Harry Potter: The Boy Loved by Beasts

Chapter 3 : A Flicker of Hope

"So let me get this straight," Vira Said with an expression of utter disbelief on his face. "You called the last chapter Vira's Introduction. My introduction. And yet…" He gestured dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not. A. Single. Mention. Of. Me."

"Okay, okay! This one, for sure!" the author exclaimed, a mix of panic and reassurance. "I'll even introduce your partner snake. You know, the dead one?"

Vira froze mid-rant, his expression darkening.

"Uh, nothing! Let's start it, shall we?" the author cut in hurriedly

Recalling the last nights events

Andrew hurried outside, his mind spinning with anxiety and exhaustion. The weight of Caroline's anger still lingered, but he was too preoccupied with the urgency of the situation to pay much attention to anything else.

In his rush, he completely forgot to lock the door behind him. The sound of it swinging open was distant to him, a minor detail in the chaos that his mind couldn't afford to focus on.

As he reached the car, he noticed Caroline standing near the door. Her arms were crossed, and her face was a storm of frustration. She cradled the child, unmoving in her arms, a stark contrast to the life that should have been there. Andrew barely acknowledged her, his gaze locked onto the car.

A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the car keys lodged in the ignition, still in place as if untouched.

As Andrew gazed at the car, feeling a sense of relief, Caroline couldn't help herself. Her sarcasm cut through the air like a knife.

"If you had been as concerned about the kid as your car," she said, her tone dripping with bitterness, "I wouldn't have to be here right now. I would have been happily ....."

Andrew's patience, already worn thin from the constant scoldings, snapped. His eyes flickered with annoyance as he cut her off mid-sentence.

"Let's just get to the doctor before the damn kid dies," he retorted, his tone sharp and dismissive.

Then, Andrew stepped toward the car, his boots scraping against the gravel as he moved. He glanced toward Caroline, whose earlier stormy expression had softened into something quieter but no less intense. His irritation still burned, but the exhaustion from everything that had happened so far made it feel distant.

As he reached the front passenger side, his eyes caught Caroline's gaze, and she held it for a brief moment. Then, without a word, she simply opened the back door of the car and slid inside, cradling the unmoving child in her arms.

There was a heavy silence between them now, the tension still thick but tempered by the urgency of what was at stake.

Andrew didn't say anything more. Instead, he slammed the driver's door shut with a heavy sigh and started the engine, the car's low rumble filling the quiet night as he shifted into gear.

The car was …. well one with a worn-out exterior, with faded paint and chipped chrome, looked like it had seen better days. Inside, the cracked seats and dusty dashboard told stories of years of use, and the dim lights flickered as they cut through the dark, narrow road. The tires hummed over the uneven pavement, sending vibrations through the car as the headlights barely illuminated the cracked asphalt ahead.

The road was narrow, lined with trees that stretched high into the night, casting long shadows across the path. Streetlights were sparse, casting dim pools of light over the potholes that seemed to appear at random.

And the car, with its worn-out suspension, shook violently over the potholes. The bumps were enough to rouse any child older than the one Caroline was holding, but the child lay still in her arms.

He didn't stir when the car bounced over a hill, nor when the tires hummed on the uneven, winding road. Even as the car picked up speed, and the chilly wind made Caroline pull her coat tighter around her, the child remained motionless.

When they finally reached the clinic, the nurse quickly took the child from Caroline, but still, there was no sign of life in the little one's body.

Inside the clinic, the doctor moved swiftly, his face a mixture of concern and professionalism as he examined the child. He gently checked the little one's limbs, making sure there was no internal damage from the fall. The child's skin was cold to the touch, a clear sign of neglect. The doctor noted the faint bruise on the child's forehead and the dried tears on the cheeks, remnants of the trauma they had endured over the past two days.

He turned to Caroline, whose face was strained with worry. "This child's condition is critical," he said in a low but serious tone. "The fall likely caused some internal bruising, and starvation for this long... it's a miracle the child even made it this far. We need to get fluids into him right away."

As the doctor worked, his eyes shifted to Andrew. His unkempt appearance was unmistakable—clothes stained and wrinkled, the lingering stench of alcohol and vomit thick in the air. He looked at him with a certain degree of disapproval but maintained his composure.

"You," the doctor began, his voice cold, yet controlled, "are responsible for this child's well-being. No matter what personal struggles you're facing, the moment you decided to have a child, you made a commitment to care for it. If you can't provide that care, you must find someone who can."

Turning to Caroline, the doctor softened slightly. "And you, if you truly care about this child, you must help ensure it gets the care it needs. This isn't just a matter of neglect. The child is suffering from the consequences of poor decisions made by those entrusted with its care."

The words hung heavy in the air, and the doctor gave them both a final, stern look before turning back to his work.

Caroline walked inside the small, sterile room, her eyes still clouded with annoyance and unconcealed frustration. She glanced at the bed and, without a word, sat down on the edge.

The soft creak of the mattress seemed to echo in the otherwise quiet space. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning back against the headboard. It had been a chaotic day, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief now that everything was over.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind her. She turned her head to see Andrew, still disheveled, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Without acknowledging her, he stepped past her and out the door, the sharp click of the door closing behind him signaling his departure.

Caroline shook her head as she heard the sound of footsteps fading away. She knew exactly where he was going. He didn't care, not really. She could almost hear the crinkle of a cigarette pack in his pocket.

She lay down on the bed, her body sinking into the softness, and closed her eyes, seemingly drifting into sleep.

WELL THEN!!

Now, it seemed fairly certain that the child's father, Andrew, harbored little affection for him. Whether his aunt, Caroline, cared for him any more than he did was now up for debate. After all, even though the child had been well cared for during the first few months of his life, Caroline had eventually handed him over to a man who could barely hold himself together—drowning in grief over his dead wife, or perhaps just lost in a haze of alcohol and apathy. It was clear that, until today, she hadn't cared much for him either—not enough to check in or offer any kind of support.

The loving family that every child deserved seemed like a distant fantasy for this child—especially a child like Vira, born into a world where such care was a rare commodity. In a time like this, from humans who could barely see beyond their own pain and dysfunction, hope for a better future seemed fragile at best.

But, then again, not everything was as bleak as it seemed. There was someone out there, someone who had been pursuing this child. Someone who might be just the spark of light he so desperately needed.

Who, you ask?