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 Cameron Blackwood
Ben! · 16 · 5th · · · 5"11
Hufflepuff Beginner
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Feb 6 2018, 09:11 PM   Link Quote
Original Post.

Name: Cameron Blackwood.
Age: Sixteen.
Year: Fifth.
Bloodline: Pureblood.
Do you have more than one character? If yes, did you get permission to make this one, and from which admin?: I do! Stells gave me permission <3
Appearance:

Personality: Cameron is soft around the edges, where most of the world is hard corners, he is a bruised individual floating through life. There are pieces of him that are sharp and cutting, because everyone has a pointy end somewhere, but they are lost amid a tide of warmth that he clings to, desperately trying to keep it inside. In a world that fights so hard to crush that softness and douse that warmth, Cameron persists with a quiet, careful vengeance.

Feelings are very big for Cameron, and they have always been since he was small. They are large and they seem to consume every part of him, and thus he seems to feel things harder than most. Words are like daggers, inflections, insinuations, they all seem to bog him down no matter what he is told, because he so heavily concerns himself with the wellbeing of others, and is obsessed with what people think of him. He wants more than anything to be a good person, but is betrayed by his own anxieties and guilt, betrayed by the few self-preserving things he does to keep himself afloat.

But, should anyone ask, Cameron always makes time for his friends and family. They are his muse, his meaning, because what else does he have, if not them? Then he would be stuck alone with himself, and that is the last place he wants to be. On his worst days, he is stuck with the howling in his head and nothing to block the sound from matching his pulse and consuming him. On his best days, it is a subtle background noise, and he can smile gently and walk into the sunshine without fearing that it will burn him to nothingness.

There are parts of Cameron that aspire to be more, but he feels that he always falls short. There is a sense that he constantly runs on limited amounts of energy, and expends himself to his limit daily, as he tries frequently to do better. Not for himself, but for friends that worry and mothers that touch his cheek and kiss his forehead and tell him he’s going to make a difference in the world. He wishes he could, and he’s resigned himself to try forevermore, even when everything seems like too much. Cameron aches to be braver and bolder, to take up more space in the world, but he so frequently shrinks and it is difficult to expand with so many people around you constantly.

He is sweet, in an aching sort of way. He’s sweet when he holds his friend’s hand, and when he hugs, and when he offers platonic cuddles because bodily contact is grounding, calming, wonderful. He’s sweet when he doodles on the corners of his notes, or leaves loving messages for his mothers to find, and he’s sweet when his concern creases the space between his brows. He’s sweet in his very existence, this boy. He tries very hard to make others happy, and in this, he continuously forgets about himself. Even though he has constantly been told to ask for help when he needs it, there's a hesitance somewhere, despite the love and care and honesty of his upbringing. Where that hesitance comes from, well... That is to be seen.

Cameron is like the fog that clings to the hillside, a gentle touch, soft and airy and floating. Fog is clouds, fog could have stayed way up in the sky and became a downpour but instead it fell gently from grace and landed here instead. In many ways, Cameron did the same. But what is yet to be seen is if he will evaporate in the sun, or stay where he is and continue to exist.


Character Background: Elizabeth Blackwood and Roksana Popov met after they had graduated- Elizabeth from Hogwarts and Roksana from Koldovstoretz, in a bar, both drunk and bruised from a protest they had both attended defending the rights of magical beings such as werewolves and vampires. Elizabeth, at the time, knew no better than anyone that the woman she was staring at across the bar (this woman full of mystery and sharp smiles and bruised, calloused fists) was a werewolf, and given their political opinions, neither of them seemed to care. They spent that night telling each other drunken tales in that bar, and when it closed, they went to Roksana’s dilapidated flat and collapsed into their bed and decided they loved each other.

It was interesting, falling in love with a stranger. Elizabeth sat on Roksana’s sagging old couch and ate yogurt and watched Roksana move through her environment, the messy, broken-down coldwater apartment in Leeds and slowly pieced it together. Two years after they got together, two years full of Roksana disappearing on full moon nights and coming back exhausted and smelling of woods in the morning, Elizabeth finally asked if she was a wolf. Roksana, her blonde hair messy, a speckle of mud on her cheek, her grey eyes full of edges that have never been sanded, replied; “Yes.” Elizabeth nodded, and that was all.

Another year went by, and the couple decided to have children. Or, a child. It should be noted that Elizabeth made the decision. Roksana was part animal, as far as her colleagues were concerned, but Elizabeth was much more fierce and had sharper teeth to bare. Wizarding orphanages in England are picky. The couple tried time and time again to adopt, but when they saw what Roksana was (and had always openly been,) they would slide the application to the discarded pile and refuse to look at it any longer.

Roksana talked long into the night about missing the cold Russian air, the snow piled in heaps, the way the flakes swirled and the sun shone on The Motherland Calls statue with her arms spread wide. Elizabeth stared out rain-spattered windows, sighed, and agreed to the question Roksana never asked. They moved.

In Russia, adopting was much less of a problem, and soon the couple was graced with a baby boy to love. Roksana suggested the name ‘Cameron,’ after Elizabeth’s brother, who had died in her childhood. Elizabeth kissed her, bold and fierce, as they left the orphanage with their quiet boy in their arms.

Cameron did not cry. From when they adopted him as a toddler, he did not cry, nor did he really speak. Elizabeth stayed up late reading parenting books whilst Roksana offered him toys and stared into his eyes (grey, like her own) and told him in small ways that quietness was okay. She brushed his dull brown hair and ran her calloused fingers over his and kissed his injuries away.

He hated leaving the house. He wanted to stay on the warm livingroom rug where it was safe, where he could lay on his belly and watch muggle VHS tapes that Roksana had found of wonderful movies full of love and adventure, so much that he didn’t have to leave to experience it. He read books, and he peered out of the window and watched cars drive by outside, and he sniffed and ate his mothers’ home cooking and shook, wide-eyed and terrified, when they tried to coax him to go to the grocer’s.

Cameron met Lena when he was young, because the next door neighbor’s parents had approached them with their young girl, mistified and lovely and sweet. Elizabeth had been ready to arm the battlements when Roksana smiled and agreed, and Cameron looked over his shoulder shyly, his eyes full of tears, as he wandered off with the neighbor girl. But, Lena was sweet, and it took him no time at all to get attached.

With her help, he got bolder, and he explored more. He tried, with shreds of guilt, not to notice the way Elizabeth glowed and almost cried when he chose to go outside. Cameron had sleep overs at the Utkina’s, and he never complained about their food (even if he was an extremely picky eater) and he never asked to have warmer blankets, even when his feet were cold.

He listened, with Lena, raptly about her brother and complained to his mothers that he wasn’t also going to muggle school. Roksana was perplexed, but Elizabeth was never one to tell her child he wasn’t allowed to learn, and so he was permitted to go with Lena. He learned with rapt attention, but the other kids made him nervous, and he stuck to Lena’s coat tails more often than not and tried not to be noticed.

As time went on, he grew out of this bit by bit. When he was eleven, his parents told him they would be moving. Heartbreak settled over him, but he did not cry. You see, his parents spent so long trying to keep them afloat- Roksana could only find work with heavy labor or at bars, and Elizabeth was constantly trying to climb the social ladder. But more often than not, they found themselves short on money, his parents explained. Leeds, they said, would be better off.

Cameron hugged Lena as tight as he could on the day they left, and waved goodbye to her parents as Elizabeth hugged them and Roksana shook their hands. (Roksana always kept affection to her wife and her son, you see, and he had always noticed this and pretended not to) then, they left.

He went to Hogwarts and painfully tried to make friends. During the holidays, he went home and didn’t leave their house much. His parents were struggling much less as Elizabeth had a good job and Roksana had picked up shifts at a bar where she made a half-decent wage. Cameron went to Hogwarts and tried to make friends, and he got good grades because he saw how hard his parents worked for him.

Lena came to Leeds with her family after two years. Cameron looked out the window of the Blackwood’s run-down house, the topmost bedroom, and watched the new neighbors move in. When he saw her, his mind wasn’t sure at first but his heart was. He dodged his mother on the stairs to run out the front door, down the street, and hug Lena fiercely.

Then, they went to Hogwarts together. Cameron cheered for Lena as she was sorted, because it was always easier to be loud for someone else. With her help, yet again, he began to branch out of himself and finally felt at home in this large castle.

The Sorting Hat is placed on your head. What are you thinking at that moment?: The entire school was looking at him, and their gazes felt like scorchmarks on his skin. He saw the way people looked at his mother and her scars, and he shifted in his seat, picking at his fingers as the hat was placed on his head. He wanted this over with at the same time that he wanted to be good, and be able to do this, and go to a good house. At the very end, he closed his eyes and thought; ’Please, somewhere good.’
Special Request (available at Novice**) maybe woofer

OOC Name: Ben!
Your Pronouns: He/him!
How did you find out about Wizarding Realm? Google!

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I took a little journey to the unknown,
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones.
I fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see,
Now the darkness got a hold on me.
🌙🌙🌙
Ben! · 16 · 5th · · · 5"11
Hufflepuff Beginner
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Apr 28 2018, 12:58 AM   Link Quote
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Cameron, at first glance, is not much. He is just a body moving about the world, in a sea of other bodies, seemingly listless and nothing to pay attention to. He does not sport curly locks, or have tattoos, or marks that will make him stand out from a crowd. He is not special in his appearance. But, if you happen to catch his eye or pay attention long enough to notice him, there are many subtle details that make him other. Like you can see the shadow of something else where there should just be a boy.

Unlike some boys his age, Cameron has not begun to fill out, and judging by his thin shoulders and slightly boney limbs, it does not appear he will grow thick and strong with muscle. He is lean and lithe in the way that points to a very high metabolism. With his thin body and young face, he is often mistaken for being younger than he is, but it doesn't bother him much. Appearance isn't something Cameron generally pays attention to, so whilst he keeps up enough to be presentable, he doesn't do anything special either.

His hair stays near constantly at a short buzzcut due to it being easy to upkeep. It's a dull brown colour, and it could perhaps be more vibrant if he would let it grow, but every time it has he has let it knot and grow messy. His mother always liked to joke that he was raised by wolves, (at the expense of his appearance) and she wasn't wrong. Having such short hair tends to bring out the natural sharpness of his cheekbones and the pale slope of his forehead, his dark brows sitting heavily over pale green eyes. Cameron has his mother Roksana's nose, a slight bump in ridge, otherwise neat. It leads down into a soft cupid's bow and pink lips curved slightly upwards at the corners, teeth white, his canines a little pointer than considered normal. His jaw is defined, but not enough to be considered sharp. He looks at once fragile and a little like a cornered animal, like he sees more than he says.

That assumption isn't incorrect, either.

Typically, Cameron stands with his chin down, his shoulders slightly hunched and turned in. It might be due to being shy, but it helps him blend into the shadows to avoid being seen. When one does notice him, he tends to be slightly alarmed, a focused but guarded expression coming upon his face. As a general rule, Cameron is afflicted by the condition known as: resting bitch face. He does not appear approachable, first because of his tendency to cling to corners and shadows, hunched and quiet. As with most of him, his expressions tend to be muted allusions to how he really feels. He's not awfully expressive, which leads to him being difficult to read physically. Pair that with a tendency to speak in a monotone, neutral pitch at low volume, and you have the picture of a standoffish boy who doesn't emote to the typical level of those whom are more advanced socially than he is.

He also tends to blend into the darkness a little due to his subconscious decision to dress in darker colours. Flashy things make him uncomfortable because people who want to be noticed dress brightly, and that isn't even close to a want of Cameron's, and so he slides to the darker and duller colours for his clothing. Other than that, he tends to dress for practicality more than anything else. He favors hiking boots, sweaters and jackets, seeing as he also tends to have trouble staying warm. More often than not, he's wearing layers: tee shirt, sweater, jacket, etcetera. It isn't unusual to see him in touques either.

Overall, Cameron is not much to see, and he prefers it that way. He has a tendency to blend into the environments around him, possibly by choice, definitely by habit, in order to avoid interaction. It's a knee-jerk decision, developed through years of habit. The interesting thing about this boy in particular is that if you do look for a few moments longer than most, you can see the paleness of his eyes, the shadow of his brow, the way he stares for a little too long. The way it seems like there's more than meets the eye.


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Cameron is firm, despite being quiet, and that is important to understand. It feels like he is always under the scrutiny of others, but he tries to pretend that he doesn't feel that way. He doesn't like to waver from opinions he holds, even though he rarely has the mettle to defend himself on the things he cares about so fiercely. Where most of the world is hard corners, he is a bruised individual floating through life. He does not like to be pinned to a wall, so he tries to be as elusive as possible, tries to stick to shadows and watch from the outside to keep himself safe. It's a dichotomy, in ways, because he is very opinionated, and has very strong beliefs (not necessarily religious)- that he leans on... But he is too feeble to voice or stand up for these beliefs.

He isn't good at pretending that he isn't hurt when he is. Cameron's feelings are a tidal wave that threaten to swallow him whole: it's like a forest where the undergrowth is so dense that he cannot get through. Ever since he was a child, Cameron wanted to be accepted- and even as a broody teenager whom pretends he doesn't need that acceptance, he still hungers for it relentlessly. The opinions people hold is of utmost importance to him, no matter how much he lies to himself saying that it's not true. In the middle of the night, he can't help but remember the awkward thing he said at breakfast. He thinks of a million different replies and words that would have been better to use, but in the moment he chokes. He always does.

He's never really fit in, and it's painfully obvious.

That's why those he does deem as friends are incredibly important to him. Even his family, shrouded in mystery and secrecy, keeps him feeling safe and secure in a world that will always be too fast for him to keep up with. They are his muse, his meaning, because what else does he have, if not them? Then he would be stuck alone with himself, and that is the last place he wants to be. On his worst days, he is stuck with the howling in his head and nothing to block the sound from matching his pulse and consuming him. On his best days, it is a subtle background noise, and he can meet the world with a determined but somber brow.

There are parts of Cameron that aspire to be more, but he feels that he always falls short. From childhood, he spent his time clinging to shadows, because he has always been a very quiet and fearful kid. There is a sense that he constantly runs on limited amounts of energy, and expends himself to his limit daily, as he tries frequently to retain more. Not for himself, but for friends that worry and mothers that touch his cheek and kiss his forehead and tell him he’s going to make a difference in the world. He wishes he could, and he’s resigned himself to try forevermore, but he lives with the constant feeling of being entirely ineffectual. Cameron aches to be braver and bolder, to take up more space in the world, but he so frequently shrinks, and he finds it so difficult to expand with so many people around doing things better than he ever could.

There's a certain brand of self-hate within Cameron, the kind that has to do with not accepting his own limits. He has not reached a point where he works with what he has rather than what he wants to have, and because of this, he suffers. He rests in a eternal cycle of why can't I be better? It's the hitch in his stride, the reason he cannot truly smile when his mothers tell him they are proud of him. He cannot see why.

Cameron does not see the sweetness he holds for what it is, he sees his small gestures and hand-holding like weakness. The physical touch grounds him from the certain few he enjoys being close with. Sweetness is so easily a disadvantage in a world that seems to want nothing more than to swallow him whole, so he hates that his hands shake, and he hates that he yearns to be close to others in ways that he has always dreamed of. Yet, he still wishes, and he still holds that affection in his heart and in the crease of his concerned brows and the turn of the corners of his mouth, the subtle smiles when he sees happiness amidst others. He likes it when people are happy, even though he isn't sure how to be, and that's where he is kind. He attempts to cheer up others when he has no heavenly idea on how to create positive energy within himself. Whether that is because he has convinced himself that it is dangerous to be soft, or because of his own bruises, it remains to be seen.

Cameron is like the fog that clings to the hillside, a gentle touch, soft and airy and floating. Fog is clouds, fog could have stayed way up in the sky and became a downpour but instead it fell gently from grace and landed here instead. In many ways, Cameron did the same. But what is yet to be seen? Will he evaporate when the sun becomes too much, or will he continue on as best as he can?


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Elizabeth Blackwood had always been a rebel with a cause. Up until the age of thirteen, she was raised like any pureblood girl ought to have been. She learned poise, she had special tutors for her summer and winter vacations. She was the youngest of three siblings, with a seven-year gap between her and the middle child. Elizabeth had been an accident, but a happy one, until she began to form opinions of her own. Due to the severe age gap between her and her parents, the modern views she held drove a spike between the adults and their youngest, but oddly enough- the unacceptance did not deter her. If anything, it drove her onwards.

The same could not be said for Roksana Popov, a woman who always carried a shred of the girl she was in her heart. Roksana was raised by a pureblood family, sure, but one that resented the wix nation as a whole for reasons related heavily to mistreatment. Roksana, and the rest of her family, were werewolves. It’s no secret how the wix population sees these people. Her grandfather, after seeing two of his children killed for their affliction, decided to take his Russian family and move far into the wilderness of Paanayarvi National Park along the Finnish-Russian border. There, they built a community, and he raised his children to be fiercely proud of their heritage. None of them had wands. None of them learned magic, and Roksana was no exception.

When Elizabeth was thirteen, her parents' long list of lies were uncovered. Fraud, theft, secrecy and awfulness. Her two older brothers were found to be involved, and all of them were judged guilty and sent to Azkaban. All at once, Elizabeth Blackwood had nothing but herself and the savings she had put away for further schooling. But thankfully, herself was all she needed to have. She spent her vacations at Hogwarts, and she studied, throwing herself into every subject that arose. She became a healing apprentice, because she had no other choice. Shortly after graduation, she was employed by St. Mungos.

Roksana did not study, nor did she get a job. She was the weakest link of her family unit and she did not feel able to change that, and nor was she. She was a runt, skinny, underfed, underloved, under in every sense of the word. After years of contention, neglect, abuse, lack of love in any form- Roksana left, under one condition: her father wanted his power to reach. He wanted to grow his family. He spent time inducting other abused werewolves into their community, for blood outside their own. The rule was simple: Roksana was to reproduce, and bite the child. They would know if she didn't, and she believed them, because she knew there was no corner of the world she could go where her father couldn't find her.

Be it destiny, but Roksana fled around the time that Elizabeth got fired for making too much noise. Elizabeth stood up for the underdogs, because she remembered the horrific realization that all she had to her name was the galleons under her bed, so she felt a certain duty as some kind of fallen angel to help. When an aging woman and her werewolf son of only twelve came for treatment, Elizabeth watched colleague after colleague refuse their help, and she grew bristly with frustration. After treating them herself, she turned to her bosses to seek help for this obviously important issue. However, they did nothing. Despite all her efforts, her reports, and her determination, they did nothing.

Elizabeth went to the press, and so Elizabeth lost her job, and went to get a drink. There, she sat down the bar from a blonde woman with rosey cheeks and shockingly grey eyes. Something about her was captivating- and her accent told stories of places very far away. They shared drinks, and they talked long into the night, only to shamble off to Elizabeth’s dingy flat. Roksana showered as Elizabeth picked out comfortable clothes for her to wear, and then they fell into bed together and Roksana never left.

It was interesting, falling in love with a stranger. Elizabeth sat on her sagging old couch and ate yogurt and watched Roksana move through her environment, the messy, broken-down coldwater apartment in London and slowly pieced it together. They had been living together for several months when she figured it out, but she did not mention it. Two years after they got together, two years full of Roksana disappearing on full moon nights and coming back exhausted and smelling of woods in the morning, Elizabeth finally asked if she was a wolf. Roksana, her blonde hair messy, a speckle of mud on her cheek, her grey eyes full of edges that have never been sanded, replied; “Yes.” Elizabeth nodded, and that was all.

She didn’t question it, and Roksana felt a blanket of warmth settle over all her old wounds: she felt known. She felt loved in ways her family, nor anyone else, had ever given her. Elizabeth had done so much for her; she had gotten Roksana a job bartending, she had slowly but surely taught her english, she had given her a home and a bed and someone to love more than she thought possible.

Another year went by, and the couple decided to have children. Or, a child. It should be noted that Elizabeth made the decision- Roksana was part animal, as far as her colleagues were concerned, but Elizabeth was much more fierce and had sharper teeth to bare. Wizarding orphanages in England are picky, however. The couple tried time and time again to adopt, but when they saw what Roksana was (and had always been,) they would slide the application to the discarded pile and refuse to look at it any longer. Roksana was incredibly discouraged; but where she felt flawed, Elizabeth felt determined (feeling any other way had never been an option for her.)

Roksana talked long into the night about missing the cold Russian air, the twisted old forests she knew, the way the flakes swirled and the sun shone on the land she was familiar with. Elizabeth stared out rain-spattered windows, sighed, and agreed to the question Roksana never asked. They moved, and bought themselves a small home in a town not far from St Petersburg, one where the nearest swath of woodland was a mere skip through a few fields. They got chickens, per Roksana’s request, because she had chickens all throughout her childhood that had arguably been her best friends. Elizabeth was at once confused and more in love than she had ever been.

Thankfully, in Russia, adopting was much less of a problem. There were orphanages full of children, so when Elizabeth argued for their right, the staff seemed to grow tired of trying and agreed to give them a child. It wasn’t exactly how they wanted to win the argument, but they had a child, and that’s what mattered in the end. They were graced with a baby boy to love. Roksana suggested the name ‘Cameron,’ after Elizabeth’s brother, who was perhaps the nicest person the woman had ever known- even though he, too, was in Azkaban. She agreed.

Cameron did not cry. From when they adopted him as a toddler, he did not cry, nor did he really speak. Worried, Elizabeth stayed up late reading parenting books whilst Roksana offered him toys and stared into his eyes (grey, like her own) and told him in small ways that quietness was okay. She knew all the ways that she had been raised and how they had hurt her, so she decided that he should never be hurt in such ways. In her family, you were bitten young. Cameron was never bitten. She brushed his dull brown hair and ran her calloused fingers over his and kissed his injuries away.

As he grew, Cameron fell into the habit of isolating himself. He hated leaving the house. He wanted to stay on the warm living room rug where it was safe, where he could lay on his belly and watch muggle VHS tapes that Roksana had found, wonderful movies full of love and adventure, so much that he didn’t have to leave to experience it. He read books, and he peered out of the window and watched cars drive by outside, and he sniffed and ate his mothers’ home cooking and shook, wide-eyed and terrified, when they tried to coax him to go to the grocer’s. It broke his mothers’ hearts when they pulled him, screaming and crying, from the house- but they had to. Eventually, he became better about it. He enjoyed feeding the chickens with Roksana, and gathering eggs, and he held onto Elizabeth’s hand in the grocery store whilst cautiously staring at the world around him.

Cameron met Lena when he was young, because the next door neighbor’s parents had approached them with their young girl, mistified and lovely and sweet. Elizabeth had been ready to arm the battlements when Roksana smiled and agreed, and Cameron looked over his shoulder shyly, his eyes full of tears, as he wandered off with the neighbor girl. Lena, however, was more curious about the nearby woods that he had walked through with his mother many times, so he cautiously led her around the spots he remembered while they talked about nonsensical things like kids do. Her gentle nature meant it took him little time to get attached.

With her help, he got bolder, and he explored more. He tried, with shreds of guilt, not to notice the way Elizabeth glowed and almost cried when he chose to go outside. Cameron had sleepovers at the Utkin’s, and he never complained about their food (even if he was an extremely picky eater) and he never asked to have warmer blankets, even when his feet were cold, because it wasn’t like him to draw attention to himself. Lena quickly became his best friend, and if he wasn’t at their house, she was at his. Roksana and Elizabeth loved her and often invited her whole family over (which Cameron thought was way too many people for their tiny house.)

When he was ten, he lost innocence. As a child, you shamelessly believe in things like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. You believe that you’ll own a house one day, or that the good guys always win, or that your mothers haven’t spent your entire life lying to you. Most lose this over time, as they develop logic, but some lose a lot of it at once- Cameron was one of the unlucky ones. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been, he would be better now.

But there is no universe in which Cameron Blackwood is one of the lucky ones.

Elizabeth was on a business trip, which would not have been an issue if Roksana could be home, but unfortunately the full moon landed on one of the days she was gone. Cameron, whom rarely had to be without Roksana, was distressed when he discovered he would be without both of his mothers and instead left with a babysitter: Lena’s older brother, Pavel. The boy was very kind, but Cameron bawled his eyes out as his mother left and didn’t stop. No amount of consolation could change the fact that Roksana had left without telling him why. They always told him why they were leaving, and when, because they knew how he was.

But this was their best kept secret, and Cameron was distraught to the point that the world was a blur through his tears. He threw the back door open and ran across their back yard, slipping between slats in the fence, and he broke free over the fields of their neighbors while Pavel called for him and chased him. However, the long grass almost entirely concealed this knobbly-kneed boy, and he knew this area better than Pavel. While he listened to his extremely worried babysitter calling for him, he made it to the edge of the woods and tripped on a tree root, skinning his knee. Cameron began to wail, sitting with his hands clasped over the bleeding wound.

It’s funny, how he had no idea where he could find his mother, and how he ended up in the perfect place regardless. It’s also funny that Roksana, the runt of her family (but easily triple the size of her son), wolven, could recognize the noise. When she slid from the undergrowth, moonlight dappling her fur, her wild eyes affixed on Cameron, he stopped. Somehow, the boy terrified of everything saw this massive creature approach him and knew. She drew closer to him, and yet he didn’t run, not even when she lowered her head and gently lapped a single tear from his cheek.

The next day, Elizabeth returned, and they spoke for a long time in the kitchen while Cameron watched a movie in the living room. After, they sat down in front of him and told him about his mother’s affliction and what it meant for her, and him, and all of them. They told him that she drank a special potion so that she could be herself, and so that she wouldn’t hurt anyone. Cameron nodded, and murmured, “It’s okay. Mom won’t hurt me,” Roksana wept.

On full moon nights, Cameron insisted upon walking his mother to the treeline. Even though when the moonlight hit her, she would transform violently before him into some mixture of wolf and woman, he would wait until she did and then continue to walk while the hulking form of his mother followed. Elizabeth waited by the backdoor every time. Roksana’s wolfishness was something she had never tried to experience in the way that her son did, but for inexplicable reasons, she did not stop him. A part of her (arguably the part that loved Roksana) knew that her wife would never hurt her child.

When he was just about to turn eleven, Roksana’s father reached out. It was such a small gesture. It was a man in a market, whom looked at Roksana and muttered a phrase in Russian- ”He’s waiting, Roksana,”- and she grabbed Cameron by the arm, abandoned their groceries, and ran home. He watched her lock all the doors and collapse onto the couch, shivering. The gestures did not stop. Elizabeth insisted law enforcement, but Roksana disagreed, and for about a month the two argued about it long after Cameron had gone to bed (when they thought he wouldn’t hear them shouting.)

Then, the gestures stopped. Elizabeth was unsettled, but she slowly let it go. Roksana never said it, but she had done something awful. She took Cameron on a camping trip (which he had been begging for) for his birthday, while Elizabeth stayed at home and worked. They camped in Paanayarvi National Park, and on the way there, Roksana told him that they would be meeting her family. A creeping feeling began to build in Cameron, and he told her that he didn’t want to go- but she insisted. She told him they had no choice, and that she loved him, and that she would protect him.

But there are some things you cannot protect people from.

They both returned, but Cameron was different: he was sleeping with one eye open or not at all, he was quiet, he was spending more time alone than with Lena, and he was trying his hardest to forget everything he had seen.

When Elizabeth was offered a better job back in London, Roksana firmly agreed that they should move. When they told Cameron, heartbreak settled over him, but he did not cry. You see, his parents spent so long trying to keep them afloat- Roksana could only find work with heavy labor or at bars, and Elizabeth was constantly trying to climb the social ladder that had been made to work against her since her name had been disgraced. But more often than not, they found themselves short on money, his parents explained. Leeds, they said, would be better off for them. They said he would be happier.

Cameron hugged Lena as tight as he could on the day they left, and waved goodbye to her parents as Elizabeth hugged them and Roksana shook their hands. (Roksana always kept affection to her wife and her son, you see, and he had always noticed this and pretended not to) he kissed their chickens as they gifted them to their lovely neighbors and friends, and then they left.

Cameron was sent to Hogwarts for school, naturally. He painfully tried to make friends, because everyone said that life had always been easier with friends, but he wasn’t six anymore and no one wanted to walk in the woods and talk about nothing with him. After numerous attempts that just fell through, it became too painful to try, and he settled on pretending that he didn’t yearn for companionship. He became intimate with loneliness, and instead he wrote to his mothers every week. He told Elizabeth about his classes, and Roksana about the lawns, the lake, and the forest.

During the holidays, he went home and didn’t leave their house much. Cameron had always been a home body, and now that he got to spend so little time in his house, he soaked up every opportunity to do so. His parents were struggling much less now, which comforted him slightly, and made him feel the move was worthwhile. Elizabeth had a good job working as an editor for the Daily Prophet, and Roksana had picked up shifts at a bar where she made a half-decent wage. Every time he came home, they asked about the friends he didn’t have. Roksana stopped asking, but Elizabeth never did. Roksana knew he wasn’t the type for social situations, and quietly accepted it, but Elizabeth always wanted him to try for more than he feasibly could. He felt that weight like a stone in his stomach. So, Cameron went to Hogwarts and tried to make friends for her, and he got good grades because he saw how hard his parents worked for him.

Lena came to Leeds with her family after two years. Cameron looked out the window of the Blackwood’s run-down house, the topmost bedroom, and watched the new neighbors move in. When he saw her, his mind wasn’t sure at first but his heart was. He dodged his mother on the stairs to run out the front door, down the street, and hug Lena fiercely. His only true friend had returned to him at last. Blossoming with happiness, he shed a few tears as Lena comforted him and told him all would be alright.

Hogwarts became a much better place with someone he liked there. Cameron cheered for Lena as she was sorted, because it was always easier to be loud for someone else rather than himself. With her help, he began to unwind years of habit in avoiding people. But habits die hard, and Cameron is a perpetually tired person, so whether he will succeed or not is yet to be seen.

--------------------
I took a little journey to the unknown,
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones.
I fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see,
Now the darkness got a hold on me.
🌙🌙🌙
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