Hope Lupin

A thin, light brown-haired woman with tired golden flecked eyes lets out a loud groan of relief as she finally manages to lay her fourteen-year-old son into his bed. The Welsh muggle woman lets out a weary sigh as old moisture surges up in her eyes as she eyes her only child, Remus John Lupin lying unconscious in his bed. There were terrible fresh scratches on his body and bruises where during the night when Remus in his werewolf form had attempted to break down his cage.

Hope Lupin's back pops loudly as she straightens back up. Her arms are especially sore, but she ignores the ache in them and reaches for the medical bag she'd placed on the nearby bedstand. Sitting down on the edge of the bed she pulls out a long roll of gauze and grabs a healing potion that could be directly applied on the outside of a wound. However, before she begins to apply said healing potion, she pulls out a soft cloth and a cleansing agent to disinfect the cuts and remove the extra dried blood.

Quickly Hope immerses herself in the familiar task and finds herself thinking of sixteen years ago. Back then, she'd just been Hope Howell, a typical office worker working at an insurance office in Cardiff. But that had all changed when one evening on her usual forest stroll when she'd come across a vicious, brutal-looking man. She had screamed in terror as the brute advanced violently upon her when a shy-looking man appeared out of the hedges and pointed a thin stick in his hand sharply at the brute. At the moment, she just couldn't quite believe her eyes when she witnessed the vile brute turning into a field of mushrooms.

The rest of the story was history for her savior, a wizard who escorted her home that evening. After that, they had begun to see each other and were in love before they knew it. They had happily gotten married and in a fit of humor at their wedding, Hope had baked a boggart cake in remembrance of Lyall's bravery. And a year later on March 10th, 1960, her beloved child, Remus John Lupin, had been born. It was the happiest day of her life, but all too soon a dark shadow had been tossed over their joy merely five short years later.

Hope's hands trembled as she recalled the savage event that had left her beloved child with such a terrible curse. And it wasn't though they had so very easily given up after that. Her beloved husband, Lyall had tried and tried again to stop the curse to no avail. Unfortunately, fate finally caught up to them when a neighbor got too close during a full moon and heard their son's howling. It was only a matter of time until more of their neighbors noticed and reported them to the Ministry of Magic.

Left with no other choice, Hope and her husband packed up and moved to another village. This was their lifestyle ever since of moving every time a neighbor began to ask questions in order to keep the condition of their son hidden away. She was not ashamed of her son, but she knew that the wizarding world held no pity for a child with such a cursed condition. And nor would her muggle world accept her son and were far more likely to dissect him in the name of science.

While cleaning a rather jagged cut Remus let out a whimper in pain. Hope paused and waited for her son to settle back down with a soft snuffling sound. With much more care, Hope dips the cloth into the healing potion and gently applies the cure to the jagged cut, before bandaging the wound back up. Once more focused, she quickly finished tending to the rest of the open wounds, before gently rubbing a bit of bruise balm on the worst of the bruises on her child's body.

Finished, Hope pulls the bed covers over the sleeping figure of her son before closing the door softly shut behind her. Rubbing her gritty-feeling eyes, she holds on to the staircase banister and makes her way to the kitchen. Filling a kettle with water, she puts the kettle on the stove and waits for the water to boil.

Hope sits at the small kitchen table covered with a checkered patterned tablecloth. Sighing, she rubs her face wondering just where her husband was. Lyall had not come last night nor sent her an owl letting her know he was arriving late. He knew how difficult it was for her to listen to their son's howls all be herself during the full moon. All she would do was pace back and forth, fraught with worry, unable to sleep a single wink during the night.

Hope must have dozed off in her chair because the next thing she heard was the sound of the hot kettle loudly whistling. Rubbing the groggy sleep from her eyes, she pulls her bed robes closer around her as she rises to her feet. Shuffling in warm slippers, she grabs the kettle and reaches for the teapot, before pouring the hot water into the teapot.

Leaving the hot water to brew the tea inside the teapot, Hope grabs herself a chipped teacup and a day-old baked scone. She grabbed the bowl of sugar and that of cream, before placing it on the table as the scent of the ready tea filled the air. She poured herself a cup of piping hot tea and let out a satisfied sigh at the lovely scent.

Hope reached for her spoon and dipped it into the sugar bowl. She served herself two spoonsful of sugar and began to stir the sugar in when the door to their small cottage home flew open and violently slammed into the wall. "Hope!" Her husband, Lyall called out.

Hope flinched and let out a hiss of pain as the hot tea spilled over and scalded the back of her hand. Wincing, she hastily dries her hand on her bed robe, before hurrying out of the kitchen. Frowning and a bit peeved at being shouted at Hope crossly snaps, "Well, where were you all night, Lyall? You know that I need your help to carry Remus up from the cellar and into this bedroom."

Lyall merely beams at her and places a kiss square on her lips causing her to sputter. "Well, what has gotten into you Lyall?" Hope exclaimed in utter astonishment at being kissed until she was breathless. But before she could speak anything more, Lyall covered her lips with his own.