Author's Note I:
Okay, before I start, I have some explanations to make:
1. I do not own the fabulously magical Harry Potter and never would.
2. I am intending to have this story a blend of the books and the movies.
3. This is set in an alternate universe of Deathly Hallows, where Remus and Tonks did not marry and are just good friends (a thousand apologies Remus/Tonks fans, but...I have other plans for Remus). In this version, Harry had sacrificed himself to save the world from Voldemort, and through this - by some miracle that remains to be explained later (if I get enough encouraging reviews, that is) - all those good witches and wizards who had lost their lives to the two wizarding wars were brought back to life. Guess this gives you all pretty much a rough idea as to who are going to show up, right?
4. Whether or not I turn this into a full story would depend entirely on the number and kinds of reviews I get. So please help me make a choice. Thanks!
The sky was a sultry, clear blue. Not too intense, not too light. There were no clouds at all. The sun shone golden and warm, neither too strong nor too weak, but at the center of two extremes; calm, cool breezes seemed omnipresent. Birds fluttered restlessly from branch to branch, chipping merrily. Had it not been for the occasion one might even had said that it was a beautiful day.
Nobody paid any attention to the weather at all; their primary focus was on the coffin in which the Boy Who Lived – no, the Man Who Had Saved Them All – lay. Lily watched everyone else in silence; the green eyes that had once sparkled like stars and danced with the vivacity of her witty nature were now as cold and as lifeless as emeralds, watching everything yet seeing nothing. James and Sirius were greeting the guests, who had already started to arrive. Remus was talking to the Wiccan Priest who would perform the ceremony. Typical Remus, she thought wryly, almost smiling. Forever particular. Forever caring about every teeny weeny itsy bitsy detail to make sure that all is perfect.
Albus Dumbledore, flanked by his siblings, stood at a distance. In his immaculate, embroidered night-black robes, it looked like he was trying to fade into the shadows. Or perhaps…he was trying to retreat into his own private world full of old and happy memories, a world where a very special boy with his mother's eyes, his father's hair, and a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning on his forehead was still alive, well and…happy. The grief-deepened lines on his face and the weariness in his eyes made him seem far older than his one-hundred-and-fifteen-years. Sensing his intense turmoil, Ariana closed her dainty white hand on his weathered old one, hoping to offer what comfort she could, and inwardly shuddered to find how cold her oldest brother's hand was in stark contrast to her warm one. Even Aberforth, whose face retained its usual grumpy expression, patted him (if somewhat roughly) on the back, as if he was also completely taken aback from the state that the brother he had almost hated for most of his life was currently in.
Unlike her husband, Lily's feelings towards the Headmaster were still confused. The only thing she was sure was that the bond between them had dissolved irreparably; any love she had for the old wizard had been worn out by everything he had done to her Harry, her precious Harry. Condemning her beloved boy to the guardianship of her bitter, hateful, magic-loathing sister was in itself an unforgivable act, despite the unarguable fact that the magical protection provided by the blood-wards was truly unequalled in the wizarding world. Oh, his intentions might have been noble, and for the greater good, but it was equally true that he had moved each and everyone of them – especially her Harry – like pieces on a game board. He had lost sight of the present for the sake of the future. In fact, secretly, so secretly that she did not tell it even to herself, she wondered if James had been right after all about accusing Dumbledore of being as bad as Voldemort, and that he had as good as killed their Harry; she wondered if her husband had been right to say that their Harry had chosen death to escape from the life that Dumbledore had forced him into: a life where he had barely been truly happy, where he was forced to experience emotional coldness and mental loneliness everyday, and where it seemed like death was the one and only means of freedom from the despair that he lived in.
One would have thought that the mere idea of this dreadful, but not impossible theory would have made Lily Evans Potter scream, or cry, or strike the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or claw his face, or torture him to a slow, excruciatingly painful death.
But Lily did none of the above. None of the above at all.
Despite everything, she did not want Dumbledore dead.
No, not really.
Why?
Because…what was the use?
No matter what anyone did to Dumbledore now, no matter what happened to Dumbledore now, Harry, her…no, their Harry…their beloved Harry…was gone…and he was never, ever coming back. And Lily was not going to waste anymore of her life, her time, or her energy on a foolish old man who had already cost them all so dear, and repaid them so little. All she did was to take back the love that she used to have for the old man, and to exclude him from her heart. She would be glad to see the back of him and would not have cared if she had never seen him again.
It was then that she spotted them.
Ron looked utterly wretched; his face was pale and exhausted, his swollen eyes as red as his hair, his entire demeanour radiated depression in its purest form. Hermione did not look any better: her eyes were overly bright, her face sunken, her stance suggesting as though she might collapse anytime, and she seemed dangerously close to tears.
But Ginny…she was struck when she saw how much Ginny had changed in such a short time. She, along with her husband, had been watching her from the moment she unknowingly became an important and significant member of her son's life. They had thought her a painfully shy and quiet child, one too afraid to speak her mind and her heart, and who had been protected from the harshness of the real world. This had been the petted youngest child of the Weasley family, who since infancy had never been far from her mother's side, whose father could deny her very little, and whose older brothers intensely doted on her in their own individual ways. Her first traumatic year at Hogwarts had been the first real lesson of life she had been forced to learn, and though it had been six years since the disastrous incident with Riddle's diary and Slytherin's monster, she had never really moved on from it. Then, as she bloomed into womanhood and grew to have a young woman's optimism, she had hoped…prayed…with all of her might and her faith that, despite the impossible odds, she could have a long and happy life with the man she loved once he had fulfilled his accursed destiny. But fate and destiny, ever so cruel and merciless when it came to heroes who carried the weight of the world on their very shoulders, destroyed even that one little hope of hers.
What Lily saw now, however, was a girl who had been hammered by unhappiness into a fine maturity. This Ginny looked older than her seventeen years, and was thinner and paler than her brother or her soon-to-be sister-in-law, but a closer inspection would reveal that she had also developed a new spiritual beauty, horned by heartbreak. Lily inwardly drew a breath. This Ginny was a young woman with a powerful regal presence, like a Princess who had lost her Prince but knew that life went on even without her beloved. She had become through grief not only her son's "widow" but a true witch, a true woman in every sense of the word. This was a powerful and sophisticated witch who had learned and embraced hard lessons: that dreams and reality are, at the end of the day, two different things altogether, and not all of reality's stories would end with a "happily ever after"; that all magic had its limitations, and can be powerless when it came to the natural order of things, especially in matters of life and death. This was a confident, strong-willed, and independent young woman whom few, if any at all, could match for grit. She was cool, she was hard.
Yet…Lily could still detect shadows under her eyes…sense suffering in the thin line that her pretty rosebud mouth was now folded into…
When their eyes met – midnight-green locking with black-brown, it was like they had looked into a mirror and saw themselves reflected back: utterly heartbroken by their loss, abandoned by faith and hope, deeply sunk into a black depression that would surely haunt them for the rest of their lives. Instinctively, impulsively, as though she had planned to do it all along, Lily held out her arms. As quick as lightning, Ginny plunged into her embrace and Lily kissed her warmly. They held each other for a moment, scrutinizing each other's faces and everyone who saw them knew, as Ginny's brown dark gaze met Lily's striking green eyes, that they were kindred spirits in every way.
"How could this happen, Mrs. Potter?" Ginny asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the Weasley-brown eyes madly intent as though determined to solve an unbearably painful mystery. "How could he be just taken away like that?"
Those were the very same questions that had been mercilessly torturing her beloved's parents at all times, be it eating, drinking, walking, sleeping or doing nothing at all. Indeed, how could this have happened? How could their Harry be just taken away like this? How could Death take him, him of all people? How could Death take a soul as pure and brave and innocent and true and strong as him away? Sweet Merlin, he had only been eighteen, and had a lifetime ahead of him… "Fate. Destiny. My heart breaks as much as yours does, child, but we have to accept this. We have no other choice but to accept this."
"But why?"
"Child, no one ever knows why one is taken and another spared."
The copper head shook slowly, as if by denying it would make all of this unreal, make it just a nightmare that she would be waking up from anytime now. "But why?"
"Fate and destiny." Lily repeated.
"I don't know how bear it for the rest of my life." Ginny breathed so softly that Lily barely heard her. "To discover that my diary was a monster and a terror who had used me to get to my loved ones felt like torture, but to…to…to…lose Harry is like death itself. I can put on a brave front now, but…but…I don't see how I can keep it up. I don't know how to bear it for the rest of my life, Mrs. Potter."
Despite herself, Lily smiled a genuine, infinitely patient smile that made the younger witch stare at her. "Ginny, you will learn to bear it; there is nothing that anyone can do but bear it. You can rage or you can cry, but in the end, you will learn to bear it. It will be just the same for me, for James, and for all those who knew and loved our Harry."
"You will have to teach me your courage, Mrs. Potter. I need it. I think I need it desperately," Ginny whispered.
Lily shook her head. "Courage is a lesson that only has to be learnt once," she said gently. "You know, you learned at Hogwarts: you are not a girl to be destroyed by betrayal and sorrow, even if the one who has hurt you was your closest, most intimate, and most trusted confidant. You will grieve but you will live, you will come out into the world again. You will love. In time…you may even learn to be happy again."
"I cannot see it," Ginny said desolately.
"It will come."
The ceremony started soon afterwards. There was only a medium amount of people there, not too many, and yet not too few, as James had cast a spell that effectively ensured that only Harry's most intimate friends and confidants would be there. Having watched his beloved boy from the afterlife more closely than anyone could have ever imagined, he knew that Harry would have definitely wanted it to be this way: better to have only the people who knew personally knew him and truly loved him for the person that he was beneath all the fame and glory, than have a vast, overwhelming crowd of strangers bursting into sobs and making exaggerated thanks to their hero and their saviour. He knew that his boy, for all his life, had only wanted to be seen for the person that he truly was, and he would want the world to remember him not as the Boy Who Lived, nor the Man Who Had Saved Them All, but Harry - just plain, ordinary Harry.
And by hook or by crook, he would see to that. For everyone's sake. For his boy's sake.
"That which belongs to fellowship and love.
That which belongs to the circle, remains with us..."
While listening to the words of the Priest, Remus was absentmindedly fingering the necklace he wore around his neck - a delicate chain from which hung a wolf pendant, all made entirely of highest-quality goblin-forged silver, and simply delightful to behold. Harry had it specially made for Remus in secret, and had given it to him just before he died, with the assurance that he would always be with him when he wore it. One would have thought that Remus John Lupin's pride would have made him adamantly refuse such an exquisitely expensive gift, but he had not, for he did not have the heart to refuse a boy's deathbed gift, especially since said boy was the cub whom he had failed so utterly and so miserably. He shut his eyes tight, feeling the razor-sharp arrow of guilt jab at his heart again: because he chose to believe that Sirius was the traitor without even making an attempt to investigate all the facts, an innocent man who was the epitome of a true loyal friend was imprisoned for twelve long, wretched, excruciatingly painful years in the Hell called Azkaban. Because of his fears about getting too close to anyone in his condition, and because he chose to follow Dumbledore's orders and decisions blindly, Harry had led a most undeserved life of misery since infancy, with no one to turn to and nothing much to live for, so much so that he finally - dared he acknowledge it? - choose death as it was really the one and only way that he could be free from all the pains and sorrows of this God-forsaken world.
He was, in every sense of the word, a failure.
He should not have just assumed that Sirius had betrayed them all, and he should have asked Dumbledore to push for a trial.
He should have tried harder to visit Harry during his childhood years, so at least his cub would have had some connection to his parents, and that he would know that there was someone who actually cared, someone whom he could turn to for help and comfort.
Yes, he was a total, complete and utter failure.
James had accepted him as a friend and a surrogate brother without question or qualification...and he repaid him by helping to condemn his son to a life of misery, loneliness, and ultimately - death.
In that sense, he was - at the end of the day - a dirty, dark, and evil soul after all. He had been a monster as bad as Fenrir Greyback. He had been a bad friend and a bad Marauder, no less than Pettigrew had been...
Remus had to bite the inside of his lip hard to stifle the cry that was bursting to erupt like a volcano.
"Harry, I neither expect your forgiveness nor do I want it, for I know how thoroughly and utterly I have failed you. But do not worry, for I will do as you would want me to do: I will live. No matter how much it costs me...no matter how difficult it is...I will live. I will live and do penance each day for the sins that have brought us to this state, and I will look after each and everyone of us here, just like how you have done in life. When my time comes...I will spend the rest of eternity making up to you for all the misery I have brought you. Harry, my cub, my child...I love you. I wished I had told you this sooner, but I truly love you as I would my own child. I am sorry - more sorry than I can ever say - for everything. Rest in peace, cub, rest in peace..."
"The wheel turns,
As life is a day, so our brother has passed into the night."
Sirius, who was seated next to Remus, was also lost in a sea of memories of what could have been. His eyes, more grey now than silver, were fixed on the coffin in which his godson lay, and he was unwittingly pulling at the ring on his finger, much like what Remus was doing with his necklace. It was a ring of pure gold, simple yet exquisite, and set with a perfect ruby that burned as red as passion itself. It had also been a deathbed gift from Harry.
What he felt now was beyond words, beyond all expression.
James and Lily had trusted him as a friend and a godfather...and he certainly ruined everything. Nothing was supposed to happen to them. It should not be ending this way. But Peter betrayed them all. Sirius should have been there taking care of Harry all those years. Instead, he got himself landed in Azkaban, and Harry - poor, innocent, sweet little Harry - was left with Lily's hateful sister and her despicable husband, both of whom saw to it that their nephew was as miserable as possible for Merlin-knows-how many years. Though the mere thought of it had been too frightening and too terrible to imagine, Sirius could not help but agree with James that Harry had ultimately chose death as it was the only way he could be free from a war-torn world and from a life that had rarely had happy.
He saw now, with the clarity and hindsight that came only after tragedy had occurred, so many things that he should have done differently.
He should never have proposed making cowardly, treacherous Peter the Secret Keeper.
He should never have gone after Peter for revenge. He should have gone straight instead to Dumbledore and Remus, present all the facts, pushed for a trial to prove his innocence to the world at large, and then claim guardianship of his godson, and give him the childhood that he deserved.
He should have broken out of Azkaban earlier, instead of moping around in depression, allowing his brooding over his dearest friends' deaths and Peter's betrayal to become an obsession that took over every aspect of him altogether. If he had done so, then perhaps the intense physical and mental damage inflicted upon his godson by those damnable Dursleys might have been uncovered, just in time for it to be undone, and then perhaps Harry might still be alive today.
He should have tried to build a closer, more intimate relationship with his godson when he had the chance to, instead of letting himself go and trying desperately to find James' shadow in Harry. "You're a lot less like your father than I thought. The risk would've been what made it fun for James." Sirius had to shut his eyes to prevent any tears from flowing out as he recalled that one moment where he betrayed how dark his nature could actually be. How could he have said such a thing to Harry? How could he? Oh, Jesus Christ, how could he? It was cold, and cruel, and Harry had already experienced such coldness and cruelty in life already. As Harry's own godfather, as "the closest thing to a parent Harry had ever known" in Dumbledore's terms, how could he have added on to that unspeakable hurt, when he had already failed so totally and completely by robbing his godson of his parents?
Hermione had been right. He really was selfish.
Selfish enough to care more about getting revenge on Peter Pettigrew than taking care of his godson. Selfish enough to disregard Dumbledore's and Hermione's warnings that Kreacher could actually be dangerous, and hence should always be treated with kindness and respect. Selfish enough to disregard Harry's feelings, allowing his godson to see him losing himself in alcohol and shadows of the past, when the two of them could have actually talked and gotten to know each other better. Selfish enough to disregard Harry's concern for his well-being and safety, and even cruelly accuse him of not proudly following in his father's footsteps.
Yes, he was undoubtedly the most selfish man ever born on the planet.
Once, he could have looked at an honest, honourable witch or wizard straight in the eye, and proudly say that he was different from his family - as different as day and night, and that he was worthy of every trust and respect. But now he could not. Now he saw that he had been just as evil as any other Muggle-hating, Dark-Arts-worshipping member of his family, after all. Perhaps he was even as bad as Bellatrix Lestrange, the cousin whom he loathed above all others. After all, he had, in a way, "tortured" his godson by condemning him to an undeserved childhood of neglect and cruelty, so much so that his godson ended up welcoming Death with open arms and a warm willing smile after fulfilling his accursed "duty" to both the wizarding and Muggle worlds once and for all. Was it not unlike how Bellatrix tortured Frank and Alice into insanity, to the extent where they could not recognise even their own son after so many years, and where an ignorant onlooker would have commented that it would actually have been better if they had been killed instead?
Yes, he was not only selfish, but also evil. Evil. Pure, undiluted, utter evil.
It was his fault that James and Lily died once, and missed their chance at giving Harry the happy, wonderful childhood that he always deserved.
It was his fault that Harry suffered, that Harry was now gone forever and was never ever coming back.
It was his fault...it was his fault...it was his fault...
"Harry, I am sorry. I am so...so...so...sorry. More sorry than I can ever say. I swear, I did not mean for any of this to happen. I never meant to hurt you, honest, I never ever meant to. I truly love you as if you were my very own son. Please, please just give me - us - another chance, Harry, and come back. I will make it up to you, even if...even if it takes all eternity, Harry. Anything for you. Please, please just give us another chance and come back, Harry, I am begging you. You have suffered so much, you have suffered enough. I - We would not let anything bad happen to you ever again. We just want to see you smile, hear you laugh, and watch you play. Please give us all the chance to take care of you and get to know the real you. Please wake up. Please come back. We all need you...I need you...please come back...we will die without you...we are nothing without you...please, Prongslet, come back..."
"Nothing is final, and we who remain behind know that, one day,
We will once again share the bread and wine with our brother
O blessed spirit, farewell, for you await a new destiny."
With that, the Wiccan Priest untied the silver cord and gently laid it into the ceremonial chalice. One by one, the candles representing Life, Death, and Eternity were blown out. The coffin was laid into the earth. At the sight of this, something inside Ginny snapped. Suddenly, the thought of facing the future and living without Harry seemed impossible and unbearable. She burst into tears. Long streams of hot, salty tears were already flowing uncontrollably from Ron's and Hermione's eyes. Luna turned away and made to run, as if by running away could she be free of this nightmare that had trapped them all. Possibly, she wanted her mother, but it was just a feeling, not a conscious thought. Had Neville not caught her before she could break off and hugged her, and had Luna not felt the tears upon her boyfriend's face, she was uncertain how far she might have fled, for her mother had been dead for eleven years. Her tears completely spent and dried, Lily buried her head in her husband's broad shoulder. His face an expressionless, empty mask, James Potter wrapped his muscular arms around his wife, offering what comfort he could. Like his wife, there were no tears on his mask-like face - he had cried and raged and stormed and begged until he also had no more tears to shed. Sirius covered his face with his hands, his heart crushing from overwhelming waves of sorrow and extreme guilt. Remus suddenly lost control and released the cry that he had been suppressing: a cry of pure pain, rage, and anguish for the lost boy of one of his dearest friends, a boy who had willingly given his all to provide two worlds with a new dawn, and yet had been denied a chance of living for himself and himself only even after fulfilling the destiny he never wanted. The intensity of the emotions expressed in the cry was such that Dumbledore sank to his knees, defeat and self-loathing in his eyes, guilt and helplessness written all over his face, his very air seemed to radiate despair.
"God, how many mistakes I have made, and how much I have hurt you, Harry, my boy. Perhaps it is death that makes one look back with such clarity on the errors of a life. Harry, my boy, my child, my only true family...I will not ask you to forgive me, for I do not deserve it. Not in the least. I will ask you only, Harry, to believe that I truly and genuinely love you, and care for you. I can swear upon my immortal soul on this. And please believe that for what I have done to you, for all of it, I am truly, humbly, utterly...sorry."
It was done.
Harry was gone. Gone. Gone. Forever.
At a distance, two tall, stately figures invisible to mortal eyes witnessed the entire tragic, heartbreaking scene. They would have given anything and everything to be able to reveal themselves, and offer whatever comfort and advice they could to their loved ones, but it was not to be, for the rules were strict and irrevocable.
"This is not the end, is it, Edwin?"
"No. It is definitely not the end. Fate and destiny always love to play tricks on heroes who bear the very weight of the world on their shoulders, and our grandson, our children, and all their friends are no exception. I am afraid, Charles, that greater trials and tribulations lie ahead for our loved ones and for the world as well."
"You know, all this reminds me of a quote I memorised from watching The Mummy."
"And what might that be?"
"Death is only the beginning."
Author's Note II:
Okay, before anyone starts throwing slippers or blows, let me explain this fic further.
1. This fanfiction is written solely based on a fit of sudden inspiration. Weird, is it not? But then, I myself am a weirdo - my friends all say that they have never known a person who likes reading books so much, and that it is a miracle my eyes have remained free from glasses.
2. After reading all the books, I was actually quite dissatisfied with the characters of Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus. Don't get me wrong - I know that the three of them were ultimately good people who gave their very lives to protect the world and their loved ones, but I cannot help but be severely disapproving of some of their actions.
For instance, the much-argued issue of Dumbledore placing the infant Harry with the Dursleys, despite the fact that he knew full well that he would be condemning Harry to "ten dark and difficult years". Okay, I know the part about the blood wards, and that Harry is literally untouchable when he is with the Dursleys, but shouldn't Dumbledore have taken note of his safety within the walls as well? Surely it would not have killed Dumbledore just to check on him to ensure that he was happy apart from being alive? Why did he only confront the Dursleys over their treatment of Harry only when he just had to spend one last year with them? Isn't that far too late? Oh...thinking about it simply makes me angry with Dumbledore on Harry's behalf.
Next would be Sirius. A point that kept bugging me was that why didn't Sirius escape earlier? Why did he wait for twelve long years before making his escape, when his powers were left intact the whole time? If he had escaped earlier, then surely by some miracle of magic he would be able to prove his innocence and save Harry from the Dursleys. But no, he only escaped when he realised that where Peter was. I myself cannot believe I am saying this, but it seems to me that Sirius cares only about getting revenge on Peter than caring for the godson whose parents he had, how ever indirectly and bitterly unwillingly, helped to kill. It seems to me that if Sirius had never saw Peter on the newspaper, he would have chosen to stay and die in Azkaban, preferring to wallow in shadows of the past and waste his time in useless idleness, instead of helping to undo whatever damages he has done. And I was incensed when he actually made that comment about Harry not being like his father. How could he say such a thing?
Last but not least would be Remus. Why did he not, as the last remaining Marauder and technically Harry's "surrogate uncle", attempt to contact Harry once during those ten miserable, wretched years that his "cub" spent with the Dursleys? Why had he never visited Harry to ensure that he was being properly treated, and that he would at least have some connection to his parents? Why had he left the poor boy all alone in a cold, cruel, and indifferent home with no one to turn to? And why did he maintain a distance from Harry even when he was his teacher? Should he not have attempted to build an intimate uncle-nephew relationship with the cub that he had already failed so much? Again, the part in the Half-Blood Prince movie where he snaps at Harry upsets me every time I watch it.
Okay, perhaps you all would say that I am being too harsh on the three of them, and that there are two sides to every coin, but this is honestly how I feel about the entire situation, and what bugs me most of all is that never once did these three apologise to Harry for - each in their own individual way - making his life miserable. Hence, I envisioned a situation where each and everyone of them realised their errors...and it turned out to be a major contributing factor to the birth of this fic. If I had offended anyone this way, I sincerely apologise for it, and I swear that no personal attack or slight on anyone reading this fic is intended - this is just what I and I alone personally feel. I have no wish to hurt or anger or upset anyone, I swear.
3. I was always curious about the Potter and Evans parents, both sets of whom were only mentioned slightly in the books. Hence, I have decided to weave a web from whatever clues I can gather about them.
4. Whether or not I turn this fic into a full true story would, as mentioned earlier, ultimately depend on the number and kinds of reviews I get. So please kindly help me make a choice, and know that suggestions are and would always be appreciated. Thank you all!
