heres chapter two, hope you enjoy! punkirish

Hang the Moon: Chapter Two

A Few Years Later

Watching herself in the mirror Celeste frowned at the red and purple bruises forming under her right eye, her hand searching for the makeup bag for the foundation she kept there, great for covering up bruises such as this.


He had been reinstated, had really no choice, what with the recent attacks, it was hard enough finding people qualified for the job.

Remus Lupin stood in the same rooms that he had occupied two years before, a bit amazed that he was ever seeing them again.

"To your liking, I hope." The voice danced through the silence, and Remus turned to see Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

"Yes, thank you, Sir."

"I am glad you are back, Remus, it's been a long time coming I know, but the children need you now."

"I gathered that Albus." Remus found himself fidgeting again, as if he was under some kind of test situation.

"Well, I'll leave you then." And with that the Headmaster left Remus to his thoughts and the silence that ghosted between the stone walls.


The letter came late in August and Celeste was surprised that it came to her and not to her father; she had long ago given up the hope of letters. What made it even more curious was that it was parchment and square and addressed in dark ink, unlike the type rectangular letters that usually came.

Celeste peeled it open, and unfolded the paper.

Dear Miss Celeste M. Griffith,

Celeste stopped reading and tightened her grip of the paper, no one ever wrote her, but she started reading again curious of who would write her in the first place.

I apologize for the lateness, on which you receive this letter; we did not realize that you had not been accepted to either Beaubaxtons or Durmastrang. But now that that is cleared up, we would like to accept you into our school. Following this there is a list of supplies for next year's curriculum. I do hope you take us up on our offer.

If you do wish to attend please arrive at King's Cross Station at 9:00 August 31st, and you will be escorted to school, to be sorted.

M. McGonallgal

Assistant Head Mistress and Gryffindor Head of House

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Celeste blinked, her mum had talked about Hogwarts years before the sickness took her, but Celeste never imagined she'd ever be accepted. She remembered something her mum had said about being eleven and getting a letter. But she had never got a letter, from any, Beaubaxtons, Durmastrang or Hogwarts. She scanned the next two, reading down the lists of books and supplies she would need.

The slamming of the front door, shattered her euphoric like trance she was in, and Celeste scrambled to hide the letter.

"Celeste!" Her name echoed through out the halls, as her father ascended the stairs.

"Celeste! Come 'ere you little brat." He again shouted, and Celeste cringed but remained still.

"There you are, you silly girl."

Her father's figure came into view, his shadow pouring over her smaller form, and he smiled casually at her. Celeste steeled herself, and waited for what would eventually come.


"Shit! Bollocks!"

Celeste hissed as she pressed the alcohol drenched towel to her face. A nasty gash above her eye had yet to heal though it had been almost a whole day since her father and she had crossed paths.

Carefully she pulled the towel away.

That will have to do. Celeste took a plaster from the first-aid box, and stuck it above her eye careful to not get it on her eyebrow.

After attending to her cut, Celeste pulled out the letter again still figuring if she should go, and if she did how to conceal her absence from her father.


Celeste drifted slowly in and out of dream-world hoping to see a glimpse of her mother from beyond, but every time she tried to reach her, a black mist enveloped and suffocated her. And this time just like the last, flashes of blood red echo in the back and she dreams of things most people would never understand. Tonight, there are corpses of children, ripped and torn into shreds, only their tiny fingers intact, clutched in a type of rigor mortis. A beautiful, unscathed white dove glides down on a sidewalk where transparent nails claw her chest cavity open; heart, lungs, stomach, and entrails all visible though no blood flows out. Something that resembles a hacked up torso, bound with crimson and black fabric stands upright. A brain probably human, open and exposed explodes, and a accident on train tracks comes into view. A power drill and a hacksaw sever an already bloody stomach of canine. An overwhelming stench of the deterioration of flesh and decay fill Celeste's dream-senses. The body of a jumper, splattered on the sidewalk covets the last remnants of the dream, and the last fleeting vision she has is of a man, naked, clutching his stomach, and hacking up great gouts of tainted blood.

Celeste is pulled from her dream, by the large, bulbous hand that wrenches her out of bed. Even before she can regain consciousness, she is knocked back out of it again, and all she can see is blood.


Remus can't remember if ever he slept soundly, maybe he did before he was bitten but since then, sleep had been one crusade after another with himself. Night after night, when sleep overtook him, phantasms of victims of every shape and kind haunted him. This nightmare begins again, yet this time screams wail against his mind and blood drips through the darkness, and when he awakes he has clawed his hands crimson in his struggle.
yeah aren't i horrible to my characters, and others. yeah don't worry happiness is on its way i think. punkirish