Chapter Text
The Hogwarts Express was like, totally rad! It's all cozy and shit, with this groovy golden light from lanterns, you know, hanging on the walls. And the walls, man, they were decked out in like, old-school faded crimson and gold, rocking the Gryffindor colors, like, woah! The seats were super cushy, like sitting on a giant scarlet marshmallow, and they had this gold bling-bling trim, so fly. And the whole place smelled like, I dunno, like your grandpa's leather couch mixed with a whiff of polished wood, giving off serious throwback vibes. It's like a time machine to the '50s in there, dude!*
"Here, this one is empty," Hermione said as the four of us walked through the Hogwarts Express, trying to find a seat. The train's corridors were dimly lit, and the familiar clatter of wheels against the tracks provided a comforting rhythm.
For anyone wondering; my name is Halley Lupin. Yes, my dad is Remus Lupin. No, I’m not a werewolf.** At this time in my life my hair was its natural color, brown, but a small section of my bangs were bleached and I had just got my glasses.While this is not the beginning of my story, this is the beginning of the exciting part. I decided to skip the boring bits because who wants to read that shit? Not me. Anyways, back to the story.
"Good," Harry said as all of us stepped into the cabin. He closed the door, sealing us in a small, cozy compartment. The sound of the door locking in place was strangely reassuring, as if it was a shield protecting us from the world outside. "I have something to tell you."
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, as she sat down, her brows furrowing with curiosity and a glimmer of concern. The dim, golden light within the cabin played on the thoughtful expression that crossed her face.
"You guys have heard of Sirius Black, right?" Harry questioned, his voice a mix of tension and curiosity, his green eyes darting between us.
"Yeah," Hermione, Ron, and I said simultaneously, the recognition of the infamous name evident on our faces.
I know that Sirius is my dad*** but with everything that goes around about him, my other dad told me to never tell anyone that Sirius is my dad, or at least until I am out of Hogwarts. I feel like I know almost everything about him, my dad talked about him so often.
"Ron's dad told me that Black was the one who sold my parents to Voldemort. He said that he's broken out of Azkaban to kill me," Harry explained, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension and urgency. The cabin's dim, warm light cast shadows on the shared concern etched across our faces.
"Well, then we won't let that happen," I told him, my voice determined and my eyes reflecting a mix of loyalty and a personal stake in the matter. The desire to meet Sirius and confront the mysteries of my own lineage was a constant undercurrent in my thoughts. I’m honestly hoping to meet him this year, fingers crossed bitches- I mean witches.
"Thank you," Harry said to me, a grateful smile touching his lips, his green eyes meeting mine in a moment of shared determination. Little did I realize that this conversation marked the beginning of a series of events that would unravel the mysteries surrounding my family and my destiny.
I smile back, "You're welcome." I grab my army green canvas messenger bag that my dad gave me before I started my first year, and put a never-ending charm on it. I reach into the bag and grab my Discman. "Music?"
"Sure," Ron replied, his voice eager as he leaned forward, anticipating the choice of music. I already had the Nevermind disc in it, so I just pressed play. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” started playing, its rebellious lyrics and energetic guitar riffs setting the stage for the turbulent times ahead.**** Unbeknownst to us, the challenges and revelations that lay in our path would prove to be just as tumultuous as the music filling the cabin..
The four of us talked about our summer while Nirvana played in the background, unaware that the bonds of friendship we shared would be tested in ways we could never have imagined.
As the train sped through the scenic countryside, I couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. He sat across from me, engrossed in conversation with Ron and Hermione, his unruly black hair falling over his glasses as he animatedly spoke about his summer adventures. My heart skipped a beat as I admired the courage and determination etched into his features. It wasn't just his mesmerizing green eyes or his lightning bolt scar that intrigued me; it was the way he faced challenges head-on and stood up for what he believed in.
I couldn't deny the admiration I held for him, the way his laughter resonated like music in me ears, and the subtle kindness that he showed to everyone, even in the darkest of times. I knew that my feelings were more than mere friendship, but I also understood the complexities of our situation. I was the daughter of Remus Lupin, and Harry had his own destiny to fulfill. I could possibly play a bigger role in his story, could I?
I sighed quietly, my thoughts lingering on the unspoken emotions she harbored. I longed for a chance to be closer to Harry, to share my feelings, but the weight of our shared adventures and the looming threat of Sirius Black held me back. For now, my admiration remained hidden, buried beneath layers of friendship, and I continued to cherish the moments when I could steal glances at the boy who had captured my heart.
Oh sorry, I got a little into my emotions there.
After the album is finished I switch it to Metallica , and after that, to August and Everything After . “Mr. Jones” started playing, the music providing a comforting backdrop to our conversation, which had grown more intimate as we shared stories and discussed our hopes for the upcoming year. Our laughter and camaraderie masked the uncertainty and danger that lurked on the horizon, waiting to reveal itself and challenge the very foundations of our world.
The train came to a sudden and jarring halt, causing the cabin to shudder. The windows frosted over, obscuring the view of the passing countryside, and the lanterns flickered before dimming, casting eerie shadows on the already darkened cabin. The temperature plummeted, and the air grew cold and heavy, as if a sinister presence had engulfed the space.
Fear washed over me, settling in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight. It was a paralyzing sensation, the kind that made you feel like happiness had suddenly become an alien concept. I knew that Dementors brought despair, but nothing could have prepared me for the raw intensity of the emotion that engulfed us.
My eyes were drawn to Harry, who sat opposite me. His body convulsed as if he were experiencing a seizure, and his face contorted in a grimace of agony. It was a physical manifestation of the terror that Dementors could unleash.
The Dementor, its hooded form looming in the doorway, was an embodiment of darkness itself. Its presence seemed to suck the very life out of the cabin, leaving us in a void of despair. The air grew thick with barely coherent, agonized screaming, like tortured souls crying out in anguish.
The words became clearer, a desperate, gut-wrenching plea: “NO! SIRIUS! HE’S INNOCENT! NO! I NEED HIM! SIRI!”
My senses were overwhelmed, and I was frozen in place, unable to look away from the nightmarish creature hovering near me. It was as if time had stopped, and the world had slipped into an abyss of despair and suffering. Everything went black and silent, as if all hope had been snuffed out.
I didn’t know how long I was out but when I woke up Harry was also waking up. Harry picked up his glasses off of the seat and we both sat up. I look up to see my father, Remus Lupin, kneeling in front of me.
"Are you all right, pup?" he inquired, his voice laced with a mix of fatherly worry and reassurance. I leaned into his touch, finding solace in the familiar scent of cedar and parchment that always clung to his threadbare robes .
Nodding slowly, I managed a small smile. "Yeah, all right."
With a tenderness that only a father could possess, dad enveloped me in a protective embrace, his wiry frame providing a shield against the residual terror that still lingered in the air. His embrace conveyed a depth of affection that went beyond mere words, a silent promise that he would always be there to protect me, even in the face of the darkest of creatures.
"I’m glad you’re alright," Dad murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. My eyes closed briefly, savoring the warmth of my father's affection, the kind that I had come to cherish over the years.
In a gesture of unspoken understanding, I linked my arm with his, seeking the comfort of his presence. Dad reached into the folds of his robes and retrieved a piece of chocolate, a small but potent remedy for the trauma we had just endured. He handed it to me and then to Harry, his weathered hands offering solace in the form of the comforting treat.
"Here, eat this. It'll help. It's alright, it's chocolate," Dad said, his voice soothing yet firm. I accepted the offering gratefully, finding a sense of security in the familiar taste of the sweet indulgence.
Harry sits upright and takes the piece of chocolate from my dad, "What was that thing?"
As he rose to his feet, a quiet strength radiated from him, a silent reassurance that he would do everything in his power to keep me safe. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a little word with the driver," Dad announced, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turned to leave.
"Can I go with you?" I asked, my voice laced with concern and a hint of determination.
But dad shook his head gently, his gaze filled with paternal protectiveness. "No, I want you to stay here, please."
I nodded, "Okay, dad."
Dad turns to Harry, "Eat, you'll feel better." He closes the door and then walks away.
"Halley, what is your dad doing here?" Hermione asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the cabin.
"He is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," I told her, careful not to reveal the complex ties between my father and Sirius Black.
Hermione's brow furrowed as she processed this information, her curiosity evident. "That explains a lot."
The mention of my father's arrival reminded me of the secrets I still had to keep. My thoughts briefly flickered to the clandestine conversations I had overheard, the hushed whispers about my elusive other dad. I couldn't shake the lingering questions about his identity, the enigmatic figure whose presence loomed over my life like a shadow.
Hermione's inquisitive gaze lingered on me, and I could sense the unspoken curiosity in her eyes. "Who is your mom? If you don't mind me asking."
I hesitated, a wave of conflicting emotions welling up inside me. How could I begin to unravel the complexities of my family history without revealing too much? "Um... Technically, that is my mom. He's trans and doesn't like being associated with feminine things very much, so he prefers me calling him dad rather than mom."
Hermione nodded, her expression a mix of understanding and empathy. "Oh, who's your other dad?" she asked, her voice soft and inquisitive.
The weight of her question settled over me like an unspoken truth, a reminder of the secret that had burdened me for as long as I could remember. "It's not important," I responded, my voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. The memories of a distant past, shrouded in mystery and longing, tugged at the corners of my mind, threatening to unravel the carefully woven tapestry of my family's history.
Hermione's gaze softened, her empathy palpable as she sought to offer comfort in the face of the unknown. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice gentle yet laden with unspoken curiosity.
"It's alright," I replied, my tone tinged with resignation. "It doesn't matter; I can't even remember him. I haven't seen him in twelve years." The ache of longing and the yearning for answers underscored my words, a testament to the profound impact of the unanswered questions that had haunted me for so long.
Ron's expression mirrored a mix of sympathy and concern, his gaze thoughtful as he processed the complexities of my family history. "Well, at least he's not dead," Harry interjected, his voice laced with a cautious optimism that hinted at the possibility of unraveling the tangled web of secrets that had defined my life. “Or is he?”
"No, he's not dead," I responded whilst I shook my head
We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the distant rumble of the train. My mind drifted to the stories Dad used to tell me about Sirius Black. The way he spoke of him with a mix of fondness and longing had always left me curious. I couldn't shake the feeling that meeting Sirius would fill in the missing pieces of my own history, the parts of my life that felt incomplete. Maybe then, the questions that lingered in my mind would find their answers.