1.
"For it so happens, that I could never convince myself that the dead are dead."
Henderson the Rain King
-Sual Bellow
When the world was spinning, things were, as always, expected to move accordingly: seasons changed from spring to summer and fall to winter; day became night and night became morning and all things lost were always found.
When the world was spinning, one would know that wherever their feet happened to settle, they were going to stay there, never straying or slipping. They were always sure that this, this one place, was where they were meant to be. One knew that, when things got too far out of hand, there was always that one person to turn to for help, whether that be a friend or neighbor or the relatives two blocks down. When the world spun, one always knew they could, at least, walk up the porch every evening and summon the strength to turn the knob, open the door and feel safe at home. They would never collapse out of fear, forget who they were or wonder, after everything, if they were doing the right thing.
No, everyone knew, as Remus Lupin did, that when the world was spinning, however dark and malicious it seemed to have become, everything was going to be okay.
There were times, though, that the fighting and hiding and spying and the doubting, believing that the world had turned against him made him feel like a wall on the verge of breaking, crumbling to the floor in a cloud of unsettling dust. There had been times when Remus had watched his friends laugh and joke, forgetting altogether that the world around them had spun itself into dark days. Then, suddenly, he had watched the faces of James and Sirius and Peter and Lily turn grave and hard as they remembered the war. Remus had wished, more than anything, that if the world could just stop its hectic twirling and whirling for just a little while, things could be better.
How many times had he stared out his window, watching the days pass, watching the world change as it spun hoping that everything would just stop? Just stop for one solitary moment, a single fraction of time where this war couldn't touch them? How many times had he wished for a day that they could all believe that the world would spin for an entirely different reason?
Because it was war that, sadly, kept the world spinning these days. It had become the center, the gravitational pull that everything revolved around, spiraling, as it were, into utter chaos.
It drove a hole threw his chest to witness the hardship his friends had gone through already in this insane world. They shouldn't have to know what it was like to dread waking up every morning knowing that it may, quite possibly, be their last or suspect that anyone, stranger or not, was a spy planning to kill them or their family. Grocery shopping had never felt so threatening as it did now.
But that was why they fought and hid and spied: to help this whirling world become peaceful again, to live in a world without fear. The doubting and the belief that one of his closest friends, one he had once called his brother, had turned against them all was an entirely different matter.
Nevertheless, it was all a part of war. The hoping and doubting, the struggle and all the unanswered questions helped this world, the one that they fought so hard to keep, spin.
He couldn't imagine a world much worst than this.
"The tragic and sudden death of Lily and James Potter is a grave reminder that, we too, are mortal."
But then the world did stop spinning entirely.
And Remus's mind reeled at the reality.
A sudden gust of bitter November wind tugged on the hems of the gathered mourners as Dumbledore spoke at the head of crowd, their black robes flying around their limbs, trying, it seemed, to escape the funeral no one wanted to admit was real.
Two weeks. It wasn't that long ago, but it felt like forever that the Daily Prophet beamed the news in large black font for all of the wizarding world to see that the Dark Lord had been defeated. As the wizarding world celebrated the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Remus had grown numb as he read the details.
It had to be some trick, he had thought. A dream, a prank, anything, but it couldn't be real. Lily and James had just been here, living just down the street with their son. They had been alive, breathing, laughing, smiling .
'They can't be dead', his head had kept repeating. 'They can't be dead.'
"Let us make no mistake and let us harbor no illusions about death. Death itself is no illusion; it is a terrible reality." Dumbledore went on at the front of the gathering, his beard flying over his shoulder as the persistent wind tried to wipe the scene in the cemetery from existence. "And the reality of death contains no hidden goodness, no hidden consolation."
Remus shuddered at the rear of the crowd, his tattered dark robes doing nothing to fight the fall chill and he could not help but stare at the two mahogany coffins, resting side by side to Dumbledore's right. Lily and James, they were so close, a mere five yards from where he stood, but yet, they were so far away and Remus could not make sense of the situation.
A month ago, everything was perfect. Lily and James were alive, playing in their living room with Harry as their friends watched on, all unassuming of what darkness was about to pounce, save for one. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what darkness stalked them.
'We were all betrayed.'
"Let us not be fools or cowards, who would seek to appease this terrible enemy by pretending it has any good gifts or good intentions for us. Death has nothing good to give us, and intends only our destruction. Death is not our friend. It is in fact, our last and greatest enemy."
Peter's funeral had been three days before. As there really was no body to bury, Remus had been spared watching a coffin being put into the ground then. Sirius Black had taken the liberty of making sure that Peter Pettigrew didn't even exist the day he killed him, but Lily and James were there, in the closed coffins, laying in satin beds as if they slept, prepared to rest underground, hidden forever.
It had been a quiet affair, Peter's funeral, though many more Ministry Officials were there than at the Potter's. They presented the Order of Merlin to Peter's mother, who, with trembling fingers, dropped them to the ground in her grief.
Remus remembered how Mrs. Pettigrew had been rushed by Aurors standing near her as she began to sob. They had picked up Peter's trophy, handed it back to his mother and tried to sooth her by telling her how ''great of a hero'' her son was and what ''a terrible monster Sirius Black was'' for doing this to her. Their soothing words had only made Mrs. Pettigrew wail even louder.
The bawling sound of Mrs. Pettigrew still echoed in his head. He had wanted so much to stand beside her and cry along with her but he had just stood there, in the back of the crowd and watched, still too much in shock to do anything but stare.
Just like he was doing now.
He had never seen his headmaster wear black and even now Dumbledore's choice of wardrobe was a plain, dark navy blue robe that was currently caught up in a gust of wind. Remus was suddenly reminded, once, in his school days, after complimenting Dumbledore's blue robes with purple stars, James and jokingly told his friends that if he ever died before Dumbledore, he wouldn't be surprised if the old man wore mustard yellow to his funeral. Sirius had laughed.
Lily and James, Peter and Sirius. Four of his best friends he thought he'd share the end of the Wizarding War with were all fallen victims who perished fighting against evil. Tomorrow he'd mourn Sirius. The dark haired, blue-eyed man that was always quick with wit and a smile and sometimes quicker with a hex or hurtful jibe, but was always there as a loyal friend was just as gone as the others. Now he had been replaced by a man who turned dark, who finally gave in to his family's ways and gave everything up, and for what? A dark cell in Azkaban? A shred of acceptance from the family who disowned him? For whatever reason, Black was not Sirius. Black was a traitor and Sirius was his friend who died long before everyone else. It was Black, not Sirius, that was the reason he was standing here now, in a cemetery, wearing his darkest robes, and watching as the Potter's were about to be put to rest.
"This is not a time to grieve the deaths of Lily and James Potter," Dumbledore started again. "But it is our time to celebrate their lives. To think back and remember the witch and wizard who lost their lives fighting for the future. This is not the moment for us to shed our tears, but to be thankful that we were all given the chance to know such wonderful people like Lily and James."
Dumbledore proceeded by recounting all the times he shared with Lily or James, commenting on their talents in school; Lily's astounding skills in charms, James' inspiring work in transfiguration, Lily's ability to hand out numerous detentions to one particular student, and James' unique way in causing trouble and completing said detentions with a flourish.
Many of the funeral attendee's laughed and added in their own memories, celebrating, as Dumbledore had suggested, the life of Lily and James Potter.
Remus tuned out most of the conversations the others began having about the two, now deceased, but still remarkable people he never thought he'd have to live without. He had found, very painfully, that he could not bear to think about all the happy times he had shared with James and Lily. And when Dumbledore kept trying to catch his eye, coaxing him to participate in the remembrance of his friends, Remus made a point to not look up at his old headmaster, and instead trained his gaze to stay focused on the dark coffins in front of him.
When a child began to cry from somewhere within the crowd, Remus discovered that the youngest Potter wasn't apart of the head count today and an odd weight filled his stomach. Their own son couldn't even attend his own parent's funeral. He was hidden, more than likely, because even with the Dark Lord gone, his followers were still at large looking for revenge and allowing young Harry Potter to be found and killed at his parent's funeral would be a fool's mistake. It was a hard fact to face, that it was for his own protection but still, even if he'd never remember it, Harry would have liked to have known that he had been there to say good-bye the best way any baby knew how.
A somber song began to rise over the wind, trying in vain to match the feeling in everyone's heart and then begin to lift it into slightly higher spirits as the two coffins magically rose into the air and began to slowly lower themselves into the ground. The funeral music could not hide the sounds of the coffins finding ground below them and settling into place where they would remain forever. Remus flinched inwardly, feeling as if, somewhere deep inside himself, a small piece of his soul had been shut away from the world, trapped down there in the satin beds with his friends.
The realization that he was finally alone struck him deep in his chest and the lump in his throat began to pulse, causing the first tear he had shed in the last three weeks to finally escape his eye.
All the happy memories, all the times they had laughed and joked and had banished the thoughts of war from each other's minds had never happened. They were apart of another life, a lingering shell of what had happened and a fading hope of what could have been.
Poof!
Flash!
Remus blinked back sudden white spots from his vision after the surprising flash of light and looked around. The gaping holes in the earth that the coffins had been placed in had been filled and had the dying brown grass magically re-grown over the fresh graves, the attending crowd had already began dispersing, leaving the cemetery behind them and as he watched, the photographer that had quite unexpectedly taken his picture just moments before was walking toward the new and abandoned gravestones and began taking snapshots of them too.
"Oi! You! What do you think you're doing?"
Arabella Figg, who must have seen what had happened, stormed over to the photographer and practically began shooing him off site with her handbag and yelling profanities at the dodging young man.
Perhaps it was the oddity that his picture had just been taken, or the bewilderment of how such an invasive person entered the cemetery with the Aurors placed at every entrance, anti-Apperation charms placed over the majority of the little town. But he couldn't help but stare impassively as the photographer was escorted by a very distressed Mrs. Figg out of the cemetery and when the elderly lady began walking back towards him, Remus did nothing but blink sadly at her.
"Terribly sorry about that, Remus," Mrs. Figg said, still holding her handbag defensively in her hand. "Not entirely sure how he got in here but…" She trailed off as she turned back around to face the way she came in, shaking her head. "Should have taken his camera, exposed his film or destroyed the thing before he left… damn! Of course, now I think about it!" She huffed in agitation, began mumbling under her breath about respect, and privacy and Remus vaguely wished he had the heart to feel the same.
"Blundering buffoon!" Mrs. Figg went on as she stormed off best she could with her high heels on knobby cemetery ground. Remus couldn't help but smile slightly at her now as he followed her out. "Snapping pictures at a funeral! Who does he think he is? Liked to have boxed his ears in, I would!"
"James always liked his picture taken," Remus put in beside her. He watched his feet as he and Mrs. Figg walked toward the gate. "I don't think he'd mind even now. Besides, he was probably just a novice playing with a new hobby, Arabella. I wouldn't worry about it too much."
Mrs. Figg hummed in agitation. "Still a right prick to bring it here, even if it was to make a few sickles with the Prophet," she grumbled. She sighed and paused as she reached the gate leading out to the road of Godric's Hallow, then gave the cemetery one last look before she turned her attention to Remus. "Best of luck to you, Remus." She swallowed. "Even after these recent events, things are bound to be looking up with that monster gone."
Mrs. Figg nodded reassuringly as if to convince herself it was true. "Well, then," she sniffed, hugging her handbag to her chest. She smiled up at Remus. "I'll be seeing you, Remus!"
Remus offered her a smile. "Goodbye, Arabella," he said as walked away and threw her right arm above her head to flag down the Night Bus. Even without a wand, the obnoxious purple bus still hit the curb, hailing her call.
Then he was alone. Even Dumbledore had gone, leaving Remus to stare one last time at the headstone in the distance that shared Lily and James' names. Everyone else had left, either at home or perhaps even at a bar by now.
He was leaving them, he felt. Two of his friends would never walk out of the cemetery or walk into the living room of their house again and he was leaving them there, underground, to lie buried forever. It was so wrong, but nothing had ever felt so real and so terrifying at the same time.
Remus took a deep breath and cast his gaze skyward, searching for something, but not knowing what. Closing his eyes and whispering a goodbye, he held his breath, thought of home and Remus Apparated out of sight.
Author's Note: A slow start, but starting with Lily and James' funeral seemed right for a beginning. Fear not! I promise it'll start picking up!
Chapter 2 excerpt:
The dust began swarming again next to Walburga Black as the magic formed another person. Starting at the feet and working itself up to form a body of a man, the dust turned itself into another member of his family. Regulus nearly dropped his wand and the box he was holding when he saw his brother, standing before him, dressed in the robes of the Death Eaters, just as dark and unforgiving as his face looked.
He was sneering.
"How could you?" Sirius growled at him and Regulus flinched. "You had everything! A loving family! A place by the Dark Lord's side! We could have been great together, Regulus! You and me! With Lord Voldemort!"
