Insane House Competition: Remus Lupin
Sticker Challenge, Sword: brave
365 Prompts Challenge: ghost
Book Club, Astrid Ellison: genius, religious, sacrificing someone, regret
Liza's Loves: House of the Devil
Word Count: 2082
The group of teenage boys come to a stop outside the abandoned house. Sirius shudder. He's passed by it on his way to school every day, but he's never really looked at it. Everyone in town knows better than to linger too long outside the Devil's House.
Now, he has no choice but to look at it. Once upon a time, it might have been a nice little manor. Now, there are parts of the roof that have caved in, windows have been shattered, and the grey paint is chipped and peeling away.
"I hear there's a graveyard in back," Peter says, his voice shrill and trembling. "In the woods behind the house. Skeletons come up and dance!"
James snorts. "Skeletons can't dance, genius," he says simply, but even he looks uncertain. "But there are ghosts. Lots of them!"
Sirius rolls his eyes. They've all heard the legends growing up. Old Tom Riddle was a Satanist who performed dark rituals in the basement. For decades, children went missing. Only after Riddle died did the disappearances stop. For a while, at least.
He doesn't know if he believes it. He loves a good ghost story as much as the next bloke, but they're just that. Stories. Little tales told around the campfire. Cautionary tales told to keep children from wandering off.
"I'm not going in," Peter says, shaking his head for emphasis. "No way."
"Scared, Pete?" Sirius teases.
"No! Just… It gives me the creeps, okay?"
Sirius turns his gaze to James, grinning. "James?"
James deflates slightly, his bravado melting away. "Come on, mate. We weren't really going to go in. Just a laugh," he says.
With a roll of his eyes, Sirius shakes his head. The place is spooky, but there's nothing to it. The legends are just legends.
"I heard Frank Longbottom went in and never came out," Peter adds.
"Fine. I'll do this myself," Sirius volunteers. "Since you two are too chicken."
His friends grow silent at that. Neither take the bait. Honestly, Sirius is a bit disappointed. They've always been the types to take on any challenge; the crazier, the better. This is practically the Holy Grail of dares, and he can't believe neither of them want to join him.
"I'll see you blokes in the morning," he says, rummaging in his bag and pulling out a torch. He turns it on, and a bright beam of light cuts through the darkness. "I ain't afraid of no ghosts."
…
Remus lingers at the window. If he still had a heart, it would sink to his stomach at the sight of the dark haired boy making his way up the stone path.
It's ridiculous. People do this for a dare now. When he had been alive, he had been dragged down that path, kicking and screaming. He can still feel the pain of his body tearing against the rough rocks.
"Don't do it," he whispers.
He's made this plea hundreds of time in the past. No one ever listens, and now they're all trapped here.
"Run while you can."
But the boy doesn't. He keeps coming, and as he gets closer, Remus can see the wild grin on his face. He isn't scared yet, but he will be.
…
The door is unlocked. Sirius pushes it open carefully and shines his light inside the dark house. The beam dims, and he frowns. He'd put new batteries in that morning; they shouldn't be failing already.
He shrugs it off and takes a step inside. The floorboard creaks menacingly under his weight. Sirius snorts. Ghosts won't be his problem. He has to worry about not falling through the floor and breaking every bone in his body.
The air smells musty and sour. Sirius gags but forces himself to carry on. The place has been abandoned since the thirties. Of course it isn't going to smell pleasant. "Hello?" he calls.
Silence.
He doesn't know what he had expected. Would ghosts drift in and offer him a cup of tea? Sirius laughs at the thought.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice catches him off guard, and Sirius turns, fist raised and ready to swing. No one is there.
"Lovely," he mutters to himself. "Now I'm hearing things."
He frowns. They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity.
Sirius ventures further into the parlor. It's still furnished, though everything has aged and is covered in dust. A half rotten piano sits beside a sofa that might have once been sleek, but now the springs and padding peek out through cracks in the material.
The inside of the house is definitely creepier than the outside, but it isn't enough to send him running. That's just what happens when a home is neglected and falls into disrepair. The darkness makes it more ominous, but Sirius isn't afraid. There's nothing in here now that wouldn't be here during the daylight hours.
…
The boy had heard him! Remus almost laughs. No one ever seems to hear him. If they do, they ignore him, and the boy is definitely ignoring him.
Remus drifts closer to the piano. Fingers fall through the ivory keys, and he scowls. Touching things isn't easy. He focuses his energy into it and tries again. His finger connects with the key, and a single note fills the air.
The boy jumps and turns around. "Hello?" he calls.
His bravery seems to falter now. Good. Maybe Remus can scare some sense into him and run him off before it's too late. He hasn't come out yet, and his minions seem to be inactive. For now. It's only a matter of time before the others wake, and if this boy is still here… God have mercy on his poor soul.
…
Sirius keeps his torch light fixed upon the piano, but nothing happens. He relaxes, laughing to himself. Something must have fallen on the key that he hadn't noticed.
He decides not to spend too much time in the parlor. It may be spooky, but it's hardly exciting. He exits through the nearest door, shivering. The turns cold for just a fraction of a second, and his hair stands on end as goosebumps tickle his exposed skin. He can't shake the feeling that someone is watching him.
Sirius shakes his head. He's being ridiculous. No one is there. He's just paranoid because he knows the stories. That's all.
Still, no matter how much he tries to convince himself, he doesn't quite believe it.
He finds himself in a corridor. Part of him considers turning around and running. He fights his fear down, though. He had been so brave for James and Peter. They would never let him live it down if he changed his mind now.
He looks around, wondering where he should go next. There is a door on either side of the corridor, and a staircase at the end. Sirius smiles softly. He feels like a kid in a sweet shop. He's always lived for the next big adventure, and now he has so many options.
He pushes open the door to his right and nearly pukes. It had been a bathroom once, and the smell is enough to twist his stomach into knots. Where the toilet had once been, there is only a hole, and large cockroaches spill out from the void. Sirius slams the door shut again, doubling over and dry heaving. He's grateful he hadn't eaten anything before coming here.
Once he recovers himself, Sirius straightens, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth. He makes a mental note not to open that door again and takes a few steps until he's at the door to his left.
"Don't."
Sirius turns again. There's still no one there, but the voice had been clearer than before. "Hello? Is anyone there?" he calls.
No answer.
With a shrug, Sirius opens the second door.
…
Remus is restless now. Time is running out, and the young man is still here. Worse still, he's getting dangerously close to waking the others. Remus may want to save the poor fools who come to this place, but he's the only one. Even the innocent ones have become warped over the years.
Remus doesn't know how he's kept his humanity intact. There's nothing special about him. He isn't some beacon of hope and light in this dark, miserable place. He just doesn't want to see another person fall victim to this evil home.
When the young man opens the door to the kitchen, Remus reaches out. The stranger freezes and turns, running his hand over his arm where Remus had gripped him.
"If anyone is here, show yourself!" the living one calls. "Stop playing games."
Remus snorts. Famous last words. He only hopes it isn't enough to wake the others.
Now that Remus is close, he can really look at the stranger. He's handsome, and if Remus still had a pulse, it would probably quicken just looking at him.
"Leave this place," Remus says, but his voice falters, and the living one doesn't seem to hear.
Remus follows behind him. It's almost over, and he won't be able to protect him much longer.
...
The kitchen is in much better shape than the bathroom had been. It reeks of mold, and the floor is soft beneath his feet, but at least there aren't any cockroaches here.
Sirius steps forward, approaching a door on the other side of the room. He can guess where it leads. Riddle was said to perform his sacrifices in the cellar. His hand rests on the doorknob, and he shudders. He's never been a religious person, but he crosses himself before twisting the knob.
"Please, don't."
Now, when Sirius turns, he is not alone. The boy who stands before him looks to be around his age, but everything about him is grey and translucent. His skin is scarred, and he stares at Sirius with pleading eyes.
"Don't go down there."
Sirius recognizes that voice. This is who has been following him around. "Who are you?"
"Remus Lupin. Tom Riddle's first victim," he says quietly.
Sirius shakes his head. It doesn't make sense. Ghosts aren't real, but there's no way to explain the strange boy who stands beside him now.
"I can't protect you if you go down there," Remus continues.
"Never asked you to protect me," Sirius says dryly, pulling the door open.
"Please…"
But Sirius ignores him and takes a step forward into the darkness.
…
Remus is no stranger to regret. There are so many lives he's tried to save, and the memories continue to haunt him.
He wishes the boy would have listened to him, but he isn't surprised that he didn't. No one ever does.
…
When Sirius reaches the bottom of the stairs, his torch fizzles out. He shakes it, swearing under his breath. Overhead, he hears the door slam shut. "Very funny, Remus!" he calls, feeling around blindingly.
The cellar smells like dust and mold. Sirius coughs, but it does nothing to get the taste out of his throat.
The darkness is so complete; he can't see anything at all.
"Remus? Remus!"
In the darkness, he hears footsteps. The temperature drops several degrees, and Sirius lets out a soft whine. "I get it! This place is haunted. I'm going!"
Icy fingers wrap around his throat, and red eyes like burning coals peer down at him through the darkness. "Terribly sorry, but you aren't going anywhere."
Sirius can't even scream.
…
Remus can feel someone in the attic with him. He scowls. This is his safe space. Riddle and his minions never venture this far.
When he turns, he finds the stranger from before, but he immediately notices the difference. He is a wisp, like smoke trying to take form. "I should have listened."
"Yeah. You should have," Remus says simply.
"It hurt."
Remus closes his eyes. He can't feel anymore, but he can still remember the blade carving into his stomach. "I wish you didn't have to go through that," he says, opening his eyes again. "What's your name?"
"Sirius." The wisp solidifies slightly, and Sirius moves closer. "Will it ever get easier?"
"Eventually. I can help."
Sirius laughs softly. "Well, if I have to be a ghost, at least I get to spend my afterlife with someone cute."
If Remus still had blood, he would blush. A small smile plays at his lips, and he offers Sirius his hand. Maybe there's some hope for this evil place.