Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.
A/N: Again, this was a close call. Was sick over the weekend and really didn't feel like doing anything – but since it was already pre-written – here you go!
And last note before you go on to the chapter – again, to all those who left anonymous reviews, to which I can't reply – thank you very much! Even though I can't reply individually to your wonderful reviews – know that they are very much appreciated!
Enjoy!
Chapter Forty Five - Fall of the Angels
Harry James Potter was an incredibly cheerful child, who, from the moment of his birth, was spoilt rotten. He had two loving parents, two doting grandparents, one adoring once-removed cousin, one devoted godfather, two affectionate sort-of uncles, and three fond sort-of aunts. Admittedly he also had a not-so-loving aunt, but no one was talking about her. From the moment of his arrival home, he was hardly out of someone's arms. Luckily enough, he was also good-tempered and therefore did not wail much when taken away from his mother.
It seemed as though a new light had come into the lives of everyone connected to the Potters. Suddenly their little flat was filled with visitors day and night. Even the Muggle neighbours, who had no idea who their young neighbours really were, came by to congratulate them and wish them all the luck in the world. Suddenly it seemed as though the world was not as dark as it was the day before Harry's birth.
From the moment the Potters brought their baby son home, the place changed entirely. Instead of the tidy, clean place that it used to be, there were toys everywhere – balls and soft, stuffed toys, bells and blankets and things that they little boys would not need for months to come yet. Freshly laundered nappies hung everywhere to dry, and the bookcases were full of books with theories about child-rearing.
Harry did not do much at first, just ate and slept and gurgled happily whenever his mother would take him up in her arms with little cries of joy, or when his father would hold him gently and with that constantly foolish look of someone immensely proud of his work.
Sadly enough, the euphoria surrounding the Potters and their friends did not last long. It was halfway through November, and Lily and James were handling their son's first illness, when the summons came for everyone to gather at Headquarters.
Somewhat bewildered, they all arrived at the appointed time. Some faces were missing, but Remus assumed they were out on missions, working to further the Order cause as always. Lily and James were there without Harry, which made Remus tilt his head to the side in a silent question as he approached them.
"Left him with my parents," Lily said softly just before Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. They both looked incredibly tired, and Remus guessed that Harry had kept them awake throughout the previous night.
"I'm afraid I have bad news," Dumbledore said, and all whispering around him ceased immediately. "Fabian and Gideon are dead."
Remus froze and knew that around him people had a wide range of reactions – from broken wails, to anger. Though it was not unheard of for members of the Order to be gravely wounded and out of commission for weeks and even months, it was the first time anyone had actually died, and to be quite honest with himself, Remus had never expected the first to be one of the courageous brothers, let alone both. There was always something about those two that made you think they were immortal.
Red-headed, and almost as hot-tempered as Lily on a bad day, they knew how to enjoy life. They were almost like Sirius in that respect, though Remus sincerely hoped that when Sirius would reach their age he would be a lot more mature than them. Every night at the flat they shared together was like a party and there was no girl they could not get had they wished to have her. They were kind, brave, sometimes rash, but always loyal and friendly. They always behaved as though nothing could bring them down. As though they could never be killed.
But now they were dead. He could not believe it. Had it been anyone but Dumbledore telling them this, he, and everyone around him, would have snorted and taken it as a very bad joke. But the seriousness in the old Headmaster's eyes and the way his mouth remained in a grim line told him that this was no joke. They were truly dead and they were not coming back. The Order has suffered a mighty blow.
"Were they… on a mission?" someone finally asked, perhaps Caradoc Dearborn.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Ambushed. On their way home from the Ministry. They fought bravely, but they were overcome."
No one said a word, because there was nothing else to say. It was unthinkable, but it had happened and now they had to continue with their lives as though nothing had happened. Somewhere behind him, someone started to weep.
"Friends," Dumbledore continued, his voice shaking a little before he could master it again, "there is no use denying that this is a great tragedy to us all, and to the wizarding world as whole, but we must remember that if it wasn't for the brothers' efforts – for all our efforts – many good people, both magic and Muggle, would not be alive today. For myself, this is the only thanks I need, and for that reason, I will continue fighting – until Voldemort himself his dead – or until I am.
"Thank you for coming here today. That is all. Remus and Marlene? If you would be so kind as to join me before you leave?"
Marlene McKinnon and Remus exchanged glances, before Remus turned to bid his friends goodbye and joined the woman who was already rapidly approaching Dumbledore.
"Remus," the old man greeted tiredly, obviously more exhausted than he let on, "Marlene, I wanted to talk to you alone because I want you to go to their funeral as the Order's representative. I can't possibly leave the school at this time, so I'm sending the two of you as representatives. I'm sure all of our members would like to come, but we can't risk the entire Order over this. Will you do it?"
What could either of them possibly say to that? Of course they would go. While Remus was not really close to the brothers, he respected and honoured them a lot and was relieved to know that he could pay them last respects. He was certain that Marlene, who had known them back in their schooldays, felt even more so. He nodded. "I'll go."
"So will I," Marlene said fiercely, wiping errant tears from her cheeks.
"I'm guessing we're not supposed to make any contact with one another at the funeral?" Remus then asked, looking at Dumbledore questioningly.
"No. There must be no contact between you. We can't endanger the integrity of the Order right now. Especially now."
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On the day of the funeral, Marlene and Remus arrived at the cemetery, both wearing simple black robes. They came separately and did not stand by one another, but their eyes kept meeting above the tearful crowd that came to pay last respects to the Prewett brothers. While Marlene may not have been best friends with them, Remus realised that their deaths, to her, was rather close to what would happen if any of his friends' lives would be claimed in the fight against Voldemort. He wished he could stand by her and offer her a shoulder to cry on, but Dumbledore's warning served its purpose. He would stay to his side of the gathering, and she to hers.
Though Remus knew he should be crying together with everyone else, the tears seemed to refuse to come. His eyes were dry. There had been too many deaths; too many lives given in the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Gideon and Fabian were not the first, nor would they be the last. The Light had lost too many members already, too many friends. It was a miracle that all the Marauders were still alive and well despite their being right in the centre of everything dangerous and life-threatening.
As the funeral progressed, his eyes kept shifting this way and that. The Death Eaters were not above disrupting the funerals of those who opposed them so vehemently. He hoped that this time everything will go smoothly. He looked at the faces of the mourners, family members and friends, colleagues and simply people who had heard the story and wanted to show that they appreciated what the brothers had fought and died for.
A redheaded family stood very close to the freshly dug graves. Remus vaguely recognized the woman as Gideon and Fabian's eldest sister, Molly, whom he had only seen in pictures at the brothers' flat. She was a portly lady with a brood of sombre little ones, the youngest a babe around Harry's age. She did not wail, though she certainly looked the type. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as her children clutched at her skirts, the older ones crying openly and loudly, understanding what had happened, understanding the tragedy.
Remus felt something welling up inside him as he watched them. Fabian and Gideon would never have children of their own. They would never get to see their nephews grow up and become admirable men just like them. And it could happen to him. It could happen to Sirius and Peter. Worse, it could happen to Lily and James, who had Harry. Harry could grow up an orphan, not knowing what wonderful people had given him life. He felt wetness in his eyes, and then, slowly, tears started sliding down his cheeks. The dam was broken, and all the pain and fear he felt upon hearing about the Prewetts' deaths were let loose.
Some sympathetic soul to his side handed him a handkerchief and, with a patting hand on his shoulder, said, "There, there, my boy. There, there. They died like heroes. Just as they had lived."
But what was the point of dying like heroes? Why could they not have lived happily ever after like all the heroes of fairy tales? Why could they not have emerged victorious? It was not fair. They did not deserve it. They fought for the side of good.
The good should always triumph.
But that was a lie, was it not? Everywhere he looked, there was only death and suffering. Death and suffering brought about by Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard Britain had ever spawned, and everywhere he looked, good was crumbling away. People turning on their own families and friends, people dying. Good people, like Fabian and Gideon, who were brave, and funny, and loved their life.
Never in his life had he known a darker hour as the one he spent at the cemetery, listening to their bothers' older sister quietly weeping.
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The summons caught Remus at his parents' home, two days after the funeral. He had come for a visit, taking advantage of the fact that he was, once again, without a job. Hastily explaining to his surprised mother that Sirius may have found a new job for him through one of his friends at work, he Disapparated, appearing as close to Hogwarts as the wards permitted.
To say he was surprised to be summoned again to Dumbledore's office so shortly after what had happened was an underestimation. He really did not feel up to anything at the moment. Dumbledore seemed to notice that upon Remus' entrance to his office, for he sighed heavily and, after motioning for him to sit down on a chair opposite his own, began with an apology.
"I'm sorry I have to do this to you so soon after Gideon and Fabian's deaths, Remus, but I have to ask of you to return to Waverly." Dumbledore's face was sombre as he spoke. The twinkle that Remus was so used to seeing in his eyes back in the Marauders' Hogwarts days appeared less and less these days and was almost entirely subdued since Gideon and Fabian had died.
"May I ask what the rush is?" he asked quietly. It had been quite a while since his previous mission to the Waverly farmstead and he had thought he would never have to go there again.
"A rumour," Dumbledore replied without hesitation. "I trust you're familiar with the name Fenrir Greyback?"
Remus' blood ran cold. Fenrir Greyback had been the werewolf who had decided William Lupin had offended him and therefore bit Remus all those years ago. For years he had wondered how someone could be so cruel, but all the rumours about Greyback to have filtered his way pointed out the fact that he was simply an evil bastard with a penchant for children. He nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving Dumbledore's.
"As you probably know, Greyback has no interest in ideology. Ever since he was turned some thirty years back, his only wish in life was to cause as much pain and suffering in the wizarding - and non-wizarding - community. You were only one of his many victims. He has a personal, deep and unrelenting vendetta against all innocents - particularly children.
"And now it is said that he has taken Voldemort's side. Apparently Voldemort offered Greyback free range against anyone who opposes him. You have to admit this is a serious threat for all those who work against Voldemort and have children to catch Greyback's eye."
"So why Waverly?" Remus asked when Dumbledore paused.
"Because the rumour says that Greyback has come to Waverly. While by your report I have cause to believe that as long as Cassandra remains leader of the werewolves in the farmstead, the werewolves as a whole would not join Voldemort's side, I doubt that she will remain in that position long once Greyback is there. Not with Kensington siding with Voldemort to begin with. And we have no way of knowing what had happened there ever since you left the farmstead nearly a year ago.
"Even worse than that, the legislation against werewolves in the past couple of months – something which you have had the unfortunate chance of experiencing on your own flesh – has worsened. Most werewolves have been driven into hiding, and those that haven't live in a very miserable reality. You know that to be true, Remus. I've been in contact with your mother, and she's very worried about your inability to maintain a job for more than a month at a time, especially considering how bright you are. The situation you are experiencing drives men and women weaker than you to side with the one person who seems to offer them what they want most. Freedom. I can't offer them that. Not the way they want it. Not the way I want to.
"The ministry has my hands tied. They give me certain leeway regarding certain subjects, but the rights of the lycanthropes is not one of those subjects, no matter how I fought against it. I need to know what's going on in Waverly. I need to know how far Voldemort's hand reaches. I need to know whether the werewolves of Britain can still be saved. Will you help me?"
Dumbledore knew the answer. He always knew the answer. There was no way Remus could say no. Not when he used the words he knew touched Remus' sorest spots.
Sometimes he absolutely hated the old man. Admired him – yes; respected him – most definitely; owed him what he had achieved so far in life – certainly. But sometimes, sometimes, he just wanted to wrap his hands around that thin neck and wring it.
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Waverly did not change much since he had last been there. Still rundown, with the garden even more overgrown than before. The smell around it had not improved, either, which was surprising, for he assumed all the other werewolves had noses just as sensitive as his. But apparently, they no longer cared.
There was one major change this time, however. No one called out on him until he entered the hall, where several people who had remembered him from his last stay seemed to blink in recognition. There were no sentries. No one demanded to know who he was. This was a sign that things have changed in this place. Remus did not think they changed for the better. However, knowing he was watched by those around him now that he was inside, he reached into his bag and started taking out whatever he had shoved in when preparing for his mission. He guessed that this trait had not changed since the last time. He would still be torn into pieces if he withheld anything from the general population of Waverly.
No one asked him what he was doing there, or why had he come back. His image as a wanderer still held, apparently.
But he did not wander aimlessly here like the others. He had a mission. He had to find out who was in control in the farmstead.
It did not take long.
He almost did not recognize her. The once proud, strong female now looked twenty years older, broken, without spirit. She walked lifelessly, and all the other werewolves kept their distance from her. She was a leper. An outcast. No one would stand for her. No one would stand by her side. The woman who had made Waverly what it was, was not welcomed there anymore.
And yet, as Remus discovered, she lingered. She could not let go of the place that had been her home, fortress and castle for so many years. Despite knowing that her life would surely end the moment Greyback had no more use of her and whatever knowledge she still retained, she remained where he could easily scoop her out. Alone and isolated.
He wanted to be sick.
Though he tried several times over the next couple of days to catch her eye, it seemed as though every time her eyes slid over him, she failed to really see who it was she was looking at. She might as well have been administered the Kiss for all the life that was in her.
And so he did what he was best at, what had had made his speciality back at Hogwarts. He watched, and he listened. For nearly two weeks he stayed there, and with a gradually increasing feeling of dread, knew that every minute he remained there made his death come closer. The general atmosphere was clear. Everyone sided with Greyback, and Remus had the horrible feeling that he knew why – and that he knew why Cassandra had not been killed yet.
Greyback wanted to make an example out of her, to let the others see and fear.
The only hope he had left was that he could somehow convince Cassandra to muster up what was left of their former loyalty and go against Greyback and Kensington. If not for the side of Light, then at least for the pack, which would surely be used by Voldemort as cannon-fodder, sent to the frontline to be slaughtered and make way for his loyal Death Eaters.
He came to that conclusion all too late.
He just about made up his mind to go and try to talk to her, when the stumpy figure of Kensington, the former Alpha male who had given up his place in favour of Greyback, approached her, flanked by two underlings who both looked to be in their prime, despite the bad conditions of Waverly. Their faces were grim. Kensington's was ecstatic. Remus had a bad feeling about it. It looked as though the two underlings knew that something entirely unwholesome was about to start.
It looked as though Cassandra as well noticed that something was different, since she slowly raised her head, spotting the trio coming her way.
For the first time since Remus had arrived at the farmstead, there was a spark of life in Cassandra. She was frightened. She began backing away, but at a swift clicking of the fingers from Kensington, the two other werewolves flanked her either side and closed in on her, with Kensington advancing on her. Around them, other werewolves just looked away, uncaring, apathetic. Only Remus kept his eyes on them, but even he had to do so covertly. It would not do to draw attention to himself just now, no matter how much he pitied Cassandra.
"Cassie, love," Kensington said in his nasal voice, "I'm afraid the time has finally come."
"No," the low, cracked voice came out almost in a growl, making the man laugh.
"Now, now, Cassie. You knew this was going to happen. You've had your chance to escape, and you chose to remain. And now we have to… prepare you, for Lord Greyback's arrival. He… specifically requested for you."
The way Kensington said it made Remus' blood freeze in his veins. What was going on?
Before his eyes, the two underlings took hold of Cassandra's arms and started dragging her away. She weakly resisted, but it was obvious that she no longer had the strength of spirit to try more. No matter what was in store for her, the fight was already lost. The worst has already been done.
He watched as they dragged her broken body up the stairs to the second floor. He continued watching for a while, as around him others continued with their daily routine, uncaring that their former leader was taken violently from their midst. He went on watching until he saw the three males coming down the stairs, Kensington looking pleased, and the other two expressionless. He still watched half an hour later, when he came to a decision.
He had to know what was going on. He could not let Cassandra just disappear that way without a trace, hated, despised, forgotten. Then he got up to his feet and seemingly aimlessly wandered around the hall , stopping every now and then to exchange a word with one of the less apathetic people, bending to take half a rotten apple from the food pile before throwing it away once more, stopping by a window to look outside, until, finally, after what felt like forever, he found himself at the bottom of the staircase.
Slowly, glancing around him all the time, he climbed up the stairs, hoping the creaks of the wooden flight were masked in the general chaos around the hall. He kept to the walls and continued creeping upwards, until at long last he could slip around the corner, where he could no longer be seen. Still careful, in case there was still someone up there, he started going through the many rooms of the second floor, looking for her.
He found Cassandra tied to a chair in a backroom up on the second floor. The ropes on her wrists and ankles were tightened cruelly and dug into the skin. Her head was down, her hair falling around her face, obscuring it from view.
"Cassandra?" he spoke softly, approaching her, all the while keeping a nervous ear open for noises outside the room.
The woman started violently at the voice, obviously waiting for the impending violence to come, only to relax once she associated voice with name.
"What are you doing here, John?" she asked quietly. "If Kensington finds you here…"
"Then I'll be in great trouble," he agreed, kneeling beside her. "But I needed to see what was going on here. The moment I saw the changes that occurred here since I left again on my journeys… I have to get you out of here."
She let out a bitter laugh. So bitter, in fact, that he hardly associated the sound with laughter at all. And as she laughed, blood trickled down from her mouth. He estimated that without medical attention, the once proud female who had once taken her under her wing would die within two or three days.
"Get me out of here?" she spoke, her body still shaking with humourless mirth. "Get me out where? Do you think that the Ministry doesn't know my name? That they don't associate it with Waverly, Kensington and Greyback? What do you think will happen if – if – you manage to get me to St Mungo's? A Kiss is what I will get – and that's if I'm lucky!"
"I have friends – they can keep you safe-"
"Safe? Where is safe these days, John? Where is safe? And get me out of here – through a multitude of pack-less wolves, howling for blood, no matter whose. They will take you down in seconds, you miserable weakling, and then they will tear me to shreds and make a gift of both our skins to Greyback!"
Remus turned his gaze away from her at this. "Greyback has already taken more from me than I was willing to give. I will not give anything else to him – not even my skin."
In the silence that suddenly filled the room, Cassandra's laboured breathing was all that was heard. Then she broke the silence, whispering, "You're one of Greyback's children."
"Victims," he spat out, not bothering to keep the hate from his voice. "Never call us his children. All of us, we were his victims. More than sixty of us over the years. I've checked in the Registry's Archive once I was old enough to understand and know who it was. I was one of the luckier ones. I lived."
Sixty seven known victims of Fenrir Greyback. None of them older than eight years. Less than twenty had survived his attack. Less than ten had managed to live a relatively normal life afterwards. Six of the survivors had killed themselves in subsequent years. Four had been victims of persecution of their own families and friends. Two were serving life in Azkaban.
Remus refused to become part of the statistic. He was his own man. He was a Marauder.
He was Remus Lupin. A werewolf, and damn proud of what he had accomplished over the years.
Finally, it seemed that Cassandra could not bear the silence anymore. More than that. It seemed as though she had come to a conclusion.
"You have to get out of here, John," she rasped, her voice barely passing the barrier of her filthy hair. "You're not like us. You've never been. You tried hard, but I could see your heart really wasn't in it. You're one of the lucky ones, aren't you? One of the werewolves who were lucky enough to have caring families and perhaps even friends. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you, but you reminded me so much of my younger self, that I didn't have the heart to turn you in to the others. I don't know why you came here in the first place, and I don't know why you've returned, and I'm past caring. You have to get out of here, now. Greyback is coming. And once he's here, there will be no going back. GO!"
"But-"
"Do you want me to rip your throat out myself, John?! Go! You think I wouldn't do it? Think again! I'm the toughest alpha female these miserable, worthless creatures had ever had! They may have cast me out and sided with Kensington and Greyback, but I still have my pride and I can still kill you if I so wish it! So go before I change my mind! Go!"
No matter what had been done to her, Cassandra still had her spirit, and most certainly her pride. Remus knew she was serious.
"I'm going now," he said softly, but before backing away, he put his mouth close to her ear, and did something that he probably should not have, but was the only thing he could think of to make her imminent departure of the living world a little easier. He told her someone still cared about her.
He gave her his name.
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As Remus snuck to the back of the hall, always almost hugging the wall, something inside him gave a painful jerk. He knew he will never see her again. That unique creature, so fierce and yet so kind, so violent and yet so gentle, this was her end. Her horrible, bloody end. The fact that they had taken her there, beat her and tied her up, clearly, without doubt, meant that Greyback intended to finish her off. There was nothing he could do. No matter how much he wanted to.
He hated that helpless feeling, knowing that he could not bring a stop to that madness.
Before he could reach the doors, they banged open, and he was forced to flatten himself against the wall, both for fear that it was Greyback, and also to prevent himself from being injured. His first assumption was correct. The unmistakable figure of Fenrir Greyback, all scraggly, matted hair and beard, and filthy robes, came through, surrounded by an excited gaggle of werewolves.
All of a sudden, all of the previously indifferent people in the hall got to their feet and started cheering, laughing, and calling Greyback's name in near-worship. The sight of it made Remus sick to his stomach.
Greyback let the commotion last for a while before roaring for everyone to shut their mouths. They obeyed immediately, but Remus had the feeling that under all the worship and adoration, what those wretched people really felt, was fear. They all knew who Greyback was, and after what had happened to Cassandra, it was obvious that no one would resist.
"Friends," the man-shaped monster called, giving an especially ironic twist to that single word, "today, I am here to give you two lessons, before I leave for the Dark Lord's side once more. You see," he said, dragging a jagged nail over the rough cheek of one of the men closest to him, drawing out blood, "I've heard that in my absence, you have become a little… wayward. I thought I should discourage that. That's why I brought my young friend here." He brought his hand back, and with a violent movement, pushed to the front of the crowd someone whom Remus would never have called young at first sight.
The man looked vaguely familiar. Looking at him objectively, and trying to look past the wrinkles, the two scars crossing on his cheek and the sour expression, he was possibly two or three years older than Remus himself, but it seemed as though life had not been kind to him. The burden of the werewolf had been too much for him. He looked twice his age. As he slowly turned to face the other werewolves together with Greyback and the rest of his company, his eyes were dead. There was no emotion in those eyes.
"You see," Greyback said mockingly, "young Hale here thought there was some sort of possibility that humans and werewolves could coexist. Seems like some childhood acquaintance of his filled his head with some nonsense about that option. But we fixed you right up, didn't we, Hale?"
The subdued man's eyes stared at the floor. His body did not move, but his lips looked as though he was mumbling something under his breath.
"See," Greyback continued with the same cruel, mocking voice, "all I had to do was kill his little brother, and after that no one wanted poor old Hale around. After all, werewolves can be so unstable."
Hale, Hale... Where did Remus hear that name before? It brought something to mind, from years back. Bright, closely cropped lawns, a little lake, and its water sparkling invitingly, brightly-coloured buildings... Then those images were sharply replaced with those of a cell-like room, padded cuffs and thick chains, panic, pain and blood. Willow Gate Camp. It had been years ago, but he still remembered.
"No…" he could barely voice it. "Martin?"
This man… no. Not a man anymore. Creature. This wretched creature had once been a boy with hopes and dreams. A boy to whom, unwittingly, Remus himself had given hope. Hope which Greyback had maliciously destroyed. Remus felt as though he was about to be sick.
He had to get out of there. Now, before anyone could suspect something was not quite right with that John character. Now, before Martin would somehow spot him, recognise him as who he were, and call him out. He had no doubt that this is what would happen, should he be identified. Martin had no more pity left in him, least of all for someone whom he had known for one summer years before.
With the start of tears blinding his eyes, he backed away from the crowd, as slowly and inconspicuously as he possibly could. In front of him, Greyback was still cackling about how he had ruined Martin Hale's life, as he would do to any werewolf who thought life could be different, and that werewolves could be loved by normal human beings. As he would do to anyone who would dare oppose him.
And then, at long last, he turned to the main part of his show. First he had Martin led away, and then he turned to face the crowd, his pointed teeth glinting in the light, giving him an even more demented appearance.
"Now," he said, "where is my beloved Cassandra?"
At these words Remus finally managed to slink away from the crowd, silently turning his back on the assembled, bloodthirsty throng and running away. He knew it to be running away. He did not have the courage to stand by her side. He did not have the courage to die. He was not Gideon or Fabian, nor was he James or Sirius. He was afraid. He was afraid for his own life. He wanted to get out of there before he could give himself away.
He was almost half a mile away from the farmstead when he started hearing the screams. Shutting his ears and shutting his heart, he kept going forward.
He had to get away. He had to forget.
Forget he had even known anyone called Cassandra, and that he had left her to die.
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He knocked on the door to the Potters' flat, waiting patiently as he heard light footsteps coming nearer the door. Then the door opened, revealing Lily, with her red hair pulled almost entirely out of her messy ponytail, with little Harry safely lodged on her hip.
"Remus!" she said delightedly. "Welcome! Come in, come in."
She hurriedly let him enter the flat and in seconds he was sitting on a sofa in the Potter sitting room and Lily was making a pot of tea in the kitchen, leaving Harry in his care. The cheerful, friendly child was not at all afraid of him, despite not having seen him for the past two weeks or so. He was happily sitting on his lap, chewing on a brightly-coloured plastic ring relentlessly. Remus smiled happily. There was nothing he loved as much as watching the little boy.
"I see that he still recognizes you without any trouble," Lily's voice interrupted him. He looked up to see her coming with a tray laden with tea and a few slices of cake. "James will be a bit late today, so I hope you won't mind waiting until he gets back from work."
"Not at all. You're my friend, too, Lily, remember?"
She laughed. "I know. It's just that I'm so used to watching you interact every time that you come for a visit that I'm a bit out of practice in conducting my own conversations. You're all too amusing when you're all together."
"All together..." Remus sighed. "It's been a while. Can't remember when as the last time all four of us were together. It's like we're drifting away, you know?"
"Stop talking nonsense, Remus," she said sharply. "Just because each of you is busy with your own occupations doesn't mean you're drifting apart. Now, when did you get back? You weren't supposed to be back for another week or so."
"Late last night. A person I knew from Willow Gate - oh, that's a sort of summer camp for young werewolves - a person I knew from there appeared so it was a little unsafe for me to stay any longer. He could have exposed me and then I'd be dead. I'm telling you, Lily, I've never been this scared in my life."
Which was true. Though he had been in dangerous situations before, he now realised that he had never been as close to getting himself killed as in that moment when Martin's gaze swept over him. He did not know if the man had recognized him, and he would probably never would, but at that moment, when that emotionless gaze of someone who had lost all hope met his own, he knew that if any word would come out of his mouth, he would be dead. His heart had been near explosion for that moment before the gaze departed and Martin turned away.
Lily seemed to understand that, for she immediately changed the subject. They had a pleasant afternoon together, with Harry passing hands repeatedly, or crawling on the floor beside them. However, as the clock on the sitting room's wall hit six and the minutes began to pass, it seemed to Remus that his friend was a little ill-at-ease.
It was around seven, when Lily was preparing Harry's food that she finally revealed that she was not as calm as she appeared. "I wonder where James could be," she said. "He was supposed to be home almost an hour ago. He was on shift since six this morning. I thought he'd be here by now." Her voice was light, but Remus knew very well just how afraid she was. James was normally punctual these days, and now he was late...
"Don't worry so much," he said consolingly. "There was probably some sort of emergency at the hospital and he was delayed. It happens."
"Yeah..." she mumbled, but did not seem too convinced. Unfortunately, it also seemed that Harry picked up on his mother's troubled mood, and insistently refused any of the food she offered him, closing his mouth determinedly and turning his face away from the spoon, smearing his cheeks with the food, causing him to wail.
All in all, the floo-call from Wren could not have come at a worst moment.
"Lily? Are you home?" her voice came from the small fireplace in the Potters' kitchen.
"Just a second, Wren," Lily said almost impatiently, as she tried to shush Harry.
"Lily…"
"In a minute, Wren!" Lily said over little Harry's cries.
"Lily, please…"
Turning sharply to face their friend's face in the fireplace, both Lily and Remus could see that Wren's eyes were sad and that she was barely holding back tears.
"James-" Lily began anxiously, her eyes unbelievingly wide. Remus could not blame her for jumping into conclusions - not after all her close counters with death - and James was supposed to be home almost an hour before… but, had it been James, Wren would not have waited so long before speaking.
"Is safe," Wren said, her voice soft. "He's on his way as we speak. One of our colleagues contacted him just now."
"Then who-"
"Your parents."
There was a moment of complete silence before, "No. No, I refuse to believe this," Lily said, shaking her head, the spoon she was holding out for Harry shaking uncontrollably, spilling its contents on the clean floor. "Voldemort could not have possibly gotten to them-"
"It wasn't Voldemort, was it, Wren?" Remus asked, gently plucking the spoon out of her hand and speaking to the woman in the flames.
Wren shook her head. "A car accident. We keep records of the families of Muggle-born wizards and witches, in case they cannot get in touch. The minute Lily's parents appeared on the parchment…" she shrugged. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, Lily. I truly am. There was nothing anyone could do - magic or Muggle."
Carefully helping the shocked Lily to sit down, Remus turned to face Wren. He kneeled beside her and in a low voice inquired as to where the bodies could be found and where was James.
"The St Andrew's Hospital morgue. It's a community hospital not far from where Mr. and Mrs. Evans lived," the young woman said softly. "James is on his way there as we speak. He didn't know whether Lily would be in any shape to identify the bodies, and I don't think she is either. Would you stay there with her?"
"No!" Lily's voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. "I'm going to see my parents! I won't believe you until… until… until…" her voice died, but Remus understood what she was trying to convey. She will not believe until she saw them with her own two eyes.
"Lily," Wren said quite firmly. "You are in no shape to Apparate at the moment, and the hospital is in a completely Muggle area. If you splinch yourself… You can't go. Not now. Not like this."
"But, I-"
"No, Lily!" she said sharply. "Stay where you are. James is handling this. You can trust him. For once in your life do as you're told and stay where you are." This was not Lily's friend of nine years speaking. This was a Healer, ordering a hysterical woman to sit still and calm down. Her tone brooked no nonsense, and the shocked Lily was in no condition to argue. She slumped heavily in her chair and just stared at the floor, tears streaming from her eyes.
Letting her be for the time being, knowing there is nothing he could do to comfort her just now except for being there for her, Remus finished feeding Harry, who had calmed down by now, cleaned him up, changed his diaper and put him to sleep. He put a charm around his bed to alert them if anything was amiss with the baby, and then returned to the kitchen. Lily was still there, still staring at the same spot.
"Lily?" he tried.
There was no reply from her. He attempted to get her attention several more times, but failed. After an hour had passed and still there was no reaction from Lily, he quietly went to the bathroom and searched the cabinet. There he found what he was looking for: a glass bottle, filled with thick, purple liquid, clearly marked 'Sleeping Potion' in James' handwriting. Going back to the kitchen, he filled a cup with the potion and gently fed it to the unresisting Lily. It would be best for her now to simply sleep and not think.
It did not take long for the potion to take affect. Lily simply passed from slumping and staring at the floor to slumping with her eyes closed. Once he was certain she was deeply asleep, he picked her up from the chair and placed her on the sofa, bringing a blanket from the bedroom and covering her up. Then he sat to wait.
He was dozing himself when he heard the lock turning and the front door opening. Getting up hurriedly he came to greet his friend. James looked incredibly drained.
"Ah, Moony," he said softly, passing a hand over his eyes tiredly. "Thanks for staying here. I know it couldn't've been easy."
"Nonsense, Prongs," Remus replied firmly. "I'd do anything for you two, you know that. Especially when something like this happens. And besides, it was no trouble at all. But, if you don't mind my saying, you don't look so good yourself."
"Petunia was there," James said sadly, though with a note of annoyance in his voice. "She arrived shortly after I did and began shouting the minute she laid her eyes on me. The staff barely let me explain that I was their son-in-law and that Lily couldn't come due to the fact that we have a very young child and live quite a distance away and that she can't drive. When they asked why Petunia was calling me names… they almost didn't believe me that Lily and Petunia just don't get along. They practically tried to forcefully kick me out until they found a photograph of Lily, Harry and I in Marcia's purse. I was this close to pulling my wand out."
He glanced at the practically comatose Lily, lying on the sofa before continuing. "It was something awful, Moony. They were just on their way home from visiting Petunia's family. A drunk driver lost control of his car and smashed right into their front. They... They were barely recognizable. Died instantly by the looks of it. I saw some terrible things in the past, working at St Mungo's, and on the field, but this..."
Remus could not possibly understand the full extent of what James had to go through that evening, seeing his in-laws, his beloved Lily's parents, so malformed and lifeless. At that moment he was even sorry for Petunia. Despite all her flaws, she was still Lily's sister.
"Shall I leave?" he asked after a moment. "I don't want to be a bother."
James smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks, mate. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm kicking you out, but-"
"Don't worry about it," Remus replied, clapping a hand on James' shoulder. "I'm always here to help, if you need me, all right? Keep in touch."
James nodded and with that Remus departed the flat, feeling horrible that he could not do anything else for his friend that had done so much for him in the past.
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Lily and James chose not to take Harry with them when they went to the funeral. In Lily's words, they did not want Harry to know about death so early on in his life. Traumas such as that tended to leave their marks in magic children more than they did in Muggle ones. And so the little, happy boy was left in the care of his godfather and his surrogate uncle. It was the first time Lily allowed the two to baby-sit her child and though they were quite ecstatic about a day with the first heir to the Marauders, Padfoot and Moony, acclaimed troublemakers, were afraid. They were afraid of a child only several months old.
This fear was not unfounded as it were. They both still remembered the infamous Mash Potatoes Incident, or How the Marauders Made Complete Fools of Themselves, as Lily liked to refer to it. Of course, back then Peter was around to take the brunt of Harry's terrifyingly accurate assault. Now it was just the two of them against one baby. Yes, it was quite accurate to say they were afraid.
As a matter of fact, Sirius was supposed to be watching Harry on his own, but he had called both his friends pleadingly, begging them to join him on this babysitting task. Peter had found some sort of convenient excuse with a look of absolute horror on his face, obviously not quite ready for a repeat of the Mash Potatoes Incident, but Remus agreed, if only to stop Sirius from looking so pathetic and claiming he'll never try pranking Remus ever again.
As the door closed behind the somber Lily and James, Remus and Sirius exchanged glances and then, as one, turned to look at the innocent-seeming boy who was staring at them with his head tilted slightly to one side.
The Marauders were afraid. Very afraid.
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Splat.
"Take cover!" Sirius hollered from under the dining table where he was currently taking shelter. "Incoming!"
Splat.
Remus slid to the side and ducked into the pantry just as a particularly large piece of tomato hit the wall where his head had been seconds before with a loud squelching sound. Seconds later he emerged suitably armed with a large pot lid held protectively in front of his face and throat.
Splat.
"Now, now, Harry," he said gently, looking above the rim of the lid at the baby looking at him through big green eyes with a wide smile on his lips. "If we're done eating, we don't throw our food around, do we? Especially not on peo-"
Splat.
What – hopefully - must have been the last piece of tomato hit the rim of the lid with dreadful accuracy, making it ricochet over the metal and settle itself wetly in Remus' hair. And now that he ran out of ammunition, Harry began making little sounds of distress, raising his hands and trying to get out of his highchair.
"I think it means he want to get out of the chair," Sirius said, crawling out from under the table. "What are we supposed to do next?"
"Wash him, I think," Remus said dubiously as both men looked at the mess covering the kitchen floor, walls, counters and appliances, not to mention the two of them and Harry himself, who had cream cheese smeared on his face and bits of chicken in his hair. They once again exchanged a look before Remus resignedly said, "Fine, I'll wash him, but you change his nappy."
It did not take long for it to dawn on Sirius that he had drawn the short straw of the bargain.
Washing Harry was not too bad – that is, once he stopped crying and cooperated when Remus instructed him to look up. He even began giggling when Remus wrapped him in a warm, fluffy towel they had left by the heating for him while he was being washed. But then came Sirius' turn, and things did not seem as sunny anymore.
"He peed on me!" the dark-haired man exclaimed, backing away. "Is he supposed to pee on people at this age?"
All he got in reply was Remus' muffled laughter – until somehow he had gotten aimed at as well.
Then came bedtime, with one story chasing another and then a good bout of crying when he was finally put to bed for the night, and both men looked at one another, swearing they will never have children of their own.
All in all, when they heard faint pops outside the house, they sighed in relief, knowing that Harry's parents would soon be there to save them. But the person who came through the door was in no condition to help anyone, let alone herself. Lily was crying and hurried to the bedroom, slamming the door after her.
"I will kill her!" James growled as he entered after the sobbing Lily. His normally clear face was a thunderstorm and his muscles were bunched, as though he itched to hit someone.
"What happened?" Remus asked in alarm as they sound of Lily's footsteps retreating into the bedroom where her son was safely asleep faded.
"That-that-that stupid Muggle!" James managed with difficulty. "That ignorant, stupid, selfish, heartless Muggle!"
"Prongs?" Sirius asked, his tone in truth repeating Remus' worded question.
"Petunia," James said in a way of explanation.
That was all the two needed to know. Both their countenances darkened. Lily's sister was already far into their black books. It did not really matter if she did another thing to their friend, but if something hurt Lily that badly, they wanted to know.
"At the middle of the funeral, right before Lily was going to go and say a few words, that stupid bitch starts shrieking about what a freak Lily is and how that accident should have taken her and me and Harry instead of their parents. And she went on about how abnormal we were and how they should never let indecent people such as us go anywhere near funerals of good, honest people like her parents. She just wouldn't shut up - and that stupid pig of a husband of hers just stands there and nods in affirmation of everything she says instead of calming her down and taking her away. Everyone just stood there, staring at her like she had grown an extra head, but she didn't give a damn, nor did that pig." He dropped to the sofa like a sack full of bricks, burying his face in his hands. "I could have killed them right then and there. I was on the verge of drawing my wand on them, but I had Lily to think about. I can't believe anyone could do such a thing to her."
Indeed, Petunia Dursley would have to be one of the crueller human beings Remus ever came to contact with to do that to her own sister.
Brushing his hand through his hair, James sighed and sat absent-mindedly on one of the kitchen chairs, completely missing the fact that he had sat on some of Harry's dinner that had managed to escape the two Marauders' eyes when they started cleaning earlier. There was a lost look in his eyes, one that had been there all-too-often since they had left Hogwarts.
"I'm tired," he finally said after a while, his voice low.
"We'll leave," Sirius said hurriedly, starting to turn.
"That's… not what I meant, Padfoot," James said. "I'm tired of burying people I love and care about. And… I'm starting to fear that the next people I bury might be you, or Lily, or Harry, or that one of you might end up burying me." His hazel eyes had a faraway look in them as he stared at the gleaming pile of dishes drying on their wooden construction by the sink. His eyes were looking, but not seeing their environment.
Suddenly, the cheery, warm kitchen of the Potters seemed cold and gloomy.
"It's natural for you to feel this way, James," Sirius said softly, surprising the other two and most likely himself as well. "You just came from your in-laws funeral, and it is impossible to deny that we're living in dark, hard times, but there are always rays of light that can bright things up. Want to know what mine is?"
For a moment the kitchen was silent. Remus was looking contemplatively at his tall friend, wondering from where this bit of wisdom had come from. Sirius never seemed to be the deep type, but as his friend, Remus was familiar with his sudden outbursts of deepness. He wryly thought that he probably should not have been surprised.
As for James, he looked up at his friend, his eyes finally focusing. Silently, he waited for Sirius to continue, obviously grasping for something that will keep him from going mad with grief.
Sirius' handsome face split into a warm smile. Not the cheeky grin, or the evil smirk he was so well know for, but a true, right-from-the-heart smile that lit his entire face and showed a glimpse of the true Sirius Black carefully hidden under the façade of the dashing Marauder.
"It's Harry, and it's you, and Lily, and Moony and Wormtail, and Keira and the other girls. It's knowing that no matter what, no matter how dark things will get, I will always have you and the memories of the times we spent, spend and will spend together." He suddenly looked uncomfortable, as though he had said something that he hadn't exactly meant to reveal. He turned his face away from James and self-consciously rubbed the side of his neck with his fingers in a decidedly un-Sirius-like gesture. "That's what I think, anyway," he finished rather lamely.
Slowly, like the sun breaking from behind dark clouds, a smile began to appear on James' lips. Slowly turning into chuckles, and from there the way to a full-blown – if slightly hysterical – laughing fit was rather short.
"Ah, Padfoot," James finally said, "you're an absolute treasure sometimes, did you know that? Merlin, that was cheesy!"
Sirius seemed even more embarrassed, but his answering grin did not bear even a trace of self-mockery. For James, at least, things would be looking up quite soon.
But what about Lily?
As Remus walked up his parents' garden very late that night, not wanting to be scolded by Mrs. Lark for coming to her house so late, he pondered over Sirius' words. In truth, they echoed much of his own feelings. Even though things were so dark, friends and family members were lost and hope seemed so far away and impossible to reach, there were always those little rays of sunlight breaking through.
What was his own ray? Probably the same as Sirius', the same as James'. They all loved the same people and cared for the same people. It was part of their brotherhood. Part of their friendship.
He just hoped that Lily would come to see it that way as well. The broken-hearted sobs he and Sirius could still hear even after closing the flat's door behind them made it clear that it will be a long road yet before she could.
He stopped walking just outside the door and turned to look at the quiet, peaceful garden surrounding his parents' cottage. In the light of the gradually filling moon there was an eerie quality to the rustling bushes, the gravelled path and the meticulously cropped grass. It was a cold and dry night, the air clearer than it had been for weeks. Irrationally, he wondered if nature itself was giving the Evans couple its last respects.
Smiling sadly to himself, he took out his key and let himself in to his childhood home.
Time heals everything.
And, eventually, Lily, too, will heal.
That was sad... and a seriously long chapter, but there really wasn't any other choice, and I'm sure all of you who are familiar with the series know that :( Anyway, I hoped you liked the chapter, and in any case – let me know your thoughts!
A note concerning the manner of Lily's parents' death: we know from JK's interviews that the elder Potters were old when they had James – even in wizarding standards, I think, and so it was not hard to decide that his father would die a natural death out of old age, and that his mother would follow because she couldn't live without the husband that had been by her side for decades. We also know that there was nothing sinister about the deaths of Lily's parents either, and that Petunia doesn't resent her because Voldemort had killed them like many theorize. From there, the way to the popular view of the car accident was clear. After all, assuming Lily's parents were in their early 60's at the most, if not younger (which is more likely, in my opinion), there's no reason for both of them to die naturally before James and Lily's deaths. A car accident seems like the most obvious thing. That's the way I see it anyway
Anyway! In the next chapter: as if things weren't bad enough, now the Potters are once again the target of more trouble, but that's not all… Someone's stirring up trouble with the Marauders… but who?
Well, you'll have to wait for Wednesday to know, and the new chapter… Doubts…
-Star of the North
