Author's Note: I have only a few things to say. First of all, I obviously don't own this story. Second, this story is completely finished, so you can expect an update every Monday and Thursday. Third, you can expect both heterosexual and homosexual relationships to be featured in this story, so take note that I warned in case you have an issue with either. Third, this takes place in an alternate universe in which Remus Lupin did not attend Hogwarts in the summer before the Marauders' last year at Hogwarts. Fourth, I hope you enjoy!
Summary: In the summer before James's 7th year at Hogwarts, the house across the street burns down and his family takes in their mysterious neighbours. Remus tells James's family that he, like his mother, never attended Hogwarts because he is a squib. However, the Lupins have many secrets and soon Remus begins receiving letters threatening to burn down the Potter house. When James, Remus, and his newly disinherited best friend Sirius, who has secrets from James of his own, embark on a dangerous journey through London to find who sent the letters the boys find themselves at the centre of events surrounding the first rise of Lord Voldemort. Each boy is tested to the brink of himself, and each discovers himself capable of doing things he would have never imagined for the ones he loves. Pairings: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Lily Evan. Alternate Universe.
CHAPTER 1
The quiet darkness of early morning held a special sort of calm for James Potter. It was at this hour that he usually wrote, as he did tonight, long, sprawling love letters to the only girl he had ever wanted. He stretched from his position at his desk, thinking again of the loveliness in her name, without realizing that for the umpteenth time he had taken to repeating it over and over again in the body of his note.
His window was held slightly ajar, the curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze. Confused, he paused. Outside, something flickered. Slowly he turned his gaze to the direction of the light. No, it wasn't light, he realized, involuntarily standing up in his chair. It was a fire. Not just a little one, either; the flames he saw were massive. The way they danced in and out of the house's frame left him feeling cold. If there were still people inside, it wouldn't be long before they died in the flames or the smoke.
"Mum! Dad!" he yelled, stumbling over the chair in his room to hurtle down the stairs. "Mum! Dad!" he repeated until he found their bedroom, nearly breaking down the door before he remembered the doorknob.
His parents were curled around each other in their bed, their light summer sheets all the way up to his mother's cheeks. Bleary-eyed, his father woke first, immediately placing his glasses on his nose. "Why are you up this early, James?" his mother mumbled.
"Fire!" he yelled, unable to say anything else.
That got their attention. His father slipped his dressing gown over his shoulders and his mother did the same a beat behind him. "Where is it? Is it in the house?" his father asked. "Lumos." A light shone from his wand.
James shook his head, copying his father. The Ministry department that persecuted underage wizards would forgive him. It was, after all, an emergency. "Outside. Across the road. The new neighbours–"
"The Lupins," his father interjected.
James nodded, "Yes."
They reached the door. Mr. Potter took in a sharp breath at the sight. "My word," he said. He looked at his son for a moment, then pursed his lips. "We're going to need to wake the neighbours. This fire must have been started by a wizard."
"I can help, and mum's here, too–"
Mr. Potter shook his head. "No, James. We don't know who is in that house, and I can't suppress a fire like that on my own. I'm a wizard, not a god. No, we need to wake the neighbourhood."
Godric's Hollow was a small wizarding town lined with short, broad houses belonging to the Ministry of Magic's government workers. It was a quiet town, even quieter after midnight. Now, though, Mr. Potter's voice boomed over the houses on the street calling for his neighbours to wake. In the time it took for their neighbours to hear his magnified message and roll out of bed, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, and James went outside and engulfed the house with spells to put out the fire.
The heat was intense, and sweat was soon dripping from places on James that he had never even thought he could sweat. The fire was also loud, crackling and hissing as it burnt through old wood spelled for protection. The protection just wasn't enough this time, James thought bitterly.
Soon loud cracks signalling the apparition of neighbours started to sound, and more wizards and witches were spelling the fire. He could see now that it was diminishing more and more with each added witch and wizard. "Aguamenti!" they yelled, one after another. To his surprise, none of the wizards seemed panicked despite the size of the fire. He suspected that part of their calm was due to his father. People respected him, and James always noticed that he had a calming affect on any group that he led. Today was no different; his father was throwing out spells and delegating orders to those that were unsure of what to do.
When there were enough wizards working to douse the fire, Mr. Potter sent several of them into the house to find the family. They spelled themselves with a tickling charm and hurried in. Something was not right with the house, because any wizard whose house went up in flames like this would spell their family and leave. He said as much to his father in between spells and Mr. Potter pursed his lips, "I hope you're wrong, James, but I suspect that you're right."
Simultaneously, they yelled, "Aguamenti!"
Mrs. Potter, returning from inspecting the rear of the house, added, "They might not be in the house. Don't forget that possibility." Mr. Potter looked doubtful, and James couldn't help but agree with his doubt. It was late for an evening activity, and no one in the Lupin home ever seemed to go in or out. Secretly he wondered if the whole family had been dead for months and no one had noticed.
It was a while before the first of those Mr. Potter had sent into the fire came out of it. At first all they saw was a shadow of black against the fire's bright light. Then, the shadow grew wider as someone stepped forward. "There! Look!" James cried. Those who heard him turned in the direction of his pointed finger. James squinted. The figure was too bulky to be just one person. James dared to hope that someone had survived.
With each step the figure grew more clear until James saw that it was, indeed, not just one person, but two, three! He made out a middle-aged woman, and a boy his own age behind the neighbour who had gone into the fire, Mr. Sole. "She's not breathing!" Mr. Sole yelled as soon as they cleared the smoke. Mrs. Potter and several others immediately rushed to the Lupins. James furrowed his brow. From where he was he couldn't see Mrs. Lupin's difficulty. She seemed fine to him. The boy, too.
"Who are they talking about?" James yelled. Mr. Potter, whose eyes were as bad as James's, admitted he didn't know.
"Go find out, will you?" he said.
There were a lot of people crowded around Mrs. Lupin and her son, but neither of them seemed to be the focus of the attention. James had to shove his way through the crowd, all while saying, "Sorry, coming through," to everyone he bumped into. Finally, at the centre, he saw what he couldn't before: a little girl of about eight years old, and like Mr. Sole had said, she didn't seem to be breathing.
Mrs. Mire, a healer, was already issuing orders to those uselessly trying to get a glimpse of their secretive neighbours. "You, you, you, and you," she said pointing. "stay here. Everyone else get back to the fire. This isn't a street show!" Like dogs following their master they all listened to her instructions, simply doing what a strong voice told them was right.
James didn't move. "I meant you, too, Potter." James shifted his weight.
"I know, Mrs. Mire. My father just sent me to see if they were alright." The greying woman had no patience for James right then, but Mr. Potter was another matter.
"You may tell your father that Mrs. Lupin and her son Remus are just fine, if a little scared, and the daughter will be too if I'm let alone," she replied wearily. James glanced at the small family. The boy, Remus, was comforting his shaken mother, both of them fixed on the unmoving frame of the little girl. Neither heard a word James and Mrs. Mire said. They didn't look so strange, but he couldn't understand why they had stayed in the house with the fire.
Mr. Potter wasn't comforted when James told him about the Lupins. "Wasn't there a Mr. Lupin?" he asked.
James shrugged and Mr. Potter shook his head, but returned to the fire. It was dying down, and it wouldn't be much longer before it was put out completely.
Then, finally, the fire was stopped. Planks of wood hung lopsided from the frame, charred and drenched with water from the spell. A few people spelled the fire a few more times just in case. When they stopped, the night was suddenly quiet again without the hiss of flames. The crowd surrounding the building stared, waiting, wondering if the flames they were fighting would rise once more, but instead there was only silence. For James, it felt like everything had finally turned right. His neighbourhood was safe again.
After that brief moment, people began to speak again in relief. The witches and wizards still in the building were still looking for Mr. Lupin, if he was there at all. James saw that the little Lupin girl was breathing, clutching her mother. He squinted to see them. They were closer now than they were before, and among those who clamoured for gossip was his mother. James frowned, then looked at his father, who frowned as well. Mrs. Potter liked gossip as much as anyone else, but even James could tell that his mother wasn't set on gossiping right then. Mr. Potter could tell as well, but he looked unconcerned.
James's parents had done this before. On occasion one of them would come across something or someone who was particularly needy and take them in for a day or two before getting them back on their feet. Sometimes it would be a dog, a cat, or a magical creature. James had even had a freed house elf stay in his home until it could find a new master. He could tell from the look on his parents' faces that this was no different. Once more, James's home would be overrun by someone –someones – who would use his toothbrush and make him feel like a horrible person for truly not giving a whit. That wasn't to say James wasn't a caring person, exactly, just that his caring did not necessarily extend to lending out his home. That was the point of having a home, after all. It was his.
Sure enough, his mother was soon marching towards them with the family in tow. "The Lupins will be staying with us until they are able to leave," she said as though it might be debated.
It wasn't. "Of course," Mr. Potter replied. He turned to the Lupins, "We'll get a room ready for you. Remus, you can sleep in James's room if you prefer."
Remus quickly shook his head, and James felt a surge of relief. He didn't want to share his room. However, Remus's rejection of him did bring up some interesting questions. Like, for example, why not? Did he smell?
"I'll just stay in the room with my mother and sister, if you don't mind, sir."
"Thank you again for letting us stay with you, I can't think of what we might have done if you hadn't…" said Mrs. Lupin. She was a small woman, unlike her son, and she shook with a nervousness that James suspected wasn't entirely due to the fire.
"It's no problem, Mary. No problem at all. I couldn't have you out on the street, not after the night you've had," replied Mrs. Potter firmly. She shook her head. "Locked in that basement as you were, I can't imagine," she turned to her husband. "Did you know the three of them were all in the basement? That's how Sole found them all at once." She tutted. "Any news of Mr. Lupin?"
Mr. Potter shook his head. "Not yet. Do you know if he's in the house, Mary?"
Mrs. Lupin glanced at her son, then ever so slowly nodded her head. Mr. Potter's brow creased in worry, but neither he nor James's mother said a word.
Now that the fire was gone, the younger wizards were running in and out of the house looking for Mr. Lupin, while the older ones that hadn't already returned to their houses were moving planks of wood with their magic.
"I'm going to go help," James said. His mother nodded, but he could see his father tense. He wouldn't say anything of course, not now with Mrs. Lupin watching, but James could be sure that his father would reprimand him later. Mr. Potter didn't like him putting himself in danger. It was James's mother that understood: sometimes you had to get into danger, and sometimes it was fun.
The door to the Lupin's house had burned off the hinges, so the boys only had to step through the gaping hole in the wall at the front of the house. Inside, they split into search teams. James's team started in the living room, using a combination of magic and muscle to move the broken bits of furniture.
Colin Herstead, a tall and thickly muscular Auror who lived a few houses down nudged James, "I wonder where we'll find the dead guy."
James shuddered, "Let's just hope he's not dead."
Herstead shrugged. "Right," he said.
Their search team combed through burnt rubble, grinding their shoes into the charcoal. James felt more and more like a seventeen year old nobody with every step, humbled by the destruction from just across the street. The wooden planks they shifted to search beneath were still hot, reminiscent of flames. It was an effort to remind himself that he wasn't just some kid; he was a Marauder with two of the best friends in the world.
Eventually, their teams headed, with the rest, up the burnt steps, following a wizard who spelled the stairs to hold their weight. They were assigned to Mr. Lupin's office. James was left to sort through rubble and roof beams near Mr. Lupin's desk. There was a hole in the floor to his left and one in the ceiling to his right. Not feeling very safe, James tread carefully and set himself by a metal bookcase. What was left of it was melted and warped. At one point it had probably held a lot of books, but no longer. It was too heavy to move. James froze. He could see something lying beside the book case. It looked like a heartstring. There were two pieces, and somehow they were still intact. He could only assume that the heartstring had been held by a wand before the fire, and that the wand had been snapped in half.
"Alan, do you know if the cores of wands can survive fires?" he asked a man to the left who was in his mid-thirties. He was a junior researcher in the Department of Mysteries, so James thought that if anyone on his block knew, it would be him.
Alan thought a moment, "Yeah, I think so. Why? Did you find one?"
"Yeah," James said, and pointed at the heart string.
"There you are," said Herstead to no one in particular after lifting up some wooden beams that had fallen from the roof. "I found the man. Sad bugger, this one is." He was pointing at Mr. Lupin's corpse. It was raw and charred black. His features had been burned from his skin. It could have been anyone. James breathed out, feeling sick. Looking at the faces of the others in the room, he wasn't the only one.
Fighting the urge to vomit, he said, "I think I know why he didn't stop the fire." He pointed at the broken wand, his hand shaking. "He broke his wand."
Herstead whistled, "Unlucky bastard."
"So," James said, "Mr. Lupin is dead."
"Looks that way," the woman called Beatrice replied. "No wonder, someone broke his wand so he couldn't get out."
For a moment those who could stand it just stared at the body, and those who couldn't fixated on a spot in the charred, unstable room. After a moment she continued, "We should probably leave the room how it is. You know, so the aurors can take a look in the morning and really inspect it."
Another man agreed, "I think so, too. I don't think this was a clean fire. I think someone started it. We should wrap up. Nobody touch anything on the way out," he ordered. After a few more instructions to the rest of the searchers, they filed out with dark expressions. The moment James was far enough away from the house that the smell of smoke was distant he doubled over one of his mother's rose bushes and vomited, his stomach still churning. He gagged again for good measure, just in case he had anything left. He didn't.
A hand rested on his shoulder. James started in surprise, his mind reeling after seeing Mr. Lupin's corpse. When he turned he saw that it was not, as he had feared, Mr. Lupin's thin, bony hand reaching out of the charcoal to grasp at his naked throat, but instead his father. Mr. Potter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"I heard that your team found the body," he said. James nodded, unable to say anything. Tears were beginning to come to his eyes. He wiped them away furiously, not wanting to cry in front of his father. "It looks like you took it pretty hard."
"He was so… dead," he tried to explain.
Mr. Potter shook his head and instead just gave him a hug. "Death can be hard to look at. But you were brave. You went through with it." James shook, no longer able to weep with the abandon of childhood. His father patted him on the back making soothing noises. James stepped back and wiped his nose, which managed to be runny and gross despite a lack of tears.
"I shouldn't be reacting like this. I'm not the one with a dead father," he said.
"I'd rather you vomited and cried than you remained calm and composed. You know why?"
"Why?" James asked.
"It means you care enough to be affected by things," he said. "It's the one thing I worry about, you know, with all those pranks you boys pull, all the business with exploding pipes and swapped tests and that business with that boy Severus and the rabbit. But maybe you'll be okay yet."
James didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure if he had been complimented or reprimanded, but that wasn't uncommon with his father. "I'm trying," he said finally.
Mr. Potter sighed, "I know, James." He slung an arm around his son's shoulder, "Come on. Let's go."
Someone broke the news to Mrs. Lupin. As the search teams filtered in from their battered and burnt house, Remus stood silently beside his mother as she wailed. It was Mrs. Potter who soothed her. She cried, "Not John! Not John! Why did it have to be John?"
