Short stories, (PJO, HP, Sanders Sides, anything really. I take requests!)

Bloody Hands

Hi guys, I found this story I wrote back when I was seven or eight, and I decided to publish it because why the heck not. It's terrible, I know, but deal with it

because I want an excuse for not updating Legacies Meet magic.

This is a Remus Lupin sister story thing. Have fun!

The room was awash with moonlight, a full, silver moon spreading its rays across the sleeping faces of a six year old and an eight year old. A gentle breeze blew through the open window, mussing the hair of the brown-haired children. The nine year old, Diane turned over, eyelids tight shut over her hazel eyes. Beside her, her brother Remus slept on, face creased into a smile even as he slept.

A low, soft growl resonated through the once peaceful room, and the girl opened her eyes and sat up; the boy, ever a heavy sleeper, moved but did not wake. A monster crept from under the bed, and the girl looked and whimpered in terror, the moon's comforting gaze covered in clouds and the only light coming from the dim lantern.

The beast leapt towards them, claws outstretched and fangs bared, and the girl screamed, waking her brother. He sat up, sleep-heavy amber eyes widening as he saw the monster. It slashed at him, razor-sharp claws catching his shoulder, and his sister pulled him out of the way. It turned on her, powerful muscles launching itself at her. She attempted to dodge, but a werewolf has fast reflexes. Its teeth sliced through her arm, and she cried out, tears mixing with the flowing blood. It whirled, pouncing on her brother, and as its fangs bit down she let out a scream of pure anguish, and the lantern in the room shattered, flaming oil hissing down on the beast.

The room plunged into darkness, and as the clouds rolled away, the moon's cold rays shone down upon the limp, bloodied bodies of Diane and Remus Lupin.

Hope and Lyall Lupin, two parents who considered their children not theirs, but monsters. Whispering behind the children's backs as they desperately tried to cope with what they were. Lyall and Hope were angry, whether at the children or the werewolf they did not know, and the resulting isolation pierced the hearts of the children.

Diane did her best, trying to protect Remus from the shouts and the crying, but she was blamed for not protecting him earlier. An easy way to release the anger, no? Blame one person and you won't feel guilty. The only trouble is that the person hates back. And Diane hated, and that hatred manifested itself in shouts and threats to her parents, and in her magic. Lamps would flicker, vases would smash, and nothing was safe with her around.

So they locked her away in the basement, not ill-treating her but neglecting her. Why would they ill-treat her? They were far too afraid.

And she grew, learning from the books her brother slipped to her, all the while, bitterness and hatred growing alongside.

Her brother gave her his textbooks, taught her how to use the wand her parents had gifted her in preparation before it all happened. She memorised them and gave them back so her brother could learn, and so it went until three grinning boys followed Remus and found their way into her prison.

"Who are you?" they asked, and she smiled.

"Remus' insane sister, of course."

The boys, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew thought of a way to bring her to Hogwarts, hiding her in the room of requirement.

It all went well until Hope followed the stench of spoiling food, and found the meals she'd shoved into the room without looking for its occupant rotting on the floor.

Eight more years locked up, eight more years spent in wishing for the world outside, eight more years hating.

Diane was 25. She hadn't seen a smile in years, not since the strange new boys had come. Was it worse now she knew what a smile looked like? She didn't think, just lived, days running over in a numb monotony. Dreams of light and smiles and life troubled her, always fading when she grasped at them.

And then Peter Pettigrew told her of a plan. James and Lily Potter were targeted by the Dark Lord. Would she come and help them? The Dark Lord would win; he always did, and when he did, she would rule. She could punish her parents, create her own world, do whatever she wanted. Would she join them?

The Dark Lord makes empty promises, Peter knew, but the girl was strong, and what's a better fighter than a werewolf turned bitter from years of hate?

She said no.

She had hesitated, images of what she could do dancing in her eyes, and then she remembered James' bright grin, the first smile she'd seen in years, and Lily's kind voice. She attacked Pettigrew., but he escaped.

And then she stole out of the basement for the first time on her own. She told Sirius, and they rushed as quickly as they could to the Potter Home.

They were too late.

It was the second time she'd failed to protect someone.

Two weeks later she was imprisoned.

Twelve more years deprived of life, in a cold, cheerless prison,the girl who'd never known life finding out about the boy who lived.

Twelve more years while the girl's mind broke, while she went slightly mad.

They escaped one night, when the clouds were thick and the moon was full, no one watching for a black dog and a werewolf.

Diane had waited, wanting to kill the rat that had murdered the boy who'd given her a few weeks of life. Wanting to rip his throat out and tear him apart with her bare hands, exsanguinate the one who'd dared to hurt her friend and hunt her friend's child.

This time, she managed to protect him. A year later, Pettigrew was dead and Harry Potter had two new allies.

Nobody saw Diane lick the blood off her pale hand. Nobody saw the sick, twisted smile that spread over her face at the taste of blood. And nobody saw the feral gleam in her eye as she disappeared into the shadows.

She hunted down the horcruxes once she'd found out about them. The Order of the Phoenix disapproved, telling her she'd get caught. She never listened, and finally she was told to leave. She'd be caught, they said, and when she was, she needed to know as little as possible.

The one time she was caught, the person was found ripped into pieces in a tree. Blood

She was branded a monster, hunted by the ministry- and hunted by Voldemort.

He'd seen how ruthless she was, cunning, smart, a perfect warrior. But the next time he came to recruit her, she tore his snake apart with her bare hands and smiled.

Next day, Severus Snape brought the news that Voldemort was found dead.

The flight of death had fallen from the sky.

No one remembered Diane, the girl who'd protected them.

Next day, a bloody handprint was found on Remus' window. Next night, a pair of once hazel eyes stared at him for the last time, blood dripping from her hands as she tore her own throat out.

Saviour or monster, your choice.

Who is Diane Lupin?