Pilot
”Slay ‛em till the last... tear... fulfill yer function... take down every single one of ‛em... be it woman, man or child. Wreck anything on your path...”
She started awake. A thunderstorm was raging inside her head, her temples throbbing, as if they were pressing against her skull, desperate for release. It started with a feeling of suffocation, as if the air around her had turned thick and heavy, making it impossible to breathe. Her chest tightened, constricted by the sheer force bearing down upon her, each breath a struggle against the crushing pressure. Each inhale became shallower, more desperate, as if she was trying to draw oxygen from an empty well whilst the horrendous smoke was entering her lungs.
As she struggled to shake off the grogginess, her senses slowly came back into focus. Something... something bad happened. She was trapped beneath a mighty thing gounding her bones to dust. And the smoke... Her vision was severely blurred, as though a heavy veil was descending over her eyes, the surroundings obscured in a shroud of blackness.
The acrid stench of smoke filled her nostrils, choking her lungs and leaving her gasping for breath.
If she didn’t get out of there, that would be her end.
”H—help...”
She’d have to save herself.
Amidst the darkness, there was a flicker of hope, a glimmer of resilience that refused to be extinguished. She clinged to it desperately, summoning every ounce of strength she possessed to push back against the crushing weight bearing down upon her, using her last ounce of energy to push the wall and release herself.
She crawled outside in desperate need for fresh air and felt a profound sense of relief as she reached the dewy grass. The cool, damp blades cradled her naked body, and the earthy scent of the morning filled her lungs. As she gazed up at the sky, watching the soft clouds drift lazily overhead, she felt a warm tear down her cheek as her vision cleared gradually.
”Where the blooddy hell am I?”
Not a single thought had passed through her brain.
The girl looked around and was met with haunting silence. The remnants of what had once been homes stood like charred skeletons, their blackened beams reaching towards the sky in a silent cry. The ground was a gray expanse of ash and debris, the air still heavy with the acrid scent of smoke and ruin.
Her other senses were slowly restored as well, feeling excruciating discomfort even with the slightest movement – a large part of her skin including her face felt as if it was relentlessly exposed to a scorching flame, and what wasn’t burnt was covered in deep cuts causing breath-taking pain.
As she looked around in the hope of salvation, she discovered the flagging body of a man by a weel whose lifeless eyes had remained opened with terror. In a puddle of blood, the inside of his neck was visible, like some kind of creature had fed from him.
The girl fought against the pain coursing through her body as she attempted to rise to her feet in an attempt to leave that dangerous place. Each movement was a battle against the throbbing ache causing her muscles to tremble with effort. She gritted her teeth against the sharp jolts of discomfort that shot through her, each attempt to straighten herself met with a wince of agony. With every ounce of determination, she pushed through the pain, her face contorted in a grimace of resolve, refusing to succumb to the weakness threatening to overwhelm her. Despite the struggle, she persisted, driven by the need to regain her footing despite the overwhelming physical challenge before her.
Amidst the eerie stillness of the village, she struggled past the lifeless bodies scattered like broken dolls across the streets and in the ruins of their homes.
What kind of monster had done that? Was she the last survivor?
Some lay under collapsed structures, trapped forever in the wreckage that had once been their sanctuary. Others, even children lay in open spaces, their limbs contorted in unnatural poses, most with large bites across their bodies. The air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and decay, a grim reminder of the recent violence that had torn apart their peaceful village.
In an attempt of gently closing the eyes of the fallen woman, her face had something oddly familliar to it –
Under the pale moonlight, the woman squared off against the hulking form of the werewolf, its snarling jaws dripping with saliva and eyes glowing with feral hunger. Armed with a wand held steady in trembling hands, she felt the adrenaline surge through her veins, her heart pounding in rhythm with each thunderous growl from the beast.
It was as if the girl could feel that woman’s emotions, sense her intentions – her terror had something strangely attractive.
”Stay back!” the woman demanded, her wand facing – the girl?
With every flick of her wand, spells erupted into the night air, crackling and fizzling against the the girl’s -- beast's thick fur. The girl lunged and dodged, her immense strength and agility testing the woman’s every spell and evasion. Despite the odds stacked against her, the woman refused to yield, drawing upon every ounce of courage and magical prowess she possessed, the curse she casted roasting the werewolf’s eyes. As the battle raged on, a sense of primal determination overtook her fear, fueling her resolve to protect herself from the beast's savage wrath. Filled with wrath, the girl emerged upon the helpless woman, remembering the bloody taste of her fragile flesh.
”Surrend yourself!” shouted a man from behind.
The girl exhaled in reassurence, confused still from the odd memory she had. She could cry from the feeling of security at the sight of 5 Aurors that had just apparated in the morning mist.
Only had she struggled a hoarsed ”Here!” then one auror casted ”Crucio!”
Her screams tore through the air, a desperate plea for relief from the relentless torment that engulfed her senses. Every nerve felt ablaze with unbearable intensity, rendering her temporarily paralyzed by the sheer brutality of the curse. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with sweat as her muscles clenched and contorted against their will.
”No! Please!” she cried as the curse ended, ”You’ve got it all wrong!”
Her wrists and ankles were tied from behind in thick chains as the aurors surrended and pointed their wands towards the girl.
”Lucille Lupin, you are under arrest!” one sternly declared.
”No! Why? Please, I’ve done nothing...”
”The nerve she has!” uttered a woman sarcastically. ”You’ve succesfully annihilated an entire village!”
”Not! It was a beast – a monster! A werewolf!” she sought though tears.
The man that had cursed her eyed her in disgust. ”The werewolf you’re talking about is yourself! Is Lucille Lupin not your name?”
”I – I suppose, but... That’s impossible –” she remarked a vivid, skull-shaped brand that appeared burned into the skin on her left forearm. She swallowed, ”No! No, no, no!”
Fighting her release from the chains, a sinister, glowing symbol of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth appeared above the houses.
”No, no, no!” she kept shouting through tears, till she was slowly put into a deep sleep.
* * *
Under the warm embrace of a summer afternoon, a lively scene unfolded outside a quaint house nestled in nature's greenery. A little girl, wuth her playful brown eyes alive with curiosity, dashed across the yard in her cheerful rompers, her face framed by those unruly curls.
The sun casts a gentle warmth upon her cheeks, painting them with a rosy hue as she reveled in the freedom of this sunlit playground.
Every so often, she glanced back at the house, where a watchful father occasionally peered out with a smile, reassured by the joyous innocence radiating from his adventurous child.
One night, the seedy curtains were a rip from flying away as the stong wind was blowing through the cracked windows.
“Bubble!” the damsel was laughing childlishly whilst being bathed in a steel basin. “Daddy, bubble!”
The potent rain managed to slither inside through the cracks of the crusted roof. The father was laughing as well, for he adored his daughter’s wiggles; he was using buckets, placed them where the water was flooding the soily floor, then pulled out his wand, creating a wonderfully bubbly athmosphere for his daughter.
“More bubbles, you say? Right away!”
It took only one swip of a wand to wizen her up before warming up beneath the wooly blanket; he has built from scratch a small bed from wood for his little one, right next to his own. The little hut in which she was raised consisted of a single room. In one corner stood a table and two chairs, and in another a large kettle was suspended over the hearth, and opposte to it a large door sunk into the wall. This was the cupboard, where few dishes were kept, and quite little food: bread, beans and strawberry jam.
Whist he was picking through is books, for he had an entire closet filled with them, his young child awaited with large, brown eyes to hear another one of his stories. The youngster's cheeks were in such a glow that it showed even through her sun-browned skin and though she’d be quite too young to understand words, she listened to her father as if she’d comprehend it all.
The father was quite young on his own. Slender and tall, his pajamas couldn’t cover his ankles; he did not choose a book and returned to his bed. “My darling Lucy, tonight I have a quite real story to tell. Do you wish to hear it?”
Lucille giggled in acceptance.
”I will tell you how the dark Lord was defeated by a boy that would be now round your age...”
The creaking of the door had awakened her.
”This is the last one,” said a thin voice of an unknown woman. ”Though I must say, I highly doubt she’s what you’re looking for.”
”Lucille?” asked a deep voice of a man. Lucille’s heart dropped, thinking her salvation had arrived.
”Dad?” she could not utter – she could not move at all. Even opening her eyes was an impossible task.
”Remus, dear, are you certain?” said the warm voice of another woman. Lucille could have sworn she’d heard it before. ”I did not wish you to get hurt.”
”I want to see her. Surely I’m able to recognise my own daughter.”
”I have to warn you,” the unknowm woman uttered, ”you won’t like what you will see.” Lucille heard them gasping as the nurse removed a sheet, revealing Lucille’s body. She continued, ”But for Kingsley’s help, you wouldn’t be able to see her as this werewolf is terribly dangerous – she has attacked a village of wizards and muggles and murdered many. Mind you, she’s heading straight to Azkaban after the trial.”
”Oh my – she’s unrecognisable,” the other woman muttered.
”It’s me, dad!”
Lucille could feel them approaching. Remus took her left wrist only to drop it a moment later.
He sighed deeply, ”It’s not her, you were right...”
”Oh – oh, no,” Lucille could not say out loud, ”Dad! It’s not true!”
”Remus, are you sure? Perhaps there could be an explanation –”
”I’m well aware of how a death mark works, Dora!” his voice broke. ”She had to agree to take it, she had to be trusted by him! She’s no daughter of mine!”
”Dad! NO!”
”Lucy could never agree to this. Not my Lucy. I know my Lucille! My little daughter!” he burst into tears. ”She’s gone, she’s gone and I let her leave. I should have never let her go!” was the last thing Lucille heard before they had left the room.
”Dad!” cried Lucille, and this time it came as a whisper, koud enough for the nurse to hear it.
”Awaken, aren’t we?” laughed she. ”Your stupid father is not going to save you. I’ve received clear instructions to keep you down till he comes for you. Now go back to sleep, Lucille Lupin!”