Harry Potter: The Boy Loved by Beasts

Chapter 2: Vira's introduction???

Vira: "So, am I finally getting introduced? I mean, come on! I'm the main character of this whole thing, and there wasn't even a single mention of me in the first chapter. Not even a passing reference! Like, really?"

Author: "Uh… yeah, yeah, totally. You're absolutely right. I'll… definitely give you the spotlight. Definitely. In this one. For sure. Ahem, uh… well, let's get started, shall we?"

Caroline let out an exasperated sigh, her hands flying to her hips as she glared at Andrew.

"Are you seriously this dense?" she asked, her voice sharp and full of disbelief. "Tell me, Andrew, whose child have you ever seen walking at three months old? Hmm? Go ahead, enlighten me!"

Andrew opened his mouth to respond, but Caroline cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"Don't even try to answer that." Her eyes narrowed as she continued, her voice cold and commanding. "Instead of standing here blaming the world for your problems, why don't you use that brilliant intellect of yours and search his room? He's a baby, Andrew—a baby! He's probably rolled under the bed or crawled into some corner!"

She scowled at him, shaking her head in utter disbelief. "Honestly, search his room, dumbass!."

Andrew, clearly rattled by all the scolding, threw his hands in the air, frustration and guilt written across his face.

"Fine! I was just gonna go smoke outside for a while, all right?" he retorted loudly, his voice carrying more defensiveness than confidence.

Caroline's jaw dropped, and she stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"You were what? You were going to smoke? Are you serious right now, Andrew?" she snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut through steel. "Your child is missing, and instead of doing the bare minimum—like looking for him—you thought, 'Oh, let me go have a smoke'?!"

Her scorn was unrelenting, her words laced with disbelief.

"How can you be so heartless? So utterly irresponsible? What kind of father prioritizes a cigarette over his missing baby?"

Andrew shifted uncomfortably under her glare, mumbling something incoherent.

But Caroline wasn't done. Her words came out in a furious stream, each one sharper than the last.

"My sister must have been blind to marry someone like you! And my parents—they wouldn't stop talking about how nice you were, how responsible and caring you were toward Cathy. They should see you now! Look at yourself!"

Her voice trembled with anger as her eyes raked over him.

"Red, bloodshot eyes, like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Your face—sallow and sunken, as if you've forgotten what a proper meal looks like. And your clothes? Unwashed, crumpled, and reeking faintly of stale alcohol. You're a mess, Andrew—a complete wreck. You look like someone who's let every shred of responsibility and self-respect slip through his fingers."

She gestured sharply at him, her voice rising.

"You think this is what Cathy would've wanted to see? You, wallowing in your misery, looking like a shadow of the man you used to be? And for what? To avoid dealing with your own child? The one thing she left behind?"

It may have been because of the man's downcast look, or perhaps it was simply that Caroline finally remembered what she was here for, but she stopped her screams. With a frustrated breath, she shook her head and walked past him into the room.

The child's room had once been a soft sanctuary, lovingly decorated by her sister for the little one she had hoped to raise. Now, months of neglect had taken their toll. The pastel walls, once cheerful with soft yellows and blues, had faded slightly, and a layer of dust settled on every surface. The crib, once meticulously arranged with fluffy bedding, now stood untouched. The sheets were wrinkled and sagging, with no sign of a small, active child ever having been there. Toys lay scattered across the floor, some half-crushed beneath a forgotten pile of laundry. A gentle warmth, once present in the room, had long since vanished, leaving the space feeling empty and abandoned.

As Caroline entered the room, her eyes immediately fell on the child. Near the table leg, he lay unmoving, his tiny form curled up in a way that suggested lifelessness. His small face, pale and devoid of color, was partially covered by the fabric of the cloth used to carry the child. His limbs were slack, and there was no sign of movement, no sign of breath. The once innocent expression he might have had was replaced by something unsettling, as if his body had already given up.

Caroline rushed to the child's side, her heart pounding in her chest as she desperately checked for any sign of life. When she felt the faintest flutter of breath, relief washed over her, though it was short-lived. Gently, she lifted the child and laid him down in the crib—once a cozy and comforting space, now a sad, neglected sight. The soft, pastel-colored sheets were now wrinkled and disheveled, with one corner of the mattress visibly sagging from lack of use. The mobile above, once a source of gentle distraction, hung crooked, its music long silent. The air felt stale, as if the life that had once filled this room had evaporated along with the warmth that used to linger here.

She stood for a moment, staring down at the crib, before her eyes moved to the table where the child had been lying. There, untouched and forgotten, was a full bottle of milk, its contents cold and stale. Scattered around it were other baby necessities—diapers, a half-unwrapped packet of wipes, and a small, colorful toy—all left as if they had been abandoned in haste, never used, and long since neglected.

Enraged, Caroline rushed outside, her feet practically flying over the floor as she stormed toward Andrew.

She grabbed at his shirt, pulling him closer. Her body stretched to its limit, standing on her tiptoes, barely able to reach his chest. The sight was almost comical, but her fury made it anything but funny.

With a snarl, she let loose the curses of rage. "Why was the child near the table instead of in the crib? It was just a bit forward!"

She pointed an accusing finger at him, her voice rising in volume and intensity. "And what's with the full bottle of milk? It's in the same state it was when I left it two days ago!"

Her eyes locked onto his with an unforgiving stare. "Don't tell me you've been starving him for two days!"

Andrew recoiled, his face paling as her words hit him like a slap. "I... I didn't—I wasn't—"

"Spare me your excuses!" Caroline's voice cracked with fury as she stepped closer, her body trembling with the sheer force of her anger. "You're unbelievable, Andrew! How could you do this? How could you let your own child go hungry for two whole days?"

Andrew, wanting to say something in his defense but unable to find the words, simply repeated the same thing he had said since Caroline arrived. "Take the child with you and let your parents take care of him."

Hearing this, Caroline wasn't sure whether it was the harsh reality of the child left alone in the room—probably having fallen from the table, hungry for two days—or if she simply didn't want to stay on the topic of taking the child home. Regardless of the reason, she rushed into the room, cradling the child as she screamed to Andrew, "Start the car! The child needs to be taken to the doctor!"

Andrew, probably relieved that the constant scolding was momentarily paused, rushed into his room.

He scavenged under the bed sheets, the table, even his clothes, but couldn't find his car keys.

In his frantic search, it suddenly hit him—he probably hadn't taken the keys out of the car after coming home drunk.