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The Reckless by jadore_jaune
Chapter 1 : Chapter I. The Nightmares Of Reality
 
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Hey guys! So this is actually a story I wrote awhile ago, took off this site, and decided to re-upload with  a completely different twist in it. I'm really excited for this, and looking forward to putting it out there. I do not own anything anything relating back to JKR, simply the plot !
-Jj

Dream Cast:
Hugo Weasley- Aaron Johnson
Rose Weasley-Lily Collins
Ron Weasley- McKidd
Hermione Weasley-Kate Mara




Branded like an animal
The secret thoughts inside me wake
I've lost what was within me, oh sweet insanity- Perfect Insanity; Disturbed




He sat outside the closed door, listening intently on the conversation being held inside the room. His shaggy brown hair swayed gently in front of his blue eyes; he tried to blow the random strands out of his face, being the distraction they were. Unsuccessfully, the hair came right back. He decided to ignore it, and continued to listen to the voices inside, which were now becoming heated and conflictive. His parents were having yet another argument. He sighed, and listened harder.

 “-How do you not see it?! He isn’t like either of us! No brain, no athletic ability, no bravery, no backbone, nothing!” Yelled his father.
“Ronald, how can you even dream of saying that?!” cried his mother. “He is your son! Just because he doesn’t have the qualities you wanted, doesn’t mean he isn’t your blood!”
“Don’t even deny it, Hermione, that you weren’t disappointed when he didn’t at least receive one Exceeding expectations on his O.W.L’s!” There was a definite gasp in the background. The boy cringed.


“W-well that’s hardly the point!” His mother spluttered. 

“Well it should sure be a sodding sign! With your smarts, and even mine, he shouldn’t be mediocre like he is! Look at Rosie, she got 11 O.W.L’s, and I know for a fact she barely studied!”

 

“Ronald!” Roared his mother, her voice rising in tones. “We are not, and I repeat, not comparing children! Rose is Rose! Hugo is Hugo! He is not ME, he is not YOU, he is who he is! Why can you not understand that?!”

 

Grumbling could be heard within the room. There was a loud smacking noise, and a grunt of pain.
“Ow!” said his father; the boy could tell he was now rubbing the back of his head from where his mother had hit him.
“Hermione, just listen to me for a second.” Pleaded Ron Weasley. “I just don’t understand how this could have happened. He has no athletic ability, no academic achievements, no social skills what so ever-”
“Maybe if you had been home when he was growing up, he’d have the social skills boy of his age should have !” Screeched his mother once more.  “If anything, this is our fault, not his!

Suddenly, there was a distinctive intake of breath, and the boy could suddenly heard crying- his mother was crying. The boy could not help but smile- his mother was crying for him, defending him in front of his good-for-nothing “father”, which made him swell up with an odd happiness. At least she loves me, he thought.

He thought back to his attempts at being the son his father had wanted. When he had first entered Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had been sorted, much to his father’s horror, into Ravenclaw, which had been deemed excellent by his mother. What no one, including himself, could understand, was just how poorly he did at school. It wasn’t that he didn’t try- for Merlin’s sake, he probably tried just as hard as any of his house mates- but it was the fact that it never showed results.

His mother had always encouraged him to try his best, and that they were proud of him no matter what he did. He knew his father had lost all hope for him as soon as he had come home with a warning notice from his Headmistress- that if he didn’t improve his marks soon, he would need to repeat all his courses and subjects. Not only that, but when he had come home to tell his father he had failed to make the Quidditch team, Ronald Weasley did what only a Weasley would do- he went completely mental. The broom he had gotten specifically for his son had been broken clean in half, and was thrown in the garbage soon after.

That had been the first night the then 13 year old boy cried himself to sleep.  He had become used to his failures, used to his isolation from his family, but the thing he could not bear was the disappointment in his parent’s eyes when they looked at him. He wanted to make them happy, but mostly, he wanted them to love him, as much as he loved them. The fact that his mother was crying for him made him jump for joy- because it meant she cared.

“Shh,’ cooed Ron, ‘It’s okay Hermione...”
“I-I-it’s just, I don’t know what to do anymore!” She wailed, her inner torments being podcasted to the son on the other side of the thin wall. “Did we do something wrong?! Did we not raise Hugo right? I mean, I understand that the structural hereditary traits one receives from their parents can alter, b-b-but, I j-just-“ And the sobbing continued. It became louder, sharper, and with every new wave of it, Hugo Weasley felt more sick with himself then he ever had in the 15 years he had lived.

His father comforted his mother as best he could on the other side of the ever seemingly thin walls. The boy didn’t want to hear anymore, but before he could walk far enough away from his place on the wall, forget what he had just heard, and take comfort in his room, he distinctly heard the 9 words no person, loved or unloved, ever wanted o hear.

 

“.. never wanted him anyways... never amount to anything...”

His breathing stopped. His once living, beating heart stood stark still for the longest of seconds, and just as quickly, took to pounding against his chest.  It was beating too hard, as if trying to rip out from his body, attempting to abandon him just as his parents had. He felt it, almost killing him, but his mind made no notice. His one arm outstretched to the cream coloured walls- had they always been that colour?-his other hung limply by his side.

His eyes, wide and as lost as a ghost, starred into nothing, and everything all at once. His mind sped through his emotions, but he could make no concrete decision as to what he could be feeling at the moment.

 

How many minutes did he stand there, looking at the spider slowly entrapping its prey , bringing it to its doom, yet not looking at all? How many minutes did he stand there, simply waiting for his heart to burst? How many minutes exactly, did Hugo Weasley stand there, feeling, not as if the world had come crashing down, but that his world had ended. It wasn’t crashing, it was gone, blown up into small, neglected pieces on the floor. The glue had been melting for some time, and now, it stood there in front of him, laughing at him, and crying with him.

 

How long did he stand there?

Hugo stood there long enough to notice his body needed to exchange the oxygen with the waste inside his lungs. He breathed in, but it seemed to choke up in his throat. The breaths came in and out in ragged sounds, just as the sound of weeping was from the other side of the door.  He tried to move his right foot in front of his left, but it would not budge. He tried to move any functional body part, but all were stuck, as if  in time. He believed he had been frozen, and he would die there, unloved and as stone, when suddenly, a flash of red came into his vision.

“Get moving Hugh,’ said Rose Weasley, her bright hair hanging low down her back. “Mom and Dad will be angry if they find you outside their door again, like a long lost puppy.” She sniggered, and continued her way down towards the stairs, where she descended and was out of sight. Hugo’s body acted on its will, dragging his feet towards his room, but his thoughts screamed that he had left something behind-
his sanity, and his heart.



September first came fast, and with it the usual business of the Weasley household. His mother and father were trying to awaken Rose, as she would be returning on the train to Hogwarts for her last year. He sat outside on the porch, more pale and more ill looking than he had ever before. Few noticed over the holidays that something was off with Hugo Weasley, but none voiced their opinions, seeing as they only had a chance to see him once or twice during the break. He mostly kept away from his house, taking to being outdoors. His parents thought this a wonderful idea, believing he was only trying to liven up some. In reality, he only traveled to the local park and observed the sky as it turned from pale blues to deep purples of the night. 


He had grown much thinner, and his eyes had lost some of the life in them, his skin seemingly transparent. The thing he resembled the most was not his parents, but a ghost of what was. Hugo himself never saw these things. In fact, he never saw anything these days. All he saw was his destination, which he had hidden away from his family.

As Ron Weasley grabbed Rose’s trunk from the front porch and levitated it towards the boot of the car, Hugo followed him with his eyes. Hugo’s trunk had already been placed within the car, but what seemed odd was that he also was carrying something he never had before- a rucksack. Believing him only to be carrying a few treats to satisfy his hunger on the train, his parent made no questions on it. After all, all his clothes and possessions would be in his trunk, on the way with him to Hogwarts.  At least, that’s what they thought.

“Rose Weasley, you get in this car right now!” yelled his mother, as she walked towards the car. A flash of red, and Rose stepped into the car, beside her brother. She exclaimed her nervousness for the upcoming year, and told her fears of failure to her parents. Ron Weasley smiled and hushed her worries, speaking only of encouragement, and ideas of success that he knew his daughter needed to hear. Hermione smiled lovingly at him, and patted his arm affectionately. “Even you, Hugo.” Said his father, almost as an afterthought.

 

And as the Weasley clan pulled out onto the road, father looked at son, and son looked at father, and the fakest of smiles could be seen through the rear-view mirror. Ron Weasley’s words never met his eyes-he might not be bright, but Hugo was not dim. They had no hopes for him anymore.

“You do look very handsome Hugo.” Complimented his mother. Hugo nodded, but knew his mother only wanted to seem polite. He pointed his blue eyes towards the road, and awaited the return to King’s Cross Station, without uttering another word.

On the other side of the barrier, the masses of students, parents, siblings, and friends seemed to have doubled from the year previous. Hugo could make out the red haired relatives, all moving and greeting one another. He spotted his Uncle Harry, with his messy raven hair, and his air of content. He could see Lily hugging her mother, whispering words of love. His mother and father had gone to help Rose with her things onto the train, whilst she saw her boyfriend, Scorpious. His eyes scanned the platform, as if waiting for a deciding factor. And it surely came, when he caught sight of them all.

His mother and father, arms around each other, Rose with Scorpious, Lily, James and Albus, and even the older Weasley’s who had come to say goodbye to the younger cousins, before another year at Hogwarts. Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur stood, delighted at the sight. Fred and Roxanne quickly exchanging ideas with Dominique and Louis of the plans they had for the upcoming year. Teddy, with his arms around his Victoire, all smiles. Surely, someone in his large family would notice they were missing one? And as he stood there all alone, he heard Lily speak up.

“Where’s Hugh?” She asked to his mother and father.
“Probably on the train I suspect.” Smiled his mother. 

He hadn’t cried all summer, he had promised himself  he wouldn’t. Bu as he turned on his heel and raced towards the barrier to exit the world of magic he was supposed to be entering, Hugo Weasley raced to escape, the tears of abandonment , disgrace, and shame, running down his face, just as the day he had been born. 


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