Chapter Twelve – Rekindled Dreams

"When we become aware that we do not have to escape our pains, but that we can mobilize them into a common search for life, those very pains are transformed from expressions of despair into signs of hope."

Henri Nouwen

…&…

"So I heard it didn't take you long to crawl back into your skin." Erica sat down in the sand next to James. Rather than acknowledging her, he remained facing the Great Lake. She kicked her shoes off and touched her toes to the lapping water. "In fact, I've heard you amused quite a few with your remarks yesterday."

Stretching his legs in front of him, James leaned back with his arms holding him up. The sun was barely above the treetops but the day already had a balmy, lazy feel to it. A warm breeze tossed the cumulus clouds about in the sky, forming constantly changing shapes.

"I'd imagine you're referring to my loss of temper," James lethargically replied. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before tilting his head, still watching the sky.

Erica couldn't suppress a chuckle, "Loss of temper is putting it mildly, James. I'd categorize that as your infamously known conceited and cocky attitude. On the bright side, however, the majority of the Order members are beyond thrilled you're back, and quite delighted in witnessing said behavior yesterday."

James raised his eyebrows and turned his head towards her grinning face. "I'm sorry, were you trying to make me feel better or just patronize me?"

She openly laughed, making herself more comfortable in the sand. "A little of both, perhaps. At any rate, after everything you experienced yesterday, I guessed that you might like someone to talk things over with."

"And you automatically thought that person could be you?" He turned back towards the lake, watching the sky in the distance. Birds sang out in the background against the methodic rhythm the water produced.

"You don't have to talk to me if you'd rather not," Erica shrugged, her gaze following his. "Although I could offer you unbiased opinion on matters, you aren't actually a client of mine. It's not as though you're wasting your money not speaking to me while I sit next to you."

James scrunched his nose, contemplating her words. "For some strange feeling, I get that was meant to be a guilt trip." He sighed, falling slowly onto his back and closing his eyes. "I just have a lot of thinking to do. I think."

"You did have quite an eventful day yesterday," Erica agreed. "You've had an eventful week."

"I've had an eventful life," he corrected her. He threw an arm across his face, blocking the sun from his eyes. "I suppose I'd make quite a character on one of those muggle soap operas, you think?"

"I could definitely curl up on a comfy couch and read a book about all of your adventures," Erica mused.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not," James groaned.

Erica lay back in the sand with him, using her arms as a pillow behind her head. She crossed her ankles and sighed. "Well, let's start with the most important - Harry."

"Merlin, Erica," James moved his arm up his forehead in order to see Erica. "He's so…he's everything I could ask for. Hell, he's better than what I'd ask for. I could see that in just the short amount of time I spent with him yesterday."

"I must confess, I'm shocked at the ease with which you both took to each other," she admitted. "I'm not sure that I could imagine myself accepting such outrageous news so quickly. I'm happy for you, James."

James smiled, looking up at the sky. "I am too. Merlin. Just thinking about him makes me happy, it makes some of the heartache go away."

"The heartache?"

"It's…fascinating, I suppose, the way I feel. For so many years, I felt as though I had this infinite whole inside of me. Without my memory to guide me forward, I had no expectations. I dreamed of one day regaining my past and that unsettling feeling would finally vanish. I always pictured it this grand homecoming where things would instantly fall into place."

"It isn't quite working out that way?" Erica wrinkled her forehead in thought.

James didn't respond immediately. A short silence fell upon them as he considered the words to describe his thoughts.

"I want what's rightfully mine," he finally responded with a hardened voice. "Seeing Harry, Merlin, Erica, I can't explain to you what feelings that brings. It's something only a parent would understand. And seeing him, seeing what Lily and I-"

His voice faltered, halting him from continuing. There was suddenly a lump in his throat and he was afraid of the emotions filling his core.

He sat up, wiping his hands of the sand on his jeans. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Seeing him has allowed me to remember – to remember more. I feel complete, complete in the way that I know who I am. I know that if I strain, I can remember my memories, I know what I've felt, what I've thought…but I'm not complete. I'm not whole and I can't see that I ever will be. For the rest of my life, I have to live knowing everything that I know. And…and what if that's not good enough? That's not fair to Harry." James let his pride go and the tears fall. The lump in this throat surfaced in an eruption of emotions as he bent his head down, resting his forehead on his knees.

"James." Erica tried to console him in a soft, warm voice. She rubbed his back in a circular motion. "Let it out."

His head whipped up and he glared at her through the tears. "Let what out? Let out my fears? Let out my regrets? None of that matters! I was raised…I-I, I haven't even raised my sixteen-year-old son. My entire life was spent surrounded by people who believed in me, who pushed me and who expected me to come out on top. I don't have that…I'm on my own with my losses, my mistakes, and a child who doesn't know me."

Erica tilted her head. "And those are things you can easily overcome, James. You aren't alone. You still have friends. You still have people who believe in you. You mourn your losses and you carry them in your heart. You move on for them; you move beyond your mistakes with a new understanding. And you get to know your child. You get to know your child who has wanted nothing more in his entire life than to know you."

James shook his head. "Lily. I need Lily. I always needed Lily. From the first day I saw her on the train, in first year, I've needed her since then."

"And she hasn't left you, James. She's still right here." Erica pointed to his heart. She looked into his eyes, speaking gently. "And she believed in you, James, with every fiber of her being. She loved you. And what she would want now, is for you to believe in yourself. She would want you and Harry-"

James chuckled sardonically. "You didn't know Lily that well, Erica. Merlin."

"I may not have known her well, true, but I know that you two were a match. I know that you two were a team once you did get together. And proof of that is Harry. Proof of that is the very fact that you are sitting before me."

James turned his head to face her and smiled. It was a small smile; a smile that didn't speak of laughter and happiness, but a smile that held appreciation and…hope.

"You know," he sighed, nodding his head ever so slightly. "You're right. Damn it, Erica, you're right about a lot. And I do need to get my head unstuck from the sand. I'm a proud person who has ideals and is ready to fight for them. Why the hell am I sitting here crying over the past when I have so much before me?"

Erica raised her eyebrows, shocked at his sudden turn into determination. "Well, yes, that's true."

Climbing to his feet with a resolute expression, he looked down to Erica. "I have a hell of a lot of things to do. I can't sit here and waste my time."

"James!" Erica called out to him, rushing to her feet in order to catch up with his fast pace. "What does that mean? Where are you going? What things do you have to do?"

James turned towards her, walking backwards and laughed. "Well, I have my life to live, don't I? I have a son to be there for, I have a war to fight and I have revenge to seek."

Erica stopped. "Revenge?"

The maniacal laughter did nothing to ease Erica's thoughts. "Look, I know that it's your job to…understand these things and all, but you can't understand this, Erica. It's unexplainable. There were, once, only four others who would have. Now there are only three of us left."

"James, are you saying-?"

The smirk that James Potter, student, prankster and Head Boy of Hogwarts, was so well known for glimmered in the sunlight. "Erica, a Marauder never shares his secrets."

And with that, James Potter jogged off from Erica and disappeared.

She had a feeling the next time they met, things may very well be quite different.

James apparated into the alley nearest his apartment building, thankful no muggles were around to notice. They usually weren't at this time; it was midmorning on a beautiful summer's day.

With a fulfilling sigh, James entered the building and walked straight to Tiffany's flat. She'd be home, of course, probably trying to sleep after a long night working the bar. James didn't care. He needed to talk to her. She knew him as Evan, which was half of who he was. She'd be able to help him sort things out in his mind.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently for her to answer. She opened the door with a yawn, her dark hair astray, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Ev- James?" She looked at him with curious eyes. "I know I said we should talk soon, but I figured you'd spend a few days with your son."

James laughed, walking in and making himself feel at home, as he'd done for so many years now. Tiffany followed him to the couch, sitting with a leg curled up under her and stared at him.

"He's beautiful, you know? Looks just like you," Tiffany told him seriously.

James beamed. He'd never been more proud than at this particular moment. He couldn't explain it. He had no way of properly making anyone understand his sudden change in acceptance. He wasn't sure himself, what exactly had occurred. Something Erica said, or a look she'd given had triggered it. It had a domino effect, affecting all his senses. All he knew now was that he had a mission – his life and his dreams.

"I'm so proud of him, Tiff, you just don't even understand," James nodded. He let his head fall back for a moment before stretching out on the couch and sighing.

"Okay…" Tiffany, still curious and a bit confused at his sudden visit, cocked her head sideways. "What's going on?"

James laughed. "I have no idea! I just know, Tiff, that I'm ready."

"Ready for what, exactly?"

"Everything."

"To throw yourself in your world, risk your life, raise a sixteen year old son; accept fifteen years worth of changes? All in the span of one night you've become ready?"

"No. All in the span of about two minutes, I've become ready."

Tiffany couldn't help but laugh. "Good to know that some things never change. You're still irrational."

"I am, aren't I?" He grinned at her. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about things, though. It's going to be rough, Tiff. Things are going to get bad."

Tiffany's smile faded. "What do you mean? This war?"

"My life. Everything you just listed."

Tiffany sighed. "Are we ever going to sit in a café for hours and talk about nothing again?"

He gave her a comforting smile. "Of course we will. I couldn't give those up, Tiff."

"So," she resituated herself on the couch for comfort. "What are you going to do? And please, tell me why you are going to do these things. I have a feeling they're going to seem quite irrational when I first hear them."

James and Tiffany sat for hours in her flat. They didn't move from the couch except to make some tea in the early afternoon. And even then, the conversation never stopped. James told her of his plans, his dreams, his wants and his desires. He told her how he felt and the emotions different people evoked. He told her of his past, first hand, and all he once lived for.

Tiffany cried, laughed, worried and argued. She sympathized, empathized even, at what this man felt he held on his plate. She supported him, not fully understanding the full impact James's plans would have.

And she never once yearned for her Evan Gryffin. He was a man she had grown to love, grown to trust and protect. He'd given to her what she needed the most; proof of honest people and dreams that never died.

She didn't need Evan Gryffin any more than James Potter needed him.

James Potter was someone she needed in her life. A man worthy of admiration for his determination and confidence. A friend, through and through, full of love and hate. He was real. Tiffany needed real. She needed to know that dreams were worth risking all that she knew for. She needed to understand that dreams change, but they never fade.

"So you need a wand, James," Tiffany reminded him.

"I do. Getting a wand requires a trip to Diagon Alley and a visit with Mr. Ollivander."

"And Albus? You weren't serious last night, were you? You aren't going to leave the safety of the Order just to prove your macho-ism?"

James laughed. "I'd never turn my back on Albus. But honestly, someone needs to put him in his place every once in a while."

"And I don't doubt that you and your friends ever hesitated to do so," she laughed.

Grinning, James rose from his seat. He drank the last swallow of his tea before setting it down on the end table with a sigh.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"It still hurts."

"Betrayal?"

"Betrayal, wrongful accusations, lies…loss."

"The pain may never go away, James, don't seek for it to vanish. You must learn to understand it, control it, use it for betterment."

James coughed out a laugh. "Thanks, Dumbledore. I'll see you, soon, all right? You, me and Harry – we'll do lunch."

Tiffany nodded. "I look forward to it."

She watched his retreating back a moment, before calling out to him.

"Yeah?" He turned towards her before shutting the door.

"Would it be useless to say be careful?"

A moment of silence passed that was neither reassuring nor panicking. "Lily learned that pretty quickly, too."

"I think Lily was damn smart," Tiffany smiled.

"She was. She married me, didn't she?" He winked and shut the door.

"You think-?" Remus gaped at Erica. "No, James can be a bit ridiculous at times, but he's not stupid."

Erica sighed. "Look, all I'm saying is I have no idea where he ran off to and the way his mood suddenly changed, the look in his eyes, the way he laughed, I'm just worried that he's going to do something he shouldn't."

Albus Dumbledore had called Remus and Erica to meet him in his office after hearing Erica's concern. The last thing they needed at this moment was to worry about James's occasional irrational behavior.

"James always does something he shouldn't," Remus tried to make light of the matter.

Erica didn't laugh. Neither did Dumbledore.

Remus sighed, slinking into a chair in front of Albus's desk. "Okay, so I admit the possibility is there, but James has no way of doing anything."

"He found Harry yesterday, didn't he?" Erica reminded him. "He managed to make quite a stir at the meeting last night. His mind is still undergoing quite a large amount of shock, Remus. He's liable to do anything, anything and think it's justified when it isn't."

"Revenge isn't justified in his case?" Remus snapped.

"A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well," Albus interjected. "Sir Francis Bacon once said that."

"Philosophical authors are magicians in their own right with words. It doesn't always lend that they are right," Remus countered.

"So you'd approve?" Erica asked, bewildered at Remus's obvious support.

He shrugged, glancing quickly at his old Headmaster. "Surely, you can understand that some things aren't meant to be understood."

Erica sighed, "Did I mention James said something similar?"

Remus smiled. "Then it only means I'm more right than you'd ever be willing to admit."

"Remus, dare I remind you that you aren't the young men you once were." Dumbledore sat in his chair behind his desk, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

Remus leaned further back in his own chair, contemplating the possibilities and the meanings. Although his emotions were shocked and thrown so far he hardly felt the need to feel anything at all, he slowly smiled.

He'd almost had a heart attack when Albus told him James was alive. He'd easily had a stroke upon finding the James Potter he'd imagined standing in that forest if it hadn't been for James's ease. He'd worried and stressed so much the day before he was sure to have gained many more gray hairs. He'd laughed at his mate's antics and felt like crying for his hardships.

But this smile that adorned Remus's face presently was a smile that Remus had not felt in years. When he found out the truth, and found Sirius before him once again, he'd rejoiced in the pleasure of friendship again. They shared memories, but they also shared pain, regret and worry.

Those emotions still existed in Remus's mind, but no longer in his heart. Remus wanted to laugh. He needed to laugh. He felt high. He felt amazing. He felt younger and hopeful again.

"Dare I remind you that we were never either old or young," Remus finally replied.

Erica let out a frustrated sigh. "Dare I remind both of you what we're dealing with? Not only do we have James's over worked mind to worry about, his overloaded emotions are going to lead him straight to exhaustion. Not to mention Harry. Not to mention aside from all these flying emotions and discoveries, there is a certain amount of safety that we need to focus on."

Remus and Dumbledore locked eyes. Remus would never know what the old wizard was thinking and he'd surely never understand him, but they would reach a silent agreement.

"I can't stop him, Erica, no one can," Remus turned to the flustered witch. "When James Potter gets an idea in his head, there's no stopping it."

Erica flopped defeated into a chair. "Yes, I can only be glad that Sirius Black isn't by his side to edge him on."

Days ago, this comment would have made Remus flinch. The memory of Sirius was still near the surface and still hurt. Today, however, it made him chuckle.

"You will look for him, Remus?" Albus asked.

Remus stood. "I will."

Erica looked up at him. "I admire you immensely, Remus Lupin."

"Why is that, Erica Welling?"

"You are, perhaps, the strongest wizard I've had the pleasure of meeting," she smiled.

"It's not a matter of strength, Erica, as much as it is the focus on the dream." He nodded to both before excusing himself from Dumbledore's office.

Erica felt Albus's eyes on her and turned towards him. "Yes, sir?"

"You have no idea how much that meant to him."

Erica smiled, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. "I may not understand, Albus, but I respect that which drives us forward."

The tapping on his door made James jump. He hadn't been expecting any visitors; no one even knew he was here. He pushed the shoebox of photographs across the table and answered the door.

"Moony," James grinned, always happy to see a friend.

Remus laughed. "Prongs. Are you busy?"

James moved to let Remus walk inside. "Nah, I'm actually glad you found me."

"Seems like you left the castle rather quickly this morning," Remus mentioned. James waved his hand toward the table for Remus to sit while he headed to the kitchen for tea. "Erica became a little-"

"Worried?" James called from the kitchen with a chuckle. "She seems to take everything she touches straight to her heart. I suppose that's what makes her such a respected doctor?"

Remus smiled, his curiosity winning the best of him and pulling James's pictures towards him. "She cares, Prongs. Reminds me of someone else, you know."

James outright laughed. "Yes, that one didn't give up so easily though. Had I walked away from her like I walked away from Erica she would have cursed me before I made it too far."

Remus was skimming through the pictures, pictures of London and people he didn't know. He recognized James in some of them and Tiffany in others. "She was a stubborn one."

Before Remus knew it, James was sitting at the table, a cup of tea before both of them. James looked at his old friend with seriousness in his hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry, Remus," James suddenly proclaimed. His hazel eyes held a glaze of sadness and regret.

Remus put the pictures down and gazed at his old friend. "You've nothing to apologize for, James. Life has dealt us both many blows and we've overcome them."

"No. The thought ran though my mind that you were the traitor before we found out it was Peter. Sirius thought it, too. You've spent the last fifteen years with pained memories while I didn't."

"You didn't have any memories, James. That can hardly be compared. The apology is accepted, I didn't do much to make you think otherwise at the time."

James sighed. "What happened to us, Moony? When did we fall apart? When were the Marauders no longer…the Marauders?"

"When we became individuals. It was bound to happen, Prongs. We grew up and we saw the world in different ways. The world saw each of us in different ways."

"But…betrayal." The words hissed from James's rigged mouth. Glaring eyes glossed over in emotion.

"There was betrayal, James, and there was loyalty."

James stared at Remus a moment before speaking. The years hadn't been easy on his werewolf friend and yet he sat and discussed this with such calm.

"When you realized it…"

"The truth? When I found out Sirius had remained loyal and that Wormtail had betrayed you, all of us? I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him for ruining my life. I wanted to kill him for having once been my friend, my brother, for knowing my secrets and then turning. I wanted to kill him for his weaknesses."

"Why didn't you?" James asked, the air in the flat heavy.

"Harry."

James raised his eyebrows. "Harry?"

"Harry didn't want us to," Remus explained. "Sirius and I were ready, wands out and hatred running high. But Harry told us not to, he didn't think you would have wanted it that way."

"My son saved the man who led me to my death?" James's voice read of no emotions, nothing that Remus could read.

"Was he right, James? Sirius and I believed it. Sirius said that thought of Harry's was the only thing keeping Peter alive."

"I suppose he's right beside Voldemort now?"

"As far as our sources can confirm, yes."

"Then he lives every moment in fear, Remus. He fears his master and he fears the choices he's made. He fears you walking this earth still and he fears what will become of him when Harry defeats Voldemort. But mostly, he fears the loyalty he broke."

"You wouldn't have killed him."

"I can't control my temper."

"You aren't a murderer."

The mere moments of silence engulfed the room giving the feeling of hours passing. A simple statement, a simple observation – the most complicated conviction.

"Lily once told me that death is simply a choice between forgiveness and revenge."

"That sounds like something Lily would say."

"My son is no murderer, Remus, yet he must become one."

"Your son," Remus corrected. "Is no murderer and will not become one. Harry will not kill for spite and hatred."

"I betrayed you and Sirius," James chewed on his bottom lip.

"You did no such thing."

"Lily and I knew you weren't the traitor, we knew it was Peter, yet we did nothing to change Sirius's mind, we let Sirius believe that he was doing what was best for us."

"James, you were doing what you thought was best. Not only for you and your family, but for the entire Wizarding world."

"I had a choice," James argued. "I had a choice to keep secret the information I knew and conceitedly think I could make a difference alone. I didn't choose the option of telling those I trusted with my life the truth."

"The truth is never easy," Remus responded simply. "You did not betray anyone, James. You gave the fight all you had and you rode your destiny. Peter is the betrayer. He had a choice between good and evil and chose his own destiny. He gave up hope and fell into his weaknesses. You know what I say is true."

"I can't help but wonder what I could have done to have stopped him, stopped him from turning; stopped him from believing."

"He simply quit dreaming, James. In my heart, Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, is dead. He's been dead for many years. I mourned him and accepted his death. He no longer lives as who he once was."

James smiled, "Quick to forgiveness."

"The Marauders are not murderers. They were four young wizards who found comfort together. They were four wizards who found life could be enjoyable. The day the Marauders stopped being the Marauders was the day that we stopped believing in our dreams. And there's no turning back and fighting for lost innocence."

James swallowed, slowly nodding his head. "Always were the quick one, wise with words, Moony. You kept things in perspective, the way it ought to have been."

Remus chuckled. "We were quite the balancing act, weren't we?"

"I can't believe, even after everything, that Peter chose this for himself; not the way it appears to have happened."

"I don't believe it, either. I don't really think Sirius did, although he never admitted it. It was black and white for Padfoot. But it's Peter that we're talking of, not you or Sirius. Or even Snape for that matter."

James scrunched his nose at the mention of Severus Snape. "It's true, though. Peter was shown something that he thought our side couldn't give him. He chose the easy way out, the way he thought would be safe."

"You think that he thought Voldemort would win?"

"I don't think Peter thought of anything more than his own safety," James sighed. "I think it's partially why Lily and I felt we could handle Peter's treachery. Every move that Peter made after Lily and I figured him out was precisely what we expected. He was running scared when he was running then; and he hasn't stopped."

"You realize that he lived as the Weasley's rat all those years?"

James took a deep breath. "I do, and if it weren't for the reasoning he outwardly had, I'd appreciate his luck for finding an owner that befriended my son. He's only, as he's always been, within arms reach for anyone."

"He can't turn back, now, James, if that's what your thinking."

"I wouldn't want him to," James said flatly. "It's a choice between forgiveness and revenge."

The afternoon sunlight cast an eerie shadow into the flat. A shiver ran simultaneously down both men's spine as the realization hit them. That which can be shiny and warm can be deceiving.

"It couldn't have happened any other way," Remus suddenly spoke again.

James looked at him questionably. "It's a damn shame, then."

"I've wondered, over the years, particularly when I was teaching at Hogwarts, what would have happened had Voldemort chosen the Longbottom's."

James nodded, "You don't know how many times that's raced through my mind. It was something that Lily and I discussed at length. They were our friends and we didn't wish harm upon them. We didn't wish the pressure and the responsibility that this choice thrust upon us on anyone. But it was a burden we chose to accept."

"Neville and Harry are friends," Remus pointed out. "Neville's a Gryffindor, as well. He has the strength but doesn't realize it. I've visited Frank and Alice a few times."

James shook his head. "Two boys who should have had their parents."

Remus pretended not to notice the tears building in James's eyes. Perhaps, having grown up without their parents - who were considered heroes in their own rights - helped mold them into the strong Gryffindors that they were. Once fate spoke, there was no way of knowing what could have been.

"Neville's grandmother has done a fine job with him," Remus said quietly.

"And Harry?" The anger building behind James's pulsating eyes was obvious. "Did the Dursley's do a find job with Harry? He raised himself! No boy, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived, let alone my son, should have to raise his self."

"Considering the position Petunia was put in, James-"

"Don't make excuses for her, Moony," James's look softened slightly. "How does she think Lily would have felt knowing the way she chose to raise her son?"

"The very fact that she took him in says something."

James sighed, angry, frustrated and feeling a need to…to…do something. "Where's Harry at today?"

"At Grimmauld Place," Remus answered. "I must admit, I'm surprised you aren't with him."

James rose from his seat. "There'll be time for that, trust me Remus. This is one thing I'm sure about."

Remus looked him in the eyes, wondering how many times he had said those words before. Of course, he'd always been right. Remus wondered if he said those words that night, the night that nothing had been sure.

But Remus knew that this time was different. James was not the same James Potter he had been fifteen years ago. He was not the same boy he had been when he attended Hogwarts. No, James Potter was definitely something more than he had once been. He had more of an understanding these days. He had more to gain and less to lose. And he wouldn't lose what he was only now regaining back.

"Prongs, I do believe you have things to do," Remus smirked - that old Marauder smirk that meant no good.

James passed him a lop-sided grin. "It's simple, really. Just a choice between forgiveness and revenge."

……huggles and cookies ……

………...missers©...