NOTHING GIRL || Remus Lupin

-WHERE ARE THEY NOW?-

SUPERQUICKSPEEDAUTHOR'SNOTE

Hello, fellow inhabitants of Earth!
(Did that sound normal? I'm going for the normal angle)

Anyway, one year since I first published Nothing Girl and I was getting those nostalgia pangs, which is never a good thing because they're often shortly followed by regret or crippling embarrassment. So I took a break from staring obsessively out the window and trying to determine whether being alone in a house in a storm is lonely or homely (See? Totally normal), and I finished off a 'Where Are They Now?' that I started six months ago. It was going to be the possible start of another book when I was experimenting with ideas, but that's not gonna happen now. So, enjoy!

Mischief Managed,

BecauseBecky

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Harry Potter stared up at the ceiling. The wooden shack shook around him as it was pummelled by wind and rain, thrashing against the glassless windows. It was freezing, sea air doing nothing to hinder the storm. Harry could picture waves crashing against jagged rocks, spray leaping to dry land. He could visualise a small figure, stood alone, shivering in the frozen air, curled up to try and escape the worst of the storm. In his mind, he built the shack around the figure, to protect them. But now the only difference was that they couldn't see what they were being hunted by

Harry imagined that he could hear a far-off tune playing 'Happy Birthday' in the background. It was three minutes till twelve. Three minutes until he would be eleven years old. He looked around the shivering, shaking walls and smiled darkly to himself. A great start to the year. 

He spared another glance for Dudley's electric watch, dangling uselessly on his arm from the side of the moth-eaten sofa. One minute. Something crunched outside the cabin. Harry tried not to imagine any one of the horrifying sea creatures he'd read about in books stolen from the school library.

As if sensing his fear, the crunching only got louder, audible between the sound of waves throwing themselves uselessly against rock. Slow. Deliberate. Steps. Made by something big.

Or, as was more likely the case, imagination. No one was stupid enough to come out here, Harry assured himself. He returned his attention to the watch. Five seconds. Now four. Three. Two. On-

BOOM!

Harry sat bolt upright, every hair on the back of his neck standing straight to attention. That was not his imagination. That was someone, something, knocking on the door.

BOOM!

The shack gave another shudder, and now Harry could picture the walls unfolding, leaving them exposed to whatever was out there, like the three little pigs in the age old tale featuring the Big Bad Wolf. One of the houses had been made of wood, Harry remembered distantly. 

Uncle Vernon barged into the room, rifle in hand. Dudley gave a frightened squeak and stumbled over Harry to get behind his father. 

"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon called, "I should warn you, I'm armed."

The entire world was quiet, even the sea pausing in it's relentless rhythm as they all waited for that third and final bang. There was a shuffle at the front door as the mysterious intruder pulled back for another swing and then-

"Woah, Hagrid!" It was a female voice, one not too much older than Harry, "This is their home! You can't just go around knocking down doors. It's impolite. Watch."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Three dainty knocks sounded through the shell of a house. Harry glanced at his uncle. Vernon's face was a ruddy red colour. Not one person in the Dursley household dared to breath.