Minor Character Death.
Through Another's Eyes
By Neurotica
Eight
Remus sat dazedly on the front steps of a home in Cornwall, his mind spinning as he worked to block out the voices of Aurors who were investigating the scene inside. The moment he'd heard Kingsley's message, he'd known in the back of his mind what he and Sirius would find upon their arrival. He'd been able to convince himself during Apparition that the location was coincidence. But the moment he and Sirius had met up with Kingsley, and saw the sympathetic look Kingsley shot him as he filled Sirius in on the situation, his feeling of dread had returned tenfold.
Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, at least one Death Eater arrived on the scene. Whether the victim was killed instantly or if she had been tortured had yet to be discovered; Remus desperately hoped it had been quick. A suitcase was sitting at the foot of the stairs, there was no sign of forced entry or of a struggle. Helen Snowe just seemed to have fallen to the ground after she'd answered the door when someone had come calling; Remus would have believed she was sleeping if not for her wide, dull brown eyes staring at the ceiling or the expression of confusion and fear on her face, and the unnatural, contorted position of her body.
He wasn't even certain about what he was feeling right now. Sadness, certainly, along with anger, regret, loss. It hadn't been too long ago that Remus hadn't even believed he could have romantic feelings for a woman anymore; not that he wasn't interested, just that most women who looked at him standing between James Potter and Sirius Black couldn't possibly have the desire to have more than platonic feelings for him. Helen had been different on all accounts. She'd been genuinely interested in him from the beginning, had barely spared Sirius Black a glance let alone succumbed to his charms. Her reaction to finding out about Remus' condition had been unusual in the most pleasant way; in the past, any woman Remus informed about his being a werewolf either ran screaming, gone off in search of the silver bullets, or turned into something much more frightening than a werewolf. Remus briefly recalled a situation about nine years ago in which the woman he'd been seeing had decided his condition was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. When the subject came up, James and Sirius could still be counted on to laugh for hours at their friend's expense...
"All right, Moony?"
Remus immediately recognized the voice and could even see the wince on Sirius' face without looking around. "Fine," he muttered mechanically as Sirius sat beside him on the stairs. "Find anything we couldn't have guessed about?"
"Not really," Sirius said regretfully, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. "Is there anything you can tell us?"
Sighing and rubbing his hands across his face, Remus thought. "She's been out of town," he said quietly, "which you probably could have guessed by the suitcase."
"Where?"
"France," Remus replied. "Visiting a cousin. I didn't even know she was home; she wasn't supposed to be back for a couple more days..."
"Any reason anyone would want to hurt her?" Sirius asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
Remus looked at him sharply. "No one," he said firmly. "She was aware of the Order, but not a member. Her job wasn't something Voldemort or the Death Eaters would have thought worthy for their cause. Everyone who met her loved her." His voice cracked and he looked away from Sirius in the hopes that the burning in his eyes would pass. He felt Sirius move closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders in comfort. After a few minutes, Remus took a deep breath and nodded to his friend that he was okay. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Sirius said gruffly, patting his back before retracting his arm. "I know she meant a lot to you."
"Yeah," Remus murmured. He started to speak again, but was cut off by the appearance of James and Lily Potter at the end of the driveway. Lily wasted no time in making her way up the sidewalk and pulling Remus off the steps into a hug. Remus gratefully returned the hug, as it had the added value of blocking out Sirius bringing James up to speed.
Lily pulled away first, her eyes rather bloodshot from being awake the entire night before and crying now. "Helen... is she..." The redhead trailed off, unable to finish the question.
Remus nodded. "Yes," he said hoarsely. He looked around the yard, searching for a safer subject. "Where's Piper?"
"Alice is sitting with her," James explained. "She thought we'd be of more use right now." Remus nodded again. "Look, why don't you head back to the house with Lily? It's no good having you here, mate."
Remus shook his head. "Someone has to inform her family," he croaked.
"I'm sure Dumbledore will—" Sirius started to say.
"No," Remus replied firmly. "I'll do it."
Lily offered to go with him, but Remus shook her off, telling her to go be with Piper and started down the street before any of his friends could think to call him back. As he reached the Apparition point, he tried to shake off the lost feeling that was overcoming him and hoped he could make it to the Grangers' home in Surrey without splinching himself.
Before June, Harry hadn't had much experience dealing with death. Before June, the only people whose deaths had directly affected him were those of his mother and father. Before June, he hadn't had any idea how to go about comforting a person who had lost somebody close to him, having never received that comfort himself. But even after seeing Cedric Diggory murdered right before his eyes and experiencing people around him attempting to deliver all sorts of comfort, Harry was still uncertain how to go about making a person feel better.
Hermione had received an owl just before dinner had ended—as the large barn owl wearing a dark purple sash and carrying a black letter in its beak swooped into the Great Hall, an uneasy hush fell on the students and staff. Harry looked around uncertainly, having never seen this phenomenon where he'd come from, until Caleb shakily leaned over and explained in a whisper that the owl was from the Ministry of Magic and was here to inform some unsuspecting student of the worst news they could receive while away at school: the death of a close family member. All eyes were locked on the bird as it swooped lower and located the Gryffindor table, then as it found Hermione Granger. Though he watched helplessly as Hermione reluctantly accepted both the letter and the owl's deep hoot of sympathy, Harry was able to hear nearly every sigh of relief from the other students, even those from Neville and Ron who both quickly pushed aside their relief to help comfort Hermione.
Dumbledore and the other professors cleared out the Great Hall, allowing Hermione and her friends to remain for the moment—the witch was now crying into Ginny's shoulder, the letter she'd received lying open and abandoned on the table. Neville was the first one with enough nerve to reach over for the letter, making sure all the while that Hermione was looking the other way. He read it through once, shook his head sadly, and passed it to Ron.
"Her aunt," Neville said quietly to Harry's questioning glance.
Harry felt his heart sink. From what little interaction he'd seen between Hermione and her aunt, they were very close. And after his initial meeting with Helen Snowe, during which she'd helped solidify for Harry what his other self was like, he'd liked her immediately.
And I wasn't the only one... he thought sadly, thinking of Remus and his mother.
Wouldn't be the first time either of them went through this, said that very faint voice in the back of his mind. Don't suppose that makes it much easier to deal with though...
No, Harry thought back, glancing again at Hermione. Did you ever know anybody who...
Died? asked the voice. Yes. Neville's dad a few years back—his parents and mine, er, ours, I suppose, were always pretty close. That's the one I really remember. Then there was Peter, of course, even though he isn't actually dead.
"You all right?" Harry turned to find Caleb giving him a very strange look.
"Yeah," Harry replied, sparing the second year a quick, forced smile before turning back to see McGonagall and Dumbledore speaking quietly with Hermione. A few moments later, she was being led out of the Great Hall. "Just thinking..."
Caleb seemed suspicious, but nodded and stood from the table, leaving the hall with Ron, Ginny, and Neville. Harry trailed behind them more slowly, hoping to continue his private conversation.
Still there? he thought tentatively.
Yeah, the voice responded, sounding like a mere whispered echo.
Where've you been?
Around, was the very slightly amused reply. Harry could feel the voice retreating further and further back into his mind. Nice work with Lavender, by the way. I could've helped if you'd asked.
Feeling more confused than ever, Harry fought to keep the voice close, eager to find out what had happened since the incident on the platform. But before he could think of a suitable response, he felt something that resembled a door closing in his mind and knew the voice had gone again.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked himself under his breath. He wondered if he should go to Dumbledore, if he should tell the Headmaster that he was once again hearing the voice of the Harry Potter in this world. After a brief debate, he decided against it; Dumbledore had enough to worry about with Hermione at the moment and Harry wasn't eager to subject himself to more questions he couldn't answer, more tests and odd stares by the medical community. Anyway, at this point, he wasn't even certain he was hearing the other Harry; maybe his mind was just trying to find a way to comfort him, and this was the solution it had come up with.
Pushing back the thoughts that reminded him whatever world he was in, he'd never be normal, Harry entered the Gryffindor common room amidst several of his housemates looking at each other uncertainly; it seemed rather obvious that while they wanted to go about their normal business for the night, they didn't want to seem cold and callous in regards to Hermione's situation. Automatically, Harry turned towards the armchairs near the fireplace, where he used to sit with Ron and Hermione in the evenings; he turned away almost immediately upon finding Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati occupying that section of the room, each of them glaring at him. He'd very nearly forgotten what had happened with Lavender only that morning in light of what had just happened in the Great Hall.
He located Caleb sitting at a table with Ginny and Neville and took the empty chair, trying to ignore the way Ginny tried to surreptitiously scoot her own chair further away from him. "Where's Hermione?" he asked Neville.
"Dumbledore's office," the other boy replied. "Ron's with her; she's probably going straight home."
Harry nodded his understanding, his mind drifting to his own world, wondering if this was the kind of thing he would witness in the coming months if he'd been there. He thought about sitting at the Gryffindor table with his Ron and Hermione, the two people who knew him best in the world, and seeing one of those Ministry owls entering the Great Hall over breakfast with news that Mr. or Mrs. Weasley had been killed. He wondered if he'd receive one of those owls to inform him of Sirius' death.
His heart dropped to somewhere around his feet as he recalled that it had been only yesterday that he'd experienced the vision of his godfather being taunted by Lord Voldemort. He'd seen Voldemort's wand pointed at Sirius, had seen the Dark Lord's lipless mouth form the incantation of the Killing Curse, had seen the room fill with green light; but what he hadn't seen was whether that light had actually connected with Sirius' body. Harry now knew without a shadow of a doubt that the vision he'd experienced hadn't been set in this universe, but the one which he called home. He couldn't think of any reason why Voldemort would go through the motions of imprisoning Sirius, torturing him, or making it seem as though Sirius was dying, unless he wanted to draw Harry out into the open. Was Sirius still alive? Was Voldemort just waiting for Harry to show up wherever his godfather was being held to rescue him?
If that's the case, he's going to be waiting a while, Harry thought bitterly.
It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Voldemort hadn't yet figured out that Harry was no longer in that universe. And once he did find out... Harry shivered a little. Voldemort would probably go to great lengths to discover what had happened to him; eventually he might even be able to track Harry's disappearance to Number Four, Privet Drive. While it was true Harry had no real love for his aunt, uncle, or cousin, he'd never wanted to see them hurt, especially not on his account. He could only imagine Voldemort blasting down the Dursleys' front door, just like he'd done the night he'd killed Harry's parents, and torturing his relatives for information. And when he figured out the Dursleys knew nothing of their ward's whereabouts, or just when he got annoyed with them, he would kill them.
Feeling suddenly restless, Harry shot up from his chair, drawing the attention of most of the Gryffindors in the room. He gave them a vaguely apologetic grimace and headed up to his dormitory, suddenly desperate for some time alone.
Having exhausted himself with the investigation of Helen Snowe's murder, James returned home just before ten o'clock to find his wife and daughter asleep on the sofa. He stepped out of the fireplace, mechanically wiping soot from his shoulders as he watched them. There were dried tear tracks on Lily's face from having undoubtedly spent most of the evening crying for the loss of her friend. Piper seemed fully content in her mother's arms, making him loath to wake either of them. As quietly as he could, James crossed the sitting room and sat down on the coffee table directly in front of the sofa and gently ran his fingers down his daughter's face. She'd been sleeping most of the day, waking occasionally to ask for a drink of water or something to eat before falling asleep again, but she didn't seem to have any memory of being kidnapped.
This, James knew, was a good thing. Too often he came across people who had been taken hostage and who, even months or years later, still experienced nightmares about the experience. Some of them were completely different from what they'd been before being taken—unwilling to trust even those closest to them; falling victim to flashbacks; unable to recognize that they were safe. Fortunately, most children who were abducted and rescued in a timely fashion were able to forget what happened to them.
Case and point: Harry Potter, aged five.
James still wasn't certain how much time had passed between the moments his oldest son had been abducted and when he and his wife realized something was wrong. He'd woken up in the middle of the night suddenly parched and in need of a glass of water. Objective completed, he'd reflexively went to check on his children. Caleb had been sprawled on his tiny bed, letting loose some of the loudest snores he'd ever heard from a child Caleb's size. He remembered chuckling and entering the room to cover his son up with the blanket that had somehow gotten tangled in his tiny legs, then cursing as he stepped on one of Caleb's toy cars. He'd pushed away some of the dark red hair Caleb had inherited from his mother to kiss the boy's forehead, and left the room.
When he'd reached Harry's bedroom, his heart rate had increased. At the time, he'd been bewildered at the reaction, but the moment he'd pushed open Harry's bedroom door, he felt his heart stop completely. Harry hadn't been in his bed. Harry's blankets were bunched up on the floor at the foot of the bed. And judging by the coolness of the mattress where his son was supposed to be asleep, Harry hadn't been in his bed for quite some time.
Those had been among the longest days James could ever remember experiencing. He and his friends had worked relentlessly searching for Harry, checking every Death Eater meeting location they'd ever heard about. In the end, Remus and Peter had been wandering Muggle London, heading towards a tiny café for a quick bite to eat before continuing on their search. Peter had been the first to notice something off about the alleyway. He'd explained that it felt as though he and Remus were being watched, but more than that; like the alley was pulling him towards it. They'd investigated the alley and heard the muffled cries of a child behind a large dumpster. Remus had snatched Harry up immediately while Peter contacted James and the Order. Harry had been taken to St. Mungo's for observation, but the Healers couldn't find anything wrong with him, so he was sent home with his parents. To this day, James didn't know if his son had any actual recollections of the incident or if the memories he did have were merely due to hearing the story told to him over the years.
James' heart clenched. His son may have had vague memories, but his son was no longer in a position to tell him. He'd made great strides in recent weeks to accept what had happened on Platform 9 ¾, and he was starting to get used to the idea that his son was still his son, regardless of the small differences in personality. But like any father forced to endure the loss of a child, there were moments when his guilt outweighed everything. Yes, his son, technically speaking, was still alive. Yes, he and his wife could have attended their son's funeral had the circumstances been tweaked slightly. And yes, he understood that the Harry who had survived the Killing Curse on the platform not only hadn't asked for this to happen, but was experiencing what it was like to have a real family for the first time in his life. That, however, hadn't stopped James from wishing things had been different.
Count your blessings, mate, James thought wryly as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lily's ear.
Sighing, James stood, reaching over to the back of the sofa for a blanket to cover his wife and daughter while they slept, then heading to the kitchen for a drink. Just as he opened the fridge, there was a soft knock on the backdoor that made him nearly drop the butterbeer bottle in his hand. He turned towards the door, wand in hand.
"Who's there?"he asked firmly, glancing through a gap in the curtains.
"Kingsley," said the tired voice outside.
After visually confirming his fellow Auror's identity and asking a routine identifying question, James pulled open the door to allow Kingsley entry. He glanced outside briefly, checking that everything was calm, closed the door, and turned to the other wizard.
"Sorry about coming by so late," Kingsley apologized quietly. "Just thought you'd want an update."
"Don't worry about it," James said, returning to the fridge and withdrawing two butterbeer bottles before gesturing for Kingsley to follow him to his study. "What's up?"
Kingsley sat and gave a nod of thanks for the drink. "Lupin get back all right?" he asked.
"Lily sent a message when he got back from Surrey to let me know he was staying with us tonight. I assume he's asleep upstairs," James replied, glancing at the ceiling briefly.
"So he was pretty close to the victim, then?" Kingsley checked. "I knew they were friends."
"A little more than friends, I think," James said with a sad smile. "But Remus has never been the type to talk about that sort of thing, not even to us."
Kingsley nodded and took a sip of his drink. "Well, I'll leave it to you whether you tell him this or not—it's not exactly the most comforting news I've heard..."
James took a deep breath and nodded. "What is it?" he asked resignedly.
"Even though the Dark Mark only appeared this evening," Kingsley began slowly, "we think the woman was killed last night between ten and midnight."
James' brow furrowed as Kingsley's words sunk in. "So why did the Mark only appear tonight?" he asked carefully.
"One of two things: Either the spell was set with some sort of time release to control when she was found, or some Death Eater remained at the house, or came back, to cast it."
Leaning back into his chair, James sighed as he thought. "Between ten and midnight?" he checked. Kingsley nodded. "We were attacked around midnight. We were outside about a quarter of an hour at most when Piper was taken. Are you telling me Helen was killed around the time Piper was kidnapped?"
"I'm not telling you anything," Kingsley said bluntly. "But the timing seems odd."
James nodded and reflexively took a sip of his butterbeer. He looked up as Kingsley opened his mouth to say something; the other wizard sucked in a breath, then closed his mouth as he changed his mind. "What?" James asked.
Kingsley sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said in his calming way. "But after you left Cornwall, after we relieved the other Aurors on scene, Sirius and I were taking one last look around the house and he said something odd."
"What?" James wasn't sure he liked the expression on Kingsley's face; it looked as though he suspected something, but was reluctant to share given his uncertainty at how James might react.
"He said something about having déjà vu," Kingsley went on reluctantly. "Like he'd been at the scene very recently and knew the details of everything before the rest of us had a chance to figure it out..." Kingsley continued speaking, but James tuned him out.
No one's sure when Sirius disappeared, said a small voice in the back of the Head Auror's mind. Could've been plenty of time to go to Cornwall, take care of Helen, then get back her to snatch Piper. A well-cast memory charm, and he could play innocent when the rest of us found him. With the Dark Mark on a delay, he could establish an alibi—he'd been at the Ministry all day, then met Remus for drinks in Hogsmeade. And there'd be no reason for any of us to suspect he had anything to do with the murder.
James was quite startled at the direction his thoughts were taking. He knew Sirius never would have murdered someone, let alone someone Remus cared for so deeply.
And before last night, you knew Sirius never would have kidnapped one of your children, the voice retorted. Weren't you the one who defended Sirius to Mad-Eye last night? Then you got that note, and that proved Mad-Eye might've been right. How much coincidence do you think can exist in one scenario before realizing there are no coincidences? This was a carefully planned, carefully executed plan, and it's within the realm of possibility that your best mate was part of it.
Bloody hell, James thought to himself, resting his forehead in his hands. How much worse is this going to get?
AN: Yes, I know, quick update. But apparently I was on a bit of a roll this weekend. I'll try to keep this a habit. Hope everyone is still there and interested. A few of you have asked about Peter. Anyone want to see what he's up to these days? Please review.
