Hey guys! Finally getting this project off the ground. Read and review, so I'll know how I'm doing, okay?
Questions, comments or flames can be e-mailed -- my address is in my profile. Thanks!
If you can guess where the fic title comes from, you win teh prize. V
lessthanthree – MKD
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Recalled To Life: Chapter 1 – The Period
Sirinal Vega gathered Lupine blossoms dreamily, staring unfocussed as she often did into the hills above the tiny cottage she shared with her grandmother. She was not a tall young witch, but was handsome with long, straight dark hair and a deep complexion. Her eyes glittered a darker shade of blue in the sunlight as she envisioned a happy scene involving a vague outline of a mother and father, and a smaller version of herself, clear and defined. She was happy in this dream, and snatches of a make-believe past played out against the Lupines—a lock of raven hair falling in her eyes, her mother's light skin, her father's brown eyes and deep laugh…
But none of these glimpses were real. None were hers.
She couldn't remember her parents at all, really. Though her father had never seen her, she felt guilty at trying to remember her mother. Surely she should be able to recall something, anything… she was betraying her mother's memory by forgetting her… but she had been tooyoung to remember. Her mother had died and left her, a year old, in the care of her elderly grandmother, and this kind, smiling old woman was the only family she had ever known.
Her grandmother would tell her stories, though, of a beautiful woman named Lepora, strong and powerful, who defended her daughter to the death, hid her with the most powerful charms, sacrificed herself to save her beloved child… Bitterly, Sirinal wondered if perhaps her mother did love her, or why would she have left?
Her grandmother would tell her of a brilliant, amazing man—her father—who had loved Lepora so much that he left her, lest she be found by Lord Voldemort for being his beloved. He was so mighty a wizard that Lord Voldemort had chased him to the ends of the earth, seeking to destroy any threats to his terrible reign.
All Sirinal had now was a burnt, broken wand and a silver pendant in the stylized form of a "B".
She sighed and pinched off another flower, inhaling its calm fragrance, and turned back toward her home, cradling the bundle of various flowers and herbs her grandmother had sent her for. But as she looked up, already halfway down the slope, she saw something horribly familiar.
Smoke was issuing from the next rise. Just behind it was the village of Smithsdenn, where Sirinal and her grandmother would go to market each weekend. But the only reason smoke would be rising there would either be the result of a simple house fire, or…
The smoke slowly reddened as a terrible outline emerged. The skull and the serpent. Lord Voldemort's followers.
Dropping the plants in her haste, she all but fell down the hill, tearing toward the cottage. If Voldemort's followers were already in Smithsdenn, it would only be a matter of time before they searched the surrounding farmhouses, and that would be the end of it. Just like Mom…
She ripped the door open, but her grandmother already knew, because she was staring at Sirinal with a tragic expression, holding out the only broom in the house. "I've already charmed it," she murmured, her voice trembling even more than usual. "And I've gathered for you what I can. You'll be alright if you can make it to Hogsmeade. Whatever happens, seek out Remus Lupin. He'll know how to find your father."
Sirinal merely gaped at her grandmother, too much information, too many questions barrelling into her all at once. Her grandmother had never acknowledged that her father might even be alive, let alone that she would be able to find him. But she was doing so now, and also condemning herself to death in the same breath.
Sirinal stepped forward, grabbing her broom in hands already white with fear. "No." She took her grandmother's arm in her other hand, shaking it. "You are coming with me. I will not leave you."
---
Remus Lupin glanced over at Harry, hunched as he was on the seat of the Knight Bus. Harry's eyes had an awful, dead look about them. Lupin reached out to touch the young wizard's knee in what he hoped was a comforting sort of way. "Harry," he said gently, his voice jumping as the Knight Bus lurched out of Little Whinging into Ottery St. Catchpole, "is everything alright?"
Harry's face darkened. At first, Lupin was sure he wouldn't respond—rarely did Harry share his inner emotions—but then Harry shook his head. "I didn't know my mum and dad, but, I knew Sirius." He kept his gaze fixed on his shoes, apparently studying the fibres of his laces. Lupin's heart contracted in a familiar sort of way at the mention of his old friend. "There are so many things I never got to tell him… Things we never got to do." These words cut deeper; Lupin found it difficult to breathe. The things he had never said, never done, with his Padfoot…
"I wanted him to tell me about my mum and dad," Harry mumbled, embarrassed.
Lupin smiled sadly. "I have something for you."
Harry looked up with interest—Lupin's presents were usually quite good. He sucked in a breath as Lupin slid an elegant, shallow stone basin from his tattered old briefcase. "A pensieve," Harry whispered, his eyes lingering on the runes around its edge.
"Indeed," Lupin said. "I say this is for you in an indirect way… What I would like to do for you is put some of my memories and experiences in this pensieve for you to peruse at your leisure… so you can know your parents, and Sirius, too."
Harry gaped at him, numb. "Professor… I…" he mouthed helplessly, but Lupin saved him, holding up a hand.
"Now, Harry," Lupin said in a firmer tone. "I don't want you to live your life in this pensieve. However, I think it will be helpful to you to be able to understand who your parents were and what they did. Just remember that even as you live my memories, you also should be making memories of your own. Do not get trapped in the past, Harry. The future is what is most important."
Harry fingered the pensieve shakily. He could really know them, all of them; see them and hear them… He felt, for the first time in months, the corners of his mouth spreading, until a muted grin bloomed across his face.
"Call it a late birthday present, Harry," Lupin said, mirroring the smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't come get you sooner—there was some business with the Ministry to clear up, and then we had to make sure your stay at the Burrow would be safe. Ron and Hermione have been clamouring to see you, you know."
Harry nodded. "They've certainly said so, in their letters. I think they feel guilty about what happened last summer." Last summer, before….Sirius, Harry thought. I'll get to see you… but you're still gone…He let Lupin put the pensieve back into his bag. It isn't fair. There's no one, now.
Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked into a pair of sombre amber eyes. He thought he could see something hidden there, in their darkness, but as he looked closer it slipped away, replaced by a tired softness. "I miss him, too," Lupin said quietly, his voice catching.
Harry watched Lupin as he walked down the bus to speak with the pimply young conductor, Stan Shunpike. He shivered in the sudden cold as Madam Marsh tottered out the door, and pulled his borrowed cloak around him. Less than an hour ago he had been eating a solitary dinner in an empty house—Lupin had once again fooled his only living relatives, the Dursleys, into an outing, leaving Harry behind to escape. Harry was not surprised to see his aunt and uncle fall for the gambit once again as they hauled Dudley, Harry's massive cousin, to his non-existent awards ceremony. The invitation cited Dudley's excellence in being such a "big example" on his wrestling team. And so, dressed to the nines, Dudley Dursley waddled out the front door, followed by his massive father and spindly mother, and Harry was left to his own devices. Remus didn't break into the house this time, but knocked pleasantly at the door, and swept Harry up in his haze of astonishment. After nary a word from the wizarding world for the first two months of summer (though Harry was getting quite used to such treatment these days) he dizzily settled back into the swing of wizardly life, putting bacon-frying and shoe-polishing behind him until the next summer.
"Harry, next stop's the Burrow," Lupin said warmly, gathering up his briefcase and steadying himself with his other hand while the bus leapt forward, houses jumping out of the way pell-mell.
"Oh, right," Harry muttered, standing. "But what about…" He looked at his shoelaces again. "Grimmauld Place?"
Remus sucked in a breath. "Ah, yes… Sirius asked me to take care of it for a while… until I get a few things worked out. I thought the Burrow would be a much more comfortable place for you, for the summer."
Harry nodded, fingering his wand through his pocket. I can't stand this… I was supposed to live with him, in his house. Now I'll never… But thinking of what-ifs and broken possibilities would get him nowhere. There would be time to grieve—in the dark of the night, when no one could see him, when he could be left to his pain.
"Here we are, Harry," Remus said brightly, pushing Harry ahead of him. "You'll be here until the start of the semester, and I've already left a note for the Dursleys, so you won't need to worry—"
"I wasn't," Harry snorted.
"Right, then."
Molly Weasley greeted them in her usual fashion, hurrying the two of them inside before wrapping Harry in a very tight hug. "Harry, love, have you eaten?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Remus?"
"Not yet, Molly," Remus smiled, shrugging off his tattered old coat and sliding into a chair at the massive dinner table.
"You must be famished," Mrs. Weasley said, hustling about the kitchen. "Harry, you're in Ron's room, you know the one. Ron and Hermione should be back any moment—"
"HARRY!"
Harry stumbled as he was accosted by Hermione, who tumbled into him in her haste to embrace him. He laughed and buried his face in her hair while she told him at breakneck speed of her summer before the burrow. He looked over at Ron, who clapped him on the back with a grin. "Hullo, Harry!" Ron had grown, if possible, even taller, and his hair had darkened to a brassier shade, but some of his gangly awkwardness was gone and was replaced by a slight sunburn braised across his nose. Hermione, on the other hand, had turned a lovely brown colour, and her hair had lightened. However, probably due to the heavy rains, it had grown even more out of control than ever, ringing her face with wiry, bulky curls.
"Harry, I'm so glad you're here!" Hermione said breathlessly, standing back. "I wish I could say we had so much to tell you, but really we don't—we don't have any idea what's been going on with You-Know-Who or anything!"
Harry smiled sheepishly. "That's okay. I was kind of hoping for a quieter summer than last…"
"You'll get it, mate. Fred and George and Ginny want a bit of a Quidditch match later, by the way."
Harry grinned.
Remus smiled wearily, glad to see his young charge at last in a place he felt comfortable and loved. He turned to his plate to find it heaped high with typical Weasley fare, and tucked in with a vengeance, sparing a brief thought for someone he had eaten dinner with mere months ago.
---
"You take the broom, and I can go through the pass in the woods. They won't find me, I swear…"
"Sirinal Vega," her grandmother said warningly, "You will take this broom and go, and I will hold them off as long as I can while you go get help." She smiled weakly. "I've still got quite a few hexes up my sleeve they won't soon forget."
"Grandmother, you're all I have!" Sirinal choked.
Footsteps at the path…
"Go," the old woman said, with the steel in her voice Sirinal hadn't heard since she was a child.
Sirinal wrapped her wiry grandmother into a tight embrace, fighting terror and pain, and slipped out the back door.
She flew.
It took only an hour to reach the next village, but the damage had been done. The village wizards, what few there were, were far more concerned with safeguarding and evacuation of the village than with helping a young girl's aged guardian. Sirinal staggered from one to the next, begging, threatening, fighting desperately against tears. She should never have left. She should have stayed… Frantic, near hysterics now, she snatched at the robes fluttering around her. "Let go!" their owner snapped, shoving her to the ground. She burst into horrified tears as the wizard hurried away.
"Calm down," said a gruff, but gentle voice. She looked up to see a calloused hand extended to her. As he helped her to her feet, she was startled by the young face looking sternly back at her. He had sandy hair, and a strong, ruddy face; his eyes eclipsed these features. They at once pierced and calmed her; she had never seen such an intense gaze. His eyes were brown, warming to honey at the centre. "I'll help you," he said.
She might have collapsed with her relief, but he was still holding her hand tightly, lending her strength. "Tha—"
"Pick up your broom and come with me." He finally, suddenly, released her hand and began walking. She hurried to keep up, sickened by the sight of approaching smoke. "We'll have to go by horseback."
"I'm not sure how long this broom will stay charmed anyway," she murmured.
Just out of the village he pulled her up behind him onto a bay gelding, and they began cantering through the forest, veering away from a direct path to the cottage. Sirinal hung on as tightly as she could. "I don't know what I'm going to do… I'm only sixteen," she gasped. "They're already almost to the village…"
"I'm not going to be any help, really," he said quietly.
"Why do you say that?"
"I'm a squib."
For a moment, her heart fell. But then… "You were willing to help me. Everyone else turned away but you. You are worth more than every wizard there. You came."
She thought, fleetingly, that she felt the warmth of his hand hovering above hers.
They reached the cottage.
---
"Harry, dear, are you alright?"
Harry was bent over his plate, fighting back a moan as blinding pain shot through his forehead.
"Harry," Lupin began, putting a worried hand on the young wizard's shoulder. "What is it?"
"He's laughing," Harry hissed, in a voice shaking with anger. "He's really happy about something. He's laughing…"
Lupin paled.
---
"Oh God… Grandmother…"
The cottage was devastated, and devastating. The grass all around was torn and singed. The front steps had collapsed—in fact, the entire porch was pitifully falling in on itself, as though someone had put too much weight on it all at once. The front door was completely gone; tendrils of smoke curled out from the inside. The air was parched, dusty and smoke-ridden. Sirinal let loose a strangled cry as she saw: the doorway was tinged with blood.
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