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. 😁