Author's notes:
Standard disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. Except where I might use some song lyrics which I will call out at the time and give proper credit. Thank you JKR for letting us play with your toys.
HARRY POTTER AND THE MUGGLE'S DAUGHTER
Remus
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Remus:
If Simper has delivered this to you, then somehow the worst has happened and He – I do not use his name for fear of the taboo – has caught up to us. Merely writing the name is not supposed to bring the snatchers down on you, but who can know for certain what that bastard has thought up.
I know things appear very dark right now, but if my plans have worked, neither Harry nor myself are dead. No matter what, you must believe this, Remus. You must also know He is not dead either. I can say no more than look to my journal. Show this to Simper and she will bring it to you.
I created a Charm, Remus. I have named it the Heart's Shield. I cannot over emphasize the difficulty of casting this spell. The Patronus Charm is child's play compared to the skill, concentration and willingness needed to cast the Heart's Shield. Only the most profound Love can ever hope to power the charm. Simply, the Castor will never regain what they place into Charm because it requires the sacrifice of the Castor's magic to set it. Yes, I am fully aware of what I've just written. The result though, will be the creation of a living shield on the Subject of the Charm capable of reflecting any of the Unforgivables. Once again, I am fully aware of what I've just written. If the subject of the Charm is later to become the target of the Killing Curse, the Charm will protect the subject by reflecting the Killing Curse back upon the Castor.
As for the Castor of the Heart's Shield, as stated, they will lose their magic in the process. I am not absolutely certain, but it is my belief this sacrifice will leave the Castor lower than the weakest Squib or Muggle. It is my theory the Castor will become invisible, or perhaps immune is the better term, to magic. Whatever, I believe the result will be that spells cast upon he or she will have no affect of noticeable measure. Though I am somewhat less certain with the Castor of the Charm than I am the Subject, I believe this applies to the Unforgivables as well. It is possible I am wrong and the casting of an Unforgivable on the Castor of the Heart's Shield will have some measurable affect. In the case of the Killing Curse this may well yet be death. More likely, I suspect something akin to the effects of being given Draught of Living Death. Though unlike with Draught of Living Death I believe there will eventually be recovery in given time.
You know we went into hiding, Remus. What you don't know is we did so not because He had targeted James and I but because He had targeted Harry. Albus told us a prophecy had been made that predicted whom the person to defeat Him would be. Harry is one of two people who fit the description. If you're reading this, it means He found us.
If Harry has somehow survived the Killing Curse, you know why. If it appears I am dead, do not trust it. It may be true, but more likely it is that I am in a deep coma. Your curse is my grace, Remus. Your wolf senses will know.
I'm counting on you, Remus.
Love always,
Lily.
Remus Lupin stared at the letter Lily had arranged be delivered to him in the event of her death in disbelief. Much of what she had spoken of had come to pass – she had always seemed to have moments of prescience. But even she couldn't have planned for everything that had happened. Voldemort hadn't just caught up with them. No, Sirius, a man Remus had come to view as a brother, had betrayed them. He had been the Secret Keeper for the house in Godric's Hallow. He had told Voldemort where to find them.
James had been killed protecting his wife and child. The Dark Lord had killed Remus' other best friend himself. And with James dead, the Dark Lord had then tried to kill Harry and Lily. But something had gone wrong. Just as Lily's letter said he would be, Harry was still alive. Voldemort was gone; struck down by his own reflected curse. Though if everything Lily said was to be believed this was only a temporary reprieve. Still, Harry, barely yet a toddler, was being hailed a hero by the magical world.
He was, The-Boy-Who-Lived.
Lily herself though, she appeared to really and truly be dead. Remus had seen her body earlier that very day. But according to the letter in his hands she might not be. Had his grief prevented him from noticing what she was telling him?
His thoughts drifted to Sirius again. The bastard had compounded his crime by hunting down and killing Peter – along with twelve innocent Muggles in the process – before ministry personnel had caught up to him. Remus was certain he had been on the list as well, spared only because the traitorous snake had been caught. He forced his anger at his former friend aside and read through Lily's letter again. Sirius would no doubt get his, in keeping company with the Dementors of Azkaban very soon. Right now he had more important things to deal with.
He focused on the little house elf that had delivered the letter to him. "Can you feel her, Simper?" he asked.
"Mistress?" she asked.
Remus nodded. "Yes."
"Simper thinks so but is unsure."
"Unsure?"
"It might only be hope that Simper feels."
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Two days later Remus returned to the house in Bourton-on-the-Water. He tore the door open, leaving it to swing wide behind him. It took three steps for him to reach the first floor and another two to reach the bedroom. The worst of his fears was alleviated at the sight of the body on the bed. He slid to his knees by the bedside where he forced his racing heart to slow. Once he felt controlled enough he laid his head on Lily's chest and waited. It was near five minutes before he felt her chest rise slightly to be followed by a single, soft thumping of her heart. He sagged back on his haunches. "Thank Merlin," he whispered.
The heat activated Switching Spell had worked perfectly. The flames consuming the single casket holding the two bodies provided the perfect cover to hide the flash of magic when the spell activated. They had tripped the charm and Lily had been moved to the bed she now rested in. An unclaimed body he had found in one of London's many morgues had replaced her. Consoling himself with the vow that he, at least, would visit and know the truth of who rested in Lily's grave, he tried not to think about the crime he'd committed against the unknown homeless woman. James, Remus figured his friend would forgive him for saving his wife's life.
As the stress of the last few hours bled from his body Remus began to shiver uncontrollably. The most difficult thing he'd ever done in his life was to trust the charm he'd performed to work. It wasn't even particularly difficult magic. For someone of his skill he should have been able to manage it in his sleep. But if he'd gotten it wrong, Lily would have been burnt alive before his eyes and he wouldn't have known till he returned to the house and not found her in the bed. He now understood the strain she must have felt when it was her charm work being trusted to keep someone alive and it only served to deepen his admiration of her.
"Well Lils," he said. "We've done it. Harry's alive. You're alive. Now you just need to wake up so we can go collect him from your sister. I know you didn't want him there, but Sirius is in prison and Albus has invoked some form of ancient blood magic on Petunia's house that will keep Harry safe from any of Voldemort's remaining followers. He's quite adamant about Harry being there and warned me not to check up on him or interfere… He's up to something, Lils. I don't know what it is but I've not got a leg to stand on in getting Harry away from there. I got the impression he wanted me as far away from Harry as he could get me… I'm sorry Lils, but I figure getting myself run out of town won't do you or Harry any good. I'll do my best to check up on him, I promise. But you really need to wake up, so I'd appreciate it if you'd do it sooner rather than later."
He turned with the sense of a new presence in the room. "Is true?" Simper whispered. "Mistress is being alive?"
Remus nodded. "She is."
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Remus groaned and pushed himself from the ground. The potion Lily had created shortly after graduation from Hogwarts had been a godsend. The transformation would never be enjoyable, but it was no longer agony. As wonderful as that was, by far her greatest achievement had been finding a way to keep the madness at bay. As long as he took the Wolfsbane Potion, he, not the wolf, remained in control. Stumbling about he pulled on his clothes before focusing on the light streaming down from above.
"Simper?" he called.
The elf poked her head over the edge of the hole. A moment later she lifted the grate covering the hole to the side and lowered a ladder down for him. Remus clambered up; grateful to once again be free of his monthly prison. Once he was free of the entrance she closed the gate with a loud clang and locked it again. "Master Remus really should stop this," the elf chastised him.
"It's the only way to be sure I don't hurt anyone," Remus countered. He picked his wand up from where he'd set it the night before.
"Mistress' potion makes Master Remus safe. What would happen to Master if something happened to Simper and she could not open the grate to let Master out?"
Remus frowned. The elf had a point. The oubliette they'd constructed to hold him during his monthly transformations would be a death sentence for him if she failed to let him out. "If it were Lily brewing the potion I'd trust not being locked up," he said.
"Mistress did not create the potion only for Master to starve to death."
Remus sighed. Apparently she wasn't going to be put off. "Perhaps we could devise a time delay to unlock the grate," he offered.
"And this will help Master how? He will still need to climb without the ladder."
"What if we devised something that would return my wand to me after I transformed back to human. Then I could conjure a ladder and unlock the grate myself."
"Master Remus should just not lock himself up." Remus glowered at the elf.
She pressed her lips together tightly. "Simper will magic a device to return Master's wand to him when it is safe," she agreed reluctantly.
"Thank you, Simper."
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September 3 1981
I believe I have discovered who Voldemort is. It has always stuck me as strange that he just seemed to show up. Where did he come from, where was he trained? There just seemed to be no history of him so I determined the name must have been made up. I was right.
Believe it or not, of all places, I found it in Hogwarts' library. In searching through the archives of former students I came across an essay written by a former Head Boy by the name of Tom Riddle. It discussed the relationship between Summoning and Banishing Charms and, what can I say, I was intrigued. His theories were quite astounding and the paper, accordingly, was given full marks.
But what caught my eye was a passage in the middle where, over the course of sixteen lines, if read vertically, the first letter of each line spelled out the words, I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. Rather a unique Acrostic construction for someone to have accomplished by chance. Especially since each line was a complete sentence; meaning each of the letters was capitalized. Now, I'm as firm a believer as anyone that no-one is guilty till proven so, but this seemed rather more than circumstantial evidence to me so I did a bit more digging.
Tom Riddle's full name was TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.
Go ahead and rearrange the letters.
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
An Acrostic construction of the Anagram title he fashioned from his given name!
How is it no-one knows this?
Remus Lupin set aside Lily's journal and went back to the micro-fiche viewing machine. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr was not an easy person to find information on. The Ministry had next to nothing; just his school records and a notation that he had worked at Borgin and Burkes – a rather shady establishment dealing in magical artifacts – upon graduation from Hogwarts where he had been in Slytherin and Head Boy. After that, he fell off the map. Before Hogwarts no family was listed; just that he lived in a Muggle orphanage in London. Remus suspected the future Dark Lord had somehow expunged his family history from the Ministry's records.
The Cole Orphanage near Vauxhall Road in London had been even less of a help in finding out just who Tom Riddle was. Despite somehow surviving the German bombing of London during World War II, it closed shortly after. When, in 1951 Susana Cole, the great granddaughter of its founder Helena Cole passed away. The building subsequently burnt to the ground in July of 1952, taking every record up in smoke with it. A new Muggle office building now stood on the site.
With that lead lost, it had been a long slow slog tracing the ancestry of Tom Marvolo Riddle. The name Riddle had no history in the magical world, so odd as it sounded Remus had begun scouring Muggle records. Finally it appeared he might have something; the obituary of a Tom Riddle Sr of Little Hangleton. He carefully marked down the numbers on the fiche before shutting the machine down and removing the roll. Packing his things up he headed for the librarian's desk where he politely requested printouts of the noted sections. Ten minutes later, copies in hand, he ducked into the alley behind the library and apparated to the house in Bourton-on-the-Water.
"Hello, Simper," he said upon appearing in the parlour.
The little house elf curtsied. "It is good Master is back," she answered.
"Simper, how many times do I need to ask you not to call me Master?"
Simper smiled. "Once more, Master."
"You aren't even my elf, Simper. You belong to Lily."
"It does not matter."
Remus gave an exasperated sigh. "How is she?"
Simper frowned. "The same as she was when Master left."
Remus reached out to give the elf a pat on the shoulder. "I know it's hard but I'm beginning to think we may need to be patient for a long time, Simper."
"It has been near a year already," the elf whispered.
Remus gave her shoulder a squeeze. "It has, but I can tell you her heart is beating faster. It's only a minute or so between beats now. Her breathing is the same as well."
"Simper knows this. But it is not waking up. Mistress must wake so we may get Master Harry away from Mistress' nasty sister."
Remus sighed. "Yeah," he agreed dejectedly. He gave the elf's shoulder another squeeze. "I think I'll take tea while I visit with her. Will you bring it please?"
"Simper is pleased to serve, Master."
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Remus knelt on the ground. Blown by a chill October wind, summer's discarded leaves rustled amongst the tombstones. There were already quite a number of flowers and other offerings from people wishing to pay their respects, on this, the first anniversary of their deaths, to the murdered parents of the boy who had stopped Voldemort. Of course none of them knew the deception concealed beneath the earth and he wasn't about to tell them. He placed his offering on the growing pile before placing a single white tulip atop the stone.
"Forgive me," he whispered softly. After a time spent paying respect to a nameless woman, he turned his attention to James. "Hello, old friend," he said. "I don't really know what to say. It seems selfish of me to hope you're watching. If our places were switched, I know it would be agony to see all that's happened and be unable to do anything about it… I feel the unselfish hope is that you are somehow unaware of what you left behind. Perhaps that is Heaven. You die and you just keep going in a perfect world where there is no war, Lily falls asleep in your arms every night, Harry is now a walking terror to the parlour and Sirius never betrayed us." He stopped, sighing deeply.
"If you can see us, I pray you believe I'm doing the best I can. I don't know if I'm doing right by Harry or not, James. I know Lily didn't want him there. But they were sisters. They cared for each other once, didn't they? Surely she wouldn't take her issues with Lily out on an innocent child… Or am I just making excuses because it's easier this way?" He stopped, sighing deeply. "I need help, James," he whispered when he went on. "I'm no good to either of them if I end up in Azkaban. Wherever she is, if you can reach her from where you are, you need to get her to wake up." He fell silent again for quite some time before wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand and standing to go.
He touched his hand to the stone briefly. "Please," he whispered before a sharp crack left the graveyard empty.
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Remus sighed as he sat down in the chair. He was fairly certain the Ministry purposely selected the most uncomfortable chairs on purpose. It seemed a good way to discourage people waiting around for any length of time. Sure it sounded petty, but he didn't doubt that was the actual purpose of it. Fortunately, because even cushioning charms could only do so much, he was used to discomfort. He flipped open the tome and got to work.
Two hours later Remus' brow rose slightly. A magical family by the name of Gaunt had lived in Little Hangleton around the same time as the Tom Riddle he had found in the Muggle library. He flipped the page. "Ouch!" Remus scowled at his finger and the rather nasty parchment cut he'd just received. It was enough to draw blood. "As if I don't get cut up enough by trees every month," he muttered. He drew his wand and healed the cut before returning to scan the document. It was a few seconds later that he softly whispered, "Gotcha."
Sure, much of it was speculation on his part, but a Merope Gaunt was the daughter of a Marvolo Gaunt. They, along with Merope's brother Morfin Gaunt lived only a short distance from Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. She would have been of the right age to be the mother of Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. The time was right. The ages were right. The place was right. And, most importantly, the names were right. It all fit to well. He almost laughed. As he'd begun to suspect, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord-I-Am-A-Pure-Blood-Voldemort was a half-blood! If the idiots who followed him only knew.
He gave his head a little shake and bent over the tome again; painstakingly tracing the Gaunt line. About an hour later he nearly fell off his chair. Very quickly he flipped back to Merope and traced it again. It only took about half an hour the second time through but he was 99% certain Tom Riddle Jr was the last living descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself.
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1 October, 1981
Well that was amazing. I have just returned from speaking with the legendary Nicholas and Pernelle Flamel. That's right, little Lily Evans Potter impressed the creator of the Philosopher's Stone with her correspondence to such a degree she gained and audience with him. Of course it helped that Horace – yes I don't particularly like him but connections are everything in this world and I don't just mean the magical one – and Albus pushed for it, but I like to think my prowess at potions had something to do with it as well.
Anyway, he confirmed what I already suspected. The process of creating the Philosopher's Stone is obscenely difficult. It is not something that can be done simply by following the directions. Anyone less than a potions savant simply wouldn't have the intuition needed to know when, where, how, how much, etc. etc. to manage it. Brewing the Elixir of Life, while significantly less time consuming – it takes twenty to twenty-four hours – is only slightly less difficult. It must be brewed every six months, is specific to each person taking it and is never exactly the same twice.
My study of Tom Riddle leads me to believe he would not choose this method to achieve immortality. To be fair, everything I've seen of his schoolwork indicates he was a skilled brewer, but he was not the one in a million or perhaps one in ten million savant he would need be for this. Unless he was hiding his skill as a student of potions I do not believe he is good enough to accomplish the task and he would most certainly not rely on someone else to do it for him. Even if he did, I do not feel anyone in his service we are aware of could brew it. Perhaps, with a few decades more study, there would be one.
The same applies for me.
This, unfortunately, leaves me still at a loss as to what method Tom has chosen to achieve his goal of immortality.
October 18 1981
Addendum to previous entry. I have found it. Because I came across it within the scope of my work within the Department of Mysteries I am prevented from saying what it is. I must find reference to it outside of my work as an Unspeakable so that I can pursue this with Remus.
This is the single most important thing I can do to end the war.
Remus Lupin set Lily's diary aside. Four years, he had been searching for what Lily believed she had found and he still had no clue. This was the problem when you were merely intelligent and not the genius Lily was. He had spent countless hours researching every legend related to immortality he could find. Every single one was compiled on a list to share with her when she eventually woke. If one of them was what she had found then the taboo she was under would be circumvented and they'd be able to discuss it. The problem was he doubted any of them were right.
He reached for Lily's hand, closing his around her wrist. Her heartbeat was strong enough now he could feel it pulse in her wrist. It was a small relief to be grateful for. He'd never been comfortable laying his head on her chest. He sat for five minutes, watching the sweep of the second hand on his watch before he let go. "Steady at every nine seconds," he said, "getting better, Lils."
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Late August of 1987 Remus found himself in Diagon Alley smack in the middle of the back to school rush of students and parents preparing for the coming year at Hogwarts. He'd needed ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion and the apothecary there carried the freshest wolfsbane in the UK. He'd found it made a significant difference to his monthly recovery if it was as fresh as possible. He was just leaving when he ran smack into a young boy. He staggered back a step while the lad was knocked clean off his feet to land heavily on his bum.
Remus recovered himself quickly and bent to help the young man up. "I'm terribly sorry about that."
The boy took his hand and Remus hauled him up. He was rather tall and quite thin with bright, tomato-red hair. "It's quite alright sir. I should have been paying attention to where I was going."
Remus chuckled. "Perhaps both of us should have been doing that. I suspect you're here to collect your school supplies?"
The lad puffed himself up proudly. "Yes sir, it's my first year at Hogwarts."
Remus grinned. "I remember my first year almost like it was yesterday. You'll make the most amazing friends and nothing at all beats being able to practice magic on a daily basis." He stepped to the side and held the door open. "Well, run along with you then. And don't forget to have a bit of fun while you're doing all that revision."
"Yes, sir." He stepped past into the shoppe and Remus turned to go. That'll be Harry in a few years, he thought.
It was later that night as he sat in his chair in the corner of Lily's room, scouring over his notes yet once again that something began to prick at Remus' consciousness. He frowned and reread the most recent passage again, idly playing with his mustache as he did. He quickly determined that wasn't it and went back a bit further. But that wasn't the answer either. Frowning, he set his notebook aside and focused his attention on Lily. She was getting stronger; he knew it. Her heartbeat had moved into a range perfectly normal for someone who was merely asleep. Her breathing also had become normal. If he paid attention he could see the soft rise and fall of her chest and if he really strained his ears his wolf heightened senses could hear the thumping of her heart. He focused his full attention on her, allowing some of the wild beast that lived in his blood to rise. Perhaps something had changed with her. A short while later he sat back in his chair. Nothing, at least nothing he could pick up on. Still, something was bothering him. He went back to idly playing with his mustache, closed his eyes and just tried to relax. It hadn't been while he was agitated by his inner wolf that he'd twigged to something. No, he'd been relaxed and at ease. Some five minutes later his eyes snapped open. Very deliberately he inhaled as deeply as he could. He held the breath, letting the scent linger in his nostrils till he had no choice but to exhale again.
"Impossible," he whispered.
He moved his hand, cupping it over his nose and inhaled again. The scent, somewhat stronger this time, remained.
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January 3 1981
I've just returned from the most fascinating lecture presented by an American Scientist by the name of Rubin Vera. She's one of the world's leading experts regarding the idea of Dark Matter.
I imagine she, as well as the words Dark Matter, will mean nothing to all but a very few witches or wizards. Even those who are aware of her or her ideas likely have no concept of their importance. We should though. Because I'm fairly certain our ability to perform magic rests in the ability to manipulate this Dark Matter.
If correct, I give it about a hundred years before Muggle scientists know more about Dark Matter than even the most knowledgeable sorcerers.
You know, I've decided I hate the word Muggle. From now on I'm going to use the term No-Maj like the American's do. It just sounds better.
Anyway, as soon as this damn war is over I really want to research this more. Sorcerers will be in a world of hurt if No-Maj's figure out how to start manipulating Dark Matter like we do.
Remus set Lily's journal aside and scrubbed at his face. The things she came up with astounded him. She truly was a genius and he wondered if she were to take one of those Muggle IQ tests where she would score. But like most geniuses she was scattered. Some new shiny bobble would catch her eye and she'd be off in a blink. She seemed to have an insatiable desire to learn everything and anything she could.
Shaking his head he picked up his journal and reviewed his most recent entry.
8 September, 1987
Herpo the Foul was a Dark Wizard of some renown whom first appears in ancient Greece in the mid to late 400s B.C. Historical record is scant and indeed it seems from the moment of his 'last' confirmed death a concerted effort has been made to remove his name and deeds from history.
This effort, while impressive, has, of course, failed. Greece was the major civilization of Europe. It traded and warred as far away as China, Spain and Egypt. Stories of Herpo stretched the entirety of the nation's reach.
There is some supporting evidence he was a Parselmouth. This is further corroborated by hearsay he was the first wizard to breed a Basilisk. Perhaps his name, being derived from the ancient Greek word Herpeton: meaning reptile, supports these two legends. If true, it would seem certain Herpo was not his given name but one later bestowed for his unique skills and pursuits.
Again evidence is scant but points to Herpo having been governor of the city of Kalchedon near what is now the city of Istanbul. First mention is around 420 B.C. If it is assumed the Name Herpo was bestowed later in life it stands to reason he was in place in the city sometime before this. Official record fails from this point with no record to be found of any of the city's rulers until 223 B.C. when Lysimachos was installed as Governor by Antigonos III Doson
What happens during the intervening 200 years exists only by word of mouth and was not put to parchment or tablet till the year 34 A.D. A scroll unearthed in 666 A.D. – A curious number, some will note – tells the tale of a Herpo the Foul.
It speaks of a man who commanded the most fearsome of snakes; a beast that could kill with but the gaze of its hideous yellow eyes. He went into battle with a great sword of deathly edge that shone with dark light and never dulled. Twice he was felled in battle, the first was by spear that pierced his black heart. The second, he was stuck upon the neck such that only his skin kept his head from rolling away.
Each time he was carried away by his legions; only to return more fearsome and terrible than before. He was finally defeated a third time when his own army turned on him. His skull was cleaved open and while not yet dead most certainly unconscious. His army as well as that of his enemy, determined to finally see the last of him, took his body, along with his great sword and placed him at the entrance to a cave known to be home to a most fearsome dragon. The dragon was provoked into spraying his flame on the body. Two distinct wails of horrific pain were heard to come from within the flames. Once the dragon had consumed the body of Herpo, all that remained were the twisted remnants of his sword.
The undying wizard never returned.
I believe I have uncovered the secret of Herpo the Foul. Among those who can wield magic, it is known that the soul is eternal. It is further known that committing the act of murder damages the soul. Metaphorically, it is said to split. It is my hypothesis that, in the truest sense, Herpo somehow managed to split his soul. This split piece of soul was then placed in an object – in this case I believe it to have been his sword. This object then becomes an anchor for the rest of the soul. Herpo's body could be killed, but his soul would not pass on to the spirit realm. As long as the anchor remained intact, he was, for all intents and purposes, immortal. For as long as was necessary for Herpo to construct a new body, the anchor would hold his soul in the mortal realm
It was not until the dragon's flames melted the sword housing the split portion of his soul that Herpo the Foul truly died.
Remus paused in his review. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side. Something was tickling at his senses. Long experience had taught him, whenever the wolf perked like this, to just be still. If there were something there it would come to him. If not, well, then just the same as for a normal human, it was nothing. He wasn't really aware of doing so, but slowly his head turned so that his left ear was best placed to hear something from the area of Lily's bed. It was so soft, the whisper of a butterfly's wings, but he swore he could hear the name Harry flitting through on the air. He'd very nearly dismissed it when he heard it again. He frowned and turned to fully face Lily. Like a moth drawn to the light he rose from his seat and moved to the side of her bed. The movement was as weak as the sound, but it was there. She was trying to speak.
He dove to her. Grabbing her hand in his. "Lily!" he cried.
Her mouth moved again and she wheezed, "Ha… rry."
"He's fine, Lily. He's fine. Oh God, tell me you can hear me. Please tell me you can hear me, Lils," he pleaded. Her only response was movement of her eyes behind closed lids. "Come on Lils," he urged. "Tell me you can hear me. If you can't talk squeeze my hand."
"R–R," she wheezed.
"YES!" Remus cried. "I'm here, Lils."
There was a soft pop and Simper was standing on the bed opposite Remus. She took Lily's other hand in hers. "Mistress?" she whispered hopefully.
It seemed to take forever, but Lily slowly turned her head about an inch towards the elf. "Sim–" she managed.
Tears streamed down the elf's face as she pressed Lily's hand to her cheek. "Simper is here, Mistress. She is doing as you told her and is so happy you are awake."
"C-can't see," she mouthed.
"Your eyes are closed," Remus answered. It took another few moments but her eyes slowly fluttered open. Through his tears Remus beamed at her. "You have no idea how I have missed your eyes," he said. She smiled but then her eyes closed again. "Lily?" Remus asked worriedly. He quickly moved his fingers to check her pulse.
"Mistress?" Simper asked.
"I think she's just sleeping," Remus said. Lily's hand twitched in Simper's. "She's going to be weak for a long time yet. She probably won't wake for more than a few minutes at a time."
Simper gently petted the back of Lily's hand. "Master Remus will go get Master Harry soon now, yes?" she asked.
"Very soon," Remus answered.
"Simper will bring tea and broth for Mistress?" she asked.
"She'll still need her potions for a while yet, but that's probably a good idea."
The elf gently laid Lily's hand back on the bed. "Simper will go now so she can be back when Mistress wakes again."
"Thank you, Simper." The elf popped away, leaving him alone with her again. Remus bowed his head. Holding her hand between his he held it to his forehead. "I never doubted you, Lils," he whispered. "I never doubted you."
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"Where is Sirius?" Lily asked. It'd been near two weeks since she'd first woke from the coma and just as Remus had predicted she only woke for a few minutes at a time. Today was her best day yet. She'd been awake for half an hour and even managed to hold the bowl of broth to her lips without help.
Remus hesitated. Up till today she'd been well out of it and reassurances that Harry was safe had been enough to put her off. Today, it seemed, she would learn the truth. "Lils," he said gently, "Sirius was the Secret Keeper, remember. He's in prison."
She frowned. "Prison?"
"Yes. Azkaban," he confirmed. "Lils?" he asked at the slowly growing look of horror on her face.
"Remus," she whispered, "Sirius wasn't the Secret Keeper. Peter was." Remus stared at her. A simple touch to the shoulder would have knocked him from his chair to the floor. "Remus, Harry is with the Longbottoms, isn't he?" Remus swallowed. Her eyes narrowed. "He's with the Diggorys?" Remus shook his head. Being a werewolf, he knew he wouldn't have been named. It would have required truly massive bribes being paid to make happen. But Lily would never have listed just Sirius as Harry's guardian if something were to happen to her and James. "Where is my son?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous. When he didn't answer she demanded, "Remus?"
Cringing as he said it he answered, "He's with Petunia." Her face contorted into a rictus of anger that left him grateful, yet disgusted with himself, that she was confined to a bed and could no longer perform magic.
"Go get him," she ordered
"Lils," Remus tried.
"Now, Remus. I don't care if you have to stun my sister and that bastard she married and tie them up to do it. I want my son under this roof and I want him here now."
"Lily, I can't just–"
"Go, or I'll send Simper."
Remus held his hand up. "Alright, alright, I'll go, but just listen to me for a second, please." She glowered at him. "First, it's the full moon tonight. I can't go. Second," he went on quickly, "we need to try and understand why Dumbledore placed him there and how we're going to keep it from him that Harry is no longer with your sister."
Lily visibly restrained herself before answering. "My son will be in this house the day after tomorrow or so help me I will go get him myself."
"Agreed," Remus answered.
She took another few moments to compose herself. "Talk to me, Remus. What's going on? Why is Sirius in prison, why isn't Harry with the Longbottoms or the Diggorys?"
Remus sighed deeply. "Lils, everyone thought Sirius was the Secret Keeper."
"But it was Peter. Didn't that come out in the trial?"
Remus cringed. "There wasn't a trial, Lils."
"What?" she asked incredulously.
"After… that night, things were crazy." He paused before pressing on and telling her everything he could remember of that night and immediate aftermath of the attack.
"So Sirius gives Harry to Hagrid so he can chase after Peter?" Lily asked. "Doesn't that strike anyone as strange, that after he'd supposedly given us up to Voldemort so he could kill Harry that he would just give Harry to someone else?"
"I don't know, Lils. A lot of things don't make sense."
"And now Sirius is in prison and the only person who could be produced as evidence to free him is dead?"
Remus pressed his palms into his eyes. "Yes… No," he whispered.
"Yes, no, what?"
"Lily, I think he might still be alive."
"You just told me he was blown up. All they found of him was his finger."
Remus rubbed his temples. "Just, bear with me here a second I'm trying to…"
"Trying to?" she prodded.
Remus' head snapped up. "Diagon alley," he gasped. He focused on his hand before bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. Of course the scent was long gone but he could remember it.
"Diagon alley?"
Remus stood and started pacing. "I was in Diagon Alley, getting supplies to make the potion. I ran into some kid coming out of the apothecary, knocked him clean off his feet. I remember helping him up and that was it. But then that night I was sitting here going over my notes and stuff and I could smell Peter's Animagus on my hand." He stopped and faced her. "He's alive. The little bastard blew up the gas line that killed those twelve Muggles and framed Sirius for it. He cut his own finger off to make it look like he died when what he really did was transform and escape. Lils, that bastard is posing as that kid's pet. I'd bet my life on it."
Lily stared at him. "Alright," she said, "the first thing—"
She was interrupted by Simper popping into the room. "Simper is sorry to interrupt, but it is only ten minutes before moonrise, Master Lupin."
"Right then," Remus said. He quickly crossed to Lily and pressed a kiss to her crown. "Tomorrow, while I'm recovering, we'll plan. The day after, I go get Harry."
She caught his hand. "Thank you, Remus. I know this can't have been easy and you've done the best you can."
He gave her hand a squeeze. "Love you, Sis."
She smiled. "You too. Now get going."
HPHPHP
Author's notes:
I try to do as much Brit speak as possible. For those who are unaware, the first floor in England is what we in the US call the second floor. Our first floor is their ground floor.
In keeping with Lily being excellent at Charms, I fully believe she could have created the Wolfsbane Potion. As a close friend of Remus' I see her having the motivation to do so. This is obviously another big change from canon. But she had to be in the Slug Club and one of Slughorn's favorites for a reason. Those reasons were her skill at Charms and Potions.
As you can probably tell, a large part of the story deals with Lily. We heard so little about her compared to James and the Marauders. I always thought that seemed odd. By the accounts we do know she was a bright and well liked witch. Which makes it very strange in my mind that we never heard about her friends. Surely she had friends outside of the Marauders and surely she would have named someone besides Sirius as a possible guardian for Harry.
And last, a struggle I've had with writing this story is when you make the adults even semi responsible, it becomes much harder for Harry and whomever to end up in all the messes they do. Because, let's face it, a responsible adult would have dealt with about 90% of the crap Harry had to go through. Amazingly, you can manage it when you make the bad guys a little bit less moronic.
