SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1For the past few days I felt like I have lost my integrity in writing this fic. I am truly sorry for this is unintentional. I'll try to keep the integrity in this as much as possible...Good day! Now, for this chapter, James and Lily tell their tale of that tragic night, and possibly much more than Harry bargained for. He finds the truth and will he handle it? Read and review! Puh-lease! Cheers!
Oh, btw, I know this is like way off the subject, but I heard that Gary Oldman will play Sirius in PoA and some other guy will be playing Remus. Personally, I think they are inadequate. Not that my opinion matters, but I was disappointed that Christian Bale didn't get to play Remus, and also, I kinda wanted Adrien Brody to play Sirius...I know he ain't British, but still...What do you think? If you do not know the fine Christian Bale, I suggest you rent "Reign of Fire" or "The Little Women", and Adrien Brody, of course, is from the "The Pianist." Anyway, onward!!!
Chapter 16: Flames to Tame, Questions to Ask
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Everywhere he went, the Icicle Ball was the topic of every student's conversation. Anyone who could go to the Icicle Ball, anyway. Harry had had enough of girls hinting around for an invitation that he mostly avoided contacts with any human–except for his friends. He took refuge in the Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione, carefully investigating his first prophecy. He had written down what he remembered that night and placed Hermione (who really placed herself) in charge of deciphering it. They had no success in knowing more than what was obvious.
Quidditch was more brutal than ever. Ever since the win against Slytherin, his team became cocky and refused to take anything seriously. He had studied the plays in the book Angelina had left him, but the team lagged around the pitch and ignored his commands. Harry, who's temper had a sudden boost the past week, was on the verge of making his team do extra five hundred laps around the pitch. In one particular practice, his Chasers, Nathan and Juliana tossed the Quaffle around in a similar way as players in a volleyball match would. Lana flew around the goalposts where Seamus was and brandished her bat in a way as if she was whipping a lash. Seamus covered his head with his arms to keep from being hit. Harry, who had just caught the Snitch, squeezed it hard in his left hand with anger. He turned his Firebolt around and was about to unleash his rage when Ron beat him to it. Ron tried to prevent Lana from giving Seamus a nasty blow on his left cheek when Lana swung the other way and knocked Ron off his broom. Ron gave a shout of fury.
"ARGH!" He dangled fifty feet from the ground with his hands on the broom handle. Seamus helped him up his broom. "WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU ALL THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT?!" his voice bounced off from every direction of the pitch. "THIS IS NOT A BLOODY CIRCUS! ONE GAME WON AND YOUR HEADS GREW TWICE BIGGER THAN MALFOY'S HEAD! I HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!" He did a narrow descent to the ground, mounted off his broom, and headed off to the Locker Rooms, still muttering indistinctively. Harry finally reached the group, who all floated in midair quieted by what Ron had said.
"What did he think he was playing at?" Lana said angrily. "Yelling at us like that. He's not the Captain."
"Oh yeah, Lana?" snapped Harry. "You think you have a better measure of what it feels like to be on this team? Ron was right. All of you don't deserve to be in this team. One win, and you think that we're unbeatable. Perhaps we are but that doesn't mean you have to act like big prats about it. I don't know if we've made the right choice in selecting you to be part of the Gryffindor team," he added acidly. All of them fell silent when he had said this. Lana, who shot him reproving looks in between his speech, dropped her gazed unto the ground. Harry's rage subsided and glanced at Seamus, who stared at him back, unable to find words to say. "All right, enough practice, I want you to do thirty laps around the pitch. First to finish can go back to the Tower. Seamus, can you look after them? I have to go see Ron if he's all right."
Harry barely landed on the ground when he set off in a dash towards the Locker Rooms. Behind him, Seamus shouted to the rest of the team.
"All right, mates, you heard the Captain. Come on, thirty laps now!"
Harry entered the Locker Rooms and immediately heard Ron's thuds of rage. Harry set his Firebolt down on the bench and headed to where Ron was muttering.
"Bloody gits," he heard him say, "my brothers were never like that..."
"Yeah, they were amazing but they didn't flaunt it around," said Harry. Ron turned around and looked a bit surprise.
"Just gave them a piece of my mind, that's all. We can't waste our energies just lounging about," he said, getting dressed. "We can't lose to a bunch of Slytherins," he added as an afterthought.
"You're absolutely right. That's why I made the whole team fly laps around the pitch. I just can't believe them. We play Hufflepuff after the holidays," sighed Harry as he sat down and put his hand on his forehead. "Now I know why Wood became so mental."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to go mental pretty soon. The way those prats are acting."
Harry sighed again and got up. "What time is it? Dad will kill me if I'm late again."
"Er, quarter past six," Ron answered, checking his watch.
"Good, I've got fifteen minutes. I better get dressed then," he headed into the Captain's office. "Do me a favor, will you?" he asked Ron, coming out again after he's dressed. "Will you end the practice for me? Tell them we've got another one tomorrow. If they don't shape up, tell them it would be sixty laps this time."
"Will do," replied Ron, slightly smiling with a strange gleam in his eyes.
Harry picked up his Firebolt, hoisted it on his shoulder, and set off on a trot towards the castle. He didn't look twice back at the pitch but kept his eyes straight ahead to his destination. He headed up the stone steps, up the stairs of the entrance hall, and to the corridor that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He knocked on the door. His mother, who from what Harry had observed, was extremely apprehensive about them being found alive and training Harry that she asked Harry to knock on the door first and created a password for him.
"Who is it?" called his mother from the other side of the door.
"Professor, I must inquire you about a certain lesson about elemental fire," recited Harry. He heard scrapings of a chair from the other side of the door, shuffling of footsteps, and the door finally opened and revealed his mother smiling broadly at him.
"Well, if it is quite urgent. Please come in."
Lily stood aside to let her son pass through. She took swift one look around the corridor before closing the door. "Can never be too careful. What with the things Dumbledore warned us about," she remarked as Harry looked around. There was no sign of his father anywhere in the classroom.
"Where's–" he halted at mid-sentence when the fireplace roared and spat out an every tall man with glasses. He stood up to brush the soot out of his robes. He looked around and spotted Harry.
"Ah, good, you're here. I just spoke with Briana," explained James, seeing the inquisitive look on Harry's face. "She told me about your first prophecy."
Before Harry could speak, something–or someone, rather–squealed and seized him around the neck into a very tight hug. His eyes bulged, and he could hardly breathe. Massive red hair had obscured his vision and gleeful squeals deafened his left ear.
"Oh, darling, really? How was it?" Lily's voice echoed through his ear. James pried his wife from their son with great difficulty.
"Lily, please, you're going to make Harry join us in the afterlife," said James with his tone full of panic and concern. With another gentle pull, James had successfully separated Lily from Harry, who, in turn, gasped for air.
"I'm sorry, dear. It's just–I witnessed Briana as she went through her transition as the Heir of Ravenclaw, and, well, I'm just so proud..." she trailed off. Her eyes grew misty. James gave her a mixed look of shock and slight aversion.
"Anyway, Harry, she told me that you were worried about it. Listen, son, don't worry about us. Just go do what you have to do and what's right. Part of being the Heir of Gryffindor is doing what is right even though it may not make much sense."
"But–" started Harry, but James held up his hand to stop him from arguing.
"I know what you're going to say. I would probably say the same thing, but, Harry, you must understand that we're not going to be here forever. We've already proven that fifteen years ago," James added with a chuckle. "We're brought back for a reason, so you can't go saving us from being dead, Harry. Besides, Annie reckons it has to do with someone else. So..." he looked at Harry with a meaningful gleam in his eyes. "Anyone in particular that you love?"
Harry thought over what his father had said. He looked at him with a mild expression of surprise. "Love? Erm, no one, I think. Maybe like..."
James clasped his hand on Harry's shoulder and laughed jovially. For a moment, Harry thought of laughing with him when he thought about what he said again in his head, but instead felt a pang of indignance. His father laughed at him because he was uncomfortable of telling him about his love life? James stopped as he gazed upon Harry's frown. "Ahh...sorry, son, I was just–well, I don't know. Never had to give this talk to anyone before. Sorry for my sudden impulse of laughing. Anyway, we should get started. I have a very different training for you tonight."
James pulled out his wand and with a flick of it, swept all the desks aside, leaving a huge circular space in the middle of the classroom. Lily, who had composed herself, sat down behind her desk and busied herself with marking her second-year students' homework. James beckoned Harry to the center of the room and fumbled inside his pockets for something.
"Got a real treat for you tonight. Remember when I told you that we wouldn't be doing anything drastic till after Christmas? Well, in the light of things, I reckoned I ought to push forward for a bit. I would think you didn't really like learning about our great family history. I noticed that you squirmed in your seat when we controlled your emotions. Ah, here it is." He pulled out an old-fashioned lighter. He looked at Harry with excitement. Harry, in the other hand, looked a bit perplexed. "Tonight we will try to control fire. It's best if you learn how to control it before actually conjuring it. So, you're going to try to beckon the fire to your palm. Now concentrate. Clear your mind and concentrate on the fire floating towards your hand. Let go of all your fears and doubt."
Lily stopped reading an essay about pixies and looked up. "James, do you think that's safe?" she asked with a hint of doubt.
"Of course, it's safe," retorted James, as if his son could very well bring fire onto his palm. "Now, I'm going to push the lighter and put the flame on my wand. Try to retrieve it."
James flipped open the silver lid.
A flame appeared, standing steadily as if there was no breeze in the room. He poked through the flame with his wand and made a movement like scooping it up. Within seconds, the flame perched atop James's wand just like it did on the lighter. James gave his son a look of encouragement. Harry looked up to his father's hazel eyes, which illuminated an orange color against the flame, then to his wand. He felt his stomach twisted and sank. He couldn't possibly be able to bring that fire to his hand. It's impossible, just physically impossible.
"Come on, Harry, it's quite plausible, just concentrate," urged James, as if he read Harry's mind. "Go on, hold out your hand. That's it."
Harry held out his hand to level with his father's wand. He squinted his eyes for concentration and tried with all his might to block out all his uncertainties. His eyes ached against the steady glow of the fire. Plus, his arm was getting tired from being held up for a long time. For a whole five minutes, Harry could not do as much as breathe and stare unblinkingly at the flame. It seemed that his father grew tired too because he lowered his wand down and looked at Harry. The flame was extinguished.
"It's all right. I wouldn't think you'd be able to do it the first time. It would be amazing if you did. How about we rest for a while? Then we'll try again."
He conjured up two plushy armchairs out of nowhere and sat on one, motioned Harry to sit on the other.
"I remembered I couldn't bring the flame to me until I got impatient and grabbed it with my hand. Got a burnt mark for that. My dad reckoned I shouldn't've been reckless. You would too if your flame did as much as flick and die out." He sat thoughtfully with his hands at the back of his neck and his long legs spread out on the stone floor. His gazed fixed upon Harry as if he was trying to read his mind. Harry didn't appreciate it much. In fact, he wished his father wouldn't look at him like that.
"Don't worry about it much, son," reassured James, as he saw Harry's expression of unease. "You know, I reckoned I saw the flame flicked a little. Of course, it might have been me stifling a sneeze, but all the same," he added with a wink.
After a while, he got up and stretched out his arms with a great roar. "Reckon we should get back to work."
He repeated what he had done before with the lighter. Within seconds, another flame stood steadily atop his wand.
Harry stared at it and tried with all his might to concentrate. He knew it was impossible and was a bit irritated at the fact that his father wouldn't let it get by him. But isn't it possible? asked a strong, deep voice unlike his. Were you not surprised at the fact that you set so many things on fire? It was possible for you to do those things. Why is it impossible to control it? I meant that it was impossible for me to accomplish this, he was surprised to hear his own voice against this voice. Who are we both joking anyway? You know as much as I do that I can't do this. *Can't. Always with the cannots, the deep voice shot back, I would have not chosen you if I had not known you would be able to save the Sorcerer's Stone, pull my sword out of the Hat to destroy that basilisk, save the ones you loved from darkness and despair, or escape death again and again. If you are so keen to judge what is impossible, then ask yourself how you overcame these things. I would not have faith in you if you had not done those things. Now it is your turn to have faith. Have faith in yourself, there's no other way.*
"Just concentrate, Harry. Believe you can do it," encouraged his father. Harry looked at him bewildered. It was as if he could read his mind. Could it be that his father was inside his head urging him to do it?
He squinted his eyes and stared at the flame. With all his might, he tried to focus on the flame reaching his hand. The voice was right, he thought, if I triumphed over all those things in the past five years, a simple bring-the-flame-to-my-hand trick would not be difficult.
It was as if he hallucinating. The flame flickered as if a sudden breeze had entered the room. It slowly ascended an inch from the wand and spun wildly. Harry grew excited and stretched out his hand more, as if really beckoning the flame to come rest on his hand. Suddenly, he grew very tired. His knees were going to give way and his legs felt like flubber. Come on, just a little bit more...He gave a cry of frustration when the flame vanished into thin air. His father's expression was full of concern.
"I think that will be enough for tonight," he said and stowed his wand in his robe pocket. For another moment, his expression changed into one full of joy. "You did it! Well, you managed to make it hang in the air like that. That's definitely better than before!"
He pulled his son into a very tight, bear-like hug. Harry could see his mother coming towards them.
"Good job, darling!" she beamed at him. "You must be exhausted. Have some of this." She conjured up a large cup of hot cocoa.
He drank a mouthful but soon regretted it as the cocoa was extremely hot and left his tongue numbed. He instantly felt warmer and stronger as he had drank it. His parents gazed down at him, positively glowed with pride. He felt himself blushed a bit.
"Sit down, dear. You relax a bit," instructed his mother, eyes brimmed with tears again. Harry sat down on the armchair and stared at the floor. He took another swig of the hot cocoa and tried to ignore his parents' gaze. All of them were silent for a good amount of time. At last, his father broke the silence.
"You know, I bet your mind's full of questions," he said, sitting down in front of Harry, "about us. That night we died. Why Voldemort was after us–basically everything."
Harry just stared at him, unable to string together sentences to answer him. James took this as a sign to continue. "I wouldn't blame you. Sirius said that you don't know much. Dumbledore, I figured, would have told you everything, but when I asked him, he didn't say anything. He just gave me that twinkling look in his eyes. I hate when he does that," he added irritably. He seemed to have gone into reminiscing on something because he shrugged as if shaking off a memory. "So, anyway, your mother and I have been thinking, and, well, since you are almost of age, we thought that it was best if you know all the details."
"From us," said Lily. "After all, it was we who died and all. So go ahead, ask away."
Harry felt a strange churn in his stomach. His ears buzzed with excitement. Did he hear what they had just said? A few years ago, he would have given anything to know what had happened to his parents. He sometimes caught himself glancing through the album Hagrid gave him in hopes that it give him clues. But now, they were here, waiting for his questions.
"How did it all happen?" he found himself inquired. James and Lily exchanged who-should-start looks.
"Well, it really started when we were in Hogwarts," began James. "When there was a man who stirred much controversy in the wizarding world. He did all he can to convince the Ministry to push forward a radical change–a purification. He tried all of his might to push forward several decrees, many of which involved the removal of half-bloods, muggleborns, and other wizards with 'dirty bloods.' He went by the name of Lord Voldemort."
"As we were young and in Hogwarts," continued his mother, "we were shielded from the news of the outside world. It seemed to everyone else that it was the right thing at the time, but shielding only causes much more pain..." his mother trailed off, unable to continue. James took over from here.
"As you know, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and I became rather great friends. We could've cared less about Voldemort and his ideals. We were, as I should quote Remus on this, 'young and carefree', and we were. We weren't bothered by the ongoing outside of Hogwarts. We cared for Dungbombs, memorizing all of the secret passages of Hogwarts, and," James smiled wickedly, "making the lives of certain Slytherins a living nightmare."
"Us, on the other hand—Sam, Annie, Maria, and I—could not bear to just be blocked out from the turmoil Voldemort has caused. Like you and your friends, darling, we were, erm, prone to trouble and that made us seem like we were attention-seekers. The thing was that trouble always seemed to find us. When your father and his friends caroused around the corridors of Hogwarts, we tried to figure out why and how Voldemort gained so much influence among wizards. Almost half of the time, we ended up in tight spots that we needed the Marauders to bail us out. Then the unexpected happened. From what we had gathered from newspapers and the like, Voldemort became more aggressive. He had abandoned gaining influence in the Ministry. My guess was that he had already gained a few good ones. He was doing what I supposed he planned to do."
"There wasn't anyone like him before. He was ruthless. He practically did anything against anyone who stood on his way. The horrors unfolded like some sort of nightmare. Many tried to avoid it, of course. They were skeptical. 'It would blow over,' some would say. Boy, were they wrong. He got more powerful and menacing. The year before we left Hogwarts, a string of mishaps happened. Loads of people went missing, many of them probably died, and from what I heard since we were brought back, they're still missing today. The Ministry put up every type of defense to hold the wizarding world, but Voldemort–he had his weapons; people, creatures, dark objects, the works. By the time we all left Hogwarts, he had waged a full-pledge war against the Ministry and anyone who opposed him."
"You mean Dumbledore?" spoke Harry for the first time. His parents nodded grimly.
"Dumbledore, of course, put up his own defense against Voldemort," said James. "That's how the Order of the Light (A/N: aka Order of the Phoenix in JKR's world) came about. You have met some people from the Order. Let's see...Mundungus Fletcher, Arabella Figg, Alastor Moody, Remus, Sirius, Annie, Sam, and the whole lot of others. We were a smaller bunch before, because many were too scare to fight Voldemort."
"When we left Hogwarts, your father and I lost touch for a while. Mainly it was because he was off to Auror Training–"
"Dad? You're an Auror? How come nobody's has ever told me?"
James laughed. "Have you ever asked? Yes, I am an Auror, or I was. Professor Mcgonagall said I should use my Transfiguration skills to good instead of, erm, troublemaking. I didn't believe her at first so I switched in and out of jobs for a while before I entered. I was a year below Briana. I was trained by a man named Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was much younger back then–fresh out I think. Anyway, he works for the Order too. I begged Sirius to join with me, and we were in it for about a year then he dropped out, said it was too much for him. I wouldn't blame him. We had curfew and such, not for the Marauder at heart. He went for something else. He always loved writing so he worked for the Daily Prophet one time. Come to think of it, he hadn't really stayed in one job for more than a year. I guess Padfoot was still finding himself," James added, although more to him than to Harry. "Well, stirring away from the subject...Where was I?"
"Oh, never mind, dear, I'll take it from here. Anyway, I think you ought to know Harry that before, I used to hate your father beyond anything else in the world. He was such a self-loving jerk, but, to the good of Merlin, he changed for the better in our sixth year. That's when I started liking him more, but we didn't start dating till our seventh year, when he really stopped acting like a prat–" James beamed. "We did lose touch with each other when he became an Auror. I, in the other hand, became a Healer in St. Mungo's. Professor Flitwick said it was the best job for me. St. Mungo's was chaotic during that time. I practically worked double shifts everyday, so I hardly saw your father or anyone else. All sorts of people filled St. Mungo's everyday. I can still see them when I close my eyes. People whose eyes were rolling from torture. People with memories completely wiped out. Screams from the permanently insane. Blood everywhere. It was horrible period. At times I felt that I couldn't stand it anymore. I kept thinking that things will get better, but whenever I saw another person with his eyes gauged out or a person muttering incessantly, I would break down and lose hope. I blamed Voldemort for everything. But what could I do, I asked? Nothing. I couldn't do anything. I felt helpless amongst the dead and the insane. However, one day, when I was double shifting, a man came up to me and said that he couldn't understand how I can endure working in a hospital like St. Mungo's. 'I would go insane like the rest of them,' he remarked. I said the pay was good and wanted to help people. 'You like saving people?' he asked, and I said yes. Then he told me about this organization that saves people from their miseries, wiping them clean, he said. I thought it seemed ideal, but I didn't know what I was getting into. He gave his name–Antonin Dolohov. He suggested coming with him on one of their meetings. When I agreed, he told me the time he would meet me at St. Mungo's. I thought it over and over, because I wasn't sure if he was all right. In those days, darling, you can't trust anyone. He didn't seem to be odd to me. I almost told Annie about it, but I knew that she and the other Aurors had plenty enough on their plates than to listen to me. So I decided to go.
"The meeting was at night. It was completely dark when we Apparated to wherever it was. I was going to conjure some light when Antonin ceased me. He dragged me somewhere–it was too dark for me to tell where I was going. When I finally had gotten the idea, I saw him..."
His mother trailed off and closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her left cheek.
"Who, mum?"
"Voldemort."
"What?! He captured you?"
"He looked terrifying, indeed," continued Lily, as if she didn't hear him. "Tall, threatening, malevolent, evil...He looked at me with a sneering smile. He thanked me casually for being there, and that made me sick. How he seemed all calm as he talked to people he's going kill..." James held his wife's hand. "He said he had waited for me. He said he knew what I was capable of so I shouldn't do anything stupid. He said he knew all about me, who I was friends with–my loved ones, my family, everything. He's been studying me, sent his Death Eaters to follow me. 'For what?' I asked. He said, 'well, for me. For my future, for my legacy. I know you are capable of very powerful things. So you can help me. Help me rid this world of impurity.' In other words, he wanted me to be like them–a Death Eater. I kicked and fought against my captives' grasps but I grew weaker by the minute. Many of them opposed. They said they believed their "Master" wouldn't want a Mudblood like me to be in the group. He punished them, of course. He said that he didn't want me to become a Death Eater, but something more, something different. Something far more special than a Death Eater. He wanted me to be in his liking. To be his eyes and ears in my world–in James's world. He made me drink this goblet but I refused. He put me under the Imperius Curse and forced me to drink it, eventually I did. I don't remember much after that..."
She fell silent, with tears flowed fully down her cheeks. James stood up and allowed her to sink into his chair.
"Your mother acted very strange after that. She was indifferent. She seemed to be always in a foul mood and snapped at everyone. At nights, I didn't know where she disappeared to and what she was doing. She became distant. I started to worry. I came to Dumbledore for advice. He said he'll look into it, but I grew impatient. I was angry with him for not giving it enough attention. There was something wrong and I knew it. I confronted your mother one night, after she had returned to her apartment. We got into a strong argument. Then she threw a curse at me–the Cruciatus Curse. It was the worst pain I have ever experienced, and I'm not talking about the Curse. I meant your mother. Of all the years we had known each other, not once did she ever hexed me really bad on purpose. Mark you, we had our share of disagreements but nothing like that night. I Apparated out of there before she could curse me again. I went straight to Dumbledore. I told him about Lily and how she put me under one of the Unforgivable Curse. I remembered I was about ill-tempered at that time so I must had yelled at him, because he finally told me what was wrong. He said that Lily was under someone's control–Voldemort, presumably. He said that he didn't know why. Not under the Imperius Curse," he said seeing the look on Harry's face. "He said it was something else–a potion of some sort that gave him permanent control on her till an antidote was given."
"So we set off to work at once. Briana was summoned by Dumbledore and told us that there was only one potion fitted Dumbledore's description—Kaster's Potion. She said agreed to make the antidote and informed us it would take a while, as the procedures were complicated. We worked out a plan to save Lily. Then came the time when the antidote was finished. Sirius, Remus, and I went to Lily's flat to retrieve her. Fortunately, she was there and put up a good fight. Your mum's a strong woman, she is. We finally subdued her and took her to Hogwarts. She woke up and started again, but Briana was quick to give her the antidote."
"I woke up not remember anything. As if I woke up for a dreamy sleep," said Lily. "My memory from that period under the Potion was gone. I did felt something though, like I had done something wrong but couldn't recall what. Dumbledore said it had that effect, and that it was probably my conscience telling me I had done something horrible. I felt ashamed because I reckoned I got an idea what I had been doing. I couldn't face your father or anyone else, but they were quick to forgive me."
"Because it wasn't your fault," said James looking at her eyes. "It was Voldemort."
"Yeah, well, if I was under that Potion more, who knows what else I would have done to all of you? I was near enough a Death Eater. I still felt guilty for it."
"Don't be," James reassured her. "Dumbledore asked us to be in the Order, the whole lot of us. He said we showed a lot of courage and strength, which were the things he needed for the Order. We agreed to it and soon enough became involved with fighting alongside the good. A couple of years later, your mother accepted my proposal of marriage. Another year after that, you were born. Everything seemed all right, except Voldemort was still at large and was preparing for his biggest attack. "
"He had discovered about a weapon that would lead to his destruction. How he knew about it, we don't know. He poured his attention to it and wanted it destroyed."
"What sort of weapon was it?" interrupted Harry.
"Sirius, Briana, Sam, Remus, Maria, your mother and I, and a few others were able to retrieve the weapon and store it in Hogwarts—away from Voldemort's reach. I'm sure he was pretty upset. We reckoned that's why he came after us, aside from the fact that Lily had probably given him valuable information when she was under his Potion. These were definitely enough to assume that Voldemort knew our actions. Dumbledore advised that we lay low and we did. Of course, with my career that seemed quite impossible. It was Dumbledore who told us to perform the Fiddulus Charm. I already had a Secret Keeper in mind. Of course, it was obviously. You see, he was more of a brother to me than anyone. I knew well he could keep any secret. However, information leaked out to us that there was a double agent among the Order and supplied Voldemort valuable details of the Order's activities. Sirius realized this, so he changed his mind in the last minute. He suggested to use Peter instead of him—for your safety and well being, he said."
"But Peter was the double agent and he gave the information to Voldemort," muttered Harry. James nodded, and, to Harry's great surprise, chortled.
"That night, your mother and I planned to leave the house. There was this muggle play your mother wanted to see in the theater. But we decided not to," James chuckled. His face grew grave. "He barged into our house and broke down the door. I told your mother to go and protect you and I'll fight him off. We dueled for a while, and he hit me with a huge curse that knocked me out. But not for long though, because I woke up later and heard your mother's screams. Acted on my instinct, I got up and ran to your room. Voldemort loomed over your mother and raised his wand as if preparing to kill her. Before I could do anything else—it happened all too fast—she-he k-killed her—your mum. My eyes blacked out. I didn't know what to do next. All I knew was that I wanted to kill ruthlessly. I stopped using my wand and used my Flame Taming powers. Burnt down most of our house—then I don't remember anymore…My mind just went blank and then it sort of did these flashbacks…Then," his eyes looked dreamy and far-off, "I reckoned I died or something."
They all grew silent again with Harry staring at the ground, James in his dreamlike state, and Lily gazing at her son. Harry looked up at her, confused. "You helped Voldemort? Did you ever kill anyone?"
Lily was taken aback by his last sentences. She looked up to James for support, but he was as thunderstruck as she was.
"I-I don't remember," she stammered. "I told you, darling. I was under a Potion, but I take full responsibility for everything that I had probably done."
"You should have gone to Azkaban," Harry said so inaudibly that his parents didn't hear him. He felt ashamed of what he had just said, but why should he? His mum was as close as a Death Eater.
"Voldemort tried to mold me into his liking—to be like him. An heir to continue his wrongdoings if he wasn't successful in becoming immortal. I admit that I had been weak and I paid for my faults. I could still remember bits and pieces of it, but they're all a blur. I hate it. I hate myself for not refusing his control. Until today, I can never forgive my myself for everything that had happened." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.
Harry felt downcast and ashamed for accusing his mother worthy of Azkaban. James put an arm around his wife and studied the expression on Harry's face. "I'm truly sorry if you think that your mother is the sort that's very easy to manipulate. In fact, I have never met anyone quite like your mother. She had the strength to go through that whole ordeal and took full responsibility on her wrongdoings, even though she had no idea what it was she had done wrong. How many people can you say had done that, Harry? How many people would you say had fully renounced their ways and admitted their mistakes? There are more people out there who would rather say they were under the Imperius Curse than to admit they had fought alongside Voldemort."
Harry felt his face grew hot. He knew that his father was right. Most of the Death Eaters at large right now had begged for the Ministry for forgiveness, telling them there were under Voldemort's control. He had never felt more ashamed of himself in his life. He avoided their gaze by staring at the ground.
Harry felt an arm on his shoulder. It was his father's. Still avoided his eyes, Harry cast his eyes on the floor. In all the voice he could muster, he said quietly, "I just thought that—I've always imagined that you died heroically…saving me and everyone else…"
James laughed softly. "I am flattered of how highly you regard us, son. I am sure that to some people we did save the world and died heroically. But you must understand that we are not as perfect as you thought we are. We have flaws but admit them. All those things, they were in the past now, so you just have to understand, Harry. That's the truth…however ugly and different it might be to the ones you've imagined. Would you've rather ask us to tell a version of lies to make you feel better about us than to tell the truth?"
"You must hate us," sobbed Lily through her hands. "I understand if you do, dear. I under—" Before she could finish that sentence, she sobbed louder than before.
"I don't hate you," whispered Harry, finally looking at his mother. "I just-I'm just confused. Actually," he added, as he gazed at the identical green eyes from of him, "I was sort of relieved that I heard the truth from you instead of hearing from somebody else. I was just surprised of what I heard."
Lily sniffed and screwed her face up as if preparing to bawl again. James delved his hands in his pockets and pulled out a handkerchief. He gave to his wife, who blew into it as loud as a raspberry. James gave his wife a surprised look.
"I'med trooly sowy 'bout evewything, dorling," said Lily through the handkerchief. "Wee wood undewstand ift you don wan 'o talk 'o us anymowe."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, obviously trying to comprehend what Lily had said. "It's all right. After all, I owe my life to you. If it were not for you, I wouldn't be here. You gave your lives to save me. The least thing I could do was not to raise my suspicious on you. I'm really sorry."
"Oh, sweeethard…" Lily kissed Harry's cheeks and hugged him tightly that for the second time that night that he couldn't breathe.
"Do you still have questions?" James asked Harry as soon as he pried his wife's hands off him.
Lily's eyes brimmed with tears as she sat back down on the squashy chair. Harry thought for a moment and said to her, "Why did you marry Dad if you thought he was such a prat?"
Lily laughed. "Well, I liked your father, all right, but you see, he was a major prat. The biggest I had seen, actually. But I saw good in him, and if I could somehow bring that out, then he could be less of a prat. That's why I was a bit hard on him and not praised him unlike everyone else. He finally realized this and changed. It only took him seven years." She threw James a disapproving look, at which James grinned sheepishly.
"Anymore questions?"
Harry racked his brains for a moment. His thoughts were lost because of what his parents had told him tonight. His mind felt as if a hand reached in his skull and mangled it around. There has to be one question he had wanted to ask his parents for a long time now. The problem was that there was too many and he seemed to have forgotten all of them.
He stared as his father and, at last, he blurted out, "Why does Snape hate you so much?"
It happened all to quickly. James's calmed expression turned into a mixture of apprehensive and anger at the very mentioned of Snape. With a split second, his expression turned to a casual yawn. He looked at his watch, apparently thinking of what to say.
"Blimey, it's half past midnight. Son, you better get back to the Gryffindor Tower before Filch catches you, or that cat of his, Mrs. Norris," he said with an obvious restrained calm. With a wave of his wand, the squashy chairs disappeared and the desks flew back to their positions. "Remember, tomorrow night, all right, son? You better go now."
Harry let his father ushered him out the door. He bade goodnight and turned around to walk to the Tower. He thought of how his father reacted when he had mentioned Snape. He seemed uncomfortable to talk about him. His thoughts then led him to what his parents had told him. He was so deep in thought that he didn't realized that he had reached the portrait hole. He gave the password to the Fat Lady and emerged into a dark common room, only lit by the almost extinguished fire. A glint of red hair shone against the fire. The hair looked up as Harry realized it was Ginny. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"Ginny?" he said in a high-pitched voice. "What are you still doing up?"
"Fifth year, remember? O.W.L.s, tons of homework. I think I've fallen behind a bit so I'm finishing up. What were you doing just coming up here?" asked Ginny, with her eyes narrowed.
"Erm, quidditch, I was just finishing up things." He had found the feelings back in his legs and headed to the boys' dormitory. He was about to pass Ginny when he hesitated. With all his might, he sat down next to her and tapped on the table to get her attention. Ginny looked up from her Transfiguration book.
"I was sort of wondering. How did it went with those three boys who asked you to the Ball?" Harry said, attempting to hide the utmost curiosity in his voice.
Ginny put down her quill and sighed deeply. "I did what Ron said, told them off. To tell the truth, I didn't like them that much. I was sort of," Harry saw her face blushed deeply against the light of the full moon from the window, "waiting for someone in particular to ask me. It's a bit stupid really, I mean I don't know if he's really going to ask me or not." She trailed off. "How about you? You're probably going to with Cho again this year, right?"
Harry found himself staring at her eyes. "Actually, I'm not. I don't really have anyone in mind to ask," he was surprised that he confided Ginny with this. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't go," he added, slightly chuckling. Ginny smiled a little.
"Oh," Harry noticed a hint of disappointment in her tone. "Well, I'm sure you can go alone."
"Yeah." He hesitated and thought of excusing himself to go up the dormitory. But Ginny caught him off guard when she said.
"I'm sure there someone out there who would want to go with you, and that you would want to go with too. You know..." She sat up suddenly. "Since I don't have anyone in mind to go with and I don't have anyone in mind to go with...maybe..."
Harry gaped at her as if she had just said something disturbing. Ginny saw this and quickly added, "Well, only if you want to. I meant if you don't want to, then it's all right with me. Just forget I said that." She dove into the same type of ramble that resembled that of Ron's. She picked up her quill again and, in Harry's opinion, pretended to continue her essay. This made Harry grinned, but the dawning realization of Ginny wanting to go with him to the Ball made a lump in his throat sink coldly down his stomach. Without realizing what he was going to say to this, Harry found himself asking Ginny to the Ball.
"Ginny, do you want to go to the Ball with me?"
Ginny desisted her rambling. She gaped at him the same as he did a minute ago. "Only if you want to."
"It's up to you."
"Only if you want to."
"Well, it's really up to you."
Ginny hesitated and then grinned. "All right, okay, yeah, I'll go with you."
"Great." Harry got up and said that he was going to go to bed. Before he stepped on the first stair up to the dormitory, he turned to Ginny and said, "Best not to tell Ron this till the Ball." Ginny nodded and bade him goodnight.
Harry came in the room greeted only by the boys' deep breathing and snores. As he passed by Ron's bed, he felt a pang of guilt. What would Ron say at Harry going with Ginny to the Ball? I'm sure he'll understand, he thought as he changed into his pajamas. When he heard Ron grunted, rolled over, and snored rather loudly, he smiled to himself. Drawing up his covers on his chest, he stared and at the dark canopy of his bed and said softly, "Better you than Neville."
Read and Review! Thanx to my reviewers, Opal and Sierra loves cash. Also thanx to my first flamer ever, phoenixthong (well, everyone is entitled to their opinions, and I appreciated your input. However, I wished you had told how and why my story sucked instead of just saying it so. Still, thanx for taking the time to review!). To all the others, reviews (and flames) still very much welcome!
