CHAPTER SEVEN
↳ the boy of the lake

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Elara Lily Lupin was notorious in the Lupin household for her peculiar dreams... or, what she described them as, nightmares. She'd let out deafening screams, cries of fright as she clung so tightly onto her papa's nightgown, refusing to meet his worrisome amber eyes, even when she was young. Her dreams were an ailment of monstrosities that Elara Lupin would never be cured of. No matter whether she'd silence her screams or hold back her tears, those dreams remained an ailment to her, something incurable.

Sheets clenched, pillows tear stained and breathing uneasy, Elara Lily Lupin was never, ever, cured of those ailments. Remus assured the small girl that everyone had nightmares, vaguely telling her that he was still haunted by the eyes of the big bad wolf ( Elara remained oblivious for many years about who the big bad wolf was ). Those words did comfort her, but they never cured her.

Of course they wouldn't. Nothing would cure her.

As she grew older, her curiosity remained the same, unchanged, and she dug deep, hoping to hit gold and learn why she had these strange dreams. She never managed to strike gold, she still was digging. No book could foretell her exactly what she was experiencing, whatever she read never matched what she described in her memories. As you aged, memories and dreams would alter, some would become completely oblivious to the,

There was one nightmare that haunted her, followed her, for all her days. One nightmare that caused her to stay up, shaking and sobbing. But, Elara was not sobbing out of fear, no, Elara was sobbing out of sympathy for the look of terror that laid on the boy's face as claws gripped onto him, weighing him down for a horrific death.

The first time she dreamt of this strange boy, who couldn't possibly be over the age of eighteen, was when she was merely a small little girl with bouncy brown hair and a gaze of curiosity and longing. That night remained tucked in her mind fairly well, strangely well. Remus tucking her in, pulling some curly strands of brown behind her ear, kissing her forehead and reading the same story he always read. The night seemed just the same as any other night. The moment her brown eyes shut, all excitement faded as she found herself trapped in a murky cave, welcomed with two souls, one of which would cease to exist and become just a small lingering memory.

There stood just a boy and a small 'creature', as the boy referred to him as ( little Elara found that name rather saddening ). The boy, timid yet brave, approached where Elara stood, his silver misty eyes filled with terror as he proceeded to experience... unimaginable pain. Shrieks, cries, Elara covered her ears, longing to erase the pain herself, but she could not. She tried shutting her eyes, dreaming she wouldn't have to meet the begging greying eyes that rusted away before her. No, she couldn't. She wished she could, she wished she could've avoided those begging, screaming eyes.

Elara Lily Lupin decided to erase herself of all the memories past what she had seen. Those memories haunted her, so much so that she could, even after over a decade of experiencing it, still picture the boy of the lake's begging gaze. There were no words exchanged between them, how could there be? The boy had no clue of who foresaw his untimely end.

But what Elara Lily Lupin never erased was the moment the boy of the lake died. How his body seared with undeserving pain, something he thought he deserved to experience. She could almost read his mind with his eyes. I deserve it. Every few moments, those greying, rusted eyes would glance down to his covered forearm. She wondered why he looked so hatefully at his forearm. Elara wished she could've helped the boy of the lake. The boy who's ankles became swallowed by the corpse-like hands, gripping onto him for all eternity, dragging him down to serve a lifetime as mere seafoam. With his last breath, the boy of the lake gasped out a scream, ordering the creature away and turned to where Elara was, meeting her sorrowed brown eyes that bawled in horror, tears cascading down her brown skin as she shook terribly, watching the boy's final moments. She tried reaching her hand out, tried moving, but all she could do was stand still, frozen like a memory, unplayable, forced to observe and not act.

Eyes continued to scream at her once again, he wanted to be saved, she could tell. Terror stricken, he didn't want to suffer such a fate that bloomed in his eternal pain and suffering. He was a young boy, forced into a position not even a grown man should endure, forced, will robbed away like time robbing away mortality. Sweat laced his forehead, tears swirled down his cheeks and his eyes glossed over in terror. Although his face now remained relaxed, no longer panic stricken, nevertheless his eyes remained void of his final emotions. Regret, terror, pain. Those were the last things the boy of the lake felt, his head surfacing under the water, never to resurface again, bubbling for a moment as he screamed, choked and soon those bubbles paused for all of time.

For all eternity, the boy of the lake would sleep. He would sleep, sleep, and forever forget. His body would become the sea foam that laid beautifully at the bottom of the lake, his mind would remain no more, his spirit detached and forced away, separated for all his life. Elara was beyond terrified, shaking and her throat closing up as she tried screaming. The poets had written his tragedy, hidden in the deep rest of scrolls, foretold to mere children. But his story was not the poets, he was just a boy, the boy of the lake, he was just a tale, not an actual soul, just a story. Yet he was a boy, a life taken too soon, forced away from the world. His soul would remain adrift in this vast and isolated world, torn apart from who he was, an unheard memory, his final moments plaguing a child as her nightmares.

Nightmares.

That's all the boy of the lake would be known as. A childhood nightmare, his face sketched in a child's minds, taking up the place where a monster should be held. But he was no monster, just a tragedy. One perfect for the pages, one deserving of retelling. But Elara wouldn't, Elara would never. For her small voice would never speak of these dreams. Forever just known as the boy of the lake, no elaboration, yet that silly ghost name she gave him.

Remus Lupin would never be able to understand her strange dream. She'd tell him "there's the boy of the lake, he died" which seemed brutal, but a child's mind was unknowingly brutal and also innocent. Even when she'd draw strange grey eyes with tears, even when she'd draw a strange cave ( albeit, an awfully drawn cave ), he'd never connect anything. To Remus Lupin, this was a silly children's nightmare, but to Elara Lupin this was the boy of the lake's legacy.

Even now, at the age of nearly fifteen, hair still curly as can be, eyes as brown and curious as they were the first time she ever met the boy of the lake and his fate, Elara Lupin still was forced to witness the boy of the lake's untimely demise. Forced to witness his greying eyes grow less and less bright, forced to witness his cries of pain as he gulped down the strange, vile, liquid. She could feel it in her bones. The agonising pain. Almost as though she was drinking it herself, his pain being her pain as she sobbed more and more.

Pain, pain, more pain. A forever repetitive cycle, all eternity relapsing as Elara was forced to watch, watch and watch again.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

For all eternity, or for however long eternity was. Maybe until you woke up, gasping for breath and throat aching, maybe when your bones quaked and shook in terror. Elara Lupin never knew when eternity would end. The past may recede, fading further away, but the past always found its way into her dreams, beleaguering her for all her time.

She would sleep, her curse failing to fade away, unlike the world around her.

Sometimes, she'd find herself gripping her left forearm, just like the boy of the lake did before his untimely death. Crescent moons embedded in her skin, her nails dug deep just like the boy of the lake's. She could never pin why she'd grip it. The boy of the lake did, that's all she was aware of. But why? Why? Her silenced questions could query all of existence, but all of existence could not answer those silenced questions. For Elara Lupin was a cursed soul, an unknown curse she had failed to unravel, a curse no one could break. Forced to see what she wished she would never see.

Forced to witness past, future and beyond. Forced to remain silent, voice broken, speech unheard. Forced to remain a drifting soul in a passage of dreams that foretold her what she never wished to know.

Her oblivion was stolen, replaced with knowing. How she'd trade her knowing mind for her oblivious, childhood state, any day of the week.

Yet, as she slept, she forgot. She forgot features, some remaining known, some remaining unknown. The only things about the boy of the lake that Elara Lupin would ever remember was the agony he was forced through, the fear in his greying eyes, his final moments. That's all Elara Lupin was cursed to remember. Sketches embarked on her notebooks featuring his fearful eyes, Remus Lupin would always just nod, and nod, looking at her talents with awe and proudness, oblivious like how Elara used to be about how these talents came to be.

Forgetting, just like she had forgotten who the boy of the lake was, how he had seen this cycle pass him prior before.

Forgetting would always be his quietus, it would be everyone's. But, in particular, it would be the forgetfulness of Elara Lupin that would lead to the future.

You see, Cedric Diggory's greying eyes that screamed at her were all she remembered. She could not pinpoint what events had led to his demise, nor where he was. All she remembered, her forgetfulness plaguing her entirely, was his pain stricken eyes and the ominous bellow of the killing curse that would take his soul and lead him to death's door step.

Hair sprawled out, almost as a curly brown halo, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling, chest shaking as tears silently fell down her soft, acne bitten cheeks, Elara Lupin's mind ran as she tried and tried remembering. Her breathing elevated more as she forgot, more and more. Yet, those greying, dimmed eyes that belonged to her best friend still wraithlike and wide with fear. Were those really his last moments?

Elara Lupin may have to remain oblivious for all eternity, unknown to what would lead to his demise, but Elara Lupin was very well aware that at some point, whenever that point was, Cedric Diggory would become just another nightmare she'd be forced to endure over and over again.

Wake, sleep, wake, and forget. She would sleep, dream and forget, just like the people before her. Trapped in a continuous cycle, forced to sleep, dream and forget. Constant, like time, natural as breathing, something forced upon you for all eternity, a curse seeped into the blood of each and every person, destructive and unforgiving.

Just like the boy of the lake, his eyes would become sketches, admired by onlookers, his memory would reside with a little girl as just a nightmare, dismissed as nothing more, nothing less. Just a nightmare. A horror held against her and forced to guilt trip her for all her days she remains breathing.

Just a nightmare that she'd be forced to relive for decades and decades, constantly over and over again until she forgot. Because that's what her purpose was, to foresee and never tell. A silent omen of fate and, perhaps, even death.

And while destiny remained unbelievably cruel, she was never, ever, responsible for this continuous cycle of knowingness. No, this was not the cruelty of destiny. This was fate's orbit, forcing all cursed to fade as nothing but omens, omens that destiny would manipulate. All things will fade, a memory, a past, but they will never fade for those cursed. How would they fade? A forewarning, that's Elara's unfortunate curse, forced for all eternity to watch what has faded for other people.

And thus, she would sleep, forget, sleep and forget, this cycle continuing for all the rest of her days, those fragile eyes and terror filled screams remaining phoenix's rising from their ashes in her dreams that were enveloped in the pained flames of memory and future.

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OKOK- I HOPE YOU ALL **KINDA** GET WHAT ELARA CAN DO.

so personally, I don't view her as a seer, she doesn't predict, she foresees. Seers, to me, aren't deemed reliable for a lot of the time, tell people their predictions and have those moments. Elara, on the other hand, is 'cursed' to never tell anyone about these dreams, if she did she'd meddle with futures. She sees the past, seeing all death **EXCEPT PRESENT**. I described her as an omen, more specifically an omen of death. Look at any omens of death, one will be her animagus form :)

Can we talk about how El and Regulus would've been besties- like he'd be her uncle ( albeit, adopted ) and would adore her. Pls Regulus would've been the iconic aroace wine uncle who'd spoil her and I live for that.

ALSO 25K- WHAT??????

There's just one more chapter and then **shivers** we get onto Goblet of Fire- oops prepare for a lot of stuff-

**sighs** you're all gonna murder me <3

ANYWAYS HAPPY EASTER IF ANY OF YOU CELEBRATE

I LOVE YOU ALL !! MWAH !!