All characters and events that you recognise from the Harry Potter books belong to jk Rowling. Any others belong to me.
I haven't deleted anyone's reviews so chances are you just didn't send it. I don't even know how to delete reviews! Btw if anyone could tell me that would be great ;) And with Snape, you realise that Harry hasn't had that conversation with them right? I haven't spoken about Snape much at all and the first inkling they got that about Snape was in the last chapter.
Also, sorry it's been a while. I needed a few days off and then I got ill. Enjoy.
Sirius and James both parted to search the house while Jemma was occupied.
Sirius started downstairs and went into the cellar, while James took the upstairs. Both were on edge. They couldn't explain it, but they were worried. There was something unsettling about the house, and they were both eager to leave as soon as possible.
The house was hauntingly-creaky and dark. The windows were grimy and little light streaming through.
Sirius looked around the room where the three women were sat - nothing particularly untoward. He then sucked up all his Gryffindor courage and slipped downstairs into the cellar.
The walls were dark and grimy, and the moisture in the air was practically tangible. The room was quite large. Shelves and shelves of potion ingredients lined the wall alongside multiple books.
There was a dark wooden table in the middle, with a cauldron bubbling ominously on top of it. He carefully edged closer to it, and looked revolted at the sludgy-brown gloop that was writhing within.
"Polyjuice" he murmured.
He looked through the room, moving jars and books and looking for nothing in particular.
After another 10 minutes, he couldn't find anything more and slipped upstairs and into the living room alongside the girls.
Upstairs, James was thoroughly searching the rooms. The dark mantra continued in each room, and it sent shivers down his spine. The rooms were clean, and there was no hint of another person in the house.
Begrudgingly, he set off downstairs and into the living room again.
If only they had thought of casting 'homonum revelio.'
In the living room stroke dining room, Lily and Tonks sat opposite the nervous Jemma.
They couldn't help but note how she fidgeted with her hands in her lap, and the way she wouldn't quite meet their eyes.
Finally, Tonks broke the uncomfortable silence that had descended.
"How have you been, Jemma?" She asked worriedly.
"Not too bad thanks. And you?" Jemma responded.
"I've been fine thanks. Oh, how rude of me!" she gasped, "Jemma, this is Li- er- Lillian Bords." She amended
Lily smiled at Jemma and offered a hand to shake. "Pleasure to meet you."
Jemma lightly shook Lily's hand, and then put it back in her pocket. But Lily had seen.
There were faint scar lines on the hand. Not just any scar line though. No, they were unmistakably that of an unbreakable vow.
Lily stifled a small gasp.
"What can I do for you ladies?"
Tonks and Lily shared a look, and Lily nodded discreetly.
"It's about Amanda." Tonks began.
Jemma's eyes widened slightly. "Amanda?"
"She's missing." Lily explained. "And we were wondering if you've seen her?"
Jemma seemed at a loss for words. Lily looked into her eyes. Was it fear? Fear for Amanda? Or fear for herself? Shock? Hurt? Anger? Whatever resided within her eyes was quickly banished as she straightened up and they became blank.
"I haven't seen her since August." She said shortly.
"When in August?" Tonks questioned.
"Er- I don't know." She seemed to catch herself.
Lily internally raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a rough date?" She asked politely.
"Around the middle." She said quickly.
But then something weird happened: the woman winced almost as though she was in pain. Her breathing became shallow.
She pushed away a lock of her hair out of her face, and Lily and Tonks both noted how the scars on her hand had grown red.
They quickly adjusted their tactic, knowing that they would have to be careful.
"What did you talk about?"
"Trivial things." She responded vaguely.
Lily and Tonks waited for her to continue, but she didn't.
"Can you elaborate?"
"Honestly, no. I didn't think much of the conversation at the time. It was just random things. You know, the weather and old memories. That kind of thing. I can't remember every word she has ever said to me you know." She snapped harshly.
"Any chance we could have the memory?" Lily pushed.
"Excuse me?" She scoffed.
"So we could view it in a pensieve."
The woman stared at Lily. "no." She responded simply.
"Why not?"
"Because, to be quite frank, I see no reason whatsoever as to why it should be of any importance. Amanda will turn up. I have nothing to do with any of this and would greatly appreciate it if you'd stop acting as though I'm some sort of criminal or guilty in any way shape or form."
Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Jemma we don't think anything of the so-"
"I'm sorry but I'm quite busy" Jemma interjected "You can show yourselves out I'm sure."
Realising defeat, they stood up and thanked her for her time. They exited the hall, allowing time for a disillusioned James and Sirius to slip out the front door.
"Well." Tonks said bracingly. "That was interesting."
Jemma sighed as the two women left her house.
That was close.
The scars had pained her as a warning. She couldnt reveal what she wanted to, because she would die.
Some may call it cowardice, she called it intelligence.
Death was scary. She didn't want to die. Because death was the absence of life. And she loved living.
Jemma wasn't blind. She could tell that something ominous was on the horizon. But she wouldn't make it through if she was reckless. She needed to live. She needed to survive. And to survive, she had to be smart. Running off to join a resistance movement against one of the most powerful wizards of all time, was not smart. Trusting people other than herself, was not smart. And revealing information that would result in her imminent death was most certainly, not smart.
No, she just needed to keep her head down and do as she was told.
It was the only way.
Jemma sighed as they left and went to start the kettle (the muggle way - it helped her relax). She fiddled with her ring on her hand as she looked out the window.
So they still hadn't found Amanda. She was still missing.
Jemma felt a pang as she thought of Amanda. Was it guilt? Remorse? Sadness?
Whatever it was, she never got the chance to find out.
Hogwarts
As September slowly began morphing into October, Hogwarts was changing.
New decrees were popping up, Ron was being advised by his traitorous brother (Percy) to stay away from his best friend, and Snape was still, well, Snape.
It was getting worse and worse for Harry.
Between his random flares of anger, the pointing and whispering and, well, Umbridge, he was at his wits end.
He found himself irritable and constantly reprimanding his best friends for their incessant bickering.
And the constant nightmares were most certainly not helping.
He attempted to isolate himself as well as possible.
The scar on his hand was not healing because it didn't get any opportunity to do so. He found he couldn't keep his mouth shut around Umbridge, and was constantly receiving more detentions.
His parents kept on at him to keep his head down. As did everyone else. But her constant insinuating that he was lying about one of the most traumatic experiences he had ever faced (and that was saying something) was driving him over the edge.
The professor's stupid, highpitched girly giggle set his teeth on edge.
Ron and Hermione had discovered about his regular torture and pushed for him to tell someone. Ron still knew that he should, but also recognised that it was like arguing with a brick wall. Hermione, was not so reluctant to let it go.
She had also come up with some cockamamie (Harry's language was slightly more crude than that) idea that he should teach them defense.
While the idea of rebelling against Umbridge was most delightful, who on earth would want to be taught by him anyway?
So he pushed it to the back of his mind for the moment.
Harry was sat by the lake, basking in the sun's stupefying disappearance over the hills and mountains in the distance, and watching the giant squid's tentacles tickling the air.
He sat channeling his inner Hermione (ie- reading) in jeans and his Weasley jumper while the refreshing breeze invigorated him.
He needed the peace and quiet. It was all becoming a bit too much and he found himself very... overwhelmed. But the tranquility of the lake calmed him.
Ron and Hermione slipped out of the castle and walked towards him.
"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.
He turned and gave them both a half-smile and patted the space next to him.
They smiled back, very relieved, and sat either side of him.
"We wanted to run something by you." Hermione began softly.
He raised an eyebrow and looked between them. Here we go.
Hermione looked to Ron and he continued.
"So, you know in the summer we were talking about animagus'?"
Harry nodded. They had spent many afternoons dreaming of it and discussing the possibilities.
"Well... Hermione's found a book on it."
Harry snapped his book shut and looked between them. "Seriously?"
They nodded.
"It was in the restricted section and well..." she took a steadying breath. "What with Voldemort and the (unfortunately) inevitable war that is brewing, I think it would be a good idea to at the very least look into it. The process is very complicated but I do believe that we could do it."
Ron scoffed incredulously. "You could do it."
Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling anyway. "Well I think it would be beneficial to have something like this up our sleeves just in case."
"Definitely." Harry concurred.
Ron and Hermione exhaled.
"Let's do it."
They beamed.
By mid October, the trio had begun the process.
Over the summer, James and Sirius had mentioned in passing about the room of requirement to Harry, and they had decided to utilise it.
Every evening, the three disappeared into the room. They used the desks that were provided to study and complete homework in peace, and began making the potion. Well, Hermione did.
The process would involve making a complex potion to ease the process when they first changed, and that would take about six months. Then, they would have to essentially invent a tailored spell each. The structure was the same, yet the research into the gaps that needed to be filled was quite extensive.
They estimated to be able to change into their forms for the first time in the Easter Holidays.
Harry's patience and tolerance with Umbridge was wearing thin, so the next day, they were planning on meeting some students in Hogsmede to talk about defense lessons.
Because enough was enough.
Harry and Ron sat at a desk by the fire in the corner of the room on a dreary Friday afternoon agonising over a particularly horrible potions essay, while Hermione (who naturally, had already done it) was adding more ingredients to the potion.
The brilliant thing about the room of requirement was that it meant that they didn't have to steal from Snape's private potion stores to get the ingredients, as they would just appear.
Ron huffed melodramatically and slammed his quill onto the desk.
"I dont think I have ever hated potions more than I do right now."
Harry could practically hear Hermione rolling her eyes. "Honestly Ronald. No need to be so dramatic. When its done its done."
He exhaled and picked up his quill again.
For half an hour, the only sound was the scratching of quills, the rustling of pages as Hermione consulted her book, and the faint bubbling of the potion in the corner.
Eventually, Harry and Ron both finished and joined Hermione on the other side of the room, flopping onto the armchairs.
"What do you think our forms will be?" Harry pondered aloud. "Same as our Patronus forms, d'ya think?"
"Probably not." Ron began. "Patronuses can change, but I don't think Animagus forms can."
"You're right, Ron. They cant change. Only a little over five months until we find out, though." She then turned to Harry, "Do you think yours will be the same as your dad's?"
He shrugged. He had wondered that. And if he was being honest, he hoped not. He had spent the last 5 years being told he looked like a man he had never met before. Now, he had met him, and could see what everyone meant. But he still wanted to retain a bit of his own personality. Because Harry knew that if his form was a stag, he would essentially be James junior. And he loved his dad. But he still wanted to be his own person. Not that he would ever say this aloud.
"Maybe. I think that we should ask him to show us his form over Christmas."
Hermione nodded. "And subtly ask questions."
Harry inclined his head in agreement.
"Wow Harry. First Christmas with your family this year." Ron commented dreamily.
Harry grinned. His family.
"Are you spending Christmas with your parents, Hermione?" Harry asked.
The bushy haired girl bit her lip in concentration as she added some lacewing flys to the potion. "I'm not sure. Maybe."
"Well you're more than welcome to stay with me or Ron. I know that my parents would love to have you."
She smiled. "Thanks. You sure you don't want a Christmas alone with your family though?"
"Hermione." She turned to look at him, "you guys are my family."
She beamed.
"Plus I'm sure Sirius and Remus will be there too. Not to mention various other order members."
"Any news from the order?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. "They were very vague when I asked. They said that things were going as well as could be expected, which is something I suppose."
"Have they been very involved with it?" Hermione questioned, stirring the potion anticlockwise.
"I think so. As much as they can be without revealing themselves. Think Dumbledore has them on a little mission of sorts."
"Oh?"
He nodded. "They were a bit frustrated I think. Not sure where to go from the point they're at."
"Maybe they just need a different angle. You know, like a different perspective."
"Or they just need a break" Ron interjected.
Harry looked up at the ceiling. Don't we all.
Lily, James, Sirius and Remus were annoyed.
And tired. Exhausted, actually.
They had decided to go back and question Jemma again the day after the first time, but no-one was there. They then spent three weeks waiting for her to come back, but no-one did. They chased every possibility: her parents, work, abroad. But nothing.
She had seemingly vanished off of the face of the Earth.
They knew that it was too suspicious to have been a mere coincidence, and were mad at themselves for not asking her more or searching more thoroughly in the house.
Remus, who wasn't there, was the voice of reason. He viewed their memories in a pensieve, and continually reasoned with them that they couldn't have known that she would disappear.
But he didn't understand.
They had felt as though they were being watched, and hadn't done anything. They hadn't checked for any one else in the house, even though their guts were pleading with them to do so.
Their strongest theory was that the reason Jemma was missing was due to their conversation. Had she said too much? Was she kidnapped because she had said too much? Was she kidnapped because someone realised that she knew something? Had she run to save herself? Had she run to save someone else? Where was she? Was she dead? Alive? Alive and injured? Alive and well?
They weren't sure.
And it was infuriating.
Remus stood disillusioned outside of Jemma's house on a dreary Friday evening in mid-October. They were fairly certain that wherever she was, she wouldn't return. But it wasn't a risk they wanted to take.
He exhaled and leant against the lamppost.
Then he smelt it.
Flesh.
Bones.
Decomposing flesh and bones.
The full moon was days away, meaning that his senses were hightened. Trusting his gut, he took off running down the street towards the forest.
He flew across the damp grass as the wind battered him. He ran for a quarter of an hour, until he stopped.
The werewolf abruptly stopped by a tree. The dirt in front of it had recently been upturned and small blades of grass were peeking through.
Dreading what he would find, he dug. Using a combination of his feet, wands and hand, he eventually reached something. The smell had been gradually becoming more and more putrid.
He jumped out of the hole and retched on his hands and knees. Tears stung his eyes. He wanted to pass out from the smell.
As there, in the hole, lay the mangled body of Jemma Handy.
Dried blood was matted into her face and hair. Chunks of flesh were missing from her body. Her eyes were wide open, but dull and lifeless. Her body was in a foetal position - protecting herself, until the very end.
Remus wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sucked up his courage to look at her again.
The bile rose in his throat, but he ignored it.
One of her hands were clenched around something.
At the realisation, he winced. He would have to...
He reached down and prised open her hand, unable to look at her face. The body was cold.
Remus pulled a piece of paper out and delicately opened it.
In unfamiliar handwriting, co-ordinates were written.
But co-ordinates to what?
Thank you for reading! As always, leave any thoughts or comments in the review section. Until next time!