Chapter Text
My name is Hailey Lupin. I’ve decided to write down my life story in the hopes that one day, I can exist again. Of course, I don’t mean that in a literal way. I definitely exist. But no one knows. At least, not anyone of great importance to me. Not that I really have anyone anyway. Both of my parents and my stepmum are dead and my brother has no idea I even exist. Anyway, on to the story.
The earliest thing I can really remember is my mother’s funeral. It was the year 1991, when I was 6 years old. I remember putting the flowers on the grave and holding my dad’s hand as he cried. I think I was too young to really understand the concept of death. My dad told me that she was with his old friends up in heaven. I didn’t really understand what heaven was either but when you're six, you just believe everything your parents tell you. I just stood there next to him, holding his hand and watching the few friends of my mother that knew her well enough to come say goodbye leave as the rain started pouring down.
From that point on, it was mostly just me and my dad. Old friends of my mother would occasionally stop by to visit, usually bringing dinner with them since my dad had a hard time finding a job because of his werewolf condition. Eventually though, they either moved away or got too busy to visit and my dad had to find other ways to feed me. I think I was around eight at this time. He could hold down a job for a couple of months but had to quit after people started noticing a pattern of his disappearances. I would take walks around the neighborhood during the day, looking for any type of work I could do to make a little bit of money. Sometimes, I would walk Sparky, the dog that belonged to our neighbor, Mrs. Rochester. On Sundays, I would pick up the groceries for Old Man Donner, who was a bit of a local celebrity. He knew just about everything about everyone and always had the latest gossip. We used to talk for hours while sipping tea on his front porch. After work, my dad would come home and homeschool me. After lessons, we would sit down on the couch and read me a story, usually picking something like The Call of the Wild or Moby-Dick. But my favorite stories were the ones about my mum and his school days.
The year I turned eight was also the year I got to see Hogwarts for the first time. My dad had been hired as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
I remember saying to him, “Now you’ll be an official teacher.”
He smiled at me and said, “How right you are, cub.”
I wasn’t allowed to leave the room we lived in so I didn’t get to see much of the castle. Only the professors knew I existed. Dad thought it was best if I was kept a secret in case the secret that he was a werewolf got leaked. He was right in the end, I guess. I snuck out loads, though. And I saw Harry Potter. His hair and eyes looked exactly how Dad had described them and he looked so much like the pictures of James that Dad had. I was ecstatic about seeing him, but I was saddened by the fact that he was supposed to be like my big brother and I couldn’t even go talk to him.
The end of that year was the most interesting part of it. Turns out, it was Peter Pettigrew who had betrayed James and Lily, not Sirius Black. Then Snape just had to reveal the fact that Dad was a werewolf. I can never forgive him for that. The last day we were there, I was sitting in the chair by Dad’s desk in his office as he finished packing up when there was a knock on the door. I dove under the desk and Dad opened the door. It was Harry. They had a nice talk, and Dad had to leave me behind in order to remain inconspicuous. Harry stayed for about a minute after that, probably wallowing in self-pity, before he finally left. I stayed there for about ten minutes before Dad finally came back for me and we flooed out of there.