❝ you may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one ❞
in which the girl who hated many things found someone to fight for.
TEMPEST THATCHER ; HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE
MARAUDERS ERA - GOLDEN ERA
COVER BY @BonitaRogue
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chapter seven ; the transformation
"HOW DO WE KNOW IF THIS'LL WORK?" PETER ASKED, ANXIOUSLY ROCKING BACK AND FORTH FROM WHERE HE SAT, PERCHED ON A BOULDER ON THE SHORE OF THE BLACK LAKE. His small eyes were wide and afraid, though that was nothing compared to Remus.
"We don't," he muttered, carefully putting down the wooden chest their potions had been setting in since the lighting storm that afternoon. Remus had been put in charge of carrying them down into the forbidden forest, as he was the most careful of the group (and because everyone else was holding other ridiculous items they thought they needed).
It had taken nearly three years to research and perfect the animagus potion, and if it weren't for Tempest's father giving some much needed information while drunk on Firewhiskey, they'd still be scratching their heads. They'd made it relatively far in their experimentation, but McGonagall was growing suspicious, especially after she had overheard them muttering about mandrake leaves in her transfiguration class a few months ago.
Leaving for Christmas break in defeat, Tempest and her fading red hair had parted with the rest of the group, as she was going home to spend a couple of weeks with her falling apart family. Tanusha didn't make it, as she was far too busy with work, and Edward was only there for a few days due to the fact his girlfriend's family (who was far more entertaining), lived in Scotland and he had chosen to spend time with her. He was reluctant to admit to his relatives that he had only come up to Brighton because of Tempest, his good heart and inoffensive nature getting the best of him.
So besides the few glorious days her older brother could whisk her away to the winter fair or the Saturday markets, Tempest was stuck in a house with two parents who hated each other more than anything. As a child, she had never really noticed, but the arguments her mother and father had managed to conjure were borderline ridiculous, and she hated the looming sadness hanging over her childhood house. Her muggle friends, Bhavna and Michael had tried to help pass the time, but even they couldn't take her mind off of the hateful home she lived in.
One Tuesday night, two days before she was due to return to school, Tempest's father decided to pop open a bottle of alcohol and drink it straight. She could only watch as he downed his sorrows from the stress of his work and his home life, her heart aching. He had never really been a good father to her, but he didn't deserve to be so unhappy. It was nothing compared to her mother though, she was constantly out on the town, coming back stoned, crying, or both. They had tried to hide it from the fifteen-year-old, but the façade had lasted a mere four days before they cracked.
As she sat next to her father in the living room that cold Tuesday, Tempest looked up from her notebook containing everything she had written about the animagus potion (it was filled with messy scribbles and crossed out ideas). Her gaze resting on the man who was blankly staring at the decorative wallpaper, she sighed quietly. "Dad?"
