Coming Home

by S. L

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Helpless to stop the advance of the blinding beam of emerald green light, he was struck by its full force. Unaware that it was his own death that struggled to escape his body, he fell back screaming. It was the worst pain that he had ever experienced increased tenfold by the fact that he had failed his family.

With one final effort, he wrenched open his eyes so that they could take in their last sight of his wife. A heart wrenching pain gripped at his heart as he drifted into darkness, his wife's face blurring into the shadow.

It seemed to be taking a long time for him to die. In fact he hardly felt as if he were dying at all, if anything, he would say that the pain was subsiding. Desperate, he tried to open his eyes, only to find an endless darkness meeting his gaze. Then the world spun around him and he knew nothing more.

~

The pain that filled both his head and his heart was the first thing that he knew as he awoke. For long moments he lay where he had last fallen, not knowing how it was he still lived. The only conscious thought that drifted through his hurt was that he knew that they were dead. He had failed his family. His wife and son were dead and he had done nothing to prevent it.

Eventually tears crept up on him, filling up his still closed eyes and pouring down his cheeks. He didn't dare even to blink to brush away the tears, for fear of what his surroundings would show him. Nothing mattered anymore now that they were dead. He had been left with the horrible miracle of his life. He dared not move, he couldn't, he couldn't do anything, but think of them.

Thoughts of his wife's smiling face and her gentle hands flashed through his mind, followed by his son's giggles and bright eyes. They were gone. Yet for some unfair reason, he was still alive.

After the tears, too, had left him, he had nothing left to distract him. That was when the worst pain came. When there was nothing left to convey his grief except for his hearts dull and constant pain. All that he had left was to lay there and wait for his hopeful death.

Slowly though, as he sunk into his own misery a fire of passion was sparked. A blinding rage had replaced his wish for death as the faces of his loved ones began to melt away, only to be replaced for the face of the one that had destroyed them. It was the face of a man whose name many feared to speak, the man who had dared to murdered his family: Voldemort.

One more name remained in his head, though this one represented a traitor. It was the name of one of his dearest friends, a man that he had entrusted not only his own life, but also the lives of his family. He was the one that he had had the mistaken idiocy to trust: Peter Pettigrew.

Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew; these were the ones who had destroyed his life. Just as now that he still had a life, he vowed he would destroy theirs.

With this new thought to fuel him, he ventured to open his eyes, at long last. It was a painful process, but slowly his surroundings began to sink in. He was lying in the middle of an overgrown ruin, staring straight up into a calm autumn sky. Cautiously he rose to his feet, barely trusting his own weight. Surprisingly he found that the movement did not add to his hurts.

With remorseful care, he walked around what he soon recognized as what remained of his little den. He tried to deny it, but everything was there. He was in the outlined remains of the destroyed cottage that he had shared his final moments with his family.

A flash of gold, reflected by the morning sun, caught his eye admits the endless gray waste. He picked it up carefully, while holding in his breath. It was an engagement ring; the very one he had given his wife the day he had asked her to marry him. What used to be a sparkling symbol of their love, now sat in his palm, barely recognizable beneath the dirt and dust that caked it's remains.

Despite its change, he held it close to his heart for a moment as he remembered his wife, before tucking it into his pocket. She was gone and it was all that he had left of her. Everything else had been destroyed.

How long he spent in his ruined home, he did not know. He simply walked about remembering where every book had been shelved, where ever chair had sat and where all of his son's toys had fallen. They were all gone, but the memories remained. Memories he knew would haunt him for the rest of his damned life.

He spent the night there, as well as the next day, drawing within himself until he knew he could stay there no longer. Neither food or sleep seemed to matter to him anymore, but he knew he had to move on. He had to make those who had done this to him, to his family, pay.

With one last look at his ruined home under the sinking evening sun, James Potter disapperated.

~

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had just sat down to a modest dinner when the sun sank beneath the horizon. Sirius had been staying in his friend's home a week now and he still loved it now, just as much as he ever had. The cozy cottage was as wonderful as Sirius could imagine, especially after spending the better part of a year in small wet caves, and he thirteen years before that in a cramped cell in Azkaban. To him, his friend's place was a palace, though many others would have seen it as disheveled and worn as Remus himself.

It had been difficult, but Sirius had finally completed his order to alert the old members of the Order of the Phoenix. Somehow he had managed to convince them all of his innocence, however painful it had been. He was still in danger though as the ministry and the muggles were still after him. Remus' place had been his last stop, where instructions were left for him to lay low until further contact from Dumbledore gave him new instructions.

Even at his friend's house, Sirius spent most of his time as Padfoot, due to his profile as an escaped convict. He transformed back into himself, only for meals and long talks with his friend. Though at times the transformations made him think of happier times with the old Marauders. Of them all only himself and Remus remained. As far as Sirius was concerned, Peter was as good as dead.

"Have you heard from Harry lately?" Remus asked as he relaxed in his chair.

The other man shook his shaggy head, causing slight amounts of dust to scatter into the air. It had been a while since he had been properly clean. Even in Remus' small house he saw little point since he spent much of his time as a dog on the dusty floor. "Not since last week, but I am expecting a letter any day now."

"Well let him know that I am thinking of him when you next write, will you?" Remus said looking down at his half-empty plate.

Sirius nodded as he chewed a slightly hard hunk of bread. Remus ate well enough, but did not have the money enough to afford anything lavish as a Hogwarts meal. That suited Sirius well enough, though, who had unfortunately grown used to living off of rats. Anything was better than rats.

"You know," Remus suddenly announced, "We really do need to get you cleaned up one of these days."

"Hey!" Sirius said indignantly. "I've been taking showers and I cut my beautiful hair!" He threw his still slightly long and tattered hair over his shoulders. He liked his hair long, he always had. Though he had gotten rid of his scruffy beard first thing. Also, with the help of some good food, his face was even beginning to fill out, which made him look much less sunken.

"Fine, fine," Remus said giving in. "Though when you begin to resemble Snape, I reserve the right to restrict you to the bathroom until you come out spotless."

Both friends shivered at the thought and exchanged disgusted smiles.

Before Sirius could make a retort however a knock sounded at the door. The two old friends glanced at each other, confusion written across their faces. "Expecting company?" Sirius had the time to ask before he changed into Padfoot, allowing his friend to answer the door.

Remus sat for a moment, while Padfoot cocked his head.

"Remus, it's me- let me in!" A slightly muffled voice called out.

Padfoot glanced up to meet Remus' puzzled gaze. Neither of them were exactly sure who 'me' was.

"Sirius isn't home and I need to talk to you! Come on Moony- let me in!" The voice rose angrily.

The two friends in the cabin could not have been more bewildered. No one ever called Remus by his old nickname, except the other Marauders, not even Harry did. Besides, who would ever try to catch Sirius at his home? His old family estate had been declared ministry property ages ago.

Warily, Remus stood, just as curious as Padfoot to find out who was calling at his door. Then with one last look at the big black dog, the tired looking man turned the handle and opened the door to his visitor.

Nothing could have prepared him for what faced him.

Immediately, what little color that remained in Remus' face, disappeared, as a slightly ruffled, but very alive looking James Potter stomped into the room. Remus didn't make any kind of a move to stop him, or even to close the door. He was frozen.

Padfoot merely whined and backed into the nearest corner, obviously distressed.

James seemed oblivious to the strange behaviors as he walked on until he reached the sofa. With a sigh he fell back and promptly placed his face in his palms.

"Moony, they're gone- both of them," his said, his voice slightly strangled. "That damn rat betrayed us! Lily-" he chocked, "She's- and Harry..."

Moments passed as the man sat alone, in obvious anguish. Neither the man at the door, or the cowering dog seemed to be able to make a move; both were still with shock. It was Padfoot who was the first to regain some sense, as he shuffled towards the sofa to get another look at the supposedly dead man.

The dog's whines were constant as he made his way, drawing James out of his short depression long enough to stare at the dog surprisingly. "Sirius," the man exclaimed. "Where have you been and- wait- what are you doing?" James blinked. "I don't-"

Before another word could be spoken, Sirius had transformed and thrown his arms around his old friend. Sirius hugged him as soundly as he could, as if to ensure himself that the image was real.

James embraced him back, not at all sure what had gotten into his friend, but deciding to amuse him anyhow. Over his shoulders, however, James mouthed a silent question to Remus, who just stared back blankly, confusing him all the more. Finally Sirius let him go, just as James began to choke for breath.

Looking incredulous, Sirius began to shake his head back and forth. "James... you're alive. Here. Alive! I'm- I'm so sorry..." no tears would come, but Sirius just sat staring at his friend, enveloped in an overwhelming sensation.

As Sirius broke down, Remus moved forward at last, allowing the door to fall shut behind him. James was swept up in another hug in a moment, but one not so long lived as Sirius'. Remus pulled back in wonder and gave a sort of strangled sob as he collapsed next to Sirius.

James, temporarily forgetting his grief, looked between his friends, bafflement peering from his questioning eyes. "What's wrong with you guys?"

Remus choked. "You're supposed to be, I mean, you are... well- dead." He whispered the word 'dead' as if speaking that truth would cause James to vanish instantly.

"Oh," James said, recoiling in slight understanding. "I suppose... I didn't- I don't now what happened." He looked away with tears in his eyes. "I couldn't do anything. He did something to me and then..." his throat closed slightly, it was suddenly too hard to go on. "Lily, and Harry..."

Sirius and Remus exchanged looks.

"I just had to go somewhere;" James went on, looking at his feet, unaware that his friends were still staring eagerly at him. They were soaking in his every move, remembering him, as if afraid that the next gust of wind would take him away again.

"Dumbledore will no doubt need to speak with me, and I suppose I'd best tell that sister of Lily's about her death. Not that she'd care, but, she does have the right to know..." His eyes filled with tears again. "And poor Harry... he never even had the chance to live."

At this statement, Sirius fell apart, desperately trying to breathe through a series of body wrenching coughs. Remus, however, remained in control and moved so that James was staring him the eye. "Ja-" he began and then thought better of it. "What do you think the date is?"
James looked at Remus strangely as he blinked away some of his new tears. "November first I suppose, maybe second... I- I don't know how long I stayed in the ruins of Godric's Hollow, but it can't have been too long."

"November third actually," Remus answered and then leaned in closer. "And the year?" He added, as if this were very important.

"...1985, really Moony, I think you might be ill. When's the next full moon again?" James looked very confused now.

Sirius, promptly halted his coughing fit and Remus began running his hand through his hair in thought. "Oh dear, oh god, oh my," Remus said, overshadowed by Sirius' chanting of, "damn, damn, damn."

Remus halted his response, and smacked Sirius enough to end his, and stared back at James. "1985 you say? Do you know what happened, I mean exactly. It is very important that you tell us what happened, to every last detail."

Very much in the dark, James decided to oblige, knowing his friends would not end their puzzling behavior until he did. "It was on Halloween and Lily and I were in the living room. Lily had just put Harry to bed and then we heard this noise from outside. Someone knocked in the back door and I yelled at Lily to run..." James was speaking very slowly, as if reliving the memory in his mind.

"We- he threw a few curses. I couldn't go up against him though; he was much too powerful. He hit me with the crutacious curse and I just went down. I couldn't do anything more. Then," he paused in thought. "He was going to hit me with the killing curse, he might have, too, but something happened.

"All I know is that there was a lot of pain and then I blacked out. I don't know how long I was out for until I woke up in Godric's Hollow. It was a ruin though; I imagine the ministry made it look like that for whatever purposes they have, they always do strange things like that. Maybe it was for the muggles, I don't know. Anyways, I woke up and all I knew was that I was alive, but Lily and Harry were gone."

He finished, but his friends seemed to be at a loss for words.

"James,' Sirius said while his formerly dead friend tried to chase the thought away. "It's not 1985."

Remus followed his friend's lead, while James looked up in surprise. "It's the year 1999."

A look of disbelief and uncertainty spread across the old Marauder's face. His tears were gone. "What do you mean it's 1999? I've gone forward in time... From 1985 to 1999?"

James looked for the statement to be a joke, but both of his friends met his gaze seriously. He shook his head in doubt. One did not jump forward in time fourteen years, just like that. It just couldn't happen.

Remus Lupin, or Moony as he once was known, suddenly didn't look the same as James had left him only weeks ago. James peered closer, thinking that the differences would be hard to find, but finding that surprisingly, they weren't at all. Remus was much more worn, and new lines framed his mouth and eyes. His hair was flecked with gray and his robes were shabbier than they had ever been. He looked about the house. It contained much of the same furniture, and some new, but it all looked so worn.

Sirius Black, or Padfoot, did not look like himself at all, and it was a wonder, James thought, that he had not noticed it sooner. His old best friend looked haunted. There in his eyes, where a look a mischief and happiness had once lurked was now replaced only with pain and darkness. His usually well kept hair was not tied back in the silky black ponytail that Padfoot had once worn proudly, but hung about his face in twisted masses, looking not much better than Snape's. His robes were just as dirty as Remus' and hung off his once muscular body as if he hadn't had a good meal in years.

"Sirius, Remus?" James said, as if recognizing his friends for the first time, now that he had got a good look at them. "Is it- true?"

They nodded, shock displayed clearly on their features. Now he understood, now he knew why they had acted so strangely when he had come in. They had believed him dead for the past fourteen years. From the look of the two, it seemed as if those years had not been easy either.

Loosing his breath James looked at his old friends. Then he sighed in disbelief and placed his head in his hands again, and he cried.