled and shrieked at him. “I’m not just an elf, boy! I’m a doctor! Now, go to the registration desk to register in that insufferable wailing woman who just won’t shut up!”

Padfoot’s eyes instantly flashed with anger and was about to kick the elf away, but Moony grabbed his shirt and yanked him towards the register while Padfoot screamed at the elf over his shoulder, “Listen to me, you useless dust-bunny! Push a whole human out of your dick and tell me if you screamed, poor excuse of a doctor!”

The elf was about to launch himself onto him when a nurse suddenly appeared behind him and waved her wand at him, “Wingardium Leviosa.” She muttered calmly and walked away with the floating elf nearby. Padfoot shoved a middle finger at the elf before Moony had to grab his wrist, pushing it down as he approached the waiting receptionist.

She smiled up at the scarred man, and spoke, “tell me the name of that woman and your names please. I assume the woman is giving birth now?”

Moony nodded, “Yes, my name is Remus lupin, and my…” he paused, “…friend here is-” he started to say but Padfoot, having to have recovered from his mini anger session, interrupted.

“Ah ah, no, don’t call me your friend, Moony,” he then looked at the slightly amused receptionist who have an inkling on what’s going to happen next.

“My name is Sirius Black and Remus is my boyfriend, thank you very much…” he paused, looking at her nametag, “….Harriet.” he sniffed pompously, pretending to act like his hateful mother.

The woman huffed in laughter and started typing away, “I don’t think that’s relevant enough compared to that wailing woman.”

Remus rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Apologies, Harriet, the woman’s name is called Elise Joan” he murmurs quietly, as if he is reluctant to reveal her last name.

Harriet nodded and gestures to the seats as she looked on her computer, “have a seat gentlemen, I will call you over to send to your…..wife?” she looks up at Remus, when she sees Elise’s name in her folder in the hospital records, Elise lupin nee Joan, as if demanding answers as to why is Elise married to Remus when he is together with Sirius, but decided against it, after all its none of her business.

Remus nodded and leaned over the counter to whisper to her, “I understand your confusion, we are only married to protect Elise. She and I…completely platonic…well as platonic as possible with pregnancy forced upon us from a third party.” Then he turned around and walked to the seats, leaving the surprised receptionist behind, Sirius following like a well-behaved lap dog. Opposite them, sat an elderly couple in a row of seats, they gave them disdainful looks as Sirius kisses Remus’s cheek while he sat down next to him.

Sirius side eyed them and gave a pointed look right back at them. After a second of the busting busy waiting room noises washed over him, he grinned as he thinks of an idea.

Remus noticing the situation and his face, groaned in annoyance and was so close to standing up and walking away when Sirius grabbed the lapel of his brown shabby coat and yanked him towards his face, kissing the scarred man passionately. Remus’s eyes widened and, after a second of shock and embarrassment, his eyes fluttered shut and kisses him back.

After a few seconds, they pulled apart. Sirius grinned as he looked at the disapproving couple, who looks like they want to hurl slurs at them or walk away. While, Remus stared at Sirius, looking flustered and embarrassed. The couple decided to blatantly ignore them which is the best-case scenario for the gay men.

********

After an hour of waiting, a worried looking nurse walked up to the reception and whispered something in Harriet’s ear. She nodded and pointed over to the duo amongst the waiting wizards and witches.

The young nurse gulps and walked over to them, his hands wringing in front of him. Sirius looked up at the young nurse, his smile dropping at the sight of his face, Remus frowned and spoke, “is Elise okay?”

The nurse shook his head, “erm, n-no, well the thing is, something happened, something bad, er…I-”

Sirius interrupted, “spit it out man we haven’t got all night.”

Remus whacked his arm lightly and looked at the nurse expectedly. The nurse blanched, its clear he’s new and not used to sending bad news.

He managed to stutter out, “Mrs lupin…she isn’t doing well, it’s a difficult birth, the doctor sent me to tell you that the mother….chose the baby.” He muttered and Sirius and Remus immediately sprang to their feet, and they pushed past him, knocking the poor man down and ran towards the double doors.

After a minute or two, they found her, screams emit from the delivery room. They walked in and stayed by her side as Elise pushed the baby out of her.

Red is everywhere, Elise tore up her pelvis skin and is losing blood. The newborn’s screams filled the room. Remus closed his eyes as his hand held onto Elise’s.

After the umbilical cord turned white, the doctor snipped it, cleaned the baby and handed them to the waiting, tired arms of the mother. Elise gingerly took the baby and sobs as she saw its brown soft curls and the bow lips the baby has, courtesy of their mother.

“It’s a girl” whispered Sirius, Remus opened his eyes and gulps as he saw his daughter and Elise who is looking fainter by the minute. The midwives knew Elise won’t survive due to the immense blood loss, so they are cleaning her up and making sure she is comfortable, while the doctors put away the medical equipment.

Elise whispered, “Leila, a girl born on a new moon mid-January, fitting, Leila Orion Lupin, my baby.” As she spoke, she got quieter as her heartbeat slower. Remus stared at his daughter as he held Elise’s weak hand. Sirius brushed a finger on the newborn’s cheek, a tear dripping down as he realises what's happening.

After a few minutes of solemn silence minus the baby's cries, Elise's heart stopped while Leila’s heart beats for her mothers. Remus is now the single father of Leila Orion Lupin. The girl who will become a legacy, no more than 2 decades later.

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First chapter coming soon.

[deafcat33]

Stories

Readers, over the years I have created stories in my mind. And not too long ago, I decided to put those very stories on page, specifically Tumblr.

These stories are original stories with added characters that change some of the routes in the story. The most advanced stories (the longest and detailed, at least in my mind, I'm completely new writing it down lol) I created is in the world of harry potter, Dune, The Hobbit and The umbrella academy.

The first story I will start creating on page, is harry potter. Credits go to JK Rowling and the directors of the films. Credits go to me for my own characters only.

I will post the chapters whenever I finish it as I learn how to write and post chapters and learn what the readers like, and hopefully I can find a suitable range of days to use between posting chapters.

It will be long progress because two things, harry potter story is thick and I'm in college, should have not picked up the story writing hobby in the middle of college, lol but oh well, I hope you all have fun!