Summary- While staying at the Potter manor for the beginning of summer vacation, Remus Lupin finds a mysterious little book called Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. After learning that his best friend dies in the future, he makes a decision that will change everything for the Potter family. What will life be like 18 years later. . . ?
A/N- Not your average "Marauders read the Harry Potter" story. I hope you enjoy it, because I certainly enjoyed writing it.
I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER
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Remus Lupin's POV
I looked through the rows upon rows of books in the Potter library, adding more to my tall mountain of books as I went. It was the beginning of our summer vacation and I had no idea when I was going to be forcefully dragged out of the manor by my mother. Because of her, I had to read as many books as I could from the Potter manor while I was still present. Their library was twice the size of the Hogwarts library.
I finished with the bottom row of a bookcase and began looking at the books above it. My fingers grazed each and every book as I walked by them, helping me to focus on one book at a time. Without thinking, my hand grabbed a small paper back book. I glanced at it curiously. The spine was worn out but I could just make out the words. At the top was the author's name, Rowling, and underneath that was a box. Year 1, it read. Before I could flip the mysterious book over and examine the cover, a voice summoned me.
"Moony!" The voice called out desperately.
I sighed. Usually when I'm called away from the library, I don't get to come back until the next day. I walked up to the table in the corner of the room with all my hand picked books and hauled them up, placing the small book on top as I did so. I wasn't able to pick up all my precious books, but I did get the majority of them. I stumbled to Prong's room and gently placed my books down on the floor. My back popped like an old man's as I stood up straight and swung around to face Prongs.
"What?" I asked him impatiently, hoping I would be able to return to the library again before a house elf put my books back on their shelves. James, also known as Prongs, was lying on his stomach reading Qudditch Through the Ages. He ignored me as he lazily flipped to the next page of his book.
"Moony!"
I diverted my attention to Padfoot sitting on Prong's bed. He was being hugged to death by a sleeping overgrown rat, otherwise known as Wormtail. I grimaced as Wormtail snuggled his head between the crook of Sirius's neck. Sirius struggled even more frantically than before.
"Get him off! He's drooling!" Sirius cried.
Without another word, I walked over to the bathroom connected to the room.
"Moony, now is not the time to take a dump!" Sirius yelled hysterically after me.
I rolled my eyes as I came out with a wet towel. Holding my hand underneath it to avoid a mess, I walked over to Peterand held the soaking wet towel above his head. "Sorry, Pete," was the only warning Peter got before he was drenched in freezing water.
Peter awoke with a start. His beady little eyes blinked as he looked around him. I gave him a apologetic smile as his eyes landed on me, before he turned his attention to the person his arms were around.
"Uh, hi, Padfoot," he said hurriedly as he jumped away from Sirius and the bed. "Are--"
"Why is it always me, Peter?!" Sirius shouted, interrupting Wormtail. "Why?!"
"Sirius," I warned before turning and sitting next to my pile of books.
"No! I'm so sick of Peter always going lovey dovey on mewhen he sleeps. He never does it to anybody else; just me!" There was no stopping Padfoot when he got like this. "One of these days I'm going to find myself na--"
I tuned him out as I grabbed the Rowling book from the top of my stack of books. On the cover was a boy with unruly black hair, large round glasses, and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He was flying after a golden snitch on his broom, his left arm outstretched in a frozen pose to catch the flying ball as a white unicorn ran into a forest in the background.
"Oi, Prongs," I said without removing my gaze from the book.
"Hmm?"
"Did you know Harry Potter?" I asked him after reading the title; Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
"Nope," he answered uninterestedly as he turned to the next page in his giant book. "Never even heard of him," he continued.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep, pretty positive. My dad made me study our family tree last year," he explained distractedly.
My forehead furrowed. The boy on the cover reminded me of Prongs, only with a scar and in cartoon form. They were too similar for them not to be related.
"What're you guys talkin' about?" Apparently Sirius was done yelling at Peter. I twisted around so I could get a view of Peter. He sat in the corner of the room cowering, but luckily he wasn't unconscious or hurt in any physical way.
"Sirius," I sighed. "What did you tell Wormtail?"
He gave me an evil grin. "Now what makes you think I told him anything?"
I rolled my eyes. It would be pointless to try and argue with Sirius Black. Instead, I turned to the book in my hands. The book was quite small; I could finish it in a few hours at the least, but something was stopping me. A strong sense of foreboding rolled off the book in waves.
Read it, an eery voice encouraged me. Find out what the book is about, it's not like it's evil. I opened the book up on my lap. Sirius was confused, I noticed, but I didn't know why.
"That book's smaller than the ones you usually read," he finally stated as he sat down beside me. "What's it about?"
"I'm not sure yet," I mumbled.
"Well, read the back."
I took his advice for once and flipped the book around to the back. Harry Potter, I read, has never played a sport while--
"Out loud, Moony. Why do you think I'm sitting over here; so I can watch you two read?"
I raised my eyebrow suspiciously. Sirius was never a big reader, and for him to want to listen to me reading was almost as strange as him walking up to Severus Snape and asking him out.
I glanced over at James to see his reaction. He was staring at his book with complete and unwavering interest. "Alright. . ." I cleared my throat and began reading the summary from the beginning.
"Harry Potter has never played a sport while flying on a broomstick. He's never worn a cloak of invisibility, befriended a giant, or helped hatch a dragon."
"Oh, so he's probably going to end up doing all that stuff in this book, am I right?"
"I don't know, Padfoot. I haven't read this book yet," I told him impatiently.
"Well, go on then. I want to know what else this book's about."
"Merlin. . ." I whispered with a shake of my head before getting back to the summary.
"All Harry knows is a miserable life with the Dursley's, his horrible aunt and uncle, and their abominable son, Dudley. Harry's room is a tiny closet at the foot of the stairs, and he hasn't had a birthday party in eleven years."
"Sucks to be him," Prongs commented as soon as I paused. He was no longer reading his book, but sitting up and listening to me read.
"Jamie! Your alive!"
"Um, why wouldn't I be, Padfoot?" asked Prongs.
"Well, you were staring at that book for a long time. I was beginning to think A, you were dead. Or B, you were brain dead," explained Padfoot in a calm manner.
"The fact that I might have been interested in what I was reading never crossed your mind?"
"Nope, not really."
I shook my head at the two, unable to keep a small smile from working its way onto my face. They were my brothers. Although I complained and acted as if they annoyed me- which they do occasionally- I wouldn't be able to live without them. And Peter, of course.
"But all that is about to change when a mysterious letter arrives by owl messenger: a letter with an invitation to a wonderful place he never dreamed existed. There he finds not only friends, aerial sports, and magic around every corner, but a great destiny that's been waiting for him. . . if Harry can survive the encounter."
"Lets read it," Sirius, of all people, announced.
"Yeah," Prongs nodded. "It sounds pretty interesting."
"Prongs, it's supposedly about one of your ancestors," I told him seriously. I guess I was the only one getting weird vibes from this book.
James scrunched his eyebrows together. "But nobody was ever named Harry in my family," he told us, his hazel eyes looking confused.
"Maybe it's a different Potter,"offered Sirius.
"Whatever, let's just read."
I frowned uncertainly but didn't argue.
"The Boy Who Lived," I read dramatically.
"Dun dun dun!" Padfoot added helpfully.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."
"Ew, who wants to be normal?" James asked with a grimace just as Peter snorted in his sleep. The room fell quiet as we twisted around to see Wormtail. Seeing his sleeping figure curled up in a ball, Padfoot scooted closer to James.
"If you try to kiss me, I'll kill you," Prongs threatened him.
"But Jamsie, I love you!" he exclaimed as he threw his arms out and wrapped them around James.
"Padfoot, you were just yelling at Wormtail for harassing you when he was asleep, and now you go hugging Prongs when your awake?" I said.
"Yes, but there's a difference," was all Sirius said, his arms still tightly wrapped around his best friend.
"Oh, is there?" I asked sarcastically.
James grumbled angrily. "The difference is that I lost a bet."
My palm hit my forehead. "Maybe normal is a good thing. . ."
"They were the last people you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills."
"Boring!" Prongs yelled out suddenly.
"Agreed!"
"Continuing!" I yelled out last.
"He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache."
"How large is 'large'?" Padfoot asked curiously.
"Larger than yours," I answered impatiently. Never again will I read to them; they interrupt too much!
"No way. . ." Sadly enough, I couldn't tell whether he was joking or not.
"Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde--"
"Did you say blonde?" Padfoot said like an excited puppy.
"Yes, Padfoot, I said blonde."
"Mmm, I like blondes."
"They're okay but red--" James was interrupted by me.
"Yes, Prongs, we all know how much you love Lily."
"Hey! I do not love her, I simply--"
"Don't deny it or we'll stop stalking her for you." That shut him up.
Sirius laughed. "Nice one, Moony! You really are learning from me."
"Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors."
"Not your type of blond, Paddy. Besides, it's a girl," James commented.
"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed indignantly.
"I'm reading!"
"The Dursley's had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it."
"Ooh! Re--"
"Could I please just get through one sentence without being interrupted!?"
The room was silent.
"Jeez, Moony. That's all you had to say," Padfoot muttered after a few seconds.
I sighed as I flipped to the next page.
"They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters."
"Oi, what's wrong with the Potters?" James asked. "She's just jealous," he reassured himself, running his hand through his hair arrogantly.
I gave up on stopping their interruptions, and decided to join in on their comments. "What's there to be jealous of?"
"Hardy har har, Moony."
Padfoot and I exchanged grins.
"Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met in several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't even have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be."
"Is it just me, or do you guys also agree that unBlackish sounds better?" Sirius asked seriously.
I shook my head; only Sirius Black, I thought fondly.
"Nah, unPotterish sounds better, no competition," James argued. I stand corrected.
"The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that."
"I wonder what is so different about these Potter people," said Prongs.
Nobody had anything to say to that, although my stomach did begin to feel weird after the words left his mouth.
"When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair."
I paused in my reading. "You guys don't have any comments to make so far?" I asked incredulously.
They grinned and opened their mouths to speak.
"Never mind; I'm reading already."
"None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house."
"I liked the voice you used for Mr. Dursley," Padfoot chuckled.
I glared at him. "What was wrong with it?" I asked defensively.
"Nothing," he laughed.
"He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map."
"A cat--" Prongs began.
"Reading a map?" Padfoot finished curiously.
"An animagus?"
"I do believe so, Prongs," agreed Padfoot.
"For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light."
"Of course," I said, my first time interrupting myself to make the first comment about the book. "That's just like a muggle; to think of an excuse for every little thing that is out of the ordinary."
Prongs and Padfoot gave each other high fives. "We were wondering when you'd catch on," Prongs explained.
"Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive-no, looking at the sign, cats couldn't read maps or signs."
"It's Minnie!" James joked.
Although I knew it was a joke, his words still shook me up. Maybe it was the fact that Professor McGonagall was the only cat animagus I knew.
"Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
"But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks."
"Wait, what?" I asked in confusion. "Why would wizards be stupid enough to go around as, well, wizards?"
"Relax, Moony. It's just a story," Prongs told me calmly. "You get too caught up in books to remember that most of them lie to you. That's why Padfoot and I stick to magazines!" He said proudly. "And Quidditch Through the Ages," he added quickly.
I nodded my head, but didn't take his words seriously.
"Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something ... yes, that would be it.
The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though the people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead."
"That's got to be the longest you two have let me read," I announced happily, a small smile on my face.
"Then why'd you have to ruin the winning streak?" Padfoot questioned with false anger.
The smile slid off my face and I looked down at the book. "It was kind of scary," I grumbled honestly.
"Let's try to beat our record!" Prongs yelled, earning him a smack on the head by me.
Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled a five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard -"
"- yes, their son, Harry - "
I stood up from the floor without warning. "Are you guys hungry? I'm hungry," I said quickly, setting the book down on the floor and walking towards the door.
Padfoot and Prongs stared at me curiously.
"Food," I stated. It was as if I said the magic words, because in a second the two were up and out of the door.
"C'mon Moony!" They yelled simultaneously drom across the hall.
"I'll meet you guys down there; I have to wake Peter up first."
They seemed to accept my excuse as they slid down the stair railings and ran to the kitchen.
As soon as they were out of sight, I grabbed the book and ran it to my room in the Potter Manor. I wasn't actually hungry; I just needed to get rid of the book. There was something odd about it, something my werewolf senses didn't like.
I hid it under my pillow, knowing it would be safe there for some reason, and returned to Prong's room to wake up Wormtail.
--
It was twelve o'clock a.m. when we finally decided to go to bed. Wormtail had left a little after we ate lunch; his mom was apparently really sick and wanted him to come home immediately. He told us not to expect him to come over tomorrow, but not in those words.
Honestly, I didn't really mind. Wormtail had been acting weird strangely; always giving us lame excuses why he couldn't hang out with us, fidgeting more than usual, disappearing off the Marauders map, etc. There was something going on with him. Prongs and Padfoot told me not to worry about it, that Wormtail had probably just found himself a girlfriend, but I didn't buy it.
I stretched in my bed, causing me to remember the book that was hiding beneath my pillow. I pulled it out eagerly and opened it up in front of me. Without even thinking about the consequences and weird feelings I had gotten from the book earlier that day, I began reading.
I read a few small paragraphs before something stopped me in the book. "Don't be sorry my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!" I repeated in shock. It couldn't be. . . I turned the book around to look at the back. What I saw made my blood freeze. "That - that can't be." The back of the book I had seen earlier today was no longer there, instead there were large claw marks, but they weren't animal-like. It looked as if something was trying to get rid of the words on the book without actually ripping the back cover off completely. I knew for a fact it hadn't been like that earlier. Suddenly, I began to notice every little sound in the house; every little creak the floor boards made, the howling wind as it shook the window shutters, and even the little padding sounds the house elves made when they walked.
I shook my head. I'm being ridiculous. But I knew that wasn't true. Something didn't want me to read something that was on the back of the book-- the date, perhaps?
I set the book down next to me. Maybe I really shouldn't read this. And just like that, all my earlier emotions about the book flooded me. Every bad thought, every curious one, the weird vibes, everything. I couldn't handle it all at once, but there was nothing I could do. I squeezed my eyes shut and when I opened them a minute later, the thoughts gone from my head, the book was in my hands as if it had always been there. I stared at it in horror. Something really wanted me to read the book, but why?
I sighed miserably as I opened the book up. "Damn curiosity."
I gasped in shock a few minutes later. Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was in this book.
When I read about the cat actually being Professor McGonagall, I was unsurprised. "Where Dumbledore goes, Professor McGonagall is sure to follow," was the only comment I made about that.
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like your self can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."
"No. . . This book-- no, it has to be fiction. . ." But I continued to read anyway.
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now.
For some strange reason, I wasn't looking forward to finding out what it was she was most anxious to discuss.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead."
I dropped the book angrily. My whole body was trembling. My best friend, my brother, supposedly died in the future. But James Potter couldn't die. He was too full of life, too energetic. He didn't deserve to die at such a young age, if he really did; I still wasn't fully convinced that this wasn't some sick prank from Snape or Malfoy.
"This is a fiction book; it's just someone trying to scare me," I tried telling myself. Yet, Dumbledore acted like Dumbledore, and the same could be said for McGonagall. Also, how would somebody know James wanted to start a family in Godric's Hollow? I threw my head back onto my pillow. "This is not happening," I grumbled.
Whether the book was from the future or not, I promised myself right then and there that I wouldn't let any of my friends die, not if I could help it. We were the Marauders, and one of our rules was that we would always be there for each other.
Maybe if I read the rest of the book things would have been different, but I never got to because the next day the book disappeared.
--
A/N -Next chapter will be 20 years later, and in Harry's POV. What will Harry's life be like? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out.
Wow, this was a long chapter. The next chapters probably won't be as long, maybe 3,000 words instead of 4,500.