Welcome Home
- He pulled Remus into a hug and they both cried... thinking... would they ever see Rachael Lupin again? -
Rachael awoke the morning feeling more tired than she had been when she went to bed the night before, probably because she was dreading what was going to happen. She leaned over the foot of her bed and saw a large trunk next to her bed; they were really going to do it. She went to get dressed into her red jumper and black pants. She hurried down to the kitchen after and saw her mum and dad sitting there. Her mother glared as she walked in and her father couldn’t bear to look at his daughter.
Rachael sat down across from her dad. “Where’s Remus?” she asked.
“Sleeping,” her mother snapped. “Because of you, he’s in too much pain to get up!”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Oh, just shut up and get your trunk!”
Rachael stood up and slammed her chair into the table. Her mother snapped at her again, but Rachael was already up the stairs. She stopped in front of her brother’s door. She opened the door cautiously, making sure it didn’t creak.
Remus was lying on his back, eyes closed, one hand behind his head and the other lying on his stomach. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes, his arms and face were cut up, and bloodstains were on his face. Rachael couldn’t look at him; it caused her too much pain. She turned to close the door.
“Rachael?”
She looked back in the room, Remus was up. “Yeah?” she answered.
“What’s going on?”
Rachael forgot that Remus didn’t know what was happening. How could she tell him? No, she wouldn’t. Remus couldn’t take much more disappointment and pain.
“Nothing,” she answered quickly.
“Something’s happening. What’re they doing?”
“Look, its nothing, Remus!” She yelled loudly at him. She seemed to scare him by her sudden anger, but she didn’t care. Everything was going wrong, everything. She slammed the door, only to be scolded by her mother who was walking by, and ran into her room. She grabbed her trunk and brought it downstairs.
Her dad was waiting for her there; he still would not look at his daughter. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your brother?” he said, voice chocked up.
Rachael didn’t want her dad to know that she had yelled at Remus, especially when he was in the condition he was in. “I already did,” she lied.
He nodded and they went out the door.
“Mum, what’s going on?” Remus asked as his mother bustled about his room, helping him pick up his torn books and broken toys. He had broken them the night before as a werewolf.
“What d’you mean?” she said quickly, even though she knew quite well what Remus was referring to. “Your sister is going somewhere with your father, they’ll be back soon.”
Remus nodded as he picked up some of his Legos. He could see teeth marks carved into them. They were useless now; he couldn’t build anything with them so he tossed them into the trashcan. He picked up a book on the floor; it was one of his favourites, a Muggle book but a good one nonetheless. I Am the Cheese by Robert Cormier. It was very advanced for his age, but Remus understood every word, every page, everything. He felt that he could relate to it now; he stood alone.
The book was useless now, all the pages were torn. There was no point in keeping this either; he’d just buy another copy. Nothing could repair that, not even magic. Remus looked at his mother. He knew she was lying; everyone seemed to be lying to him, Rachael and his mother. They both said that nothing was wrong. But something was wrong and no one would tell him. Why wouldn’t they? Did they think he couldn’t handle it? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to know. He threw his torn jumper in the trash bin and went outside.
Remus sat under the giant oak tree in front of his house, his favourite spot. He looked up at the branches and saw the wooden planks still there, the tree house he and his sister were building. They never got to finish it. The weather had been bad and, besides, they ran out of wood and nails. He looked out into the distance and saw someone approaching him. It was a tall, portly figure with a pig like face, beady, green eyes, big nose and a small mouth. It was Phillip Runsdown, the village bully. He saw Remus and smiled, revealing his yellowing teeth.
“Hey, Lupin!” he snarled, walking at a quicker pace. Remus could almost swear he felt a tremor in the Earth. Remus didn’t answer, he merely glared at Phillip. “Hey, Lupin, you deaf or something? Answer me!” Still Remus did not answer; he wouldn’t play into this kid’s fairly large hands. “Lupin, you’re asking for it!
“No I’m not,” Remus said at last.
“Oh, you think you’re cool?”
“No.”
“Ha, thought so. So, where’s your ratty little sister? I need someone to humiliate, you’re getting old.”
Remus felt a surge of anger, but he wouldn’t let it show. “She’s not here,” he said, fighting to stay calm.
“Figures, stupid kid knows what’s good for her after all.”
Remus had had it. He stood up abruptly and stuck his face right in Phillip’s. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Phillip laughed mercilessly. “You don’t sound like you do!”
He’s right, Remus thought, I don’t. But he wouldn’t let that get in the way. “Don’t you have anything better to do? The people at the zoo are looking for a new elephant. They’re holding auditions; you should go there and get the job.”
“W-w-why you-” Phillip threw his fist back and was ready to strike Remus when,
“Phillip Runsdown, if you dare touch my son…!” Remus saw his dad approaching from behind Phillip. He stopped right in front of them and grabbed Phillip by the collar. “If you touch my son you’ll wish you were never born.” Cowering under Mr. Lupin’s furious glare, Phillip ran down towards the docks. “You okay, Remus?”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Where’d you go?”
“Your mother didn’t tell you, did she?” Remus shook his head. “Sit down.” Remus sat down with his father and they leaned against the tree trunk. “You know your mother wasn’t happy with your sister. She thinks this is all her fault - yes I know she didn’t know anything had happened - but your mother was still angry at her. She doesn’t consider Rachael her daughter anymore. Remus, your sister isn’t going to be living with us anymore.”
“But… but where’s she living?”
“In an orphanage. She’s no longer a member of the Lupin family; your mother’s disowned her. I tried to stop her, but it didn’t work. We’re not allowed to see her, talk to her, owl her… anything.”
“But… but, Dad… she’s my sister… my twin.”
“I know, Remus, I know.” He pulled Remus into a hug and they both cried… thinking… would they ever see Rachael Lupin again?
They drove up to a three-story building. It was white, but the paint was chipping. There were three rows of three windows from the front and a large wooden door in the front with a golden doorknocker. Mr. Lupin and Rachael got out of the car, took Rachael’s trunk and went up to the front, where a skinny, strict-looking woman was waiting for them. The two walked up to the woman.
She looked down at Rachael and scrunched her nose in dislike. “Yes you must be the “ err - Lupins,” she said in a harsh, cold voice. "Well, come on, girl!" Mr. Lupin gripped his daughter’s shoulders. “I mean, walk this way, Rachael.”
Rachael looked up at her father. Wasn’t she going to get a chance to say goodbye?
Her father gripped her shoulders tighter. “Bye, Rachael,” he said quietly. He released her and went back to the car.
Trying hard not to cry, Rachael followed the woman into the building. Inside the building, there was a long, pale blue hallway, pictures hanging up, plants hung on the walls or in corners. The hallway led into a sort of common room with a small group of teenagers sitting in the corner playing a card game. They looked up at Rachael and the woman when they walked in.
“Good morning, children,” the woman said with a false sweet voice.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ramben,” they answered in a pleasant, but mocking, voice.
Apparently Mrs. Ramben didn’t notice this because she walked past them over to a medium size woman with grey hair and brown eyes. Mrs. Ramben told Rachael that this woman would be her personal instructor; her name was Ms. Marshall. She looked like a kind old woman, but that was only on the outside. She had never been anyone’s personal instructor, but everyone in the orphanage knew that this was one person you did not want to get to know. Two of the teenagers who were playing cards in the common room were walking past them and one of them hissed in Rachael’s ear, “I pity you, kid.”
Rachael wondered if this woman was really that bad, but she didn’t have time to brood on that because Ms. Marshall instructed her to follow her. They went down a long blue hallway, up a flight of stairs and down another corridor. This hall had many rows of doors with golden numbers on them. They stopped in front of Room 35. Ms. Marshall pulled a silver key ring out of her pocket, shifted through the three keys, selected one in the middle and unlocked the door.
Inside was a yellow room, very yellow, with bunk beds against the right wall, a small nightstand next to it, a large closet and a small television set. Rachael walked into the room and was about to put her trunk on the bottom bunk when,
“No! Don’t do that!” Ms. Marshall yelled. “That is not your bunk! That’s your roommate... oh, what was her name...? Oh, yes, Becky. Now listen up, kid! No one, I repeat, no one in this orphanage has a personal instructor. It was just a cover so we can get you where you’re supposed to be.” Rachael looked at her, utterly confused. “Oh school, of course! When you get your letter you will come with me to Diagon Alley and I will escort you to Platform 9 ¾, and you will come back here every summer, got it?”
Rachael nodded slowly, she had completely forgotten about school. What with all this going on, how could she remember? Ms. Marshall left the room and Rachael began unpacking. She took out her clothes; she hadn’t brought that many, only three jumpers, two pairs of jeans, socks, all that stuff. She brought some books to read, her black jacket, and that was it. She picked up her clothes and began looking for a place to put them. She knelt down beside the nightstand and opened the drawer; it was full to bursting with clothes. She went over to the closet and saw that it was also full of clothes and no hangers left for Rachael to even attempt to squeeze hers in. How could a girl living in an orphanage have so many clothes? she thought, staring at the closet in utter amazement. Rachael had been told to leave nearly all of her belongings home.
She sighed and threw her clothes back in her trunk. Where was she going to put her trunk? She picked it up and standing on her tiptoes she pushed it onto her bunk. She wanted to go explore the rest of the orphanage, but decided to wait so she could meet her roommate. It was only a minute later before the door to the room opened and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl stepped in. She seemed to be in a hurry because she ran over to her bed, ducked under it, pulled something out and was about to dash out the door again before she noticed Rachael standing there. At first it looked as though she couldn’t figure out who Rachael was, but then comprehension dawned upon her.
“Oh,” she said, her voice full of disgust. “You must be my new... roommate.” Rachael nodded. “Well, I’m Becky Beckham. You are?”
“Oh, um... Rachael Lupin,” Rachael answered sheepishly.
Becky made a face of disgust at the name. What’s her problem? Rachael thought, looking at Becky for a sign of welcome. Does she think my name’s funny?
“Well... err... Rachael.” She let Rachael roll off her tongue in such an annoying way that it made Rachael’s stomach clench. “Let’s get a couple of things straight.” Rules already? “Rule number one: never touch my stuff; I don’t care how much you need it. Rule number two: when my friends are in this room, you won’t be. Rule three: I didn’t ask for a roommate, they just needed a room quickly, so do not, I repeat, do not talk to me!” Becky went out the door and came back a second later. “Wait a minute; I’m forgetting one of my own rules. My friends are coming in here... out!”
Feeling more than willing to get of the room and away from Becky, Rachael dashed out of the room and into the common room where she watched the group of teenagers play “Spit.” She sat down in the grey couch and watched lazily. She was here no more than an hour and she hated the place. That Ms. Marshall was horrible to her and she was stuck with a snob for a roommate. Could life get any worse?