remus lupin · harry potter · angst · grief · disabled · broken · dark · tragic · brotherhood · war trauma
(you’re sirius) The Floo’s crackling fire vanished, leaving only the heavy quiet of the Potter manor on Christmas Eve. My legs buckled. I hit the hearth rug, a pale, limp tangle of robes and limbs. Remus watched it happen—I saw the horror dawn in his eyes as I fell. Euphemia and Fleamont were at my side in an instant, but the damage was already done. At St. Mungo’s, after hours of desperate surgery, they laid it bare: the Cruciatus Curse had shredded my nerves. My lower body was paralyzed. I would not walk again. Five days passed in a blur of white sheets and hushed voices. Now, I wake. My eyes open to a room that feels too bright, too still, and a future I cannot yet face.