Summary: This FanFic includes two new characters who are absolutely crazy, Canadians that they are. A 6th year Fic, in which Harry learns about wizarding culture across the 'pond', Ron makes several stupid remarks, Hermione wonders what ever happened to the simplicity in life, Malfoy -Abby sighs- can't decide what the bloody green fire demons he wants in life and the two Canadian gals turn life at Hogwarts upside down as everyone tries to figure out who's on which side. Fierce rivalries, eccentric transfer students and odd occurences aplenty. Also, after Christmas we have a bit of jumping through time, which gives us deeper look into the lives of the Marauders and Co. For those of you who are still here through the sucky summary, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Neither I, nor my psychotic partner Emily, own any of the brilliantly awesome Harry Potter characters, except the even cooler ones that you've never seen before. Emily wishes she was J.K. Rowling. I wish I was Tom Felton's girlfriend. But we don't always get what we want, do we, Em?
Prologue Part One is dedicated to my marvelous idea, of pretending to do LA homework when I'm caught typing FanFic on the computer.
This chapter of the fantabulistic FF, Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch (GFT for short), brought to you by,
The delirious,
The lunatical,
The hysterical,
The psychofanatical,
And the all around nice person that I am,
Abby.
Prologue
Part One - Confused Realities
A thin figure tossed and turned in a narrow bed. The sheets were thin and worn and the man had been having trouble falling asleep in the early cold of late October. He was restless, as he often was at this time of month. He normally would have just gone prowling around the forest behind his house but he had an important meeting tomorrow, and it wouldn't do if he fell asleep of his feet. There was an edge to his wakefulness. It was like a small thorn burying into his side but through his bleariness he couldn't identify it.
With an irritated growl, the man rolled unceremoniously out of the bed, put on some slippers (out of habit - these slippers had large holes in them and offered hardly any warmth) and went into the kitchen. He sank down into the only chair - which sagged weakly under his meagre weight - thumped his head down on the table and glanced wearily at the ancient grandfather clock in the corner. The clock's face was black (it changed with the phases of the moon) and the white numerals and hands contrasted in smooth eloquence. It was the only piece of furniture he owned that wasn't half ruined. His friends had pooled some money together to get it for him. 'To add some color to a drab and dreary house', apparently.
It was 11:00pm. The tired man was glad that his house was secluded enough that the little Muggle children that stalked around in costumes couldn't be bothered to bother him. He found this annual tradition quite amusing, but it was wearying, handing out sweets to ever-exuberant youths.
The man rose with a sigh and was ready for another try at sleep when the unidentified feeling that had kept him awake gripped him. He blanched immediately and ran to the coat rack to snatch up his shabby cloak. Hastily throwing it around his shoulders, he strode out the door and disappeared with a faint pop.
Something was horribly . . . terribly wrong.
A breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees lining a winding path. The path led up to a silent house on a hilltop. As the breeze drifted up towards the house it swung a sign hanging from a lantern post into the light. Godric'sHollow.
A man stood by the window of the house looking down into the trees. He shifted uneasily. There was something in the air that didn't seem right. Something was happening. The man's hazel eyes scanned the grounds searching . . . but they found nothing. He squinted and frowned at the window. Something was out of place . . . but the man just couldn't put his finger in it.
Suddenly a voice pulled him out of his reverie. "James, dear, come away from the window."
A woman with red hair was sitting on the couch behind the man. In her arms she held an infant with a tuft of black hair on his head. The child gave a little laugh and the woman stroked his head lovingly.
The man, James, sat down beside the woman and looked at the little boy she was holding. "Hey Harry . . . He has your eyes Lil," James said smiling. Harry laughed and blinked his brilliantly green eyes.
Lily turned to James, her own green eyes shining, a smile tugging at her lips. "Let's just hope he doesn't have your shining personality."
James laughed and was about to offer a sarcastic reply when he froze. "Do you hear something?"
"No, why?" Lily had stopped smiling.
James's eyes met Lily's. "Something's wrong.
Suddenly the door rattled. Little Harry started to cry quietly. There was a loud noise from outside. James leapt off the couch and strode to the window, wand raised. Then he stopped dead.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -"
Lily clutched Harry closer to her and ran from the room, heading for the stairs.
James strode swiftly to face the door, standing between it and the staircase.
A faint light shone through the keyhole and the door swung open. Smoke began to billow into the house, blinding James. He heard a high voice cackle and gripped his wand tighter.
James had one glimpse of a pair of narrowed red eyes before the jet of green light soaring towards obscured all his senses. He sent a blast a blast of red and gold light to counter the green but they never even met, the red and gold merely continued and collided with the Death Eaters standing on the doorstep.
The green light soared towards him like a colossal, venomous wave and James held his wand out in front of him, accepting the inevitable. The wave hit the tip of the wand and smashed the poor branch of mahogany wood to pieces. James heard the sound of rushing death and closed his eyes. He smiled. "Dans la mort nous allons avoir la victoire," he murmured. Then darkness enveloped him and his body crumpled to the ground.
Lily ran up the stairs, across the landing, into one of the many rooms and slammed the door. She leaned against it, breathing heavily, her eyes closed, holding Harry to her chest afraid that if she let go he would fall away from her. This was it. The thing she had been fighting against for more years than she cared to remember.
With a deep breath, Lily opened her eyes and looked around the room she had chosen. It was Harry's room. And it had been Lily's mistake, letting James decorate it. The walls were covered with people on brooms zooming around the room at an alarming speed, passing the quaffle, dodging and hitting bludgers and trying to find the golden snitch. Quidditch. Harry giggled as one of the chasers scored a goal and the crowd below the players went wild.
Lily smiled, feeling the familiarity of the room calm her nerves. She walked over to the other side of the room and stood by Harry's crib. James had made it with magic. Beautifully carved mahogany wood with gold paint splashed here and there haphazardly.
This room described James more than he would admit. A true Gryffindor Quidditch fanatic. As if to support this fact, Lily noticed one of the Quidditch players wearing red robes hit another, wearing green, with a Beater's bat.
Harry curled up against Lily's shoulder and sighed, watching the mobile above his bed. Two bludgers and a quaffle were orbiting a snitch while several brooms floated around in the air. Lily nearly laughed even though her heart was beating like a pursued deer's. James had put so much thought into this room that she hadn't had the heart to change it.
Lily gazed out the window above Harry's crib. It faced down into the backyard. Not so much as a blade of grass moved. This stillness disturbed Lily. The world seemed to be standing still . . . waiting for something . . .
BANG!
Lily whirled around, her green eyes glinting. The door was open. And standing in it was a man. He had pale skin and his eyes were flashing red as he pointed his wand at Lily's heart. Lord Voldemort.
"Well, well, well . . ." he hissed sibilantly. "So we meet again."
"For the last time," Lily murmured, dazedly.
Voldemort smirked maliciously. "Three times unlucky."
Lily took a step backwards and felt the wood of Harry's crib against her back. She took a deep breath and glanced fleetingly at the still open door.
"There is no way for you to escape," Voldemort drawled boredly, catching her eyes, "or perhaps you are worried about your dear husband." He spoke the word as though it was poison he was spitting at her. But maybe to him it was poison, the commitment and love that position required.
Lily's stomach gave a jump. What has he done to James?! her mind screamed. But in her heart gloom was descending like a horrendous black cloud. She already knew.
The Dark Lord seemed to be read her mind. "Don't you worry, I finished him off quickly, he felt no pain," he smiled at her like a snake barring its teeth at its next meal. "But the time for talk is over. You know for what I have come."
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" gasped Lily.
"Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside, now . . ."
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -" Lily's voice was steadily rising in pitch, her desperation getting the better of her.
Voldemort smirked at her. "Now, why would I want to do that? You do not have to die, girl. My offer still stands. Join my ranks. For fame; for glory; for your own life! Be sensible. Give me the boy and you will be honoured beyond all Death Eaters . . ."
Lily responded by throwing her wand at the Dark Lord's head, hitting him right between his eyes. She then proceeded to call him several names in french, none of which were very complimentary.
"Fine then, foolish Mudblood!" he snarled at her.
Lily realised that she may not have wanted to throw her wand away like that, but then, for the type of magic she was about to use it wasn't really needed.
"Stand aside - stand aside, girl!" Voldemort roared.
"Never!" she screamed at him, eyes sparkling like green fire.
Voldemort began to laugh. It was a sound so cold and cruel that it could hardly be identified as a laugh. It held no mercy within its icy coils. Lily clutched Harry closer to her. She was - for one of the very few moments in her life - afraid. No, not afraid. Terrified.
As Voldemort raised his wand she spun around and lowered Harry into his crib with one fluid movement. She braced herself against the crib's wooden rail and a dry sob escaped her lips. "Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy . . ."
"Avada Kedavra!"
His words fell on her like a heap of boulders and behind her, Lily could see a rush of green out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly a clam settled inside her and she leant down and whispered in Harry's ear. " Dans la mort nous allons avoir la victoire."
As the green wave swept towards her she turned around to face it. If anyone else had been there they may have thought that the light was suspended in time for a brief moment, frozen under Lily's gaze. But after that second, the beam came flooding up to meet her, piercing through her body like brilliant green daggers.
She screamed, high and shrill, and her body fell to the ground in a graceful arc. Before the blackness closed in around her she could have sworn she felt familiar arms catching her as she fell. But then night descended and she knew no more.
A colossal green skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth was grinning down upon the flaming ruins of a once beautiful house in the middle of a clearing in a forest. The fire lanced through the man's sight like a sword, slashing and tearing at his soul. His mind was numb with shock. After years and years of fighting . . . suddenly it was gone. They had lost. They had lost everything. It had all been a waste. All the sacrifices they had made, freedoms they had given up, loved ones they had lost to the vast darkness had all been in vain. As far as the man slumped on the ground in front of the rubble cared, the world was done for. Sirius' whole life had crashed down around his ears. The Black Flood would rush them, and with their last dam broken they would be left near defenceless.
There was only one anchor left that rooted him to sanity. Remus. Laraleie and her little girl, the haunted creature who desperately needed her father. Tori and the innocent child hidden in the depths of Canada. There was still hope. He and Remus could raise the alarm. Lara and Tori could send reinforcements. If they tread carefully destruction could be avoided.
But suddenly another thought flashed across Sirius' mind. All reason and caution were forgotten as a face surfaced in his mind's eye. A snivelling rat of a man, with small watery eyes that matched those of his familiar. He was laughing. Laughing like he had never laughed in all the long years Sirius had known him. He was laughing at Sirius. For never seeing what he was; for never anticipating what he would do; for not being able to stop him!
Suddenly Sirius was on his feet, with every intention of haring after that . . . that traitor. But then he heard an agonised howl reached his ears. How many times had he heard that lupine voice, during those long nights back at school? When his friend was transforming, his wolf's mind not holding back his cries like he did when he was human.
With no more than a rustle from the leaves on the ground Sirius was not standing where he had been moments before. A shaggy black dog began to trot towards the flaming house, his tracks beginning where the human ones ended.
Heat. Burning. Pain . . .
His vision swam, but he shook his head to clear it, clamped his teeth down on the bundle he carried and stumbled on. Every step sent a shot of pain up his legs. His paws were raw and bloody, from tumbling on the debris of the house. He knew in the back of his mind - where any of his human thoughts lingered - that if he didn't make it out of this maze of heat and smoke soon he and the creature he carried would perish here, just two more unidentified victims of an endless war.
He struggled on, and just when he was about to collapse a dark shape rose out of the smoke clouding his vision. The dog whined inquiringly at him, but he merely fell onto a heap of rocks. The animal grabbed him by the chain around his neck and hauled him and the small bundle out of the fiery ruins.
He took a gulp of clean air, summoned the remainder of his dwindling strength and began to howl in pain as his bones shifted and contorted . . .
"Remus? Remus?! Moony, are you ok?"
Remus groaned and tried to lift himself onto his elbows. His arms felt like rubber under his weight and he fell back, gulping in clear air and staring at the stars above. His vision swam and he glanced up exhaustedly. However when he saw Sirius his eyes snapped open and rage coursed through his veins.
"You!" he snarled hoarsely.
Sirius blinked at him. "What about me?"
Remus staggered to his feet and violently pushed Sirius' hand off his shoulder when his old friend reached out to steady him. The anger he had felt at seeing Sirius outside the house of the people he had as good as murdered was rapidly sinking into the weariness that enveloped him.
"How - how could you . . . after all they did for you . . . for all of us . . . and you just - just . . ." Remus coughed incoherently, looking at Sirius and feeling something he had never felt towards him before. Hatred.
Sirius stared at him blankly before realisation dawned on him. He paled immediately. "No . . . Remus, I didn't - I never would have . . ."
A red glare was building up behind Remus' eyes. He couldn't see Sirius - one of his oldest friends, the man who had always stood by his friends no matter what the odds were. All he saw was a traitor - a nameless face that had murdered two of the people who were the closest thing to a family that Remus could remember ever having. The wolf in the back of his mind was yowling, clawing off the chains that Remus had restrained it with …
Suddenly he gave a wild snarl and lunged at Sirius. They both fell to the ground, with Remus wildly lashing out at his former friend. He had only landed a few weak blows, however, before exhaustion claimed him and the blackness at the edges of his vision swept forward. He crumpled to the ground beside the small pile of blankets that he had salvaged from the fire and the man that had snatched his best friends from his grasp.
Sirius sat unmoving. He should have been expecting this, after all he, Lily and James had not told anyone about switching to Peter. They had been planning on informing Dumbledore tomorrow but with the Potters dead would the Headmaster believe Sirius if he told him? Remus had obviously thought Sirius was the betrayer . . . if only he hadn't been so suspicious! Silently Sirius cursed himself. He had overlooked Peter because he was weaker than the others, the very reason that he should have been suspected to be the spy!
Azkaban. Sirius' thoughts turned involuntarily to the sort of future he could now look forward to. If - in all likelihood - the world believed that he was the one who had given Voldemort the Potters then the Ministry would hunt him down and either send him to the wizard prison or administer him with the Kiss as soon as they caught him. He could run, right now, and have a better chance at escaping the clutches of the dementors; or he could hasten after the rat and get his vengeance . . .
Sirius looked around at the ruins of the house that had belonged to generations and generations of Potters. He had spent many a sunny afternoon in there, with James and Remus and him. This had been so much more of a home to him than Grimmauld Place. It had been Remus' home too. Turning, Sirius looked at his friend, unconscious on the ground. If Remus was discovered here it would be highly suspicious. He would have to apparate him back to his house or something.
As Sirius stood contemplating his next move his thoughts turned to a track that he personally liked to call 'What The Bloody Green Fire Demons Happened Here?!' Why had Remus been prowling about James's house, in wolf form, on the new moon?! Sirius knew a fair bit about werewolves, and nowhere had he ever read, heard or saw one transform on any day other than the full moon. This was way too complicated . . .
Remus groaned and stirred a little, startling his brooding companion. He would regain consciousness soon. Sirius grabbed Remus' arms and hauled him to his feet. As he did this the chain that Sirius had dragged the werewolf to safety with swung forward. It had an amber stone set in it, the same color as Remus' eyes. Sirius vaguely remembered that it was an amulet that let Remus keep his clothes intact while he transformed. He couldn't recall who had given it to his friend.
Sirius held onto Remus' cloak tightly and with a soft pop, they vanished into the night.
Sirius propped Remus up in the lone chair in the werewolf's kitchen. While it was nowhere near as grand or large or luxurious as Godric's Hollow, Remus would never sell the dingy little house. It was slightly shabby around the edges, but he claimed it had a homey touch and it said a lot about Remus' personality. Somewhat old fashioned, not extravagant or gaudy, everything neatly organised and practical.
Sirius sighed and shook his head. Who knew when he would be able to return here, and examine the fragments of his mangled life? What if the truth was never found out and Remus and Lara and Tori all went to the grave hating him for . . . this?
Remus shifted again and Sirius crept quietly out of the house. He would come back. He would make sure that at least one person knew the truth. He would not surrender himself to the hands of fate and be branded as a murderer and Death Eater. Even if it killed him, he would have his freedom.
Walking over to the motorcycle parked on the lawn - he had left it there when he came to check on Remus earlier that fateful night - Sirius' thoughts turned to the bundle that Remus had pulled out of the fire that had been James' house. He had been so preoccupied, worrying about whether or not his friends would except that he was not the betrayer, that he had not even bothered to look at what the blankets concealed. He would have to go see what that was, although he had been planning to return to Godric's Hollow to try and pick up Wormtail's tracks anyway, so it was no trouble.
Sirius Black settled onto the seat of his motorcycle and took off, roaring away into the darkness. His slightly shadowed, icy blue eyes shone into the darkness of a star-less sky.
(A/N: If any of you are confused as to whose POV (Point of View) some parts of this chapter were in well, you're in luck, 'cus I'm gonna post a list. Every time you see one of these -, the story either changes POV, location or time. No time changes in this chapter, as it happens in the time span or a couple of hours but the other ones are there. OK, here's the list.
Remus Lupin - James Potter - Lily Potter - Sirius Black - Remus Lupin (W) - Remus Lupin - Sirius Black - Sirius Black
If you don't know french then you won't be able to make heads or tails of what Lily and James said before they died. But that won't even be mentioned again before we get to like June or sumthin, so don't worry about it. Forget it was even written for all I care.
Hope to see some reviews soon … C ya!)