I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the shows, comics, films or books quoted.
'You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?'
SHE knows she shouldn't be here. The rain is battering down on the cobbled street, thunderous clouds blocking out the little light of the moon as they roll across the sky. Emilia can barely see through the sheet of rain, but what little she can see looks so vastly different from the street she could remember.
Lights flickered eerily. The grand old buildings that once loomed over the tiny square have been replaced with rickety flats, decaying and crumbling with age; the once pristine streets now streaked in grime and thick mud that make the journey over the cobbles a slippery one. Rubbish bags are strewn across the street, their plastic skins torn open to reveal their rotting innards. Emilia lingers on the corner of the square, looking over at the row of tenements. A light flickers in one window, cracked open slightly to release a cloud of smoke. Her eyes narrow on it.
Emilia starts forward, pulling her jacket closer around her. She slips and slides across the cobblestones towards the flat door. Her eyes sting from the stench. With a quick glance around, she leans closer to inspect the scratched up lock; a thin smile stretches across her lips.
A quick push here, a jiggle there, and - the door swings open. Emilia internalises her inner cheer.
The door closes behind her with a soft click. It echoes in the empty stairwell, thick with the stink of piss and bad booze. Emilia starts up the stairs, ignoring the squeak of her sneakers against the steps. She counts each door as she passes, one, two, three, four. She draws to a stop outside a bright red door on the second landing. The wood is deeply gouged with thick claw marks. The 'welcome' mat is squint, and dust covers the doorbell. Emilia takes a deep breath, her hand hovering the wood. Her other hand, deep in her pocket, brushes against crumpled paper.
Come on, you big wimp.
She knocks, and the sound of flesh against wood echoes within the tiny flat beyond the front door. There is no reply.
Emilia counts to ten before knocking again, then counts to five before knocking again. She continues until she hears a groaning within, followed by a shuffling and a grumble. The deep baritone sound washes over her and settles in her stomach like a rock.
Finally - finally - the door clinks and opens, revealing tired grey eyes under bedhead. Those eyes blink once, twice, then widen.
"Emilia."
"Sirius," she replies quietly.
"What are you doing here, Emilia, it's dangerous." Sirius glances up and down his close before pulling the woman into his apartment. The door clangs shut behind them, the lock automatically sliding into place.
Sirius stares down at Emilia, mussed and bleary-eyed. He is half-dressed, sporting a large bandage on one shoulder, his wand twirling anxiously in the other. His stare makes her nervous.
"Have you seen Remus?"
Sirius stares at her baffled, "Have I...Have I seen Remus? Are you joking with me, Emilia? What on Godric's green earth are you doing here asking me about Remus for?"
"Fuck." She pulls at her hair, anxiety leaking into her expression, "Fuck."
She was right. The woman was right.
"What's going on, Emilia?"
She shakes her head, "I can't, I'm not supposed to say. I have to...I have to go. I shouldn't be here."
Emilia turns to leave. Sirius grabs her wrist, stopping her just before the door.
"What's going on, Emilia?"
She bites her lip.
"I'm not letting you out of here until you tell me what's going on."
"I was supposed to go to you, if something went wrong, you were supposed to be the one I could trust."
Sirius drops her hand like he's been burned.
"Dumbledore sent Remus up to the Northern packs, to try and talk sense into them. He's been coming home, bloodied, bruised, battered, and he refused, Sirius, he refused to let me tell you anything. Kept muttering about spies and moles and secret keepers, although the goddess knows what he meant."
Sirius says nothing.
"He was supposed to be back last week, Siri."
"...he hasn't come home?"
"No." Emilia hesitates, "I thought maybe he would be here with you. But if he's not here…"
Sirius studies Emilia's face as if hunting for something.
"He's been with the packs this entire time?"
"He's been with the packs for the last year."
Sirius looks like he might throw up. Emilia is not surprised.
"But if he's not…" Sirius' eyes widen and she tenses at the sight. "Fuck."
The man jumps into action, sprinting down the hall like Hades himself was on his heels. Emilia startles at the sudden movement, watching as Sirius rushes from one end of the flat to the other, a shirt caught over his head and a wand in his other hand.
"Sirius…"
Grey eyes turn to her frantically, "We've got to go."
"Sirius, what…?"
A pale hand clamps down on her arm and before she can even protest, Sirius is dragging out the tenement and back onto the sodden streets. He's in such a rush, Emilia almost crushes a carved pumpkin underfoot as he drags her around another corner.
...
WHEN the world finally stops spinning, Emilia doubles over and empties her lunch over Sirius' shoes.
"Really?" The man holds up a sneaker in disgust. Emilia wipes her mouth with a grimace.
"Remind me why we couldn't take the flying motorcycle?" She asks weakly.
"Not fast enough, scourgify." He waves his wand impatiently, and before Emilia has a chance to do her usual goggle at the casual use of magic, he's pulling her along again.
"What's going on, Sirius?"
"Shh."
"Sirius!"
"Shh, just keep quiet, Em."
He pulls her past another neat row of quaint cottages. He's taken her somewhere rural. She's not sure why.
The streets give way to a small village square, filled with the golden glow of streetlights. Sirius starts to slow, lurking behind some hedges on the outskirts of the square. Everything is still, quiet.
Sirius surveys the little row of cottages, his gaze deep and probing each one, until - he exhales in relief. Collapses on the ground beneath the hedge.
Emilia stays standing, looking out over the square. It seems peaceful, too peaceful almost. Now that she is looking properly, there was something about this place that looked almost familiar, almost like…
"Sirius…"
Emilia's gaze catches on a nearby sign. Her grip clenches around the scrap of paper in her pocket. 'Long live Harry Potter.'
Crack.
Emilia ducks behind the hedge as the sound echoes across the square. Sirius goes very still beside her. After a moment, she can hear a shuffle, like robes dragging across the cobbles. The air grows thick, so thick it sticks in the back of her throat; cool fingers slip down her spine, and she shivers. The sound grows closer and closer, and closer. Sirius' body begins to shake, and he clenches his fist around his wand. Emilia knows who has arrived.
Lord Voldemort.
There's a soft murmur, and suddenly a gate slams open in the garden beside them. Sirius looks at her and she looks at him, and all Emilia knows is that if Sirius doesn't move, the bloody Dark Lord is going to turn and see them and what a fat lot of help they would be dead, and how much Remus is going to go mental when he finds out and she wonders if magic could bring back someone from the dead because if it could Remus would bring her back and kill her again for pulling a stunt like this and - then Sirius is up and turning towards the demon before she can even say a word.
There's a shout, a flash of light. Emilia is blinded, but she can feel Sirius' hand pressing into hers, dragging her away from the serial muggle murderer just feet from them. A door slams behind her. She blinks away the last of the flashes of light behind her eyelids to see Sirius and James talking rapidly over the top of her head, and then Lily appears at the top of the stairs with Harry - tiny, tiny Harry - in her arms. She's about to take a step forward when - bang.
The door implodes behind them. Sirius crashes through the stairwell as Emilia flies back into a wall. Her head thunks against plaster, and she can't contain the hiss of pain that comes. Everything goes blurry. Lily disappears from view, and James is shouting loudly, his wand flying wildly as a dark figure advances on him. Emilia can see Sirius' shoes poking out from behind the stairwell. He's not moving.
She gathers herself unsteadily to her feet. The two duellers pay her no attention as she stumbles closer and closer. For a moment, it seems like James is winning, the figure is backing off, moving away.
'You can change everything.'
Then James trips. Voldemort leans back ready to deal the final blow.
'Magic or no magic, you are strong enough to face it all, even if it doesn't feel like it right now...'
Emilia is moving, until she finds herself between the men, her hands catching on James' shirt to pull him out of the way. They land on the ground with a grunt.
'...because it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. A wise man once told a friend of mine that.'
She stares up at the ceiling as everything grows quiet again. Emilia wonders if she managed it, whatever it was she trying to do.
A scream pierces her thoughts. It's getting harder to breathe.
The last thing Emilia remembers is the roof caving in.
'I am so sorry, Emilia.'
...
THERE'S a deep rumbling. Emilia groans as the sound grows fainter and fainter.
Her head is killing her. She blinks, the dim light sparking stabbing pains behind her eye sockets. She winces, tries to open her eyes again, pushing through the pain. Where is she again? She's not sure. It's mostly dark but there's a faint light somewhere near her. The rumbling falls quiet, a heavy silence weighing down on her.
Emilia tries to move. Her fingers twitch, her arms shifting slightly, but her leg is stuck. She pulls, and something begins to shift above her, so she pulls harder, moving her arms to scrabble through the debris that is settled on her. Finally, it moves and Emilia gulps in the fresher air. Her leg wriggles free. She looks around. Dirt and debris are scattered everywhere, the remains of a house, a loving home, reduced to rubble. She feels like she might puke.
Emilia is covered in bits of broken planks, plaster and plastic. With a wince, she moves it away, slowly sitting up. Half of the stairway is gone, the hallway destroyed, although the living room behind her still partially stands.
She tries to remember the last thing that happened. A few blurry images pass by her, the coldness of her empty flat, the journey to Sirius, his panic and fury, the quaint village until -
Emilia scrabbles onto her knees, gaze searching the debris for any sign of life. For anything that could be human. The ceiling is gone, a giant hole above her reveals that the roof must have caved in. She swallows a sob as she begins to dig, pushing away the thought of Lily standing on the top step.
"J-James? Sirius?"
She pushes through more rubble, her movement becoming more frantic. It's as she shoves aside a large piece of plaster, she sees it. A limp hand, clutching a broken wand. A stained sneaker lies not far from it.
"James! Sirius!"
Emilia rushes forward, digging, daring not to hope as she removes more wood and plaster and broken furniture, and wishing she had a wand because this would make everything so much easier. Then she sees James, his face bloodied and bruised, but breathing, alive.
She tries to shake him awake, but he does not respond.
"James. James, you've got to wake, please mate," she shakes him again. "James Potter, move goddamnit or I'll, I'll dye your hair green again! Don't think I won't you giant colossal idiot! James!"
There's a groan to her left. Something shifts under the rubble, and Emilia is suddenly alert. She moves from James - still breathing, still alive - and towards the moving shape. Suddenly, a head of black hair pokes out from underneath a broken plank. Sirius blinks at Emilia, his face caked in dirt and bruised purple, his hair standing up in different directions, and then she's rushing forward and wrapping her arms around him, sobbing. She can't stop herself from sobbing.
"Emilia?" Sirius' voice is coarse, "Emilia, what-?"
The man stills and his hold around her tightens, she tries not to wince at the pain.
"James? Lily? H-Harry?"
Emilia looks towards the other man, still covered in rubble. Sirius follows her gaze.
"Is he...is he ok?"
"He's breathing, I don't know much beyond that."
Sirius' breath leaves him in a big whoosh of air.
"...what about-"
She glances towards the ceiling, "I don't know."
Sirius' face hardens. He says nothing and instead moves towards James, crawling across the debris. His gait is slow, sluggish and his left leg drags behind his right. He reaches his friend with a groan of pain, and waves his wand over the man, muttering under his breath. Emilia approaches slowly, pain stabbing behind her eyeballs. She can feel something sticky at the nape of her neck. She tries not to think about it.
"Is he ok?"
Sirius looks up, "He'll be fine. Nothing St Mungo's can't fix. He'll live."
And if his smile is a little strained, neither of them remark on it.
"I should probably check upstairs," he says after a moment.
Emilia nods as the man pulls himself up onto his feet. He winces, and she notices his teeth grit with the pain. Sirius navigates the destroyed staircase and she rests against what's left of the railing. His steps grow fainter, and her eyes begin to droop. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for her to take a short nap. Just enough to get her energy back to get them out of here.
...
WHEN Emilia next wakes, she can feel herself rocking. As if she was back on one of those fishing boats her father used to take her out on when she was wee. The gentle tug and push are enough to send her back to sleep, but she fights off the tiredness, pushing through the sluggishness.
Whispers break through the silence. Awareness comes back to her slowly, her fingers twitch, and the pain in her arms flare. She moans.
"Looks like Em is back with us," a deep voice says.
She blinks open one eye, then the other. Black hair fills her vision, and it takes her moment to realise the rocking came from being carried. Sirius is giving her a piggy-back. She swivels her head to see - James, limping alongside them. He is covered in dirt, his clothes torn, face as dark as an oncoming storm. It takes that one look for her to know and her heart breaks.
"James."
"Hullo Emmy, how're you feeling?"
"Sore."
She looks around, takes stock of their surroundings. Gone are the quaint little cottages and in their place is a forest that stretches out into the darkness. Tall trees line the path they're treading, "Where are we going?"
"We've not got enough in us to apparate, we didn't want to risk splinching you by accident," James explains. He's calm, too calm and it scares her, "Thought we'd walk to the nearest portkey point."
Sirius says nothing. His hold on her is tense, and she can feel his body vibrating beneath her. He's angry.
"Why not…" she coughs, "Why not ask for help at one of the nearby houses?"
The two men exchange a quick look.
"We're not sure if we can…"
And goddess help her, she knows that look. The boys didn't know who to trust, better to get all of them out there as soon as possible rather than linger. She sighs.
"How far?"
"Just around this corner," James explains as they come to the end of the path. "I'll just jump on ahead and bring it back. Keep an eye on him, Emmy."
James limps behind two fallen trees, disappearing from view. Silence falls.
"Sirius."
"I tried to leave to find Peter," he chokes out the name like it's poison. "I was going to gut the rat, hang him by his entrails for all to see so that they would know what kind of a traitor he was. James stopped me."
"He was their secret keeper…" Emilia's eyes widen.
"I thought I was being clever, ha, no one would ever suspect Peter of being the secret keeper," Sirius laughs mirthlessly, his grasp on her tightening. "He betrayed us all. It's all my fault."
Emilia says nothing. She'd seen them in the aftermath of the war, bloodied with victory in their eyes and in their grins. It was easy to forget the darkness that crept in after they came down from their highs. How many nights had she spent patching these boys up? Gathering their broken pieces and stitching them together and reminding them why they fought. How many times had she held Remus on nights when the moon hung in the sky like a broken toenail, when his comrades had fallen, Dorcas, Gideon, Fabian, Caradoc, Benjy, Marlene.
'..it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities…'
James returns moments later, the portkey wrapped in a torn tote bag. Emilia takes in the tight lines around his eyes, the thin stretch of his smile, the white-knuckled grip on the bag.
"Where will this take us then?"
"To Dumbledore's office, hopefully. If I've not confused it with the St Mungo's one."
"Will I...will I be able to see it?"
James shoots her a baffled look.
"I thought you had been to Hogwarts?" Sirius' voice came.
She shakes her head.
"Wait until you see it Em, it's glorious. Like nothing you've ever seen before…"
Emilia presses her face into Sirius' hair, letting his words wash over her, seeing the castle in her mind's eye. The twisting high turrets reaching for the sun, the soft glow of its lights over the Great Lake on a dark winter's night.
James readies the portkey as Sirius speaks. Underneath her hands, his body slowly relaxes, his own words serving to calm the fire in his blood.
Finally, the portkey is ready. Emilia braces herself, reaching across Sirius' shoulder towards the innocent-looking textbook, torn and dogeared. As one they reach forward to grasp the book.
There's a sharp tug behind her navel and the world starts spinning like she's riding a demented merry-go-round that refuses to stop. Her stomach tumbles, hot bile rising in her throat as pain flares through her. She can't help but think that wizards need to sort out their methods of transportation because surely there is a much more comfortable way to travel than this incessant twirling and tugging.
The trio comes to a sudden stop, stumbling into an open corridor. Everything stops around them. Emilia's head is still spinning and she's pretty sure she's about to empty what's left of her stomach contents into Sirius' hair when she hears James topple to his knees beside them. The sound echoes through the corridor, and suddenly someone is screaming, and there are bodies rushing towards them. Her vision spins. Lime-green witches are racing towards them and Emilia starts laughing, wondering where the winged monkeys are. Her laughter turns to sobs as she is pulled into Sirius' arms, as the bodies press in closer and James is whisked away on a levitating stretcher.
It's as the witches bundle the remaining two down the long corridor that she sees it. A bushy mane of brown hair. The young woman turns the corner, and for one moment, looks back, just enough for Emilia to see the deep brown eyes and the quirk of a relieved smile. She nods and vanishes.
'Harry lives.'
...
REMUS appears a few hours later. She has been checked over thrice by this point, given at least two dozen chocolate biscuits, and told that she'd hear about James "as soon as possible". Sirius had been herded down another corridor, cursing and flirting with the nurses.
They'd all felt lighter after they'd been told Harry was fine. James had cried in relief, and she had held him, tears staining her shirt as the trio stood united in their grief. Harry had been placed with Petunia after James was presumed dead, something that made Emilia incredibly anxious. She'd sworn to Sirius that as soon as she was cleared to leave, she would go and collect him. If she could figure out how to leave St Mungo's first.
Another nurse - a healer Sirius had called them - presses more chocolate digestives and tea into her hand when Remus comes skidding around the corner. She stares at him speechless. He is panting hard, his clothes torn and bandages placed haphazardly across his face. A plump witch is hovering behind him, begging him to "slow down" and "stay still" as she tries to press more bandages onto him.
"I believe there's a visitor for you, dearie," the kindly witch beside her takes the cup of tea out of her hand.
Emilia stands shakily. Remus' frantic gaze lands on her. Then he is running, skidding towards her, and she races across the final few feet to crash into his arms. They topple to the ground, falling to their knees. His grip is tight around her as if she might float away if he doesn't hold on tightly enough.
"Emilia, Emilia, Emilia," his words are whispered into her hair. His hands press into her, patting down her shoulders, her sides, gripping her hands, "Are you ok? What happened? Where's Sirius? James? And Harry? Is Harry ok? Oh Merlin, what-"
She grasps his face between her hands, "Remus."
He stops.
"It's ok. I'm ok. So are Sirius and James and Harry. I'm waiting to be discharged and then we can go get Harry. It's ok."
He pulls her back into his arms, tucking her head underneath his chin. She grasps him just as tightly.
When he finally releases her, his face is heartbroken and she can see his eyes are red-rimmed, swollen.
"Lily."
Emilia shakes her head.
"She protected Harry. We're not sure how but she defeated him. She stopped Voldemort."
Remus flinches. Emilia pretends not to notice.
After a moment, he rises, pulls her up with him. They move towards some nearby chairs, perched outside James' room. If she strains herself to listen, Emilia can just make out the sound of his snoring beyond the closed door. James is breathing, James is alive.
'We all live.'
"Em, what were you doing there?"
Remus' voice draws her attention away from James' door. She hesitates.
"Emilia."
She looks up, and slowly reaches for the crumpled paper in her pocket. She pulls it out, smoothing out the wrinkles. She holds it out for him to take.
He raises an eyebrow, but takes the sheaf of paper and unfolds it. She watches as he reads the letter through once, twice, thrice. He looks up at her in disbelief.
"Merlin."
"I know."
"How did she know? I mean-"
"I'm not sure," Emilia takes the letter back and folds it. "But she was right."
Remus shakes his head, "I just don't understand…"
Emilia looks down at the letter in her lap. Even folded she can see the slanted writing, the curling t's and dotted i's; the writing would probably always be there in the back of her mind. It spoke of a terrible future, and the steps that would need to be taken over the next few years to continue to ensure it never came to pass. Most of all it spoke of a determined, resourceful boy with a pure heart full of love. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. No more.
"It wasn't enough to save Lily."
Remus sighs, "Emilia…"
She waves the letter in his face, "I knew they were in danger and it still wasn't enough to save her."
"She...Lily died a hero, Emilia. She died for Harry," Remus says hoarsely.
"My friend died while I lay unconscious buried under rubble unable to do anything with these stupid magicless hands," a sob breaks free from her throat.
"Come here," Remus pulls her into his arms. She hiccups into his shoulder.
"What are we going to do?"
"That's an easy question to answer, love. We live," he says quietly. "We follow this letter, what this Hermione has told us to do, and we make sure that not one inch of it comes true. And we do it so that Harry lives."
Emilia looks up at Remus, his warm eyes holding hers determinedly.
'We all live.'
She presses her forehead against Remus', "I love you."
"I love you," he smiles.
"Hey lovebirds! Did you hear the news?"
Emilia turns to see Sirius making his way towards them. A wide grin is spread across his face, despite the sadness lingering in his eyes. She says nothing as Remus stands to greet him, the pair clasping each other in a manly hug. And if she spots Sirius shedding a tear, she would later blame the fact she was recovering from a bump on the head.
Next door, James continues to snore. The man is devastated, heartbroken, but he's alive. One more soul saved.
She turns to look out the window where the usual hustle of London's life continues. She knows the wizards will be celebrating, praising Lily Potter for defeating the Dark Lord, for they are now finally free. As they set off their shooting stars and down their firewhiskey, they'll be unaware of the small muggle who saved a wizard. Nor of the one woman who risked everything to change everything, the one woman who ensured that more souls would be saved.
Emilia presses her head against the cool glass.
Thank you, Hermione.
...
Author's note: I'm not too sure how many people read these notes these days. It's been some time since I've published on this site. So first of all, I supposed I should thank you for getting this far and taking the time to read this.
This is a wee idea that's been floating about in my head that grew into an absolute monster of a one-shot. Please don't ask me how, I'm not entirely sure how it did. My fingers flew away with me.
I'm still pretty convinced the overall premise might be a tad too confusing, but I figured I might as well post it. If you enjoyed it, great, if not, then thanks for taking the time to read it, and if you're still confused and want to know exactly what happened then I shall endeavour to answer all and any questions.
Anyway, thank you. Stay safe, stay well and keep reading.