Chapter Two: The World is Upside Down
"The most minor event can affect everything; and, when that seemingly insufficient thing happens, it sets everything else in motion... The most minor event can change everything...sometimes for the better, even if it doesn't seem like it at first."Zach Braff
Hatfield, August 16th, 1971
'It's been five years since Claec left,' Athelward noted mentally while taking a bite of the cereal he had prepared for himself just moments before, as he tiredly looked upwards, he noted the clock read 5:15
While his mouth was still full, it was pried open by a yawn, forcing him to cover his mouth with his hand so none of his food would spill from his mouth.
He cracked his eyes open to be greeted by the light that he was required to turn on in order to see his way around the rundown kitchen.
He had been awoken by his mother's wailing cries that echoed throughout their Hertfordshire home.
Each year, this had been a reoccurring event that always took place on the anniversary of his father's disappearance, and, by now, it seemed to be routine for most of the Azarola family.
At that moment, Athelward's sister entered the kitchen, ignoring his presence as she headed for the refrigerator. Delia was not a morning person. She opened it and took out what was left of the carton of milk.
"She woke you up too, huh?" he asked, slightly bemused by Delia's appearance.
Her normally straight corn-colored hair was unbelievably frizzy and unkempt, and she was wearing a baggy old shirt and pants that were at least two sizes too big for pajamas.
After taking a swig of milk, she shot him a scathing look. He sighed as he watched her fix herself a bowl of cereal.
He had been hoping that she would finally speak after five years of sworn muteness. Ever since Claec left when she was six, Delia Azarola hadn't uttered a single word.
The reason Delia had been silent for so long was because of their mother, Deidre. Athelward had always been aware of Deidre's neglect of Delia since it began when he was ten.
His mother blamed Delia for Claec leaving.
Normally, by the age of six, all wizarding children would have shown signs of possessing magic, but Delia hadn't. There was no freak accident, mysterious occurrence, or even a flying episode.
To her father, she seemed to be the worst thing a person in the Azarola family could be: normal.
He had always taken pride in his family's pureblood status, but this was unforgivable to him.
The night before he left, Claec and Deidre had a verbal battle. He accused her of having an affair with a Muggle.
"There is no way that thing is mine," he exclaimed so loud that Athelward and Delia could hear him from Athelward's room where Delia had gone to seek shelter, "Everyone in the Azarola family has been a witch or a wizard! There has never been one who wasn't."
Th couple argued for hours. All the while, their children heard every curse they passed to one another.
The dispute ended with Claec exited the house, swearing under his breath, leaving behind a sobbing wife and two trembling kids.
Athelward and Delia knew better than to try and comfort their mom. But later, she had to confront them sooner or later
She held Delia liable for not being a witch, and punished her for it by paying no attention to her.
Delia, wracked with guilt for something she couldn't control, vowed to herself that she wouldn't cause anyone pain, and would accomplish that by silence.
She had just plopped down at the table where Athelward sat in a chair across from him and started consuming her breakfast when he felt compelled to say, "You know, I've been counting the days, and I very surprised to say that you have been silent for exactly one thousand, eight hundred and twenty six days. You held your oath a lot longer than I expected you too."
This statement halted her actions immediately.
Without lifting her gaze, she raised her hand and gave him the middle finger salute.
Athelward confounded that his eleven year old sister knew such a crude hand gesture, choked out, "She showed you that, didn't she?"
Delia didn't respond, but continued to eat her cereal. He took that as a yes.
Athelward shook his head in shock at his sister's ability to pick up things so quickly.
When he had learned it in his third year at Hogwarts, he had to ask one of his mates what the sign meant.
Now, about to enter his fifth year as a Slytherin, he knew much more about the teenage lifestyle.
They continued their breakfast slowly, and, a half hour later, the sun started to rise in the horizon.
As Athelward was clearing their bowls and started to begin washing them, an owl swooped down upon their kitchen window sill.
Peck. Peck. Peck.
Its beak clashed against the closed glass furiously; his want to be inside was evident.
"Delia, could you let him in, please?" Athelward asked over his shoulder whilst drying his hands of the suds from the sink, "It's probably for me…" His voice dropped what he was going to say next. He was aware that his sister didn't like Hogwarts being mentioned in her presence.
She sighed as she got up from her chair at the kitchen table, and made her way to open the window.
When she did, the hazel barn owl hopped onto the nearest counter and held out its foot, which had letters tied around it.
Athelward looked at the bird curiously while he took the letters from it.
Once it was free of the letters, the owl spread its wings and flew back out the window.
Athelward turned his gaze towards the letters and his eyes bulged a bit from their sockets when he read who the top one was addressed to:
Miss Delia Azarola
42 Briargrove Lane
Hatfield, Hertfordshire
In the Kitchen
He quickly turned the letter over and found the seal that was very familiar to him.
It was from Hogwarts.
...
King's Cross, September 1st, 1971
Remus Lupin turned towards his parents as the scarlet train blasted an ear piercing screech telling everyone that the Hogwarts Express was about to leave the platform.
Remus was sure that he felt a pang in his chest when he saw his parents' faces. They were creased with wrinkles he hadn't noticed before, along with dark circles running under their eyes from lack of sleep.
"I can't blame them," he thought to himself, "I would be worried too if my only child was leaving me for a wizarding school."
But they all knew that wasn't the reason.
They were worried about him going to school because of his "condition."
...
At the age of five, Remus was a curious child and he loved to explore. His mother usually let him wander through their backyard some afternoons, just to get the little tyke out of her hair for fifteen minutes.
He decided, one day, that he had not done enough exploring. He crept out of his house after dark and started looking for new discoveries the night might bring.
He heard something rustling behind him while he was investigating a batch of fireflies. He turned around and saw an outline of what appeared to be a rather large dog.
"Doggy!" Remus giggled as he approached the shadowed figure with his arm stretched out to pet the dog.
Instead of a soft pallet of fur, he felt piercing pain rip through his upper arm, making him shriek with anguish.
He yanked his arm away from the being and ran, crying, back towards his house. His mother had heard his cries from her room and had come rushing towards her ailing son.
He grabbed her into a fierce hug and started rubbing his face onto the nightgown she was currently wearing.
"Remus? Honey, what's wrong?"
He held up his arm, without lifting his head, and showed her his bite mark.
...
Remus glanced up at his mother's warm brown eyes and saw that they were glistening. As she noticed this, she wiped the tears away and forced a smile.
"Remus, you are a wonderful person no matter what anybody says, remember that," his mother stated while leaning down and planting a loving kiss on her son's forehead.
"Muuuuuuummmm! Do you know how cheesy that sounded?!" Remus muttered while shaking his head of sandy brown hair, trying to cover the blush that had overcome his cheeks.
Emily Lupin chuckled at her son's response. She tapped his back silently, urging him forward which he did very willingly.
"We'll owl you at least twice a week!" she called out to his retreating form, which was getting aboard the train.
Once he was out of her sight, she buried her head into her husband's shoulder, letting out numerous silent sobs.
John Lupin put his arms around his wife and started patting her on the back, trying to calm her. "He'll be fine Em," he stated, leaning down and kissing her on top of her fine brown hair. "Dumbledore will make sure of it."
A/n: Okay, now before you start wondering 'What was Delia's reaction to the letter?' all I have to say is you'll find out in the next chapter. I promise: )