selenophile || remus lupin

chapter one

My name is Ophelia Black and I am not the hero of this story.

This story doesn't have one hero or one villain, but instead two sides of a world about to collapse. I have been raised to follow one of these sides, the side I was taught to be the good side. I know now that there isn't a good side and bad side to the world, but instead a good and bad side inside of each and every one of us.

Throughout this story, you'll follow me through my pain, my desire, through my family and my friends, through my youth, and beyond. You'll watch me grow, cry, love, and change for what I consider to be the better. You'll get to experience my life as it was happening, you'll understand my thoughts, and hopefully, understand my choices.

But to truly understand my choices and what I stand for, you need to understand The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And this is the story of how my choices lead to its downfall.

✩☾✩☽✩

The small crescent moon fell and the sun arose upon a small street in the middle of London. At first glance, there's nothing odd about this street, lined with townhouses and busy people hurrying to work. If you stop and stare, you might notice a slight mishap in the buildings. It seems that the builders had forgotten to make a number 12.

Odd thing, to forget a house. An easy fix really, yet no one has seemed to switch around the numbers. Every time they go to change the sign, they immediately remember something very important and forget what they were going to do in the first place. It's almost like magic. What a silly thing to say. Of course, magic isn't real. At least that's what the muggles say.

What a load of utter bullshit.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was completely gone to the outside world. Unplottable. Invisible. It's a rather large house, disguised as an ordinary townhome. Nothing a simple extension charm can't fix. Inside lived a family; a wealthy, cruel, unforgiving family. Beliefs passed down from generation to generation, engraved in their bones, written in their blood, very few being brave enough to speak out about the many injustices this family has caused.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place held very many secrets that no outsider would ever hear. Very few people apart from the family know of its wicked ways, and most never will.

A poor young girl, however, had been a key part of this family for eleven years. Eleven years of shelter from outside views. Eleven years of her believing what this family had told her. But in that eleventh year, she had been whisked away from her family, allowing her to see the views of others, and the flaws in the childhood she had been drowned in. A Gryffindor in a family completely of Slytherins. A "blood traitor" along with her "blood traitor" brother.

After that Godric forsaken eleven years of Ophelia Black's life, she had carved her own path, made a name for herself, and surrounded herself with the people she loved.

At least she did during her time at Hogwarts.

Ophelia woke up to a loud knock, not feeling rested after a short night's sleep. In fact, she couldn't remember waking up feeling rested all summer.

Before Ophelia could get out of bed, a thin woman came into her room. She had hair the color of coffee, which was pulled up into a tight bun, and wore a black tea-length dress.

"Ophelia Callidora Black," she snapped.

"Up! Get up! Make yourself look presentable, and be quick. We're going to be late."

"Yes, mother," Ophelia sighed, but her mother was already out the door warning her brothers the same.

Not wanting to get in trouble once more, Ophelia hopped out of bed, put on a fresh change of clothes, and went to the bathroom to freshen up. She looked at herself in the mirror. While their views were vividly contrasting, Ophelia shared many physical similarities with the rest of the House of Black: her defined jawline, pale skin, and long brown hair.