So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see
Chapter 1: Beginnings End
Where have all the flowers gone
long time passing
where have all the flowers gone
long time ago...
Where have all the flowers gone
gone to graveyards everyone
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?
Peter Seger
16th November 1981
The sky was crying. It was crying violently and Remus Lupin couldn't help but cry with it. As soon as his feet touched ground behind the church of the small wizardry town of Godric's Hollow the rain began to pelt his scarred face mercilessly with thick fat droplets and mingled with his tears.
Today was the day wizardry Britain would bury his brother in all but blood. He couldn't remember for the life of him if he had stopped crying since the day he had gotten word of James and Lily Potter's death.
Damn the moon, damn the werewolves and a sodden bugger off to Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore for sending him away when he friends had needed him most.
A fresh wave of guilt branded over the young werewolf. Ever since he had been bitten at the age of four by Fenrir Greyback and his first full moon he hadn't felt this miserable.
He should have been there...here in Godric's Hollow. Protecting his brother, Lily and the cub. He hadn't been there when Lily's son Harry had been born but he had hold him a few days after the birth when he had been to Hogwarts to hand in his report to Dumbledore. He's been captivated by the small tyke and had made as much time as he could to visit them often.
He should have been here...instead he had run through the woods near the coast of Suffolk, trying to sway some wolves away from Fenrir Greyback and Voldemort 's side.
The wolf inside howled in grief again and Remus felled a massive headache coming. He hadn't eaten as much as should have after the full moon and the constant crying was dehydrating his already depleted resources of liquid in his body. His pack lay in shambles and he couldn't muster the energy to care if he would die or not.
The village was deathly silent except for the torrential rain pouring down on everyone. A lot of people with umbrellas or impervious robes and hats stood on the small path to the graveyard.
Dumbledore stood at the beginning of a small column of people. Remus swallowed thickly as he saw two wooden casket peeking out between the mourners.
The old headmaster was wearing a slightly more subdued version of his usually robes in deep purple and he seemed to try to convince Minerva McGonagal, his old teacher, of something. The debate was getting quite heated but the young man could tell whatever it was ol' Minnie was resisting.
As a student he often had been subjected to Dumbledore's silver tongue and he knew how hard it was to resist his advances if the old man wanted something. He was glad that nobody had registered his presence so far. He wouldn't have had the tolerance for Dumbledore's jovial manner of speaking at the moment.
Remus's sandy-brown already grey flecked hair was plastered to his head as he stared at the two caskets sitting between the gaggle of mourners. Those wooden boxes looked so innocuous and harmless though Remus knew the cold hard truth. These boxes held the bodies of two of his best friends and the wolf and howled and yowled again in grief. It felt like he was never going to be happy again.
The news and the papers had said that Sirius Black had betrayed the Potters. Sweet but brash and sometimes unthinking Sirius... Remus felt a low growl rumbling in his throat. For once he and Moony were in agreement. Sirius had done a few things that were definitely questionable, like that one event where he had Severus Snape lead to almost certain doom...but he had a lot more better qualities in spades. Which meant that Remus and Moony didn't believe a word of that drivel.
He never had told his friends about it. Wolves didn't trust everyone and werewolves took that to even more paranoid levels. There was a reason for most of the werewolf-packs being family units. If he had learned one thing from his times with other wolves it was that being part of an actual werewolf-packs was a covenant backed up by magic. For other packs he always would be either an Alpha himself or a loner...in both circumstances someone who couldn't be trusted right away. It had been on his second mission when one of the female pack-elders had pulled him to the side and had told him that there was literally no chance for him to fulfil his obligation since he had a pack of his own.
Sirius and James had become accepted when they had come as animals to be with him on the full moon. Peter had come later, since he was a rat he was potential prey, but never had met the level of rapport he had with James and Sirius. Fact was it was a pact made by the magic of the participants and intent played a huge role in this. If Sirius really had betrayed them all in a conscious effort Remus would have known it. Hell even James would have known it the moment Sirius would have gotten the idea in his head. This was how Fenrir always knew who was going to betray him or who could be absolutely trusted in his pack.
He and Sirius hadn't parted on the best of terms on their last meeting, his friend had chafed under Dumbledore's orders and had taken his frustrations out on Remus. Since the old man had sworn Remus to secrecy regarding his missions he couldn't disperse Sirius accusations and doubts and they had gotten in a huge row before Sirius had disapparated. Still Remus would have known...
Imperious would have been a possibility but Sirius had a strong mind and had trained it even more when he had become an animagus. Padfoot's instincts were strong and Sirius often had struggled at the beginning to not be overwhelmed by the dog in intense situations.
As an Auror that had made the difference between a plot behind the church and a bed in St. Mungos. Remus had not been part of the last Fidelius charm but he and Moony were certain that Sirius hadn't been the traitor.
At the first notice the werewolf had pleaded with Dumbledore to do something with his influence to get his friend out of Azkaban but the old coot had regarded him with a sad face and had spouted the same platitudes and excuses he had said to the Prophet on the day of Sirius capture. That Black had been insane and laughing while blowing up poor Peter and a street full of muggles, that he had confessed when the Aurors had apprehended him.
The Blacks were passionate people, some even said most of them were certifiable insane by normal standards but Remus had seen irrational behaviour in Sirius only once. The day he had gotten the new that his little brother had died. Sirius being in Azkaban and James and Peter dead had opened a whole other can of worms. Moony always had felt the presence of his friends even when far away due to the bond they shared. Suddenly the wolf was utterly alone again and the last full moon had been an utter disaster.
The rain had died to a slow steady drizzle during his musings and Dumbledore had ceased his argument with Minerva McGonagal. On a silent sign from both of them someone pressed a small burning candle in his hand and like in a trance he followed the group of men who began to carry James and Lily's elaborately decorated black caskets to the graveyard. The next moments passed in a blur of sobbing, tears and guilt.
Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder and Remus flinched and stiffened. He would rather be alone right now. „Relax, son I come in peace." droned a smooth and low baritone he remembered very well.
Remus whirled around. He had spend enough days at Potter's Field to recognize that voice and it simply couldn't be possible. There right next to him stood a man in black formal robes with purple trimmings and looked awfully familiar.
An unruly mob of salt and pepper hair, combed back to resemble a small lion's mane paired with a impressive grey moustache that hid the laughing lines around a sadly smiling mouth and dark blue eyes that gazed at him with interest.
He recoiled violently from the spectre of his past.
„Charlus!?"
The older man raised his hands. „Relax son. I know my brother would have laughed his head off for this...seems like I still got it." Remus simply stood there in the rain, gaping.
„I'm sure James mentioned an Uncle once..." With a sigh the stranger threw a flower on the already covered grave and pointed at a small plate that was inserted at the foot of the gravestone.
„I'm his uncle Fleamont. Charlus would have liked them to be buried with the family...so I arranged for that." Inscribed on the small slightly glowing slab of metal were two names:
Charlus Jacob Potter * 2. 4. 1902 +23. 7. 1979
Dorea Thalita Black-Potter * 23. 6. 1903 +25. 6. 1979
James parents had died the year before Harry's birth. Dorea had been infected with Dragon Pox and survived for three months. Charlus had been murdered one month after her burial. Both had been buried at the family graveyard at Potter's Field, their ancestral home. Shortly after his father's death James had hidden the location of the manor and nobody had been on the property since. It was literally impossible and absolutely fatal for strangers to gain access to the Potter's home.
„James wrote to me...after Charlus died. Then half a year ago no answers came back for my letters and then two weeks ago the tapestry at home showed his death..."
Remus' fingernails were pressing hard into the flesh of his hands now, desperate to not let out a howl of anguish.
Suddenly small nimble fingers tore at his hands. „Don't do that! You'll break your fingers like this." Moony snarled at the bossy tone and tried to wrench his hands away. How could anybody else understand the pain he was rolling around in at the moment. He was alone.
A young woman stood to his side, dabbing a small white handkerchief to the self inflicted wounds on his hands.
He saw riotous black curls flying like a halo around a tear streaked face with a strong and firm jaw and then James hazel eyes stared at him disapprovingly.
„You should be glad they didn't cut to deep. This will be hurting for a while." and without much aplomb the small woman wrapped the linen cloth around his hand and turned to Fleamont.
„Dad says he's got a hold on Dumbledore for the moment. We will be waiting at the gate." and with a swirl of black glossy hair and a furious frown she turned towards the Cemetery gate.
Fleamont snorted without humour in his voice. „Jean's my granddaughter and she absolutely loved her cousin although they didn't see each other often."
Remus swallowed thickly. She had appeared and vanished like a ghost. „She looks like the sister he always wanted..." fresh tears spilled over and ran down his face.
Fleamont raised an eyebrow at the young werewolf.
„Where's that boy Dorea liked so much? „
An unhappy high chortle tore from Remus throat. „Sirius? Didn't you get the news? He's in Azkaban at the moment and according to them" he made a sweeping gesture with his hands, „he's responsible for all this!"
Fleamont shock his head. „One thing I learned from Dorea when we were in school together is that family is everything for a Black. That boy had practically adopted her as his mother and I know that once a Black makes up his mind about something he stays on it. She was his family, James was his family and Sirius would have rather died than betray family!"
The blond werewolf stared at the ground grinding his teeth. „He was...IS Harry's godfather."
Fleamont's face turned to stone in an instant. „Is he? Harry's survived the attack as far as I know. This another reason for me then to talk to Albus...Excuse me, son but I guess my family can't stall him any longer."
Jean, the young woman from before, stood right next to a tall man with the impossible Potter hair and furiously waved her hands at her grandfather.
„Maybe once this is all settled we can write and try to find reason in this mess. James liked you lots...maybe then I can you show the letters and family photos. Give you advice over tea or something. You sure look like you need it at the moment."
Remus could only watch, still fighting with his tears as Fleamont and immediate family descended on Dumbledore like a pride of lions on an unsuspecting antelope.
The rain began to pour down in earnest again when he turned to the apparation point.
Half a year letter he remembered Fleamont's words when he lost his job on a miserable May morning. However the owls he send came back either with no answer or unopened letters and soon Remus gave up. He had more pressing matters, like his survival and how he could hold a roof over his head to tend to.
Clearly all those fine words had just been meant to placate him...he would invite a werewolf into their home. It was laughable since Remus had believed it.
He didn't write any more letters and tried to forget about the strange meeting in the cemetery, though every time he visited Godric's Hollow on James birthday he was reminded about the wistful sad smile James cousin had shown him when he turned on the apparation point.
He didn't know back than that he would see exact the same smile later on a slightly different face.
So ...here is the first chapter of my new story. I hope I can stay on this project since self-esteem and depression are a big thing for me right at the moment.
Yes I'm on the idea that Charlus should be Harry's grandfather, so don't come whining to me about it.
This will be a slow burn ...a very slow burn so I hope all who read this find the patience for reading this piece.
the title is from the Shakespeare Sonnet 18 last verse: So long as men can breath, or eyes can see
So long lives this, and this gives live to thee.
feel free to write and review I'm open for questions ^^