Disclaimer:
I don't own Harry Potter - only my imagination is my own :)
A/N:
This was written for the 10th round of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, as a reserve for Beater 2 (Tutshill Tornadoes). The prompts used was number 2; tickled (word) and 7; eulogy (writing style).
DAWN OF TOMORROW
Crystals of snow covered the small coffin like a white soft blanket.
The woman watched a young girl step up beside the coffin, timidly at first, and then with sure movements.
She placed her hand on the wood, tenderly, and then turned to the people gathered at her brother's final resting place. Her soft voice seemed like a nostalgic melody of someone lost.
"The last couple of weeks, many people have expressed their condolences and horror at what befell my brother. Though no one can really understand how it feels to lose one you love in such a way without experiencing it themselves, I appreciate their kind words and thoughts. On this day I regret the future days and laughs we were robbed of, but more so I want to treasure the memories I have with my brother.
I remember one warm spring day several years ago, my brother came running into the living room, yelling at us to come outside. With impatient urgency he led us to some bushes, pointing at a fragile bird. It's hurt, he said, we have to help it. The next three days, he nursed the sparrow back to health, only leaving it when my mother made him. My brother loved life. Even the life of a sparrow.
Life is fragile and precious, like the life of the sparrow. We never know when our last days will be, nor how many we have left. Though my brother's life was cut short, he lived life to its fullest. He was our sun, smiling on us with his wonder at every living being, his cheerful laughs and inventive imagination. I have never met anyone else who could find such joy in the simple things in life.
I will never understand why anyone would want to harm my brother. His last moments are something I dread thinking about. I blame no one for his death, no one but the one who murdered him. It's a poor comfort knowing he is behind bars. My brother is already gone. Nothing will bring him back.
Though, he will always be alive in our memories. "
Incessant fingers abruptly brought her out of her daydreams.
"Ha-ha! Stop it - that tickled!"
Anne looked quizzically at her, slowly withdrawing her fingers.
"Where were you - you looked miles away?"
She looked at her colleague, the funeral still vividly clear in her mind. The service had been beautiful and sad. A pang of regret tore at her heart - if only she had been quicker.
"Past mistakes," she replied solemnly.
Anne regarded her silently for a second, and then shrugged her shoulders, deciding to not go down that path once again.
She leaned against the doorframe, handing her colleague a sheet of paper.
"There's been another sighting."
The woman slumped together behind her desk, dejectedly accepting the new inspection orders. More often than not, they were dead ends.
"Not another one…" she grumbled.
The small village at the foot of the mountain was painted in tranquil stillness, as was often the case at the break of dawn. The only sound to be heard was the wind's tender brushing of falling snow. A sudden crack disturbed the almost soundless winter morning.
A woman appeared out of thin air, brushing her cloak of none-existent dirt. Keen blue eyes surveyed the surroundings with an almost bored interest. She was not too pleased about going on another wild goose chase. It was already the fifth one this Month and it wasn't even past the first week.
"Sheesh, there's no need to jump the gun at the first sign of an ominous sound, now is there? What's the point of being scared of your on shadow? It's not like it's out to get you," the irate woman grumbled to no one in particular, while walking through the peaceful country village.
She suddenly stopped at the edge of the village, eyeing a wide-open window on the first floor in a small wooden house.
"Now, this is weird..." she mumbled to herself. "Why would anyone leave their window open at night when it's freezing cold?"
The woman shook her head in confusion, letting her brown curls dance around her face. When her gaze shifted to the ground and followed the road along the paddock, an ominous feeling settled in her stomach. Suddenly the quiet felt eerie. From the open window and along the paddock, fresh footprints in the snow disappeared into the dark forest. The lone pair of footprints was too small. A child. For some reason a child had ventured into the forest alone in the night.
The brown-haired woman quickened her steps, while gripping the wand hidden in her winter cloak. She knew the child was most likely fine, probably just sneaking out and already on its way back, but she still couldn't shake the bad feeling. After years of dealing with Dark Creatures, she knew not to ignore her instinct. Her gut told her something was wrong, and sadly she was often proved correct in her assumptions.
She followed the child's footprints into the forest, cautiously, with her wand at the ready, but then the footprints abruptly changed direction and the spaces between them grew longer.
Why would the child start running?
A quiet whimper among the trees answered her question. When another set of much larger, decidedly not human footprints, converged with the child's, she hissed between her teeth. Dread filled her stomach like accumulating ice cubes.
"Please, don't let me be too late!" she pleaded, not knowing her prayers would be heard in one way, but not another.
Caution was thrown to the wind as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Terrible memories resurfaced of a time when she had been too late. Stumbling upon the aftermath of a werewolf's kill was anything but pleasant. It was sickening.
She came to a dead stop. Everything she most feared was displayed in front of her. A child was laying at the root of a tree, covered in blood and scratches.
So much blood.
"Help..." a week, broken voice pleaded almost soundlessly.
"No," she breathed shaken, "not again!"
She stumbled towards the dying boy, falling on her knees beside him.
"No," she repeated, "I will not let you die!"
The woman hastily started muttering healing-spells, eternally grateful she had taken the time to learn the basics. It may be enough to save the boy. While she worked, the pale boy slipped into unconsciousness. She managed to stop the bleeding, but worried about the amount of blood loss. As the minutes ticked by, the boy's labored breathing eased and he did not look as pale anymore. She breathed a sigh of relief. The boy would live. He would live.
As she walked back to the village, the boy carefully cradled in her arms, her relief of the boy's survival diminished. The boy's life would forever be changed. He would be hated and feared. Many would not see him as anything but the monster who had attacked him. His new harsh reality saddened her. She knew all too well how the wizarding world viewed Dark Creatures. Fear distorted the reality, it bred ill-will and a desire to control that which one did not understand. By no stretch of the imagination could werewolves be called harmless, but neither were skilled wizards. They were dangerous, but not any more evil or less human than any other wizard. At least that was what she believed, even if the world didn't.
As she looked down at the pale boy, a fierce protectiveness bloomed in her chest. She vowed she would do anything to shield him from the world. Suddenly big round eyes stared up at her. She could see the questions in them, the fear and the grudging trust. She came to a halt, gently brushing hair out of his face.
"You are safe. The bad guy is gone."
He still looked unsure.
"You're safe. I'll not let anything else happen to you."
He nodded slowly, silently accepting her consoling words.
"What's your name?"
He stared at her again.
"My name is Rose. Could you tell me yours?"
He nodded again.
"Remus..."
Rose stared wide-eyed down at the boy in her arms, finally recognizing who he was. Again dread froze her to her bones. She knew him, or at least she knew his parents. He was the son of Hope and Lyall Lupin. The son of one of her colleagues at the Department of Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures.
How did one go about telling one's friends their son's life was irrevocably changed forever?
Rose sighed dejectedly, a dull pain spreading like rings in a pond.
She started walking again, reassuring the boy in her arms with words much calmer than she felt.
"I'll bring you back to your parents, Remus, and then everything will be okay. You'll be safe."
Remus held her eyes with his own for a long time, and then nodded once again, relief evident in his posture.
"Thank you, Rose," he said politely, the corner of his lips tugging up in a small careful smile.
Rose watched the child sleeping peacefully in his mother's arms, quite unaware of the difficult times that lay ahead. The full moon was only a week away. A raw pain cut through her like a knife at the thought of what that meant. A five-year-old should never have to experience the curse of lycanthropy.
"Are you sure, Rose?"
She turned to the concerned mother, knowing she had to shatter her last shreds of hope.
"Yes, there's no mistaking those wounds. In addition I was sent here because of the possible sighting of a werewolf. I'm afraid this is real."
"Then, what are we going to do?"
The silence resounded in the living room.
"The only thing we can do," a male voice uttered calmly, but Rose knew him well enough to hear the distress in his voice - he was devastated.
"We'll find a cure, and in the meantime, we'll keep this a secret."
For a second Rose wondered if he still viewed werewolves the same way as before - he had insulted Greyback and offered his unfavorable opinions on these Dark Creatures - but somehow Rose knew this was no longer the case. Never, not even once, since she'd told them what had happened, had he looked at his son with anything but love.
Lyall turned to his co-worker.
"What will you do?"
Rose met his gaze without wavering and simply stated:
"Whatever is necessary. Whatever I can do to help."
He held her eyes prisoner, willing her to show a weakness in her resolve, an inkling that she was not completely truthful.
"Good," he finally stated. "You know what that means?"
"Yes, I do."
Rose turned to Hope, giving her a reassuring smile.
"I know all too well, as do you, what the wizarding world has in store for registered werewolves. It's not pretty. You're son deserves a normal life. You'll have to take precautions, but he should be able to live his life without being feared or despised."
Rose got up from her chair and walked over to Hope, hugging her gently without rousing Remus.
"If you ever need anything, please call me."
Hope returned the embrace, a tear falling down her cheek.
"Thank you, Rose, for saving our son."
"Of course, that's a given," she said while retreating, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Rose turned to Lyall and grabbed the extended hand.
"I'll see you on Monday, but that might be the last day."
Lyall's eyes widened in surprise.
"You've finally decided?"
Rose smiled from her heart, knowing finally that it was the right decision. It was time. It had been for a while.
"Yes, I'm resigning. I spoke with Albus yesterday. They have an open teaching position in Care of Magical Creatures. I think it'll suit me better."
Lyall chuckled slightly.
"Yes, it will."
Rose let go of his hand and turned to put on her shoes and cloak.
"Don't be a stranger," she waved at them, and then walked out of the door.
"We won't, and that applies to you as well," she heard Hope call out to her from their living room.
The door closed behind her and she stopped for a second, looking up at the snow which lazily danced in the air. They would be okay. Unlike the boy she couldn't save, Remus would grow up with loving parents. He would know the pain of lycanthropy, but he would also live.
A/N:
I hope you enjoyed the story! It was written in a bit of a rush, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes (it's unbeta'd...).
Reviews are highly appreciated!
Oh, and just a notice about Lucy and Twin Dimensions - they are not abandoned! I'm working on the next chapter of Lucy, and the next couple of chapters of Twin Dimensions are written, just waiting to be edited. I see now that I will not be able to write monthly updates, so sorry about that!
- Elysia