Chapter 17 - Truth Becomes Her

Moonlight spilled across the forest clearing in hazy shafts by the time help arrived. Emergency flares crackled overhead like crimson fireflies, casting eerie shadows over the scene. Leaves rustled in the trees above, and the air carried the faint, metallic scent of blood.

Dumbledore was the first to reach them, his robes billowing as he knelt beside the unconscious figure on the ground. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid followed close behind, their faces drawn and pale.

Dumbledore pressed two fingers to Lupin's neck, then lowered his ear toward his mouth. "How long has he been like this?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Fred shook his head. "We don't know. He was already like that when we found him."

McGonagall clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Hagrid stepped forward, concern etched into every line of his massive frame.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing immediately," Dumbledore instructed, rising. "Gently."

"Aye, Professor," Hagrid murmured. He stooped, lifting Lupin with surprising tenderness, cradling the wounded man as if he weighed nothing at all. As Hagrid trudged back through the trees, Dumbledore turned to the two of us.

"You did the right thing. But there's nothing more for you to do tonight. Return to the castle."

Fred nodded and guided Ava by the elbow. Her legs felt numb as she kept glancing back until Lupin disappeared into the shadows.


Hours later, I was still sitting outside the Hospital Wing, back against the cold stone wall. Fred was beside her, his shoulder pressing lightly into hers, and George sat on his other side. A few students passed them on their way to and from dinner, but none stopped.

Fred yawned and let his head fall against her shoulder. "I'm hungry."

George stretched, cracking his back. "How long are we gonna sit here? My stomach thinks I've starved to death."

Ava smiled faintly but didn't answer. The corridor smelled like candlewax and antiseptic, and the waiting was beginning to feel endless.

Just then, the doors creaked open. Madam Pomfrey stepped out, bustling past with her skirts swishing and her heels clicking. She didn't acknowledge them and just disappeared down the corridor.

"You two go ahead," she said softly. "I'm not hungry."

Fred shifted to look at her. "You sure? We can wait."

She shook my head. "Go on. I'll go to my room in a bit."

George stood, stretching again. "Right, then. Come on, Gred. I hear a drumstick calling my name."

Fred hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Don't stay out here too long," he said, brushing her arm lightly. Then the two of them disappeared around the corner.

She waited until the corridor was completely silent. Then she rose, took a breath, and quietly slipped into the Hospital Wing.

It was dim and hushed, the beds lined up in their perfect rows, white sheets pulled tight. Only one was occupied–Professor Lupin, who was lying still as stone, bandaged and bruised.

She padded toward the bed on silent feet, heart heavy. His face was scratched, his chest wrapped in gauze. She wanted to ask what had happened. She wanted to demand answers. But instead, she just stood there, watching him breathe.

And then she heard footsteps.

She barely had time to react. Heart pounding, she darted behind the privacy screen in the far corner, crouching low. The door creaked open.

"Albus?" came a hoarse voice.

"Remus. How are you feeling?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing who it was. Dumbledore. She couldn't move. Could barely breathe.

"I… I've been better," Lupin said, his voice ragged. "How did I get here?"

"Ava Johnson and Fred Weasley found you."

A pause. Then: "Did anyone see me… transform?"

Transform?

Her stomach dropped as she pressed closer to the screen.

"I highly doubt it," Dumbledore replied. "You were alone when they arrived."

"I've been missing since the full moon. The students must be asking questions."

"They always do."

"I shouldn't be here," Lupin said quietly. "Anthony was right. I shouldn't have accepted the position. Not with Ava here. Not with what I am."

"You are not what you were born as, Remus. You are who you choose to be."

There was a pause. Then, brokenly: "I already lost Vanessa. I can't lose her too. I can't lose our daughter."

The words struck like a curse...Our daughter.

Everything inside her recoiled. She blinked as if the very fabric of reality had just twisted out of shape. She couldn't breathe.

Our daughter?

Her thoughts splintered into jagged shards, clashing in her head all at once. He couldn't have meant her. He couldn't have. Except… he had.

She stumbled back from the screen, vision swimming. Her hand reached out blindly, knocking over a wooden stool. It scraped and skidded across the tile, the sound shrill and damning. The privacy curtain swayed violently in my wake.

A voice–Dumbledore's–started to call out. "Ava—"

She didn't wait to see their faces. She didn't wait to hear another word. Instead she ran. Bursting out into the corridor, she tore down the hall as if something monstrous was chasing her because something was. The truth. Her world had shifted. No…shattered.

Remus Lupin was her father. And suddenly everything made a horrible kind of sense.

Now she knew why my father hated him. Now she knew why he hated her.

Because every time he looked at her, all he could see was another man. Another man's eyes. Another man's blood. Another man's child.

Her lungs burned as she ran, tears streaming down her face, half-blind and breathless. Her mind raced with pieces that didn't want to fit… every cold look, every short word, every birthday missed, every time she'd wondered if she was ever truly loved.

No wonder he could never love her.

Because she wasn't his. Not really. Not to him.

Ava didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. She just needed to get away…from Dumbledore, from Lupin, from the castle, from the voices that might call after her. She needed to go where no one could find her. Where no one could see her fall apart.